As Eric awoke the next morning he, out of ingrained habit over the years, got to work on his usual chores. He had already fed cows and sheep, and was throwing out seed by the chicken coop, when his mother joined him.

  “I expected you to be gone already,” his mother smiled softly, “headed off on your grand adventure.”

  Eric took a moment to process his mother’s words. He had woken and began working without a thought simply on muscle memory. He had thought his new sword was just another part of one of his fantastic dreams, but after a second of reflection he recovered and knew he wasn’t ready to go yet.

  “I said I would finish a few chores around the farm before I left. I want to fix the whole in the roof of the barn and the fence still n-,”

  “Eric.” His mother cut him off. “Your father and I did this before you were born and for many years as you grew. Go find the person you want to be. We’ll be here whenever you want to come home.”

  Eric threw himself into his mother’s arms embracing her in a warm hug. “I love you.”

  His mom stroked his hair and whispered “I love you too, my son.”

  With that Eric ran into the house and gathered his things. He grabbed his grandfather’s gear and his parents gave him some dried fruit and some fresh jerky. Then he gave his parents each one last heartfelt goodbye and he set out on his first adventure.

  &

  Where am I supposed to go?

  Eric asked himself shortly after leaving the only home he had ever known. He had heard stories of adventures but had no idea where to find one. He had heard those stories from the local tavern or from the people going to or from, so he decided to just go to the tavern and see if there were any legendary feats in need of accomplishment.

  The moment he entered the tavern he knew he was out of place. He had talked to adventurers outside the tavern, but he had never gone inside. He had known his parents would not approve, but now he was his own man.

  The patrons of The Smokey Inn had the look of hardened souls. Eric tried to maintain an open yet firm expression, but when one man met his gaze revealing a face covered in disfiguring burns Eric felt himself visibly flinched. The man noticed and spat at his feat. Eric was fairly sure he saw a tooth go with it.

  Eric was shaken now and was caught completely off guard when the man leapt to his feat and slammed Eric into the wall.

  “You think I’m scary, boy?” The man asked with his hand crushing Eric’s windpipe, his face so close he could smell his rancid breath.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “That is quite enough…Jake!” The shrill voice of an elderly woman cut through the tavern like a battle ax.

  “S-sorry Wicca, I wasn’t gonna hurt the kid, honest. I-I just got my feelings hurt, that’s all.” The burn scared man explained.

  “Don’t apologize to me, apologize to the boy you just assaulted.” Wicca retorted.

  Jake fumbled with his hands as if he had completely forgotten he was still pinning Eric to the wall. He looked down at him in confusion when Eric flopped limply to the floor. “Uh sorry, kid,”

  Eric coughed for a moment then he rasped “It’s okay, I’m sorry if I offended you, I meant you no harm.” Jake eyed him up and down then shuffled off to his seat in a huff.

  “Don’t mind Jake.” Eric turned toward the voice, but his world was still spinning. He saw an elderly woman looming over him, a crazed smile on her face. He flinched back on instinct, and she laughed, “Ho, Jake it’s not you he just that jumpy.” In a quieter voice she added “he’s still adjusting, so he’s sensitive.” As the whole tavern erupted with laughter.

  Eric stood to his feet and the patrons returned to their casual conversations, telling jokes about frightened farm boys. Eric felt his face warm and his heart thumped with shame. What was he doing?

  “Follow me to the back would ya?” Wicca somehow asked without leaving the option to decline. Eric followed her back to an office that looked like it had been torn apart by wild animals. “Don’t mind the mess, I'm in the middle of moving everything around.”

  “Uh, no problem.”

  “So, you’re Jack’s grandson huh?”

  “Yeah, my dad just gave me his old sword.”

  “His sword?” Wicca asked surprised. Then added, “can I see it?”

  Eric pulled out the rusty sword and showed it to her.

  She audibly laughed, “This sword won’t get you far. What you need is a hellbound weapon, one that has the power of fire, earth, water or air.”

  “Did my grandfather have a weapon like that?”

  “No, he had something entirely different.” Eric couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or completely serious, but she didn’t elaborate.

  “Do you know where I could get a hellbound weapon?” He finally asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Will you tell me?”

  “Sure I’ll mark it on your map.”

  Eric stared at her blankly.

  “You don’t have a map do you?”

  “No?”

  “Huh, I’ll sell you a map for three copper

  pieces, that’s at a discount, so don’t try to negotiate!”

  Eric reached into his coin purse and pulled out three copper pieces, he only had eight, and handed them to Wicca.

  She then rifled around in her mess of an office for several minutes, digging through the doors of her desk. Then a cabinet that sat behind her. The entire office was a mess of papers, string and art supplies. Then she finally pulled out a stack of papers. Laying the stack on the desk that was already piled with a variety of assorted items that didn’t look like they belonged together. She pointed to the top sheet which Eric could now see was a map.

  “We are here,” she said pointing to a spot on the map, and as she touched it a black spot appeared. “And the sword of air is here.” A black spot appeared on the other side of a place labeled Troll’s Gourge.

  “Wow, thanks you’ve been really helpful.” He tried not to let suspicion leak into his words.

  “Just try not to die. Jack will not be happy if he finds out I got his grandson killed.” She laughed.

  Eric was pretty sure his grandfather was dead, at least his dad was pretty sure. “Uh, is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about boy. Now go you have a sword to claim, and keep your wits about you. Until you have a proper weapon you’ll have to trick your way past trolls.” She laughed even harder. Eric had to admit at least old age hadn’t ruined her good humor.