The Quest for the Amulet of Destiny

Here is another section. Give me your most honest feedback. Sorry if it is a bit long I was trying to divide the chapter up into four sections.

Sun filtered through the window causing the dust to dance and sparkle in the shaft of light. Amarie stretched groggily her head pounding from too much ale and not enough sleep. The night before she had retired before the third course, carrying the mysterious package back to her room. At first it had sat untouched on top of her chest of clothing. Her curiosity which had gotten her into this mess wanted her to open the package and see what exactly was inside. But her sense of honor told her it was the wrong thing to do. And so for hours she had held it. Finally, her turquoise eyes heavy with ale and exhaustion allowed her no more time for contemplating.

Now, with her naked body tangled in the cotton blankets Amarie sat up and glared at the package on top of her chest. If there was one thing Amarie prided herself on it was that she always finished whatever she started. Amarie cursed herself for this trait and threw back the covers. Hurriedly, she dressed in a pair of caramel colored britches and an emerald green shirt. She pulled on her sturdy black boots, tucking an ugly dagger into each one and buckled a black leather belt around her trim waist. Absentmindedly, she pulled a brush through the tangled mass of auburn curls that cascaded down her back and then she was ready. There was so much to do that Amarie actually found herself warming up to the idea of a quest.

It had been awhile since her services had been required and perhaps she could collect a little gold as a reward. The innkeeper had fair prices but her purse was starting to wear thin. It wouldn’t be long before Amarie would be required to hire herself out and that process always seemed to be crippled by the fact that she was female and a mere human being. Even with her pounding headache Amarie bounded down the stairs with the energy of someone on a mission.

“What’ll you have darling?” Shiloh asked from behind the bar. “Our chickens have been overly productive this morning.”

The thought of eggs sent Amarie’s stomach into a nosedive. “Not hungry,” she lied, “besides I have too much to do.” Hastily she fastened her ivory cloak around her neck and hurried out into the brilliant morning air.

Even though she had plenty of arrangements to make Amarie found herself casually strolling up the cobblestone road watching the city come to life. Women balanced large wicker baskets of laundry on their heads, singing as they took their loads to the Sapphire Lake to be washed. Merchants opened their stores displaying their wares out front. Madame DuFont, a dwarf sporting an impressive blonde beard and lavender turban, displayed bolts of brightly colored fabric outside her dress shop. Crates of polished red apples and plump oranges were stacked in front of the General Store.

The smell of freshly baked pastries wafted out to Amarie as she passed the bakery. She could hear the blacksmith begin his daily pounding on his iron anvil. In the center of Chevara was a courtyard with manicured shrubbery and boxes of colorful flowers. Buildings lined both sides of the courtyard many of them homes to humans, elves, and half-breeds alike. In the center of the courtyard was a large marble fountain. Birds chirped excitedly as they splashed in the cool water for their morning bath. Amarie sidestepped scurrying children and fresh piles of horse manure as she made her way to the city library.

It was the only other building, besides where the High Council resided, that was made of white granite. The face of the massive structure was supported by four granite pillars. Elders and scribes gathered on the stairs like clusters of grapes; discussing important topics in hushed tones. Amarie could’ve easily eavesdropped but she was more concerned about finding a particular scribe and mapmaker. Although it was quite impressive, Amarie rarely visited the library.

The whole place was dimly lit by tall yellow candles and the sparse sunlight allowed through the Cathedral-style stained glass windows. It was a strain on her eyes to make out the endless rows of towering book shelves. She wondered how anyone could possibly read in such a dismal place. Everything seemed encased in a crisp silence. Amarie felt unnerved by the sound of her footsteps echoing off the green and black checkered floor. To her, her breathing sounded labored as if she were choking on the scent of leather, wax, and ancient tomes. Even her own heartbeat thundered in her ears, a frantic pulsating rhythm.

Amarie was relieved when she found the elf Ruslan. He was sitting at one of the large oak tables provided for studying surrounded by mountains of haphazardly stacked books. He was so busy scribbling notes he didn’t notice Amarie approach. The elf had been locked up in the library for too long. His posture was stooped from bending over scrolls and his complexion looked almost translucent from a lack of sunlight. His black hair formed a greasy curtain over his face and Amarie speculated if he had bathed in the last six months.

“Ruslan,” Amarie interrupted causing the old elf to jump, “I’m here to collect a debt.”

Years before Ruslan had shown a curiosity for dark magic. He explained to Amarie that he missed his human wife who died giving birth to their only son. The child hadn’t even survived the first week. So he had begun to research books on summoning the dead. Two Elders had caught him reading such a book and accused him of being an evil warlock. They took him before the Head Council demanding that Ruslan be locked up for eternity in the bowels of Chevara’s dungeons. Amarie as his closest confidant felt a sense of duty. And so she had used her mind-bending skills to convince the High Council that Ruslan was innocent and freed him from prison.

“I need your help,” Amarie stated as his black beady eyes focused on her face, “It's nothing too difficult, I promise.”

His eyes darted to the shadows as if afraid their conversation might be overheard. “You need a map?”

Amarie tilted her head letting her mouth fall open a little. “How did you know?”

“Never mind,” He waved her off as he stood up and Amarie noticed how skeletal his hands looked. Quietly, he led them through a maze of shelves. His thin frame was only more pronounced by the voluminous navy blue robes her wore. “Here it is.”

He pulled out a stack of scrolls yellowed with age. Ruslan lead them back to his table, dumping the load onto the already crowded surface. “I need a fast route to Kaysheek,” Amarie began to explain.

Ruslan held up a bony finger to silence her. “I know what your mission is and it is far more dangerous than you could anticipate.” He located the map he was searching for and began to meticulously sketch a route on its crackled surface. “I don’t have time to make a new map so this will have to suffice.” He blotted the surface having drawn a path through the Tarasova Forest and across the Manova Valley.

“Wouldn’t it be faster to cut through the swamplands?” Amarie questioned pointing at the marshes that lined the southern edge of the map.

“It would take a week off your journey but it isn’t worth the risk.” His cryptic messages were alarming to Amarie, “Listen to me, avoid those swamps. You do not understand the kinds of evil that reside there.”

Amarie rolled up the map and tucked it into her belt. “Thank you Ruslan. You really should get outside more often.” And then she was hurrying out of the oppressive library and away from her grim friend.