Glint's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

Glint walked a smooth green trail across the high moor, Anu padding beside him. The swamp lay behind them now. He felt proud of the ground they had covered. Then four strangers stepped onto the path ahead, and a young warrior drew his long sword and pointed it at Glint's chest. "Stand, foul beast!" the warrior shouted. His breastplate shone with no scratches at all. "I am Prinn Legend-blade. I slay monsters like you before breakfast." He struck a pose, chin high, sword raised to the sun. Glint blinked. "I'm not a monster. I'm going to the Academy." He reached for the letter inside his armor to prove it. "My mother wrote me a—" An elven woman in a revealing fantasy outfit slid up beside him. She lowered her flute and smiled. "Oh, he talks. I like the clever ones." She trailed a finger along his bat-like ear. "Call me Nympadora. Forget the big angry boy. Come sit with me, little green thing." “Oh for crying out loud Kevin…” Prinn muttered, rolling his eyes. “It’s a goblin!” "I—what?" Glint stepped back, cheeks burning. "Please stop touching my ears." Behind them, a drunk dwarf in a tattered robe stared at the sky. He held a beer and said nothing. He did not seem to see any of it. While Nymphadora leaned closer, showing a startling amount of skin, a hooded halfling crept behind Glint. Quick fingers worked the straps of his armor. Filch lifted the recommendation letter, unbuckled the forearm crossbow, and somehow slid out Glint's smalls without untying his boots. "Nice haul," Filch muttered, backing away. "Monster's got pockets." "Enough!," Prinn said, though only he had been posing. "My legend begins now!" He swung the long sword down hard. Glint yelped and dropped. The blade whistled over his head. Anu snarled and shoved him sideways with her shoulder. Prinn's second swing bit into the dirt where Glint had stood. "Run," Anu growled. "Now. No thinking. Run." For once Glint did not argue. He scrambled up and bolted down the green trail. Anu ran at his heels, her blue markings flaring. Behind them Prinn gave chase, shield banging, shouting about glory. Nymphadora blew a kiss. Filch counted the stolen pouches. The drunk dwarf drank. Glint ran until his legs shook and the warrior's shouts faded into the wind. He stopped at last, hands on knees, gasping. Then he checked himself over and his stomach dropped. The crossbow was gone. The smalls were gone. Worst of all, the pocket that held his mother's letter was empty. "Anu," he whispered. "The letter! They’s tooked it!"