Chapter 2
Glass

~Aaron~
“Damn it!” yelled Brand, slamming the glass on the table, spewing cheap alcohol across the table. In the loud tavern, that was even more rowdy with the tournament, his voice didn’t carry very far but it was still enough for a few heads around us to turn.
“Oh just shut up Brand! You aren’t helping!” yelled Rook, just as loud.
“Aaron!” shouted Brand, now turning to me, “You were the one with the brilliant idea, why don’t you use that rock of a head you’ve got and get us out of this!”
“Look who’s talking,” laughed Gret, Brand hit him on the shoulder not too lightly.
I looked around the table, assessing my group. To the left of me was Brand Jakeson. Typical meathead. All muscle, giant, and loud. Didn’t fool me though, I knew he usually read a thousand paged book every night. I knew him for years, fought beside him for what seemed like a lifetime. He had a broadsword but he preferred to use his fists in a fight; they were just as deadly.
To the left of him was Gretan Duman, called Gret. Doctor of the group though you wouldn’t be able to tell. Was a self proclaimed jokester, laughed everything off. He was my friend since childhood. He didn’t like to fight but when needed he had a short sword with a large pommel used mainly for knocking people unconscious. His knowledge of the human body also helped him out in combat. There was also a rather large saw in his bag, the rest of the group and I are safely assuming it is used for medical purposes.
And to the left of Gret was Rooklen Ere, or Rook. Tall, long limbed, skinny, pretty smart. He was the magic user, the only person who could use magic besides Gret who only knew a few small spells. Pessimistic, sarcastic, he was our ray of sunshine. He didn’t just focus on magic, like most his magic was weak, not strong enough to make a powerful weapon. He was the most recent member of our gang; he joined about two months ago.
Then, if you went any farther to the left you would end up with me, Aaron Savon. I guess I was essentially the “leader” of the group; I had brought us all together and generally decided where we would go next. I used a sword, I wasn’t the best sword fighter and I was decent at hand to hand combat.
For the thousandth time I counted how many we were, four, no surprise there. And for the millionth time I read the bottom of the flyer for the required amount of people in a group to enter, five. That was still a surprise.
I rubbed my temples, with this amount of stress I knew a headache was bound to happen. “We just need a weapons master,” I thought aloud.
We didn’t just need one, we desperately needed one, the tournament was tomorrow and it was already nightfall. We’d been in the city for three weeks and we hadn’t found a decent weapons master that would be willing to go with us.
“Well damn all the weapon’s masters!” yelled Brand, the glass cracking from his grip.
“Oh and I’m sure damning them all will make them just flock to us,” said Rook, even more sarcastic than usual. Luckily he wasn’t sitting by Brand.
I sighed, it was useless, we weren’t going to be able to enter the tournament, and we’d have to wait five more years until the next one. Defeated, I started to tear up the well worn flyer.
“You don’t have to do that,” said a voice behind me. I turned around to see a guy standing behind me. I didn’t hear him walk over here but then again, in this bar you couldn’t hear yourself think.
The first thing I noticed was this guy’s skin was pretty much covered in baggy clothing. His eyes, hair, I couldn’t see a thing with his strange hood and clothing, nothing but an annoyingly neutral expression.
“What does it matter to you?” I asked, there was something about him that was…shady.
He shrugged, “Who knows, maybe you forgot something.”
I turned myself away from him; I was in no mood for talking. “Name’s Gray,” he continued, unfazed by my cold shoulder. “I heard you needed a weapons master from across the room.”
I faced him again, trying to suppress the feeling of hope rising in my chest, Brand and the others did the same.
Gray smiled, knowing he had our attention. “I happen to know one,”
“Who?” I asked. I couldn’t keep the eagerness out of my voice, could this be real?
“Me,” Gray said. It was strange; with that one word I felt that he punched me in the stomach. Scanning him again I became increasingly disheartened. The guy was puny, almost half the size of Brand and smaller than Gret, who was the smallest out of the four of us, by at least a hand’s length. Then there was his clothes, I had learned that when guys wore baggy clothes it was usually because they had nothing to show. Weapons masters and anyone in general entering the tournament had to be relatively strong, even Rook and Gret had some muscle on them. I also realized that from his voice he couldn’t be too old either.
“You sound too young to be entering an adult tournament. How old are you shrimp?” Brand asked, voicing my thought.
Again, Gray was unmoved by our bad mood, he just tilted his head up, making it apparent he was thinking about the question, “I really don’t know…” he answered.
I almost smacked my head, was this guy stupid? Who had to think about their age? Still we were desperate. “Okay,” I said, trying to not let my annoyance get the better of me, “then you’re 13-”
“I’m a little older than that,” he said, interrupting me.
This time I did smack my hand to my head. “Whatever. Do you even have any weapons?” This was the main purpose of a weapons master and what made him so invaluable. They had to be skilled with multiple weapons-sword, axe, bow, arrow, etc. They were sort of a jack of all trades. I couldn’t spot a single weapon on Gray, just a leather backpack slung over one of his shoulders. It also didn’t help that he didn’t look like he could lift a sword with his scrawny arms.
Again he looked up as he thought, “Let’s see…six daggers, six throwing daggers, a ball-and-chain, whip, some throwing stars, ten bombs, two flash bombs, a small sword-”
“Okay, okay, so I’m guessing that your bag is a MAO?” his leather bag must have been a MAO (Magically Altered Object) an item that was able to hold more than physically possible. There was a variety of MAOs but that seemed the case with this one.
Gray smiled widely, exposing unnaturally white teeth, “My backpack is a MAO but I think you misunderstand me; all of those things are on me, not in my backpack.”
Now that was something, “Can you actually use what you have? How do we know if you aren’t just able to hide a few daggers?” asked Rook skeptically.
“I’m pretty decent with my gear,” Gray said, shrugging a bit. Ah, a cocky one.
“Here’s the thing,” I said, “The reason we’re going to this tournament is for the prize money. We’re using it for our expedition, we aren’t going to split the money, it’s going toward the trip’s expenses.”
“Go on.” Gray said, looking mildly interested.
“We’re going to the…” I stopped for a moment. This was where half of the weapons masters that got to this point declined, “You see, we’re going to find the Dragon Dancer.”
I watched his face for any sign in backing down, instead he just asked, “Dragon Dancer?”
“Where exactly did you come from?” Gret asked.
“I’ve been living in Dudlin Valley.” Translation, I’ve lived there all my life. That explained a lot, people who came from Dudlin were strange and grew up ignorant of popular knowledge.
Irritated, I explained, “She’s called the Goddess of Gea. She’s all powerful, wise, and dangerous. She’s a monster. But she can grant one wish if you give her her mask.”
“A wish for a mask?” Gray asked, I could almost see one of his eyebrows lifting.
“Though she hasn’t been seen for years I found this,” I reached into my pack and took out an ancient looking paper, “It’s a map to her lair. But…” this was the part we lost all the weapons masters left, “It’s through Cloud Isle, you do know where that is?” Cloud Isle was properly named; it was a region in maps that was a grey expanse. Nobody could map it out; it was a no man’s land, filled with unspeakable horrors. No one in their right mind wanted to have anything to do with it, no one but us.
Gray shrugged yet again, “I’ve heard enough about it to know what it is.”
Inside I sighed with relief, it didn’t make sense, why would I want him on the team? “Dragon Dancer, wishes, uncharted places. Sounds fun,” said Gray smiling, “I’m in.”
“Now wait a second, no one said you were joining us.” I said, everyone around the table nodded, “We’re going to have to think about you.”
“You don’t have to,” said Gray, his smile fading to a neutral line, “Face it, you need a weapons master and I’m the only guy you have.” that felt like another punch to the stomach, “The tournament’s tomorrow, you need me,” that was a kick. “Now I’m going up to my room and am going to get four hours of sleep. Then I’ll come down here and wait for you four to meet me down here. Goodbye.” And with that Gray left us shocked with the sudden frank, blunt words he suddenly threw at us.
Brand was the first to recover, “Well isn’t this great, we’re stuck with a smug little weakling.”
“Was he telling the truth?” I asked Rook, he shook his head.
“I did a small spell right after he said ‘weapons master’, he wasn’t lying.” Unless of course he twisted the truth just right but that was unlikely, it took brains to do that and from what I could tell he was no genius.
“What do you guys think?” I said, looking around at all of them.
“I hate to say it but he’s right Aaron,” said Gret uncomfortably, “We need him, even if he’s a brat.”
“We could just leave him after the tournament,” suggested Rook.
I sighed for the tenth time that day; we were practically in the same situation as before.
The glass in Brand’s hand broke. “Damn it.”