“What’s that?” Ray asked.
“When we first came in here, I could barely walk two miles without getting winded, and that was at an easy pace. Look at me now,” he said.
It was at that moment that I realized he was right. Even though I now had the body of an elf, I felt stronger than Ieverhad. We had toughened up, and our endurance and staminahad grown so much from when we first appeared on the landing pads.
“Well, that’s a good thing,” Thornhold said. “Though I’d rather have my old body. I was fit then, although I have to admit I didn’t have the muscles I do now. I doubt if I could ever hope to have the muscle I have now,” he added.
As we walked along, I kept an eye on the edge of the forest. The treeline started a few feet back from the trail, and I didn’t want to be surprised by any unwelcome guests. But then I noticed a bright purple mushroom. Gasping, I stopped and pointed toward it. “Isn’t that a thantar?”
“You’re right,” Reggie said. “Are there anymore?”
He hurried over to look, kneeling down beside it. “It’s a thantar all right. If you find any more, gather them. I can use these to make potions. They're also good for healing potions as well, so let’s see if we can find more than just the one.”
We scattered into the woods on a mushroom hunt. At least, in this woodland, we were able to see each other, even at a distance. There was very little undergrowth except for fallen leaves, scattered rocks, and various mushrooms. We found a number of toadstools, which we avoided, but in the game, the thantar was the mother-gem of all mushrooms. Highly coveted, it was used for potion-making by both mages and clerics. And just one was worth its weight in gold.
“Unless we need to, we don’t sell these,” Reggie said. “There are potions that require them — that you can’t substitute anything else for. And those potions will go a long way in helping us, especially in our fight against Zaran.”
A light breeze rustled through the tree limbs, blowing the last of the leaves off as we continued foraging. We spent about thirty minutes looking for the plum-colored fungi, and — in the end — we managed to find twelve of them. Reggie and Ray divided them, then packed them away securely.
“What if they rot in your pack?” I asked.
Reggie shook his head. “The moment they’re cut, they start to dry. By tomorrow morning they’ll be wrinkled and shriveled, and ready to powder into dust. That’s why I packed mine in a spare bag. That way, if it accidentally gets jarred, the dust won’t escape into my backpack.”
“I did the same,” Ray said. “Also, if you happen to notice any fickle-ferns, we could use some of those too. I can make some minor stamina powders with those. They look like a regular fern from back home, except they’re bright yellow, and they have serrated edges on the leaves.”
As we resumed our journey toward the village, we kept an eye out for both fickle-ferns and thantars.
Given the good weather, we were able to set a steady pace. A couple of hours into the afternoon, I noticed that, up ahead, an old man was headed our way, pulling a cart behind him. He didn’t look strong enough to do so, but somehow he managed to drag the wagon behind him. It had one wheel in the center, so there wasn’t much stability, but it provided enough room to carry a number of supplies.
As we passed him, he gave us a wide berth and a cautious nod.
“Excuse me, good sir, but can you tell me if we’re near the village of Tyrnis?” I asked.
He hesitated for a moment before stopping. “Aye, you’re about a quarter hour outside of the gates. If I were you, I’d make haste. They lock the gates now, once sundown approaches.”
I frowned. Most villages didn’t do that. “Is there trouble?”
“Trouble follows everywhere we go,” he said. “You have only to be born to attract it. But yes, Tyrnis is having trouble with vampires. There’s a small nest to the north, not far from the village, and they attempt to sneak in after dark. Bloodthirsty monsters,” he added. “But I suppose you’ll be welcomed,especially if you reach the gates while the sun still shines.” He picked up the harness fastened to his wagon and slipped it over his shoulders, starting up again as he headed along the road.
I glanced at the others. “If we show up all the sun is still shining, it means we're not vampires. Let’s hurry, I don’t want any questions, and we certainly don’t want to be outside the gates after dark if there’s a vampire nest near.”
Within 15 minutes, as predicted by the old man, we saw the gates of Tyrnis up ahead. The sun was still shining, though it was low on the horizon, and we hurried toward the guards waiting by the gates. We had finally made it to the village of Tyrnis.
CHAPTER 47: THIS IS CIVILIZATION?
Comparedto the city of Dusmaria, Tyrnis seemed like a megalopolis. It really wasn’t that big, but it was the biggest city we had seen so far. Granted, it was only the second city we had seen. As we entered the gates, the guards gave us a once-over, but otherwise ignored us. There were probably dozens of people each day wandering through those gates, if not hundreds. I wasn’t sure what they all came from, but there were probably forts and strongholds and tiny villages all through the woods.
“Should we find an inn?” Thornhold asked. “That might be prudent to do before dark. I don’t want to be wandering on the streets at night — at least not until we figure out what manner of city this is.”
“True that,” Reggie said. “There are a lot of thieves and rogues in the game, and I imagine the streets are filled with them.”
“All right,” I said. “Keep your eyes open. But before we say we’ll take a room, we want to ask the price first. I imagine the prices are jacked up here, given it’s the last city before the mountains.”
As sunset approached, the last splashes of light filtered through the city streets. All along the road, lining the sides, werevendors. And they appeared to be packing up their stands to go home for the night. The smells were rife: stale meat mixed with rich perfumes mixed with body odor. Most of the people looked somewhat grimy, not as in dirt poor, but as in needing a bath a few days ago.
Brynn tapped me on the shoulder and pointed ahead, on the right side of the street. “I think there’s an inn there,” she said.
I squinted, shading my eyes as the last rays of sun slid across my face. Sure enough, a hanging sign proclaimed the building to bethe stout and loaf inn.
