The Quest for the Gilt Jockstrap
Oh damn. Not those kooks again. Alzia looked up as Rhidan and Darter stumbled up the dirt street towards her, pushing through the crowd. Rhidan carried a small object, shaded from view by his long black hair, while Darter whispered in his ear. Trouble always follows them — and that’s the last thing I need.
“Alzia!” Darter called out as she poured a basket of just-picked, hothouse-grown apples into her bazaar cart, along with her other fruits and vegetables. “Look what we’ve found!”
She sighed and looked up, letting the basket fall to her side. “What is it? Have you found another treasure map, or is it just a King’s ransom this time?”
Darter looked hurt, and ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair. “C’mon, Alzia, is that any way to act? Just ’cause –”
“Just because you two’ve nearly got me killed three times this year, and the snow only melted last month?” She put her hands on her hips. “And that’s not counting last year’s shenanigans.”
Rhidan gave her a disgusted look. “We didn’t get into that much trouble — don’t exaggerate.”
“Oh, let’s see. A goblin king deciding that I was to be his bride, a dragon thinking I’m some kind of virgin sacrifice, an orc or a wraith or whatever it was thinking that I was the Enemy and deserved instant death … that’s not trouble?”
“Fine.” Rhidan fiddled with the thing in his hands. No matter how Alzia tried, she couldn’t quite make out what it was. “So we got you in trouble. Just hear us out, please? You don’t have to join us if you don’t want to.”
Alzia sighed. Somehow she remembered hearing those same words a couple hundred times before … “All right.”
Darter grinned. “I knew you’d say yes!”
Her head snapped around to glare at him. “Don’t make me regret it.”
Rhidan shook his hair back over his shoulders as he and Darter moved under Alzia’s tent. He held out a small, stained piece of parchment. Whosoever discovers this letter shall be known henceforth as the Chosen, the Bearer of the Gilt Jockstrap, and so forth …
Alzia shoved it away. “It’s just like all the other maps you’ve found. Beautiful words, promises of grandeur, but all this ‘Gilt Jockstrap’ will be is a shred of decayed cloth painted gold.”
“It will not!” Darter snatched the parchment out of her hands. “This time will be different!”
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you said the last time. And the time before that. And the time before that …”
Rhidan caught her hand. “Please, Alzia. Just one last time.”
“No. I’m not risking my life for your inane schemes again.”
“We can’t do it without you. Look.” He took the note from Darter’s hands and pointed to a nearly illegible scrawl halfway down the page. “But to succeed in the Quest, a fair damsel must accompany the warriors into the heart of the beast, for without her pure touch, the Gilt Jockstrap shall not reveal itself.”
Alzia snorted. “Sounds like a great joke to me. ‘Fair damsel,’ indeed.”
“Well, I agree it doesn’t exactly fit you,” Darter said, rubbing his chin, “but your hair is light-colored and your skin is lily white.”
“Yes, I know. I look like a corpse. I’ve been hanging around you too long.”
Darter blinked, not entirely understanding, but Rhidan tightened his lips and made a growl deep in his throat. “Alzia, please be serious.”
“I am.”
He looked to the sky and mumbled a quick prayer, then glanced back at her. “Please.”
“No.”
Darter jumped in. “C’mon, Zia, without you, we can’t even find the Gilt Jockstrap!”
“Do I care?” Alzia turned away. “Just leave me alone. You can hire a ‘damsel’ down Red Street for a couple of coppers, if you need one so badly.”
“The Prophecy clearly states that the damsel must be pure — in other words, a virgin. You should know the Red Street girls haven’t been virgins since they were children.”
Alzia shrugged. “They’re pretty good at faking virginity, I hear. You think the Gilt Jockstrap’s going to care?”
“For Zaldorn’s sake, Alzia!” Rhidan swore. “I’ve given you my word — this’ll be the last time. I promise. Look, pretty soon you’ll be married. Everything calls for a virgin’s presence, and then you won’t fit that criteria. But at the moment, you do. And you’re all we’ve got.”
“If I’d known my virginity was the reason you two keep talking me into these things, I’d have gotten rid of it years ago.” Alzia growled. “Fine. It’s against my better judgment, but I’ll do it.”
And the first thing I do when I get back is find a husband.
“Do you have any idea how much trouble we’re going to get in for this?” Alzia grumbled. “These are Lord Freidon’s horses!”
“Old nags,” Rhidan said. “Left out for pasture too long. Freidon won’t care. He’ll be glad to have ‘em gone.”
“Oh, really? I didn’t realize mares had penises.”
“What does a virgin know about penises?” Rhidan said. “Besides, that’s not a penis. That’s just an — um — udder.”
Alzia raised her eyebrows. “Horses don’t have udders.”
“Nipples, then. Whatever. You know what I mean!”
“Just as long as I don’t have to milk it.” She shook her head. “Let’s just get on with it. How far away is this place? The Cavern of Creepy-Crawlies?”
He shot her a look. “The Cavern of Crazed Cretins.”
“Like I said. Cavern of Creepy-Crawlies. How far is it?”
Rhidan glanced at the map. “Not far. It’s down by Lake Silvron. It’s one of the caves in that area.”
“Oh, won’t that make it easy to find?” Alzia raised an eyebrow. “There must be, what, two hundred caves by Lake Silvron?”
Rhidan glared at Alzia. “Can’t you just be quiet for once?”
“What, and be a proper damsel?” She laughed. “Right.”
Alzia made sure to stay as far away from Silvron’s shores as possible as she led her horse past it up into the caves. Before long, all three of them stood at the entrance to the caverns, where they dismounted and tied the horses to a cluster of trees.
“My bum hurts.” Darter rubbed at his rear, trying to alleviate some of the pain.
“Don’t complain,” Alzia retorted. “You’re the one who wanted to steal Freidon’s horses!”
Darter glared at her. “That wasn’t me, it was Rhidan!”
Alzia rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She looked up at the unending rows of caves. “So, do we know which one is the Cavern of Creepy-Crawlies? Or do we spend the rest of our natural born lives searching for it?”
Rhidan held up the parchment. “Loosely translated, it says that we want the fiftieth cave on the right, after the thirty-second cave on the left, but just before the sixty-seventh cave up north.”
“What?” Alzia blinked. “Give me that. You must be reading it wrong.” She grumbled. “Men have no sense of direction. Here, this way.” She pointed, and led them along a path that wound around and skirted various caverns, wind blowing in their faces and tangling their hair. Before long, Alzia’s lips were completely chapped.
“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with this,” Darter complained. “Why are you taking charge now?”
“Because I don’t want you two to screw up and get me killed — like you’ve nearly done a hundred times before. I trust that I’ll get myself out alive. You two, I’m not so sure about.”
“Come on,” Darter said, “we aren’t that bad.”
Alzia turned to fix him with a stare that made him turn naughty underwear red and shuffle his feet. “You really don’t want me to answer that.”
Darter opened his mouth to protest, but shut it immediately. Alzia turned around and led the way up the mountain. As they rounded a corner, the wind stopped, and a darkness fell over them.
“Zaldron’s bronze balls,” Rhidan swore as a great hulking monster came out of the cavern in front of them. It stood over seven feet tall and carried a club, its eyes revealing pure fury at being awakened. Rhidan drew his sword, as did Darter. Alzia grabbed at her dagger, the only weapon she’d been allotted. She narrowed her eyes.
“Are you sure you two know how to use those things?”
“Shut up, Alzia!” Rhidan snapped, crouched in a fighting stance. The monster, some sort of an ogre, raised his club with a ferocious roar. Rhidan charged it!
“Be careful with that thing — you’ll poke your eye out!” Alzia called after him.
She stayed back to wait. No matter how they tried, Rhidan and Darter could not defeat the ogre. After it knocked them into miscellaneous walls half a dozen times, Alzia sighed and approached, holding her dagger. The ogre concentrated his attention on the two men who cowered in the corner, not noticing Alzia. She crept up behind him and placed a hand on his leg. He froze, his body turned to stone — then it morphed to ice and shattered.
Darter’s eyes widened. “How did you do that?”
“Virgin’s touch. What else?” Alzia skipped past the icy remains of the ogre, into the Cavern of Creepy-Crawlies.
“Alzia! Wait! You don’t know what’s in there!” Rhidan cried. “You could be hurt!”
She shot him a glare. “You’re the ones who talked me into this — now you’re worried about my safety? Come along.”
A small, flickering light lay in the darkness of the cavern, far in the distance. Suddenly, flames burst out, flying at them! Darter cried out as he dodged the flames.
“We’ve got to get out of here! We’ll be burned alive!”
A fireball flew past Alzia’s head, and she caught it in her hand.
“What are you doing?” Rhidan screeched. “Let it go! You’ll burn!”
She laughed and held up the small orb for them to see. “It’s a candle, to find our way.”
Rhidan tried to grab a fireball, but he shrieked in pain as it singed his fingers. “Those aren’t candles!”
Alzia shrugged. “Virgin’s touch again? Hmm. Now I see why you wanted me.” She continued on into the cavern, but Rhidan and Darter were stopped by a barrage of flameballs.
“Alzia, we can’t go on!” Rhidan cried. “You’ll have to get the Gilt Jockstrap and bring it back to us!”
She sighed. “All right. Wait for me at the mouth of the cave.” Alzia didn’t look back as she strode forth, her eyes fixed on the golden light in the center of the cavern. Before long, she came up to a pedestal, upon which rested a shimmering gold jockstrap. A small tag stuck out of it, and Alzia laughed as she read it.
“Won’t Rhidan and Darter be surprised?” Alzia hesitated, but reached out and picked up the jockstrap. The tag disintegrated into ash, but that was all that happened. She shrugged and began walking away — a crash behind her made her spin around. Where she had been only a moment ago now stood a huge stalactite embedded in the floor. Alzia shrugged again. “Virgin’s touch.”
She blinked as she entered out into bright daylight.
“Give it to me!” Rhidan cried and snatched it from her hands.
“Thanks for your gratitude,” Alzia snapped. “It’s not like I didn’t almost get killed back there.”
Rhidan and Darter both ignored her — they were too busy squabbling.
“No, I want to wear it!”
“I got it first!” Rhidan protested. “Besides, I’m the elder!”
“You don’t look it,” Alzia commented.
“Mine!” Darter tried to grab it from Rhidan, but he pulled it back.
“No! You can wear it when we get home.”
Darter fumed, but said, “All right.”
Rhidan donned the Gilt Jockstrap, and Alzia raised an eyebrow. “Most people don’t wear jockstraps over their breeches.”
“Most people don’t have Gilt Jockstraps, either.”
“Fine. Have it your way,” Alzia said. They walked back to where they’d left their horses and mounted, heading back towards the city. She hid a smile as Rhidan fidgeted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. Every few minutes, he opened his mouth, as if he were ready to apologize for something, but he immediately shut it. I wonder, Alzia mused, if I should tell him that it’s really a Guilt Jockstrap …
Nah.
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