Gamers' Quest Read Free Page A

across his pockmarked face.

5: The Plan
    ‘I gots this lot from a princeling's guards,’ said Tark, as he held up a small pouch.
    Zyra raised a heavily pierced eyebrow as if to say, big deal. Tark ignored the expression and headed to a corner of the dilapidated basement. He carefully prised a brick from the old wall, and then reached in, searching for something. Finding the concealed switch, he flipped it with his finger and stood back.
    A substantial section of the old rotted floorboards sank several centimetres, then slid aside, revealing a shining metallic surface. Tark knelt down and placed the palm of his right hand onto the surface. A light flashed from within the metal, scanning his palm-print.
    Tark looked up at Zyra. ‘Comes on, ya turn.’
    Zyra sauntered over and put her hand next to Tark's, almost touching it. They briefly looked into each other's eyes with a yearning that went beyond words. The light flashed again. As they removed their hands, the metal sheet slid back. Out of the deep darkness below, a battered old chest rose up on a pedestal.
    The chest was made of dark wood, cornered in brass, with strips of patterned leather studded across its rounded lid. A heavy metal padlock with two keyholes secured the lid to the body. Tark and Zyra fished out their keys from beneath their clothing and, in unison, inserted and turned them in the lock.
    Tark took a deep breath and lifted the lid. Inside the chest was a varied collection of coins and jewellery – everything from coppers and silvers, to rings and necklaces; from a few gold pieces, to three rubies and one diamond. This meagre treasure was the result of months of thievery. Tark's eyes almost glazed over as he stared at the stash. It was their future. The chest was only about half full, so they still needed more.
    ‘Every little bit ’elps,’ said Tark as he emptied the contents of the pouch into the chest.
    He watched intently as coins of silver and copper, as well as a few bronze rings, tumbled into the chest. He gave a deep sigh, then tossed the empty pouch to one side. He looked across at Zyra and a grin spread across his face.
    ‘Wot are ya grinnin’ at?’ she demanded.
    ‘I also tooks this ’ere weapon.’ He pulled back his tattered cloak to reveal the sheathed sword.
    ‘Big deal,’ huffed Zyra, exerting her superiority. She was three centimetres taller and a month older than Tark, and usually lauded it over him. ‘Ya gots yaself a sword.’
    ‘Oh Zyra,’ said Tark, rubbing at the scar that cut a path through the dark stubble on his head. ‘This ’ere ain't no normal sword. This ’ere is a sword o’ light.’
    Zyra's green eyes narrowed to cat slits, her piercings glinting around them. ‘Wot's some snivelling princeling doin’ with one of ’em?’
    Tark shrugged. ‘Dunno. Probably nicked it. Don't care.’ An uncharacteristic thoughtfulness crossed Tark's face. ‘Scared of it, ’e wuz. Hads himself a mage to looks after it. Dead now!’ But then the thoughtfulness was gone and he laughed. ‘’Course ya know wot this means?’
    ‘Gold!’
    ‘Yep!’ He patted the sword hilt. ‘With one of these babies I'll be able to go a dragon and wins its stash.’
    ‘Well I's gots news, too,’ said Zyra, putting hands on hips, striking a pose and looking very satisfied with herself. She reached into her boot and pulled out the plastic card.
    ‘A key!’ gasped Tark. ‘Ya gots a key already! How'd ya do that?’
    She casually flicked the card.
    Tark watched it sail through the air and land in the chest. One key, allowing one visit to Designers Paradise. Would they be able to get another? Thoughts of a better world, a better life, flitted through his mind and were gone before he could grasp them.
    ‘I liberated it from the Cracker, rights after he liberated it from that skinny rich dude who lives up the Hill.’
    ‘They is all rich dudes up there,’ said Tark. ‘And the Cracker's dangerous. Ya shouldn't be messin’ with