Relic Hunter

A fool steps into the unknown. An explorer finds their way back.

Vali considered herself the better of the two. 

She raised her map against the buffeting sands, grains rapping against the paper. Relics and scrolls shifted in her pack as she stumbled, the wind picking up. Vali covered her face with her arm, squinting at the dunes ahead, the piles of sand as tall as mountains. An endless desert. An orange sun set on the horizon.

Savour the sand that stings your face, Valianne, Xqoaix spoke. She would never escape his voice—as subtle as her thoughts. Let it be a reminder I still let you live.

“Alright,” Vali mumbled. She could hardly open her eyes against the incoming storm. “I can’t read my map in this. Bring me home, Xqoaix. I’ve got what I came for. Save the rest for another day.”

Power coursed through her. Her vision flashed blue, blinding, then settled as she appeared in her bedroom—the second floor of her shop. A gust of wind followed. Vali stepped out and descended the stairs, brushing loose sand from her shoulders.

Light footsteps tapped against the stone floors and approached her. 

“Hey, you were gone for a while,” Naomi said. The girl stood at the bottom of the stairs, broom in hand. She looked at Vali’s weather-beaten outfit and cocked her head. “Where’d you go?”

“Worlds and dimensions you’d never dream of.” Vali grabbed her satchel. The stairs creaked beneath her. She undid the latch and brought out an ancient calendar—written in a foreign alphabet. A cursed relic from the expedition.

Try your luck on the marked days, but fear where it cuts off.

She handed it to Naomi.

“I want this drawn by…” Vali looked to the window. Still dark. “By sunrise. We open at noon. Get to it, gutter rat. It’s what I’m paying you for.” Naomi nodded and scurried off. The thief didn’t make a sound as she ran.

Quite rude to her, Xqoaix said, aren’t you?

“She survived on the streets of Middknight, she can take a few names.”

Vali paced through the shop. The gutter rat had lit candles, dusted the shelves, and rearranged the remaining relics. A quiver that drew an endless supply of arrows from god knows where. Rings that’d eat your finger but provide knowledge. A cloak, purple and black, that would render its wearer quick and agile in the dark, heavy as stone in sunlight.

“Well,” Vali said, “let’s get to work.”

She cleaned the blood from her side sword and replaced the maps in her shoulder bag. She attached a shovel across her back, a canteen and a mattock to her belt. Naomi sat on the ground, sticks of graphite in hand—even now, the thief wouldn’t use a table. She looked up at Vali.

“Are you going out again?” 

“I’ll be back by noon,” Vali said. “We’re making a profit today.”

With maps drawn from Xqoaix’s visions, she set out. Her eyes flashed blue; her surroundings warped. She stepped foot in a graveyard, patches of teal grass concealing her boots. Statues of beings with tentacles for arms stood watch. Vali followed the map.

Humans and necromancy—if they understood it, they wouldn’t bury all the fun things.

She dug up a grave. A decaying body held a dusted book with skeletal fingers. Wrapped in chains, locked shut, hieroglyphs written down its spine. Dangerous work from unstable scholars—practises better left unread. It’d fetch a good price. Vali pried it from his hands and threw it in her satchel.

All great works require a touch of insanity.

Her vision flared blue. Onto the next world. 

Her boots kicked at rubble, a courtyard in ruins. Libraries torched to the ground. Buildings of stone left prey to the weather. The skies above a crimson red, no clouds in sight, monstrous birds patrolling. Vali stepped around century-old soldiers in plates of rusted armour. They crumbled at the touch.

My greatest regret, Valianne, is not being here to witness the ruination of this world.

Vali pushed open a door at a timeworn mansion—it broke with the slightest bit of pressure. She hacked her mattock at a safe, cracked it open, and grabbed a bottle of glowing champagne within. The drink would render one’s looks younger and mind older. It clinked against the book in her bag.

Take a sip. What’s the worst that could happen?

Another hour, another world.

An overgrown garden, verdant green, birds chirping on the trees. Clusters of flowers reached up to her waist. Vines conquered archways. Vali reached into a moss-covered fountain for a single gold coin, one face a reaper, the other a saint. Flip it before a decision to decide your luck.

This looks like a lovely place to lay down and die, explorer.

“It does,” Vali said. She yawned, stretching her arms out behind her. “Bring me home, Xqoaix. The gutter rat will panic if I leave the store to her.”

Back at the shop, Vali readied the shelves. She hesitated at the sight of a large boiling flask, thunder roaring within. Swirling dark clouds and streaks of lightning—a bottled storm contained by a mere cork. Vali snapped her fingers for the thief, who, as thieves do, appeared from nowhere.

“Have you drawn this one yet? I’d rather not sell it until it’s recorded.”

“No,” Naomi said, wiping her graphite-stained hands on a rag.

Vali took the bottled storm and handed it over. “Alright, be very careful, there are a dozen thundershowers contained in this one bottle. Make sure to hold it by the neck-”

Naomi grabbed it from the base. A shock ran through her system—she recoiled. The bottle dropped from her hands, shattering against the ground, shards of glass scattering under tables. Its contents dissipated. The sky outside darkened.

“Well, good going,” Vali said. “You just flooded the streets of Middknight.”

“I’m sorry, miss! I didn’t mean to, it was a mistake-”

“I’m sure our farms would love to hear that. The relic’s coming out of your pay, gutter rat. Go get a broom.”

Vali switched the sign on the door from closed to open. Rain pattered against the windows, sunlight vanishing. It’d disrupt sales. Yet, sure enough, a man walked through the doors and rang the bell. Another drawn to their fate by curiosity. He stood by a pair of laced shoes as Vali approached.

“How much for these?” he asked.

“These?” Vali looked at the shoes. Flawless leather with ancient patterns engraved onto the side. Run as fast as you want, but too fast and you’ll go blind. “Good shoes, these. I’ll take fifty silver for them.” 

The man shook on it. No refunds.

The next customer asked about a lantern, which only burnt when held. It draws upon your soul, draining you of life as it lights your path. Twenty-five silver. Naomi—still learning to count—took her time to give the man change. The bell rang above the door.

A woman gazed at a crystal pendant laid out on the table. Find twice your luck in wealth, deal with unrelenting stress. A town guard complained about the sudden rain, then pointed to a gleaming chest plate. Forever polished and clean, but never be able to take it off. An old man with a walking cane stopped at a mummified hand. Xqoaix laughed. Not even I know what that one does, Valianne. Sell it.

By the time Vali closed the shop, her pockets were full. A handful of relics gone. It wouldn’t be long until she’d have to move shop again to avoid complaints. She snapped her fingers for the thief. Naomi didn’t appear.

“Gutter rat,” Vali called. She stepped around the tables in search of her. “Good work today. I heard you count past thirty. A breakthrough. Now grab a broom and-”

Naomi laid against the wall, head lolled down to her neck, quiet breathing as she slept. True to her upbringing—sleeping anywhere. “To think,” Vali whispered, kneeling to pick her up, “I bought you a bedroll.”

She weighed less than a feather. Vali brought her to her bed, laid her down, and extinguished the candle. Rain tapped against the roof. Thunder boomed, shaking the windows. Naomi trembled. Vali pulled the covers over her, then retreated to her desk. 

Where did you find such a girl? Her art is extraordinary for a child of the streets.

“She came in thinking I ran a pawnshop.” Vali counted her profits, picking up a quill to write them down. “She wanted to sell her art supplies. I promised her more silver than she could imagine if I could judge her drawings. Some food and I quickly gained her trust.”

If only gods could bond over bread like mortals do.

“Miss your kind?” Her quill scratched against paper.

My ‘kind’ has outcast me. Why else would I turn my attention to you? You’re looking to create chaos instead of only studying it. I’ll see how far you can be pushed until I move on.

“Oh, I’m just making a living. The fools that walk in are the ones buying into it.” Vali smiled. “Good thing you’re immortal, Xqoaix, because I’m not giving in any time soon.”