Chapter One:

The ocean reflected many of the sunset’s brilliant colors as the sun made its way toward the horizon. The mountains, which loomed in the distance, looked as if they were on

fire. In between the ocean and the mountains was a small fishing town, called Erigal. It was the year 394 AD, yet this town had remained isolated from most of the world for as long as it existed. The town was nestled between the cliffs overlooking the ocean. The ground did, however, slope down to form a rocky beach that stretched for three hundred yards before becoming the towering sea cliff again. In the town, many of the men were carrying in firewood for light, but also for warmth. Outside it was getting cold. The ocean was frigid and the mountains in the distance were covered in snow. October was ending; tomorrow was the first day of November.

At the center of Erigal was the inn. The inn wasn’t used much for room accommodations, but for eating, drinking and gathering. It was the place where men would tell stories: either about the size and quantity of the day’s catch, or they would tell legends, or old tales.

This particular night, an old man was sitting by the fireplace, surrounded by a dozen or so men. He was telling the men about a great treasure.

“Where is this treasure?” one of the younger men asked.

“Well,” said the old man clasping his hands together, “The treasure is over the Randok Mountains.” He waved his right arm toward the mountains in the distance. “You have to travel through a large swamp. Except this is no easy swamp to get through. If you take a wrong step, you’ll sink a good fifteen feet!”

“Fifteen feet?” the younger man said. “I’ve never heard of a swamp that has places fifteen feet deep.”

“Well, it might even be deeper in parts.” the old man snickered. “After the swamp you travel, I don’t know, I believe about seventy miles or so-”

“Seventy miles!” the young man said bringing his hand through his hair. “That’s a whole lot of walking.”

“It certainly is,” the old man said. “Somewhere out there is a cave or cavern of some sort where the treasure is. But some say that it’s guarded by a dragon!”

“A dragon? Dragons are only in tales,” the young man sneered.

“Ah, but this dragon is supposedly the last one alive.”

“And how do you know where this treasure is exactly?”

“I have a map,” the old man whispered.

At that the men around the fire laughed. “Good tale, old man! Good tale!” they said as they got up to return to their homes.

The old man sighed as he watched the men leave the inn for the night. He turned his head back toward the fire and noticed that one had stayed behind. The young man.

“What are you still doing here? The story’s over,” the old man said.

“It’s real...isn’t it? This treasure of yours,” the young man said.

The old man nodded.

“You’re foreign...where are you from?”

The man ignored the question and said, “I am staying here at the inn. I came here hoping to find some young men who want to become rich,” he said emphasizing the last word.

“Rich? Well, I could use some money.”

“I plan to find the treasure, but I need three people to come with me.”

The young man said excitedly, “Why, I’ll go!”

“Well, I don’t know...” the old man stammered. “You might not be up to the challenge. I mean, it’s a hard road.”

“Not up to the challenge? look at you old man. No offense, but you’re, well, old and I’m young, so I think I’m up for the challenge. If you can do it, so can I.”

“Fine.” the old man said. “Do you know anyone else who would be interested?”

“Of course, my good friends Brogan and Dolan would love to come.”

“And what is your name?” the old man asked as he raised his brow.

“My name is Eamon,” the young man said proudly.

“Well Eamon, my name is Ruarc.” The old man smiled.

“When do we leave?” Eamon asked.

“Tomorrow morning. Get your things packed. Gather your friends. I’ll meet you here at...”

“Let’s say before sunrise. My father won’t approve of me leaving. Neither will my mother. My father gets his boat ready as soon as the sun comes up. Now that I think of it, why don’t we leave at midnight?”

“Midnight? You had better get moving. It’s already past ten now.”

“I will see you soon Ruarc,” Eamon said as he stood up and made for the door.

“Good night, Eamon. Be quick.” Ruarc said with a wave.

Eamon raced out of the inn and headed to his friend Brogan’s house. The night was inky black. As he drew near he noticed a red glow around the frame of the door from the fire. Smoke billowed into the night sky from a hole in the roof of the shack. Eamon walked to the front door and pushed it open. Brogan looked up from the meal he was eating.

“Hello, Eamon.” he said, excitedly. “What are you doing here so late?”

“Brogan,” Eamon said ignoring the question. “How would you like to get rich?”

“Rich?” laughed Brogan, “What are you talking about?”

“What if I said that I had a map,” Eamon said bluntly. “A map to a priceless, unparalleled treasure?”

“I’d say you’re insane,” Brogan said standing up from the small table that he was sitting at. He took a few steps until he was right in front of Eamon. They were an unusual pair of friends. Both had dark hair and eyes, but that’s where the similarities ended. Brogan was six inches taller, two years older, broad shouldered and very muscu- lar. Eamon was shorter, was eighteen years old, and the stronger of the two. He was strong from his daily work of pulling heavy fishing nets into the boat.

“Well,” Eamon said, “I do have a map.”

“Eamon,” Brogan said rolling his eyes as he turned toward his bed, which was a pile of hay covered with a thin blanket, “you know that I don’t have time to go off treasure hunting. I have my own boat now...I have responsibilities.”

“Come on, Brogan. I’m counting on you and Dolan to help me out with this.”

“Show me the map so that I can decide if this thing is even real,” Brogan said.

“Uh, well...” Eamon hesitated.

“Well, what? You don’t have the map?”

Eamon shook his head.

“Then who does?!”

“This old man that I met at the inn has it. He’s a foreigner.”

Brogan sighed. Then laughed. “You expect me to believe this?  Foreigners rarely visit. I can’t remember the last time that we’ve seen one. Come on. Get some rest. I need it too. The first day of November is tomorrow. Winter’s coming; we have to store up food.”

“Brogan, please,” begged Eamon.

“How much gold?” Brogan asked.

“More than you can imagine. We’ll be rich!”

“Let me think about it,” Brogan said.

“We’re leaving tonight at midnight.”

“That soon? Eamon...I really think that you should-”

“Brogan,” Eamon said with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve thought it through. There’s not much excitement in this town anyway. Everyone does the same thing every day. Why don’t you come down to the inn at midnight, bring clothes and food for a long journey, and decide there. Oh, and also bring your weapons. Just in case we need them.”

Brogan sighed thoughtfully. “Okay, Eamon. You win. I’ll meet you at the inn, packed and ready, but I still might not come. Remember that.”

“Thanks,” Eamon smiled, “Now, time to convince Dolan.”

Eamon opened the door and said goodbye. He headed down a small path, past many houses, mostly shacks, and to a small stone house. Dolan’s family was one of the richest in town. His father sold boats and was the only boat maker in Erigal.

Eamon walked up to a window at the back of the house. He gently knocked on the wooden shutters. A moment later light flooded out the window. Eamon blinked as he shielded his eyes from the sudden change.

“Hello, Dolan,” Eamon said.

“Come on in,” Dolan invited.

Eamon crawled in through the window. Dolan closed the shutters behind him. They were standing in Dolan’s bedroom, which was lit and heated by a small fireplace on the wall opposite the window. 

“Dolan,”Eamon said cautiously,“What do you think about becoming rich?”

“Rich? Why, my father already is,” Dolan said laughing.

Eamon quietly laughed with him. “I mean really rich...the richest man in the world!”

“What are you getting at?” Dolan questioned.

“I have a map,” Eamon said. “A map that leads to a treasure.”

“Oh, you must be joking, Eamon.”

“No,” Eamon said, “It’ll be an incredible, exciting adventure.  Also, there will most likely be fighting,” Eamon said, knowing that Dolan had been practicing his sword fighting since he was eight. His collection of swords hung on the wall opposite his bed.

Dolan followed Eamon’s gaze to the swords. “Fighting?” he said, then smiled. “Would I pass the chance to go on an adventure with my best friend? Count me in.”

“Good,” beamed Eamon. “We leave at midnight. Brogan will be there also.”

“Where?”

“The inn. Don’t be late. Bring plenty of clothes and dried food. See you soon, Dolan.”

“Goodbye for now, Eamon.”

Eamon crawled back out of the window and started down the hill behind Dolan’s house. He would take the shortcut home. Eamon looked back one last time and saw Dolan watching him from the window. Dolan was Eamon’s age, but had sandy blonde hair and light colored eyes. His face was speckled with a few freckles, mostly along the bridge of his nose. Of the three friends he was the quickest and most nimble.

Eamon started off with a jog down the hill running into the black night. He cut across an open field. For the first time that night he really thought about this trip. He had always wanted to go on an adventure full of mystery and excitement and the chance to become rich. From the moment his father had told him stories of treasure when he was a little boy, Eamon had been waiting for a chance like this. It was almost too good to be true. Eamon smiled as he thought about going on an adventure with his two best friends. What more could he want?

Eamon dismissed the thoughts as he came to the little house that he called home. His parents were asleep by now in anticipation of the next day’s early start. Eamon quietly crept in. The fire pit had a few dying embers in it, casting a slight glow around the house. He moved over to his bed and lifted the old, worn mattress. Underneath were all of his clothes, which he quickly snatched up and stuffed into his worn backpack. He had bought the bag five years ago with the little money he had in anticipation for a day like this. He grabbed his canteen, which had a strap so that it could be slung over his back. He took the rest of the money that he had earned from fishing, and, wrapped in a cloth, the smoked fish that he caught a few days ago and put them in the backpack. He grabbed his sword, which he strapped around his waist, and the knife he used for cooking. The last items to go into his bag were a tinderbox and a coil of rope. The rest of the items he’d need, such as food, he would buy at the inn. Eamon removed his cloak off of a hook on the wall and slung it around his shoulders. Grabbing his pack, he looked around the house one last time, then, saying goodbye in his mind to his parents, he left the house and headed for the inn. Excitement overcame him. He was finally going to journey out on his own.

The fireplace in the inn still burned brightly, even though the owner was in bed. Eamon threw another log onto the fire as he talked to Ruarc.

“They’ll come,” Eamon said.

The door to the inn opened and in stepped Brogan and Dolan. Both had packs and they were dressed in warm clothing.

“Hello, friends.” Ruarc said.

“Eamon, who is this?” Dolan asked.

“This is Ruarc of Tarlock,” Eamon stated.

“Well,” Brogan said with a raised eyebrow. “He’s the one with the map?”

Eamon nodded. Brogan walked up to Ruarc. “Let’s see this map of yours.”

Ruarc pulled from his pocket a folded cloth. He carefully unfolded it, revealing a worn piece of parchment. He then set the parchment on a table and unfolded it. On the parchment was a colored map:

“It’s a family heirloom. I got this from my father and my father got it from his father and so on. I came here to Erigal because it is the only town on this map here. I decided to start where it began. I can’t search for the treasure alone. I’m too old.”

Brogan squinted his eyes, not convinced that the map was real.

“Brogan, please,” Eamon pleaded, “do this for me.”

“Where are you from?” Brogan said as he stared at Ruarc. “We don’t see many foreigners around here.”

“I come from Tarlock. It’s a long journey south from here.”

Brogan then looked at his friend Eamon. “Well, there’s not much for me to do here other than fish. I guess I could use a little excitement.”

Dolan added, “And fighting!”

“There’ll be plenty of that along the way,” Ruarc said. “And might I know the names of the ones that will be accompanying me?”

“Brogan,” Brogan said.

“And I’m Dolan,” exclaimed Dolan.

“Well, let’s get some more food from the kitchen and leave some money for the innkeeper and get moving.” Ruarc said.