© J.B. Norman — Published by Emona Literary Services™
When a message in a bottle washed up on the beach and the message directed her and Dunstana to hunt down a book in the Porthaven library and piece together the next message from every other letter on the prime-numbered pages, that wasn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened to her this past month.
She probably should take to somebody about it. She’s clearly been cursed.
The series of message have led them here, to a cave high up in the mountains, staring down the old hermit staring back at them, with a beard that’s almost as long as he is tall.
“You have done well, adventurers,” the old hermit calls as Kat, Dunstana, and Amara step into the cave. “To follow my clues, each no doubt more difficult than the last, all the way to the treasure I’ve been guarding these past seventy years!”
“Actually, I thought the third clue was easier than the second clue,” Dunstana notes.
“However,” the old hermit continues, “to finally attain my treasure, you must decipher what it is – by asking me a series of questions that can only be answered in Yes or No.”
“Really?” Kat asks with a heavy sigh.
“Yes.”
“And there’s no way around it?”
“No.”
“Can we just beat you up and take it?” Dunstana asks.
“Well…” the old hermit mutters. “Technically, you could. But that wouldn’t really be sporting.”
“Huddle up,” Kat tells Dunstana and Amara.
“I still think we should just beat him up,” Dunstana says in the huddle.
“I don’t know, I think it will be fun,” Amara says.
“I have an idea,” Kat declares. “I’ll go first.”
She breaks out of the huddle and looks up at the old hermit.
“Is it bigger than a breadbox?” she asks.
“Oh!” Dunstana says as a brilliant thought occurs to her. “Is is a bigger than normal breadbox?”
“Is it a box? That just happens to have some bread in it?” Amara asks.
Kat sceptically narrows her eyes. “Is the treasure an abstract concept or life lesson? Is it the bond of trust and friendship we created between ourselves by working together?”
“Is it clothes?” Dunstana asks.
“Yes.”
“Boots?” Kat asks.
“No.”
“A fashionable ball gown from Gallicantu?” Amara hopefully.
“No.”
“Pants?” Dunstana asks. “Underpants? Overpants? Demipants?” She thoughtfully touches her chin. “One of those butt-cape things?”
“No.”
“A shirt? Or a tunic?” Kat asks.
“You have done it!” the hermit declares. He reaches into his ragged pockets and tosses out a celebratory handful of glittering confetti.
Then, he goes over to a dark corner of the cave and hauls over a large chest. He unlatches the chest and turns it towards Kat, Dunstana, and Amara.
“I call dibs!” Dunstana exclaims.
Kat rolls her eyes and tosses back the lid of the chest and reaches inside. The tunic is in remarkably good shape considering it’s been 70 years. She unfurls the garment and reads the words stitched onto its front:
“I went on an epic quest and all I got was this lousy tunic.”
She groans.
The old hermit chuckles to himself. “Sure, I locked myself in a cave for seventy years. But it was completely worth it.”
“Get him,” Kat declares.
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