The Sorcerer's Ring: Book 05 - A Vow of Glory (12 page)

The
door slammed open and out came a middle-aged man, ducking his head at the
doorway. He was bald, with graying hair on both sides, a big nose, narrow brown
eyes and a double chin, and was dressed in robes, frayed, hardly better than
rags. He stopped before the group and stared directly at Thor, clearly annoyed.

"What
right did you have to press my grandson to bring you here?" he demanded,
angry.

"We
did not press your grandson to do anything!" Thor protested. "He
offered to take us—"

"And
how am I supposed to know that you are not of the Empire?" the man pressed,
reaching down and gripping the hilt of his sword, resting at his waist.

Thor
and the others instinctively reached for their weapons, too, as they did not
know exactly how belligerent this man would be.

"Your
dress seems to show you're not from here,” the old man said, “but what if it’s
all a trick? What if you are spies for the Empire?”

Thor sensed
that the best way to deal with this wary old man was through kindness, and he
raised his hands innocently and took a step forward.

"Sir,
we mean no offense," he said, in as gentle tone as he could muster. "We
are not spies of the Empire. We have come here from the Ring. We seek a certain
sword which was stolen from our kingdom. We mean you no harm. And if you wish
to tell us which direction it was heading, we will be on our way. If you do not,
then we shall just leave now, and leave you in peace. In any case, we thank
your grandson for his kindness in saving us. We owe him a great debt.”

The
man stared Thor up and down earnestly for quite a while, then finally his hand
relaxed; he let go of the hilt of his sword, and his face relaxed, too.

"I
hear it in your voice," the man said. “That accent. You are indeed of the Ring.
It has been years, too many years, since I've been there. A beautiful place. I
miss it dearly.”

The
man surveyed all of them, then finally relaxed his shoulders.

"Forgive
my haste in accusing you," he added. "We live alone out here, and one
can never be too sure. Welcome. I wish for you to stay. Come quickly now,"
he said, gesturing with his hands, looking out at the trees as if afraid something
might attack them.

Thor
looked at Reece and the others, who looked back and nodded, and as one, they
all filed into the man's cottage, as he followed and closed the door, barring
it behind them with a large metal pole.

"Sit,
please,” the old man said as he entered, tidying up.

Thor
surveyed the cozy cottage, and saw that it was roomy, enough to hold all of
them. The floors were lined with furs, a small fire roared in the fireplace,
and it smelled of food, making Thor’s stomach growl. Krohn must have smelled
it, too, because he began to whine.

The
boy hastened to do his grandfather's bidding, hurrying over with a platter of
fruits that Thor did not recognize. Thor and the others each grabbed one, and
as Krohn whined, the boy took a piece off the platter, leaned down, and fed it
to him. Krohn snatched it from his hand, wolfed it down, made a funny face,
licked his lips several times, then whined for more. The boy laughed.

Thor
examined his piece of fruit. It looked like a fig, but was much bigger, red in
color, and covered in a sort of moss.

"What
is it?" Thor asked.

"It's
a mooless," the boy said.

“Try
it,” the grandfather chimed in. "It's bitter but also sweet. It will give
you energy after your long hike.”

Thor raised
it to his nose, and it smelled unlike anything he had ever encountered—like an
onion crossed with a lemon. He could feel from his fingertips that it was
sticking to his hand, and as the others, he lifted it and took a tentative bite.

He was
struck by the taste: it was delicious, and even this small bite gave him a burst
of energy. He gobbled it down and licked his fingers, and already felt like a
new man.

Thor
sat with the others on the pile of furs on the floor, spread out around the
fire, Krohn coming up beside him, and resting his head in Thor's lap. Thor was surprised
at how good it felt to sit, the achiness in his legs slowly subsiding. He had not
realized how long they had been on their feet, how much his muscles hurt. They
were also all bruised from their encounter with that animal. These furs were so
soft and comfortable, Thor felt as if he could fall asleep sitting up.

But he
thought of the Ring, under attack, and knew they had urgent business to attend
to, and did not want to waste any time. He leaned forward.

"We
are most grateful for your hospitality," Thor said to the old man,
"but I'm afraid we haven’t much time. We are on an urgent journey. We must
find the Sword. Please, tell us where it went so we can be on our way.”

The
old man took a seat, leaning back on a fur on the other side of the fire,
beside the boy, and he looked back at them and shook his head.

"You
can't go back out there," he said. "Not now. Haven’t you seen? The
second sun is about to set.”

“I
told them papa!” the boy said.

“We
appreciate your caution,” Thor said, “but as I said, we have urgent business,
and we do not fear insects.”

The
old man snorted.

"You
don’t understand,” he said. “No one can be out there at night.
No one
. You would not last an hour.
After nightfall, sometime during the rising of the first moon, the rains come.
No one can survive outside during the rains.”

"And
why couldn't one survive a rainfall?" Reece pressed.

The
man turned and narrowed his eyes at him.

"Because
it is not a rainfall," he said. "It is not water that falls from the
sky, boy, but Ethabugs.”

“Ethabugs?”
Elden asked.

"A
kind of spider, but larger and more deadly. In this part of the Empire, the sky
rains them, every night. You'll hear them falling against our cottage. It will last
for about an hour, then they scurry on their way. But if you are outside during
that time, without shelter, you'd be finished. I've seen a grown elephant devoured
by those things in five minutes. No, you will stay here. At first light, you
can go.”

Thor and
the others exchanged a look of wonder, and he marveled at how different this
place was. As he thought about it, he realized he was exhausted, and while his
mind was in a rush to go, his body was not. His friends looked exhausted, too, and
he did not blame them. Thor realized that being a good leader sometimes meant
inspiring your people to go on—but sometimes it also meant allowing them to
rest. And if this old man was not exaggerating—and Thor suspected he was
not—then he was grateful to have found this shelter, and for the man's
hospitality. He didn’t want to contemplate what might have happened if they had
been outside during that time.

"Then
we are most grateful for your warning, and for your hospitality," Thor
said. “Thank you for having us.”

The old
man shrugged.

"It's
nice to have company once in a while. Especially from the Ring. I spent the
better part of my youth there. Lovely place.”

Thor’s
eyes opened wide in surprise; this man had been to the Ring?

"And
then what are you doing here?" O'Connor asked.

The
man looked down, waited several seconds, and lapsed into silence.

"I'm
sorry," O'Connor said. "I didn't mean to pry.”

The
old man remained silent for a while more, then finally, took a deep breath.

"I
was young, a tragedy struck in my life. I thought the best thing to do was to
start clean. I thought I’d head out west, beyond the Canyon, sail across the
Tartuvian for the Empire, head into the wilds. I suppose at the time a part of
me had been hoping to get killed. My woes engulfed me, and it was the easy way
out.

“But
that did not turn out to be the case. Somehow, I survived. And then I grew fond
of surviving. I have lived here alone, for all these years—until the arrival of
my grandson. Now I have something to live for. And despite all the animals, I
have grown to like it here. I have traveled across the entire Empire, have seen
places and things you can hardly imagine. It is a vast, vast Empire, dwarfing
the Ring in comparison. You have not lived until you've seen it all. Not just
the Empire proper, and not just the islands. But also the Land of the Dragons.
And the Land of the Druids.”

"The
Land of the Druids?" Thor asked, sitting up, shaking off his sleepiness.
"Have you been there?”

The
man nodded.

"As
close as you can come. It is a magical place. There are many magical places in
the Empire. It has all been ruined by Andronicus, by his army, which is
everywhere. His patrols are ever-present, which is why I had to come out here,
deep in the jungle. Anyone caught by them is captured and taken either as a
soldier or as a slave. His army of slaves is in fact bigger than his army of
soldiers. He has to dominate everything, every last soul.”

The
old man sighed.

“I
have gotten quite good at hiding from his men. They have never caught me—and they
never will. Or my grandson. I want it that way. That's why I'm wary of new
visitors, like yourself. I don't want anyone to give me away.”

Thor
and the others looked at each other, taken aback by the man’s story.

"Can
you tell us what you know of the Sword?" Thor asked.

The
man looked long at Thor, then finally looked away.

"I
saw a dozen men the other day. Also from the Ring. They moved awkwardly through
the jungle. They were accompanied by several warriors, a formidable force. They
left a broad trail. Easy to follow. Although of course the jungle consumes
itself every day, so unless a trail is fresh it will disappear. But I watched
them. I know where they went.”

"And
where was that?" Reece asked.

Thor
thought he saw something like fear in the man’s eyes.

"They
took the road to Slave City.”

"Slave
City?" Elden echoed.

The
old man nodded.

"About
ten miles west of here. We’re at the edge of the jungle here. There's only one
road there. But I warn you: Slave City is aptly named. There are hundreds of
thousands of them. All indentured servants, all serving Andronicus. And just as
many guards. Venture there, and you won’t get out.”

"But
why would they take the Sword there?" Conval asked.

"I
didn’t say they were taking it there,” he said. “I said they were heading down
that road. They could be going anywhere.”

"Then
we shall follow them at first light," Thor said.

The
old man shook his head.

"To
enter Slave City is to give yourself up for capture. Especially with such a
small fighting force as your own. It’s suicide.”

"We
have no choice," Thor insisted. "We have come to find the Sword. And we
must follow wherever it went.”

The old
man lowered his head and shook it sadly.

"Will
you show us the way?” Thor asked. “In the morning?"

"It's
your death," the old man said. "I can show you how to get anywhere.”

Satisfied,
Thor leaned back onto the furs—but as he stretched his arm, he suddenly felt it
singed, and he yanked it back quickly, crying out in pain.

He
turned and looked, expecting to see a fire, but he saw none. He wondered what
happened, how he had gotten hurt.

"I
told you to close those shutters boy!" the old man yelled.

The
boy ran over to Thor and quickly closed the wooden shutters beside him. As Thor
watched, he realized he had been sitting beside an open window. Thor was
puzzled as he looked down at his arm, which had a slight burn mark on it.

"What
singed my arm?” he asked.

"The
moonlight," the boy answered.

“Moonlight?”
Thor asked, shocked.

“It’s
strong in these parts. Never put yourself directly in its light. It burns you.”

"It's
only the first moon that burns you,” the old man added. “It wanes in a couple
of hours, after the spiders leave. The second one is fine to walk under.”

Thor
rubbed his arm, leaning back, and he wondered at this place. He felt a million
miles away from home. A part of him felt as if he would never return.

"Fetch
the meat," the old man commanded, and the boy crossed the cottage and appeared
with a heaping platter, overflowing with meats.

Thor and
the others—especially Krohn—all perked up, opening their sleepy eyes and
leaning forward. Thor dared not ask what sort of meat this was, hardly knowing
the names of any of the animals out here anyway. But it smelled delicious, and
as the boy brought it closer, Krohn smacked his lips and whined. The boy
laughed and served Krohn first, ripping off a hunk and throwing it through the
air; he laughed harder as Krohn snatched it. Krohn wagged his tail as he
carried it off to a corner of the room and chewed.