by Bob Blink
A characteristic he had noted in some third world countries appeared to be at work here as well. Vendors of similar goods seem to cluster in a single area, which must have made for cutthroat competition, but probably made some sense. In a land without telephones or easy communication, knowing that dishware was available in the southwest corner of Center street was probably more effective than having to search all over town. The consumer would know where to go, and have a chance to look over the variety available without having to wonder where else to look. The vendors would profit because their potential customers would know where to find them.
Today they had arrived at an awkward time. The members of the group had all thought to spend the night here, and have a chance at one more big dinner together before parting. The weather had delayed their arrival by several days, and the god of chance had brought the caravan to their parting point in the middle of the day. Morin felt pressed to move on, not willing to throw aside the better part of a day when he was already further behind schedule than his plans had allowed for.
“This is it then,” the big man had said, obviously as cheerless with the parting as were Jolan and Asari. The whole party was obviously unhappy it had come so soon, and all the other painful good-byes had been said. The rest of Morin’s extended family looked on somberly as the two men said their good-byes. Morin and Asari had talked a few minutes earlier, and he was off saying a final good-bye to Yashy and her brother. “You’re sure you don’t want to change your mind and join us?”
Sighing, Jolan held out his hand to the man that had become more than a friend in a short time. “You cannot know how tempting your offer is, but something is at work here, and I feel it would be a mistake to let events go unreported. I need to carry the word of Cheurt’s activities, and I need to see if I can find a way home. At the very least, it would be prudent to make his presence known there as well. Besides, I owe Asari. Maybe afterwards. . . ?”
Morin nodded, already knowing there was no changing the direction of things.
“He told you the same, didn’t he?”
Morin sighed, but agreed. “I thank ya for agreeing to letting me ask. The lad would be more than welcome in my home, and I know my Yashy girl is a bit sweet on the lad. I fear for the both of you, but more for him. Your way is a dangerous one, and revenge is not to be taken lightly. If you find a way home, what’s to become of him?”
The thought had crossed Jolan’s mind more than once. If he could find a way home, would he go and simply leave Gaea? Would his promise to help Asari win out over his desire to return home, or could he return home and then come back better prepared to deal with the dangerous wizard? Already, from his limited knowledge of how things worked here, he could think of items back home that would do much to ensure their success in a campaign against the man. If he could go home, would it even be possible to return? There were too many unanswered questions, and all he could do was move forward and see what options might be revealed.
“We’ll not forget the directions to your brother’s place,” Jolan replied. “Some day, one or both of us will find you again.”
“I’ll be telling my brother about the two of you, so he won’t be surprised if you show up one day and I’m off on caravan. Just know, there’ll always be someone there that will know where I am.”
They had talked for days riding on the hard seat of Morin’s wagon, and now it seemed like there was too much left unsaid to simply part, but Jolan knew the longer they delayed, the harder it would become. It was time to go, and let the others continue on their journey. He stepped back, making room for the older man to step back up on his wagon.
“Wait,” Morin said while reaching into his pocket. He pulled something out and handed it to Jolan. “You should have this. It might make a difference.”
“What is it?” Jolan asked, as he turned the ring over in his hand. He wasn’t one to wear jewelry.
“I came by it a while back almost by accident. I bought it from a man who didn’t know what he had, and thought I could make a pretty profit if it were real. I took it to someone who knows about these things when we were in Cobalo a few trips back. He said it was genuine, and very rare. For some reason every time I thought of selling it, I didn’t want to part with it. Seemed right to keep it at hand. Now it seems right for you to have it.”
“You talk as if it is associated with magic in some way.”
“It is a ring that is supposed to aid one who has the power. I don’t know how it works, but I sense it will be of use to you along the way.”
Jolan looked over the ring with its clear blue stone in a setting of some unknown metal. The metal was impressed with a number of tiny symbols that didn’t look like anything he had ever seen.
“I think it’s a bit too large for my fingers,” he said looking at the hole.
“Try it,” Morin insisted.
Jolan slipped it over his ring finger, that seeming to be the appropriate choice. As he slipped it in place he could feel the ring adjusting itself to his finger, resulting in a perfect comfortable fit.
For the briefest moment Jolan had a vision in the back of his mind of an impossibly old and gnarled man, surrounded by a ring of men he somehow knew were mages or wizards of immense capability all focusing streams of power at a blue stone as big as his fist. The stone glowed fiercely with brilliant white light as it was compressed and fitted into the band of preformed metal, becoming the ring he held in his hand.
“I knew it!” Morin exclaimed as he observed the ring on Jolan’s finger.
Jolan looked down where Morin was looking, and was surprised to see a faint, but very real, glow deep inside the stone.
“It never did anything when I put it on. It has to be a mage, but the right kind. Not just someone who can tap the power, but someone with ability compatible with the power granted by the ring.”
“What does it do?”
“I have no idea,” Morin replied truthfully. “Neither did the man I saw. He’d heard of the ring. There’s supposed to be a couple of different types. But they are so rare nobody knows much about them. My guess is, you will find out somehow.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Jolan said failing to convey his feelings. “This must be worth far more than I have. .”
“A friend knows how to accept a gift,” Morin said interrupting him.
Jolan smiled wryly. “Thanks Morin. Thanks more than I can say for everything.”
“Aye,” the big man said, then suddenly grabbed Jolan in a bear hug. When Morin released him he starred briefly into Jolan’s eyes and then abruptly climbed up into the seat of the wagon. He started the team, and without looking back waved meaningfully over his shoulder as he pulled away.
Jolan and Asari each watched the small caravan as it moved down the road towards Slipi and out of view. Both had reasons to reconsider the parting, and wonder if the right decisions were being made here. Jolan watched with a pang as most of the people he knew in this world slowly moved away from him and wondered if he would ever enjoy their company again. Asari was painfully aware that he had found a replacement family, and was letting them disappear out of his life, turning him into an orphan again. He had been alone for almost a year, and the comfort of “parents” was addictive, plus he hadn’t realized how attractive the idea of a “brother” and “sister” could be. Both knew it wasn’t too late to remedy the situation, but both realized they wouldn’t do so. As difficult as the parting was, they each knew that unless they followed through to their initial objective they would never be fully at peace. At least they had each other, and Asari had strong feelings for the “other worlder” who he unconsciously looked on as an older brother, while Jolan knew he had found a true friend in the young man.
“I’m going to miss them,” Asari said softly, his voice not quite right.
“Yes,” agreed Jolan. “We both will. What say we find a nice place on the far edge of town? We can have a long warm bath, a great dinner, and be ready to start out toward Carta in th
e morning.”
Chapter 24
“Do you think they are home yet?” Asari asked, giving voice to thoughts that mirrored his own. Jolan thought he could detect just a hint of regret in his friends voice.
“I don’t know, but I’d guess it likely,” Jolan answered. “They had a lot less distance to travel.”
The two friends had been on their own for four days now, and were almost halfway to Carta. They had found the traveling much different than before. Unlike the mountain regions, they were now in a highly populated locale, and while most of the time it was countryside, it was countryside that belonged to one farmer or another. There was no game, at least none that could be taken, and setting up to camp felt like trespassing. As a result, they had been forced into staying at the various inns along the way, eating oven-cooked meals with all the trimmings and sleeping in soft comfortable beads. The toll on their savings had been a bit steeper than they’d expected, and they were averaging about a half silver in expenses each day. In addition to everything costing more than it had in the wilderness when they’d done their initial planning they hadn’t really figured in the costs associated with feeding and stabling three horses each day. Even so, they were still financially sound, although Jolan was going to change some more coin when they got settled in the capital.
“You were really giving that redhead the eye last night. I thought you were going to have a go at her.” Jolan looked over at his younger companion who blushed slightly.
“She was certainly allowing you to have a good look at her assets.”
The waitress in question was a buxom young redhead only a year or two older than Asari. She had worn the typical low cut blouse that seemed to be the standard attire of waitresses here, and was barely contained by the garment, even less so when she returned with their drinks and had apparently lost a button on her way back from the bar.
“I tried afterwards,” he reluctantly admitted, blushing even a bit more brightly. Someone else had already made her an offer and she was no longer free. I noticed you were looking her over pretty hard as well.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to pass up a look. Especially as pretty as some of these girls are.” The past few days at the inns had offered up a number of the young women.
“How come you don’t take one of them to bed?”
Jolan shrugged. How could he explain to his friend without seeming to be a prude, or making some kind of moral judgement? Where he came from this wasn’t considered normal or acceptable behavior. The word prostitute kept coming to his mind, although these girls seemed anything but that. Still, the idea of hiring out one of them for a night’s romp under the sheets made him uncomfortable somehow, even with the concerns of disease eliminated from the equation.
Turning his thoughts from the subject, he gazed at the region they were riding through. The land here was flat with gently rolling hills. Outside of the small townships and villages they passed through most of the countryside had been given over to farming, but even the infrequent areas that remained wild were covered with long grasses and only a few trees. The road since Ekine had remained paved with interlocked stone the entire way, so the occasional shower had little effect on their travel. Alongside the roadway an ever changing variety of colorful flowers bloomed, all seeming to be varieties Jolan didn’t recognize. That could be because they were truly different than the wild flowers of home, or because he had just never happened across them before. The same could be said of most of the trees. They looked just a bit different than he remembered, but he had never been one to really pay attention to the various types, despite the amount of time he had spent in the woods. The species he could name were reduced to the generic “tree” or “bush”, even back home. He was a little more familiar with the various pine trees, or at least he thought he was.
While the main road was paved, that was true only of the cross-roads in the small towns. As they rode along the countryside, crossroads were either covered in gravel if they represented a major travel route, or remained dirt for those associated with private residences or farms.
The residents were actively working the fields as the two friends traveled through the countryside.
“It’s the second harvest,” Asari explained. “The land yields two crops each summer, and they are clearing the fields of the last growth of the season. It is getting late, and soon the cooler weather of fall will be upon us. In another month we can expect more rain, and harsher winds.”
Today they were headed a bit off their chosen path making a detour of a couple miles to have a look at something Asari wanted to show Jolan. The landscape for the past few miles had changed, and in place of the usual open fields they had entered a region of small rocky hills with deep ragged cuts in the land, almost as if it had been ripped and torn apart some time in the distant past. It was the longest they had gone between settlements of some kind in many days, and Jolan was curious what his friend wanted him to see.
“Over this hill,” Asari said eagerly as their horses plodded slowly up the small incline.
They were traveling over open grassy hillsides, as there were no roads going their way in this place. As they cleared the peak Jolan was able to see a lake down on the flat on the other side of the hill they were on. Something screamed “artificial” at him from the moment he first saw it, but it was large enough that seemed extremely unlikely. At least a mile in diameter, the edges were almost perfectly circular, and it was filled with almost impossibly clear blue water.
“Dragon’s Hole,” Asari said smugly, pointing to the pool below.
“You certainly drag those beasts of yours into things as often as possible,” Jolan observed dryly. “How deep is it?”
“No one knows. Very deep. You can see at the edges that it drops steeply away, and only a few feet from shore it is already dozens of feet deep. It is almost like a vertical shaft that drops into the earth, but is filled with water.”
“Why is it called Dragon’s Hole?”
“The Dragons are said to have made it for some reason.”
“I thought the dragons were creatures of stories, not real. Did one of your wandering bards have a story that tells of their creating this?”
Asari shook his head. “No, but those who live in the area are certain it is so.”
Jolan was amused. “So when did this happen? It would be a significant task to create something like this, even with magic. Does anyone have an idea what the purpose was?”
“No one knows,” he replied candidly.
“So no one knows why it was supposedly built, no one knows when, but everyone is certain that the dragons were responsible, even though no one has ever seen a dragon, is that correct?”
“It is so,” Asari answered unabashed. “Sometimes at night, far down in the depths, very far down, one can see a bright glowing light. It is so. I have seen it myself on two occasions.”
“Maybe you saw reflected light.”
“From what?” Asari challenged. “What is there out here to create a light to be reflected. Besides, I can tell the difference between a reflection and something under the water.”
Jolan didn’t know what to say about his friend’s obsession with the dragons. He had all but admitted in the past they were simply fantasy tales told for amusement, but yet there was something about the way he spoke of them that told Jolan that Asari truly wanted to believe in them. He didn’t want to say anything to belittle his friend’s feeling, but in truth this seemed an unnecessary distraction.
“Some say this is where the dragons went when they disappeared from Gaea,” he said as Jolan continued to stare at the lake.
As he started to comment, Jolan’s eyes spotted something off to the right, a couple of hundred yards away. “Another one?” he asked himself softly.
Without waiting, he turned his horse and started riding slowly around the shore of the lake, headed toward the object that had caught his attention. Asari followed quietly behind. When they reached the edge of the object, Jolan dism
ounted and walked over to it, running his hands across the surface and walking all the way around the large piece of stone.
“It’s exactly like the other one,” he observed.
It was true, so much so it could be the other one, impossibly relocated from up by the great lake on the far side of Trailways for them to find here. The stone was smooth, with the same hollows and the same large platform out in front that once again appeared immune to the encroachment of the grasses and weeds that owned the surrounding area.
“There are many such. I thought I told you. I have seen at least a hundred scattered around.”
“And no one knows their purpose?”
“Most people feel they are markers of some kind, but no one can decide what.”
“Are they all beside lakes?” Jolan asked. The only two of the objects he had seen were both located adjacent to bodies of water.
Asari shook his head. “I have seen them in the mountains, inside of cities, and on the road. I have even seen one alone in the middle of a large desert. There is no pattern.”
* * * *
The last day of travel before reaching Carta, the scenery began to change. Instead of working farms, the holdings started to look more like estates. There was less active growing, and more land allocated to stables and large fenced meadows where prized animals could be turned loose for exercise. Long rows of tall trees often lined the roadway, yielding yet another touch showing they were entering a major urban area. The carriages on the road transitioned from sturdy and functional work vehicles into more and more frequent ornate vehicles, many driven by uniformed drivers, and some with curtains to give travelers inside privacy as they traveled.
Carta was indeed a city. They had arrived in the suburbs earlier in the morning, and now it was well past noon and they had yet to reach the city center. Nestled at the foot of a great range of towering mountains, and situated on the shores of a mighty river, it made Jolan think of pictures he had seen of nineteenth century London. This was the capital of Seret, and after weeks of travel they had finally made it. Asari wanted to find an inn a bit closer to the center of the city, which would allow them access to the merchant area and put them within walking distance of the palace grounds. His friend had admitted he had no idea of the protocol to gaining an audience with the parliament, or the king, but it would probably mean a number of trips into the walled inner city where the government operated. His uncle would know whom they could contact. That was why they had come here.
