“Let me go back a bit so you can understand what happened, and what is happening now.”
Michael told Sarah and Oliver how the magicians at the enclave were charged with the hiding and protection of the talismans of magic, and how Acantha had stolen the rings and been possessed by the evil powers of the ruby ring.
“There were two rings,” he continued. “One was the ruby ring I told you about and the other was an emerald ring. This emerald ring.”
Michael raised his right hand to show them the beautiful emerald ring he was wearing.
“I’ve never noticed that before,” said Sarah quietly, as she leaned over to get a closer look at the large ring.
“One of its special qualities, it seems,” responded Michael. “I’ve worn it every day that we’ve been together, and you never noticed it.”
“So,” interrupted Oliver, “this Croom guy is trying to kill you to get that ring back for your sister?”
“That’s about it,” responded Michael.
“Yeah, right,” Oliver continued sarcastically, “she sounds just like the sister I’ve always wanted.”
Michael sighed, “I told you, it’s not her doing all this, it’s the ruby that has taken her over. It’s just like the two times the emerald took me over and saved my life through its magic.”
Oliver stood and stretched with arms wide. “Okay, at least you managed to get Sarah here where she will be safe. I’ll help you get out of town so you can clean up this mess away from here.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be enough now,” Michael tentatively offered. “If I leave Sarah here, now that Acantha knows about her, Acantha will take her and use her to get to me. It’s true I have to leave, but Sarah must come with me.”
“No!” snapped Oliver, and he dismissed Michael’s suggestion with a wave of the hand. “I won’t allow it. She’s never been out of the village before, and now you want to pick her up and run off with her, while some monster of a man is following you. Not a chance. My friends and I will see to her safety. I’m not letting her run off with some magician!”
It was Sarah who first recovered from Oliver’s tirade. “Oliver, you are the oldest and dearest friend I have, but I love Michael. Where he goes, I go! We had hoped for your help, not your judgment.”
Sarah got up from the table and pulled on Michael’s arm as though it was time to go.
When Michael stood, Oliver quickly recanted. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute.”
He thought quickly while they stood waiting expectantly.
“Okay, you win. Sit down so we can figure what to do next.”
The young couple returned to the table. Everyone was now more subdued than when the Sarah and Michael had burst in on the sleeping Oliver. Oliver pushed his now-cold mug of tea away and moved his chair back from the table. He paused to rub his jaw with a gnarled hand as he looked at Michael.
“So, what do you plan to do? Do you have a safe place where you can go?”
Michael told Oliver about his old friend and teacher, Everett, and how Everett was waiting for him across the bay in the Cruz Mountains.
“Then your first problem is getting from here to there without this Croom fellow following right on your heels,” said Oliver. “I don’t understand how this sister of yours could manage to raise a dead man from his grave, magic or no magic, but I’ll do all I can to help. Not for you, mind you! But for Sarah.
“We will dress you two up in some old fishing clothes I have around here and set out with the fleet in the morning. When we get out from shore, we’ll separate from the rest of the fleet and head over to Cruz Town. We’ll be in the mountains before your assassin even knows how you got out of town.
“Now, we get you to the Cruz Mountains; what then? Do you know where to find this old magician?”
“I’ve never been to the Cruz Mountains,” Michael replied. “And I don’t know where to start looking for him. But remember, he is a very strong magician. Even if I’m a rather poor excuse for an apprentice, we’ll find him once we get to the mountains, or he’ll find us.”
“Well, I’m coming with you two kids,” said Oliver. He turned to look at Sarah. “I’m not going to leave your welfare to a magician, no matter how much you love him. Besides, I promised your uncle on his death bed I would watch out for you and that is exactly what I am going to do!”
“Oliver, no,” objected Sarah. “I can’t let you put yourself in danger like that. You just heard what we are up against. If you can just get us across the bay. We can go on alone from there.”
“Don’t you start worrying about me, girl,” he replied as he began gathering clothing and supplies. “You may consider me over the hill, but a man that has worked this ocean for thirty years the way I have builds up strength to put you land-locked folk to shame.”
“While you two are arguing,” interrupted Michael, “I’m going to slip outside for a short time. If we’re not leaving for a few hours yet, we need a shield around us so Croom won’t know we’re here. I think it’s time for my magic to come out of retirement.” CHAPTER 5
Croom’s persistent effort against the rubble was finally rewarded. The darkness of the fallen building was replaced by the darkness of night as he crawled into the crisp air that he could no longer feel, could no longer breathe. He did not mind that he could not enjoy the sensations of life, all he wanted was to perform the task given to him by Acantha so that he could be returned to the oblivion of death.
He climbed out of the rubble, stumbling over the fallen concrete until he reached an area away from the wreckage. Croom considered his appearance in the moonlight. He knew if he was to continue moving among the living to find Michael, he would at least need to resemble something human. At this moment his appearance wasn’t even close.
The bolt shot into his chest had broken, but at least three inches of the wooden shaft still remained exposed. Croom grabbed the exposed shaft in a strong grip and pulled. The shaft finally jerked free with a ripping and tearing of long dead flesh. Dark decayed meat clung to the barbs on the head of the bolt. He examined the gaping hole left in his chest. Not able to smell the putrid odor wafting from the ravaged wound, he gave it no further thought.
His clothing would have to be replaced since they were ripped to shreds; his right boot was gone, buried in the collapsed building. A break-in at one of the merchant’s shops in town that carried clothing would remedy the problem, and Croom would be ready to continue his pursuit.
It was a strange apparition that haunted the trail back towards the village that night. With his clothing torn, and covered head to foot in filth, Croom stalked through the same swirling fog, and on the same path that Michael and Sarah had followed just hours earlier.
Acantha came to him as he was in the deepest part of the hushed forest. With a force sufficient to knock the malignant man to his knees, she invaded his mind as she had earlier invaded his soul.
“Fool!” screamed the incensed voice in his head. “I sent you on a simple errand, and you failed.”
“Not my fault.” Croom panted from weakness as he knelt, head hanging, among the loam and fallen evergreen needles. “He called upon his magic and I was helpless to stand against it.”
“Don’t give me excuses! I saw through your eyes; you failed!” Acantha hissed.
From his kneeling position, Croom looked to the heavens. Whether beseeching Acantha or a greater power he had never known, was a question even he could not answer. “Give me rest, let me perish!” he cried.
“You will have your rest when you have done as instructed. Fail me, Croom, and I will see you walk the earth for eternity as a lost soul.”
She left his mind then, and with a shudder he collapsed face first to the very earth she had taunted him with. Croom had no choice but to rise again to continue his hunt. He made his way through the fog-enshrouded, midnight forest with a matching blackness in his soul.
He was cautious as he entered the fallen city. He detested the necessity that brought him to the bou
nds of civilization; but was forced to take whatever steps were necessary to fulfill the task that Acantha’s magic held him to.
He passed alone through the dead parts of the city – not caring about the rusted remains of the metal wagons, or the skeletons of the buildings of an earlier civilization that had captured Sarah’s attention just hours earlier. He was too busy cursing everyone involved in this mess he was called upon to accomplish.
It was still a few hours before dawn when Croom entered a dark alley beside a shop that stocked hand-made clothing and leather goods. He fit in perfectly with the alley, a shadowy remnant of a man passing among the stinking refuse and garbage discarded by the shadier element of town. He was not much for stealth as he plodded across the urine-soaked dirt toward the side doorway, but there was no one about at this time of morning to note his passage. Reaching the doorway, he paused to listen for noises from inside that would tell of an early-rising shopkeeper. Hearing nothing, he pushed his shoulder and hip against the door just hard enough to break the latch without causing sufficient noise to raise alarm.
Fred Pitts had inherited the leather-makers shop about ten years earlier when his father was found beaten to death. The circumstances seemed to be suspicious by most of the town’s inhabitants, but if the truth was to be told, not many would miss the abrasive elder Pitts. It was hoped that perhaps the younger Pitts would upgrade the shop and become a benefit to the town. Such was not to be the case.
He turned out to be an utterly unlikeable fellow. He was known for sloppy workmanship, cheating any customer slow-witted enough to be taken. And Pitts had a mean streak that landed him in the middle of the few brawls that he did not start himself. Thin and wiry he had built a good deal of strength in his hands and arms through his craft. He had unruly brown hair, a thin hollow face, and prominent yellow buck teeth. He kept a small room in the back of the shop for sleeping when he spent too much of his evening in one of the bars he constantly visited. On nights such as this, it was much easier to make it back to his shop than to try to find his way home.
Pitts was pulled from his sleep, still groggy, when the outer door was jarred open. It was the smell from Croom’s wound that finally brought him fully awake. He sat up in bed, wondering what foul wind brought that stench to him, when he heard movement coming from the shop area. He padded barefoot over to the doorway connecting his little room with the shop. The two rooms were separated by a sheet of cloth hanging over the doorway. Pulling aside the cloth, Pitts peered into the adjoining room, squinting to make up for his poor eyesight.
Against the far wall to his right, he could see his leatherworking tools hanging on pegs and scattered about his workbench. Dark-stained leather, his latest project, was being stretched near the bench. All this was visible from the dim light that was let in through the broken door that opened into the alley. Looking out toward the center of the room were rough-finished tables with completed outfits: cotton and wool brought by the trading ships from the south, and his hand-made leather wear all mixed together, organized only by size groupings.
Hearing muffled noises and a dull thump, Pitts looked over into the farthest corner to his left in the front of the shop. Sitting on a short stool with his back turned was the man who had broken into his shop. He was a short burly figure, partly obscured by shadows, but Pitts could see he was putting on a new pair of leather boots that took many hours of hard labor to produce. This was not the first time his shop was broken into and he was robbed, but this fellow was not going to get away with it. Next to the bedroom doorway, only a few feet away, Pitts kept a four foot length of broken broom handle as an equalizer against any potentially unruly customers that might complain too vehemently about his shoddy workmanship.
Grabbing the length of solid wood in his right hand, he began sneaking up behind the unsuspecting thief. Wearing only baggy cotton undershorts he had put on three days earlier, he tip-toed closer, noticing the stench got stronger the nearer he got to the intruder.
“Take me a week to air the smell out of here once I get rid of this damn tramp,” thought Pitts as he steadily moved closer to his target. Getting right up behind Croom, he raised the club high over his head.
“Time to pay your dues, you thief!” hollered Pitts as he brought the club down full force on Croom’s head. His club broke in half, ricocheting off the wall and falling to the floor with a sharp clatter. The force of the blow cracked Croom’s skull and caused his body to shudder under the impact.
Pitts stood frozen in place, mouth agape in shock, as the intruder stood and turned to face him. There was no pain, fear, or anger in the thief’s eyes as expected, only cold dead indifference. The shopkeeper was rooted in terror as the unholy man took a step to reach him. Croom grabbed the shopkeeper by the throat with a vicelike grip and lifted him off the floor. Pitts knew there was no escape, no last minute pity from this man. Unlike his father, who had died at the hands of a violent and vengeful son, Pitts perished at the hands of a totally uncaring and unfeeling adversary.
* * * * * As the sun finally began to peek over the inland hills, what appeared to be two fishermen and a boy steered their small yet sturdy boat toward the north. The rest of the small fishing fleet continued farther west towards the best fishing grounds, but Sarah, Michael and Oliver had a different goal this morning.
From the shore, a short thick man watched the boat making progress toward Cruz Town. He tried to push his dirty thinning hair down with short stubby fingers. He turned to begin the long walk north.
CHAPTER 6
Even though the few inhabitants of Cruz Town were used to seeing an occasional unkempt strange man coming down from the wild mountains east of town, they had never seen the likes of Big Thomas.
Well over six and a half feet tall, Big Thomas weighed more than three hundred pounds. As he strolled through the dusty streets of the small town there were few people about to notice, but the word spread quickly about the giant from the mountains.
The town folk that peeked around the shanty doors and other various hiding places were awed by the sight of this huge burly man. His dark curly hair had grown to shoulder-length and was matched by a wild beard that nearly reached his chest. He was dressed all in leather: boots, britches and vest. Darkly tanned massive arms sprouted from the vest like gnarled tree limbs.
The timid populace quit their hiding places when they realized this terrifying looking man was smiling and waving to them. Some of the braver towns-folk ventured a tentative wave in reply.
Thomas chuckled softly to himself about the reception he was receiving. It was the same reception he was given whenever he entered a town for the first time. It was a game to him by now, to see how long it would take the fearful to come out of hiding.
He had long since stopped trying to understand why people by nature believed that a man that looked like Thomas must naturally be violent or dangerous. While he had nothing against a good fracas now and again, Thomas had never been the instigator out of anger or meanness.
It was early morning when he first entered Cruz Town and most of the inhabitants were out on their boats fishing. From the shoreline he could see one boat slowly making its way to shore. It was too distant for him to see who was in the vessel or how many people there might be, so he made his way to the only tavern in the small town to wait for the arrival of the early returning fishing boat.
Thomas was finishing his second breakfast in the rundown shack that passed for a tavern when he saw three fishermen entering town from the old wooden dock area. This being the only logical destination in the small town, Thomas decided to wait.
He remained at his table by the window as he watched two men and a boy enter the nearly empty tavern. When the keeper of the tavern approached the three and led them to a table, Thomas nearly choked on his food as the supposed boy removed his hat and shook loose shoulder-length blonde hair. The transformation into a beautiful young woman was instant.
Perhaps he was wrong, the young man looked like the one he was told to
bring back to Everett, but he had not been told about a beautiful young woman traveling with him. Still, if this was the man Everett wanted, this was the man Everett was going to get.
Michael was staring into space, once again cursing to himself for getting Sarah involved in this mess. He was startled back to reality when a large tanned face was thrust nose to nose with his. This large face was covered with black hair that opened into a wide grin. Michael continued to stare as the face pulled back from him until he could see it was attached to a mountain of a man with an overabundance of hair.
The huge man’s face split into an even larger grin. “You got real green eyes, fella, so you must be the guy I’m looking for.”
“W-what?” Michael stammered.
“Hey, what are you doing?” interjected Oliver. “We don’t know you.”
“Of course not,” the large man replied as he drew up to his considerable full height. “I’m Big Thomas. A friend of mine asked me to come down here to meet this young man he knows from some time ago. He said the fella would be coming over from Monterey to find him. He described the fella just the way this one looks. See, right down to this big old ring he’s wearing.”
Thomas had reached down to grab Michael’s hand in his own oversized fist, and was pointing to the large emerald ring he was wearing.
“My friend said it would be hard for me to see the ring, and danged if it ain’t. I had to look real close to be sure it was there.”
“You said a friend asked you to meet me. Who is your friend?” inquired Michael as he looked up at the man that held his hand in a firm yet gentle grasp.
“His name’s Everett. A little old man, but I swear he does the strangest things. Says he’s a magician if you can believe that.” Thomas finally let Michael’s hand fall from his own. “I think I believe him though. Like knowing you were going to be here today. How did he know that if he’s not a magician?”
Michael let out a sigh of relief and looked over at Sarah. “Great, Everett is expecting us.”
The Enchanted Emerald (The Enchanted Stones Book 1) Page 4
