The Ring Of Truth

by B Cameron Lee

  They clasped hands before the dwarf took the chainmail and helm from Callandor and presented them to Arwhon. Silverseam bowed deeply then left immediately, back down under the ground. The trapdoor shut solidly.

  The ‘thud’ of it’s closing was a simple yet eloquent statement.

  It took two of Cristal’s trusted retainers to carry in the small chest of gold, payment for all the mail hauberks, Kuiran’s gloves and Arwhon’s helm, particularly on such short notice. In reply to Arwhon’s query, Cristal informed him that she had been charged a fair price and for him not to worry about the cost.

  Grandmothers were allowed to dote on their grandchildren.

  With the coach loaded up, it was back to Cristal’s mansion to try on their new gear to see how heavy it all was and how comfortable the mail would be to wear over longer periods of time. They all donned their padding and mail and practiced moving in it. The experience was truly effortless, as there was hardly any weight to the hauberks and little friction between the links.

  Truly amazing metalcraft.

  Arwhon noticed his mail was a slightly different colour from everyone else’s. The metal it was made from had a reddish hue and was far less reflective than those hauberks made for the others. The helm looked simple, slightly ridged along the centre line to deflect downward blows, curved at the rear with an under-curtain of mail which fell over the back of his neck for extra protection. The design from his Ring was engraved over both sides from front to back. Arwhon tried the helm on and was amazed at how well it conformed to his head. Shiri came and put her slender arms around his waist.

  “My hero,” she whispered looking up to Arwhon’s helmeted visage, his green eyes bright beneath the flared nose bar.

  There was nothing left to do but enjoy a restful afternoon and a final meal together before leaving on their mission that very evening.

  Much later, after a light repast and before the sun had fully set, the horses were saddled up. All their saddle bags bulged, tight-packed full of provisions to last them all during their rescue mission. Rancid however, was lightly packed for once, carrying far less than he had on the way to Belvedere. This left more than enough room for Shiri to ride him on a small saddle. She had refused a bridle saying just a head collar would be enough for her. Some secretly doubted that, knowing Rancid’s nature but the mule seemingly doted on her.

  There was an air of suppressed excitement in the stableyard at the rear of the house, the Barsoomi horses picking up the feeling of their masters, fidgeting in their desire to get going. The small group exited the mansion house dressed in their new mail and armed with their various weapons but wore dark cloaks belted over all for now, concealing from scrutiny what lay beneath. Arwhon in particular looked resplendent under his cloak but declined to wear the helm. Preferring instead to strap it to his saddle until needed.

  Cristal, closely followed by the redoubtable Mendle, came out for a final word.

  “I have sent a message by trusted courier to the King of Barsoom. He will alert the Tribes to keep an eye out for you when you return back through Barsoom after your mission.”

  She approached her grandson, already mounted and took his hand as she looked up into his youthful, open face.

  “Good luck Arwhon, please take care to return to me safely.”

  “I intend to, if Fate wills it. You are far more than I expected Grandmother and I feel a bond between us. If my sister and brother arrive before I return, take good care of them. Raleen is a fine woman although prone to sharpness and Staril is a solid man but sometimes stubborn. Farewell and thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  Cristal turned to Shiri as Rancid fell into line at the back of the group.

  “Take good care of him Shiri. All our lives may depend on it.”

  Shiri firmed her pretty chin and nodded in reply.

  In the dim light of early evening, Arwhon wheeled Duran around and led the group out through the gates of Cristal’s mansion, turning left to the end of the street then right to ride up to the city’s main gate and the start of their adventure. A diminutive man in a black cloak stood concealed in the shadows watching them depart. After they had moved away, he disappeared.

  The guardsman on the city’s main gate took close notice of the cloaked and disparate group which exited the city just before the gates shut for the evening. Especially the big man on foot. It was his job afterall. Also, some people paid well for such information but after a small gesture from Shiri, all he would remember was the same motley band which had arrived just a few days ago.

  Three rode and one strode along the road to the east, paralleling the city wall, having decided that cutting across the open grasslands of Barsoom could be an invitation to disaster if they stumbled into the marsh. Instead they would ride a few days to the east before turning north, using the forests and woods along the border between Barsoom and Debrishar for some protection. This was also a risky plan but the lesser risk of the two, depending on the discipline and ability of the patrolling Dominion guards within Debrishar. It was hoped night travel would reduce the danger of being observed.

  From the end of the city walls, it was only a short distance until they reached the wide stone bridge which spanned the Wandering River and they rode across it quickly, the dark water roiling beneath them as it swiftly made its way alongside Belvedere’s eastern wall down to the harbour and the outgoing tide.

  The four companions travelled for most of the night and camped before dawn, chancing a small fire, as they were still well within Southland. Later on, as they moved to higher ground, it would be cold camping with no fires and the men would have to let their beards grow. Who bothered to try shaving with cold water?

  Lucky the early summer was a warm one.

  “So how are we getting into the caverns under the Keep again?” Chalc asked Arwhon for the fifth time.

  “By taking the Keep itself, then if there is no way down from the inside, we slide down ropes to the caves in the cliff beneath it. We should be able to fight our way out.” Arwhon confirmed yet again.

  Chalc looked doubtful. “Out of the frying pan into the Gryffon,” he muttered. “We’ll have to fine tune the plan when we see how the land lays Arwhon. There may be an easier way.”

  Night after night, the small group moved slowly across the landscape and after checking a copy of one of Cristal’s scrolls yet again, Arwhon remarked they should now be in Debrishar. While they journeyed, the country had gradually changed from farms to grasslands lightly dotted with trees.

  As the land rose, it became more heavily treed and they were now in the open woodlands of the border country. Shiri moved up to the front of the group, Rancid striding proudly, nose in the air, a smug expression on his long face as he led the larger horses he had been forced to follow for so long. On their second night among the timber, the land rose further and the trees thickened, Shiri pulled them up.

  “There’s a band of men camped ahead of us, some of Martine’s border patrol. They have guards posted among the trees. I’ll ride forward alone and give you an owl call when it’s safe to advance.”

  With that, she clucked to Rancid who moved off fearlessly in the direction of the band of armed soldiers.

  As little Shiri appeared through the trees, a number of the patrol jumped to their feet reaching for weapons until realising they were being approached by a girl, cutely dressed in chainmail and riding a mule. Smiles and relieved laughter broke out and a few ribald jests were made. Shiri ignored them all as she rode to the centre of the camp. Lifting her hand, she gestured toward them, turning in her saddle until all had seen the sign made by her hand. They froze in their tracks, motionless. She made the owl call, once, then again when hers was answered. Her fellow travellers approached at her signal.

  “Ride around the camp or you’ll leave tracks through the centre of it and when they wake they may realise a party has been through here.”

  Recognising the sense of her words, the group moved with care, drifting slowly a
round the perimeter, leaving as few marks as possible. When Shiri could just hear them off in the distance ahead, she rode out of camp herself and from the top of the next rise, turning back, made another sign with her hand. The camp came back to life, a few soldiers looking a little bewildered at standing with a weapon in their hand when they had been lying down relaxing just scant moments before.

  “I din’t hear nothing,” their Captain said. “Stop being so jumpy and relax. There’s no one out there.”

  The soldiers went back to their bedrolls and settled down, some going to sleep almost immediately and dreaming of a little girl in chainmail mounted on a mule.

  On this occasion the intrepid group had been lucky but their skills needed honing. They should never have risked such a manoeuvre. Chalc conferred with Shiri, suggesting a slightly different course of action the next time they came across a Dominion camp.

  As Arwhon’s party progressed deeper into Debrishar their rate of travel slowed. The woods were thicker here and often they stayed off the roads, travelling among the trees. Stealth was important; they were in hostile territory and could ill afford to draw attention. Shiri took to scouting ahead, further each night, sometimes being gone for hours before returning to lead them on circuitous routes which wound around the countryside in order to avoid any farms and villages in their path.

  She grew tired from all the extra riding and, out of necessity, handed the work of scouting ahead over to Kuiran while she rested. He proved just as able as she after years of patrolling the borders of the Darkwood and day by day he or Shiri led them deeper and deeper into Debrishar without being spotted. Apart from the villages, with cleared farmland in the valleys and small towns with fortified walls, there were not many settlements in this part of Debrishar but the land was hilly and heavily forested which forced them to travel the main roads sometimes.

  They camped in thickets during the days to stay out of sight and it was on one of those sunny mornings, after eating but before lying down to rest in his sleeping roll, that Arwhon first felt his chainmail giving him Power. He didn’t know what Power was but he felt energised; strong and very alive.

  When they had been travelling for nine nights, Arwhon again consulted his maps after the morning halt. He addressed his travelling companions.

  “We are but half way to Gildon’s Keep and our time is quickly running out. We’ve been very careful and remained unseen but soon we’ll have to take risks. There are two major towns to negotiate shortly and we must make as quick a time as possible. Can you shield us all with invisibility Shiri?”

  Her tired face turned to him. “I can try for a short while but I’m feeling drained of energy so the spell may fail. Earthmagic is weak here and I can’t recharge myself enough to keep up with what I’m using.”

  Arwhon took a vote and it was decided to try to pass through the intervening towns in the dead of night under a cloak of invisibility. The alternative was a two day detour up into the mountains and back down again, as both towns straddled passes through some steep hills. Kuiran scouted the next night while Shiri listlessly dozed on Rancid’s back, trying to regain some of her strength, rolling around in the small saddle as they ghosted silently along game trails covered in dried needles under the boughs of the pines. The following morning saw them camped in a clearing in thick forest, about two miles from the first of the towns they needed to pass through. Shiri slept deeply all day, her exhaustion apparent to all of them. That evening, after dark, as they assembled ready to ride, Chalc made an important observation.

  “We’d better tie rags on the horse’s feet to muffle the noise of our passage, invisible does not mean inaudible. We should also tie up any loose tack to avoid jingling noises.”

  Shiri nodded in agreement.

  “Sorry, I should’ve thought of that. I must be getting very weary. Something seems to be sapping my strength.”

  Indeed, she had dark circles under her eyes and Arwhon worried about the girl. It might be worth trying a transfer of some of the energy his Dwarven chainmail made from sunlight.

  “Shiri, I made a promise which I have to keep so I can’t tell you why it is so but I would like to try something. I want you to stand with me on this bare rock over here and hold my Ring hand. Open yourself up to whatever it is you use to channel your Earthmagic and trust me.”

  She nodded tiredly. Arwhon unbuckled his helm from the saddle, figuring that at this stage any help was better than none and pulled it on, settling his head comfortably into it. He took Shiri over to the patch of bare rock protruding from the carpet of needles and clasped her right hand tightly with his right hand, the one bearing the Ring. Nothing happened. Arwhon closed his eyes and thought of the glow of sunshine and the flicker of flames above a forge.

  He thought of all the secrets fire must hold and its timeless knowledge.

  He thought of his need for assistance in fighting evil.

  The unusual sensations started as a tingling in his legs and the mail hauberk he wore began to warm and glow softly with a deep, rich red colour, similar to freshly turned earth or some types of rock. Shiri’s eyes widened as she felt the rush of Power flood through her hand. By the glow from Arwhon’s mail, Shiri’s cheeks could be seen to flush with colour. They seemed to fill out, her face losing the hollow look it had acquired in the last few days as the dark shadows were banished from under her eyes. Arwhon felt the flow of Power out of him increase and heeding the stern warning of Silverseam the dwarf, broke contact with Shiri and stepped away, removing his helm as he did so. He felt relaxed and languorous, even a little sleepy. As though he had just climbed out of a hot bath. It was a pleasant feeling but he knew that further depletion of Power could be dangerous for him. Shiri meanwhile was standing stock still, totally stunned.

  “I feel strong but don’t recognise the source of the energy. It’s not Earthmagic and unlike anything known to me. It would colour my spells strangely and distort them if I tried to use it for magic. I’ll have to keep it separate from spell power and just use it as a source of personal energy. What was that Arwhon?”

  He looked down at Shiri apologetically.

  “I can’t tell you. I’m sorry; I gave my word never to reveal the secret but the Power just comes to me during the day.”

  Shiri took his hand and squeezed it.

  “Not to worry. I’m sorry I asked and put you in an awkward position. Thank you Trueheart.”

  She turned and went back to the others with a beaming grin on her young face.

  “Arwhon is full of surprises. Let’s mount and ride through the town.”

  Having taken the precautions to reduce noise, they eased into their saddles and rode single file following Shiri, shortly coming in sight of the settlement. Arwhon and Chalc mentally communicated the need for total silence to their horses as Shiri pulled up for a moment. She made a small gesture and rode on slowly. Luckily the town’s two taverns were full and the streets virtually deserted, although one unfortunate reveller bumped into an invisible Rancid and received a nasty kick for it. The next morning his story was put down to an ale tale in spite of the bruise.

  On they went, day after day of travel, the miles mounting up behind them. Luck seemed to be on their side and an occasional dip into Arwhon’s reserve of Power kept Shiri going but she was sickening slowly and when Arwhon asked why, she couldn’t tell him.

  “Never mind Arwhon, right now we have to free the Prince and Princess of Barsoom. After that we can worry about what’s happening to me.”

  It didn’t satisfy him; Arwhon felt a great attachment to Shiri.

  Kuiran tried his armband, the healing belt his mother had given him but for some reason the magic did not work on Shiri. The only time it had failed so far. Still, they were now only one night away from Gildon’s Keep and the mood of the party was high. They might yet achieve their objective.

  From their cover under the thick forest on the edge of the cliff, Chalc and Arwhon considered their options. The river below was dark and fast flowin
g, describing a bend far beneath them which ran from the south, off to their left, to curve in front of them and under the cliff below Gildon’s Keep before running away to the north. The left bank of the river was a small shingly beach on the inside of the river’s sweep but the curve of the cliff opposite the beach was sheer and pockmarked with cave holes below the ruined Keep across from them. If Arwhon remembered the map correctly, this river ran on into the Plains of Barsoom as the Black River.

  Part of the Keep wall had long since crumbled away as a section of the cliff, eroded beneath by years of floods, had fallen into the river taking the wall with it. Kuiran was out scouting the tower at the moment. Their plan was to try and take the Keep, before assessing if there was a way down inside it to the caverns below. Otherwise they would need to find an anchorage point in the tower to attach a rope to so they could gain access to the caverns. As Arwhon studied the cliff face, his eyes kept coming back to an irregularity in the rock wall. On closer inspection there was a hint of a very faint trail, curving all the way around the cliff, descending gradually to end at one of the caves.

  “There Chalc.” He pointed. “See that faint trail in the rock. What do you think of that?”