The Ring Of Truth

by B Cameron Lee

  “I would prefer being lowered on a rope to negotiating that trail young Master and the rope idea is a crazy enough plan. Falling from that trail in mail and padding would be certain death but, as a last alternative...” Chalc left the sentence unfinished. His meaning was apparent.

  “Right, let us back to camp and see what Kuiran has discovered. The first moon is new tonight and it could be propitious for our rescue of the Barsoomi heirs.”

  Kuiran returned to them shortly after Arwhon and Chalc made it back to their temporary camp where a tired Shiri rested. He sat down with a glum expression on his face.

  “There are quite a number of guards cleverly concealed around the Keep and also inside it. They were talking. Apparently an important visitor is expected tonight. Empress Martine from the sound of what they were saying. Good news for us as it fits our plan. The bad news is, there is no place available for us to attach a rope to descend to the caves without being discovered and there are too many guards above for a surprise attack. Although we could try it.”

  Arwhon glanced at Chalc for a moment before making his decision.

  “We saw a faint trail around the cliff. It appears unguarded but it looks extremely dangerous to traverse. However, from what you say, it appears it might be our only available method to enter the caves. We must risk it if we’re to rescue the prisoners. I’ll lead us along the cliff trail, there may be a way I can improve our chances of success. Once inside we must wait for the opportunity to grab the sapphire from around Martine’s neck and pray the Mage will then help us. Otherwise it’s a matter of fighting as we have never fought before and trying to win through. Remember, no matter what happens, we have to get the Prince and Princess onto the Barsoomi horses and ride like the wind to Barsoom.”

  He spread the map out and showed them the route again.

  “Here, to the south, about two miles upstream, a ford across the river is marked clearly on the map. Once across, we head due west and don’t stop for anything. The horses will run to exhaustion if necessary. If I fail, don’t waste time trying to rescue me. That goes for anyone of us. Averting war across the lands is the most important thing. Thousands of lives could be lost if we falter and I’m prepared for the worst. As I know you all are.”

  There were nods of agreement all around.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that young Master.” Chalc voiced the concern of them all.

  As dusk fell, Arwhon went to Duran and hugged his neck fiercely.

  “You great lump of a horse. I love you so much and you’re a part of me but the Prince and Princess of Barsoom are in grave danger and war is imminent. You have to be strong and if necessary, go without me and carry them back to your people. I may not make it back here but please, please, carry them to safety. I wouldn’t ask this of you if it weren’t so important. Do you understand?”

  There was a lump in Arwhon’s throat as the big grey’s head turned toward him, looked him in the eye and nodded. Relief flooded into Arwhon and he squeezed the horse’s neck even harder, tears welling in his eyes.

  “You’re so very important to me. Never forget that.”

  Chalc had the same talk with Darla and although they hadn’t been together so long nor bonded as deeply as Arwhon and Duran, Darla also understood. The two Barsoomi horses then stood quietly, waiting.

  Almost sadly.

  The small band was finally ready. Arwhon led on foot, back to the cliff opposite the Keep under the cover of darkness, wearing all of his weapons plus his mail, with his helm securely strapped to his head. Kuiran followed, then Shiri, with Chalc bringing up the rear. Arwhon found the start of the faint trail by starlight as the new first moon and the full second moon had not yet risen. He slowly worked his way along it, facing the rock wall with his arms outstretched. Inching along, Arwhon saw weathered marks on the stone, indicating this goat track had been hewn from the rock many, many years ago but since then the ledge had weathered and worn down.

  Far below, more inferred than visualised, the river appeared deep and inky black, ominous swirls roiling on its surface; one slip could mean plummeting to certain death. There were no other options but to keep moving forward. All went well for ten slow minutes then the thing Arwhon feared most lay just ahead. Where the cliff jutted out slightly, the track disappeared, broken away in a rock slide leaving a short section of protruding stone blocking the way to the next section of track, impossible to step around because it jutted out so far. He paused, one foot in front of the other as an insistent buzzing drove into his head and Arwhon felt the beginnings of a headache. Ideas ran every which way around his brain like rough seas over a rocky shore. Action was what was needed. Now was the time to try out one of the thoughts he had swirling around in his head. He whispered back behind him.

  “Hold still for a moment.”

  Rooting himself to the rock of the narrow track and reaching to feel the outcropping with his left hand, Arwhon drew his sword over his shoulder and stood gazing at it speculatively for a moment before placing the blade on the outcrop at head height. He drew on his Power and felt tingling in his legs as his chainmail heated up. He prayed his mail or the sword wouldn’t light up and give their position away as the blade began to glow a deep red. Fortunately there was no fire. Arwhon watched in amazement as his sword started to cut down into the stone like a hot knife through butter, its sharpened edge a thin line of white heat. He pressed gently and the sword cut rapidly down through the rocky outcropping. When he was bent down and the sword was level with his feet, Arwhon turned the blade outward. In a moment, with a faint hiss, his sword emerged from the rock and the blade returned to normal. It wasn’t even hot. The tingling sensation running through his body dissipated. It did not leave him entirely but he didn’t find the sensation unpleasant

  Arwhon stood for a moment, observing the cave entrance and the broken side of the keep above but there was no alarm sounded. Sheathing his sword, he pushed hard at the stone of the outcropping he’d cut around and was soon rewarded with a grating sound as the obstruction broke free of the cliff wall and tumbled down into the river below, the splash of its entry barely heard. There was now a ledge wide enough for them to traverse, cleared of the projecting stone.

  Arwhon had no idea how he’d just accomplished the rock cutting but silently thanking the Ring and chainmail, advanced with care. Kuiran could not believe what he had just witnessed. Even M’Herindar, strong in Earthmagic, had difficulty working with stone like that and Arwhon, untried and untutored, had just accomplished it. This was something new to Kuiran and warranted an explanation later. He continued on, following where Arwhon led, Chalc and Shiri right behind him.

  The rest of the trail proved barely passable but soon they were at the entrance to a cavern. The air sighing out was damp and dank and it smelled foul. Like centuries of accumulated detritus rotting away. They grouped close together and Arwhon took the opportunity to whisper in Shiri’s ear.

  “Shiri, if you need any Power, take the energy from me now. I’ve a little to spare.”

  Shiri held Arwhon’s Ring hand and her eyes opened at the rush of the strange raw energy which poured into her but she said nothing to give the secret away.

  Arwhon broke the contact before softly addressing them all.

  “Shiri will shield us but we have to be extremely quiet as we move into the cave. We must wait until Martine appears and Chalc, it is you who must grab the sapphire from her neck. Put your amulet on now. Kuiran, once we have the jewel I want you to use your strength to break the chains binding the prisoners, if you cannot, cover me while I try. Chalc you will then lead the Prince and Princess back across the cliff to the horses while we three guard your back. We all have some form of magic to use while you have only your skills, formidable as they are. I only pray the Gryffon does not come for us. If we’re not back in ten minutes after you’ve reached the horses, ride like the wind to Barsoom with the Barsoomi heirs. Ready?”

  Three silent nods answered Arwhon.

 
“Now Shiri, hide us please.”

  Step by step they silently tiptoed through the cave. On the floor at their feet they could see the scratch marks left by the Gryffon’s claws, criss-cross lines marking the hard granite. They were on the right path. Arwhon saw light and shortly thereafter they rounded a corner and entered the main cavern. It was lit only by a dim, vaporous torch mounted in a rusting sconce at the bottom of the stairs opposite them but after the dark of the night the area seemed quite bright. Arwhon recognised every rock and pathway from his dreams. The stench was particularly unpleasant, something which fortunately hadn’t come through to his dreams of this place.

  Ahead of the small group was the stairway by which Martine and the Mage would enter the cave if they came tonight. Arwhon looked to his right to see a large mound which he realized was the sleeping Gryffon and inwardly shuddered at the size of the beast. It looked even bigger in real life and right now he wasn’t in a dream floating safely in the air above the cavern, he was on its floor, aware of his vulnerability.

  The hostages looked pitiful, chained to the rock, their ruined clothing clinging in filthy rags. The Princess lay back against the rock, the shackles on her wrists chained to a spike driven into the stone. Her long dark hair was tangled and matted with filth while the Prince, similarly secured, sat head bowed, his emaciated face darkened with a patchy beard. Arwhon felt a surge of pity for the Prince and Princess but he couldn’t let them know they had arrived.

  Not yet.

  He led his group stealthily to an alcove beside the entrance from the broken tower above and they sat down to wait. An hour passed and Shiri was beginning to sweat with the effort of maintaining the spell of invisibility over them all.

  Another hour passed and Shiri was visibly shaking with the effort involved in keeping them cloaked with the glamour but then, from above, came the clatter of soldiers rising and donning gear before the sound of wheels rolling to a stop. Voices could be heard, becoming louder as their owners descended the stairs to the caverns. The Gryffon woke and stretched its body. First it’s taloned front legs then the catlike rear legs, finally a rippling curl ran down its tail and its wings were shaken out before being refurled. It rose to its feet. By Fate it was huge. Hearing noise from above, Arwhon signalled Chalc, who moved to readiness beside the bottom of the stairway.

  Coming down the stairs, the strangely attired Mage passed them first, dressed in a three quarter length black coat worn over a once-white frilled shirt and close fitting black trousers tucked into roll-top boots. His dark hair was shoulder length and he was clean shaven. By outward appearances he was a shabby middle age man but his eyes were ancient. He signalled to the Gryffon which sat like a dog, waiting. Then the Empress Martine herself appeared, gliding down the stairs. She looked no more than thirty years of age and was dressed in an elegant russet travelling gown, its low cut bodice revealing an expanse of womanly flesh in which nestled a sapphire the size of a pigeon’s egg.

  Chalc, wearing his amulet of invisibility, drew his dagger and timing the lunge perfectly, grabbed the chain of the pendant, slashing it through with a single swipe before wheeling away to one side and standing perfectly still. He could have cut Martine’s throat just as easily but to harm an unarmed woman would be to descend to the level of the enemy.

  All honour lost.

  The Empress Martine screamed and whirling around, sprinted back up the stairs to safety with amazing speed and agility, shouting for her guards as she ran.

  Arwhon called out.

  “Mage. We have your crystal safe and will return it. Please send the Gryffon away or keep it quiet for now and don’t interfere with us. We wish you no harm.”

  The Mage looked wildly around and spotted Chalc, no longer under Shiri’s glamour. Amulets were ineffectual in front of a skilled Mage. He smiled.

  “Agreed but I take my crystal now.”

  “We have a deal,” shouted Arwhon, relieved for the moment.

  The Mage walked directly to Chalc and held out his hand. Chalc looked from the Mage to Arwhon, who nodded, then handed over the sapphire. The Mage took it and placed it securely in an inner pocket then strode over to the Gryffon and mounted onto its back. He turned as the Gryffon paused in its stalk through the cavern toward the cliff entry.

  “My name is Escarion and I will remember this moment and your aid. Ring wearer, there are Dark forces you could only dream of interested in that band you wear. If you ever need my help, have the one who recovered my stone stand somewhere high, on a night with no moon and call my name three times. I will come.”

  The Gryffon disappeared around a bend in the tunnel, its claws scrabbling on the rock and only Escarion’s voice remained.

  “Thank you friends and good luck.”

  While this interchange was occurring, Martine had alerted her forces from the top of the stairs, shouting for her guards in a commanding voice. Shiri could no longer hold the shield of invisibility and nearly collapsed as the spell died. Arwhon lent a hand to help her up and he felt the strange energy drain from him before he had a chance to let go of her. He felt somewhat weakened while Shiri looked a little improved.

  They hurried over to the two prisoners who were now standing, wide eyed with fear at the sudden appearance of four people wearing shining chainmail. The clatter of many boots could now be heard descending the stairs. Arwhon signalled to Kuiran who lay down his staff and grabbed the chains of the Barsoomi Princess, straining his powerful muscles against the links as the first of Martine’s guards reached the bottom of the stairway. Arwhon stood to meet them, Chalc beside him as Shiri tried to calm the prisoners, telling them what was taking place.

  The two Tarkent style blades flashed in the torchlight and the first two guards fell immediately, their Dominion leather armour no match for the swords but many more guards were pouring down the stairs. Chalc watched his former student from the corner of his eye and was mightily impressed by what he saw. He himself was being hard pressed but Arwhon was poetry in motion, his blade blurring and slicing all before it, little sparks of red light flashing when his blade hit steel.

  Suddenly a shout from behind.

  It was Kuiran.

  “Arwhon, I cannot break the chains.”

  “Then come here Kuiran and defend the stairs.”

  Kuiran picked up his staff and ran to the base of the stairs, taking over from Arwhon. He was just as deadly but in a very different fashion. Chalc stepped sideways to clear the swings of the huge staff and leave room for Kuiran to do his worst. Arwhon ran back to the prisoners.

  “We don’t have much time. I have to try something. Lean as far from the wall as you both can, NOW!”

  They jumped to obey, stretching the chains as much as they could as Arwhon took a deep breath, steadied himself and powered his sword down at the first set of chains. There was a tremendous red flash and the links parted. He felt slightly weaker but immediately turned to the second set of chains holding the Prince to the rock and swung again with all his might. There was another tremendous red flash and those chains parted also. Arwhon staggered with the huge expenditure of energy but managed to pull himself up, calling out as he did.

  “Chalc, leave what you are doing and escort the Prince and Princess out of here. That’s an order Servant.”

  Chalc looked around and saw Arwhon swaying on his feet but the tone of his voice, young as he was, carried command. This was what had been agreed previously. Chalc left Kuiran, who had backed the soldiers up the steps a little and ran to Arwhon.

  “Are you all right?” Chalc asked concernedly.

  “Chalc. Please just go or all will have been for naught.”

  Chalc quickly ordered the Prince and Princess to follow him and led them off down the passage through the cavern to the cliff trail. They still had their shackles on with a few links of chain dangling from them.

  Arwhon sent a silent prayer to Fate they wouldn’t fall off the trail in the darkness.

  “Kuiran, Shiri, fall back to the cavern mo
uth, I’ll join you shortly.”

  Just at that moment there was a roar from the top of the stairs and Arwhon looked up to see Kroy standing there. In place of his right hand was a silver socket laced over the stump of his severed wrist. A sword was screwed into it. Kroy looked back up the stairs to the Keep and called out in a loud voice.

  “Empress, the Truth ring is here in this cavern. Its bearer stands before us with the giant I told you of and a little girl. If we attack in force now, we can take it.”

  He walked confidently down the stairs, slowly, as more and more of Martine’s soldiers massed behind him. They were in no hurry. The only way out of the caverns they knew of, was up the stairs they were occupying. Empress Martine appeared behind her soldiers and stood surveying the scene below. The odds were definitely in her favour.

  Arwhon urgently repeated his command.

  “Kuiran, Shiri, leave now. No heroics. It’s important to me you both live. I’ll not reward loyalty with death. This may be what my role was all along but I don’t want it to be yours. GO! As leader, I command it. Don’t worry, they’ll not get the Ring or ought else. Now go!”

  Something in his voice convinced them and they backed away, trusting to whatever Fate or magic driving Arwhon up to now would hold true and keep him safe. As they disappeared back into the cavern, Kroy roared with derisive laughter.

  “My you look so pretty, all dressed up in your fancy new mail. Crossbows!” he barked.

  Five quarrels shot toward Arwhon and four bounced harmlessly off his mail while one was deflected by his helmet. Arwhon hardly felt them. There was muttering among the soldiers. Quite a few were going to lose their lives taking this one down. Then the Empress spoke.

  “Be reasonable young man, all I want is the ring on your finger. I will even trade your life for it.”

  A mighty voice, not belonging to the Empress, roared in Arwhon’s head. ‘The Ring. At last, after all this time. If we have it, we no longer need this puppet Martine and her little Dominion. We can tap into its powers and rid the world of Man and the M’Herindar. Finally’.