The Ring Of Truth

by B Cameron Lee

  Shiri looked beautiful but rather thin, having lost weight over the time he was inside the Tree and there were dark shadows under her eyes.

  “You need to eat something or you’ll fade away,” he joked.

  “I’m nowhere near fading, although if you had been another month in the tree, I might have,” she replied.

  Arwhon suddenly realised she wasn’t joking as Sihron’del leaned back and studied him.

  “You’ve changed. Your skin is slightly greenish, your hair has become light blonde and your eyes...” Her own amethyst eyes widened in astonishment. “You have M’Herindar eyes. In fact you could almost pass for M’Herindar. What has Ch’ron done to you?”

  Arwhon shivered, recalling the voice in his head talking of changes and for the next half an hour he sat and discussed them with Sihron’del. As he talked his skin colour faded from light green to a honey brown and he felt more robust and bristling with energy.

  “Ch’ron said I have to learn to control my magic by learning spells. Will you teach me?”

  Sihron’del considered. “We have to go and see the Queen. No one has ever been treated by Ch’ron in this fashion before. Odd events pile on odd events. It cannot be mere coincidence, so what is the cause? Before we go though, you should have a look at the new you. We will pass the stream on the way.”

  Shiri looked him over. “It wouldn’t hurt to wash off some of this sticky stuff at the same time.”

  He looked at his arms. The tiny holes where the tubules had attached were gone, with no residual scarring but there was a drying sticky residue clinging to his skin. It was hard to believe he had been inside a tree for a month.

  “You’re right, let’s go.”

  He rose, shaky for a moment which quickly passed as his muscles adapted to gravity, then followed Sihron’del as she led the way. Not however toward Al’hera but a little further up the brook to an area screened by small trees, lending privacy.

  On reaching the little stream, they chose a quiet pool and Arwhon bent over to check his reflection in the water. The face staring back startled him for a moment. He knew it for his own but his mouse-brown hair was now a shiny honey blond and his face was longer and thinner. The eyes were the most startling, wider now with surprise as he focused on them, jade green where they were once a light emerald and with no whites, just like the M’Herindar.

  He stood up and realised he was taller too. Sihron’del lifted a quizzical eyebrow and he smiled.

  “Not going to be easy to hide in a crowd now,” was his reply.

  “You just have to learn to shield yourself with a little glamour. I can show you how if you like.”

  “Later, but for now, would you mind turning around while I wash?”

  Sihron’del turned away as Arwhon stepped into the water, tunic and all and turned his back to her before removing his garment. A worried close scrutiny of his nether regions revealed he still had the equipment he was born with although his muscles were far better defined and larger. He washed off and rinsed the tunic, ringing the garment out before placing it on a rock beside the pool. He turned to find himself being scrutinised by Sihron’del.

  “I asked you not to look.”

  “Couldn’t help myself shy boy. Ch’ron has done a wonderful job. You are now very pleasing to the eye.”

  He blushed. All over, but instead of pink, his skin turned a darker brown.

  Now clean, Arwhon retrieved the soft tunic, a gift from Ch’ron, which did not have a crease in it and was nearly dry. He pulled it over his head but just as he did, he felt the mental contact of his Barsoomi horse, Duran, full of joy and at the same time they heard the horses whinnying off in the distance. He sent back a greeting full of warmth and a promise to see his friend as soon as possible. Right now it was time to see the Queen.

  As they made their way into the Queen’s tree rooms, Sihron’del announced them from the entrance.

  “Mother, Arwhon is out of the Tree of Ch’ron. He is here to see you.”

  Vehrin’del looked up as they entered the room and quickly rose to her feet, amazement written over her face.

  “Arwhon? You must be mistaken. Arwhon was not M’Herindar.”

  He smiled at her confusion. “I’m still not, although Ch’ron has done his best to make me look like one. He had no Man pattern to work from so did what he knew. Greetings Queen Vehrin’del, we have much to discuss, if you have the time.”

  She crossed the room to gaze intently into his face before walking slowly around him to inspect Ch’ron’s handiwork from all sides. Lastly, she looked into his eyes, reading their depths. She placed her hand on his arm and closed her eyes for a second.

  “It is you, although I wouldn’t have recognised you if you’d appeared without Sihron’del. Sit. Have you eaten?”

  Arwhon realised the strange feeling in his stomach was hunger and the thought of food made his mouth water. He was shown to a seat to take his ease while Vehrin’del and Sihron’del went to prepare something to eat. Looking around the room, Arwhon saw a familiar pile in the corner. It contained his mail, helm, sword and dagger. He was still staring intently at this evidence of his previous life when mother and daughter returned bearing platters of food, mostly fruits. The Queen saw the objects of his attention and commented.

  “This was the most fitting place to keep them. No M’Herindar would steal but I did not want any to inspect them. They have a strange magic of their own and most of that magic is unknown to me. It’s not Earthmagic. You are used to carrying them and so they were kept for you. If ever you emerged from Ch’ron.”

  Over their meal Arwhon kept the discussion general, talking of Ch’ron and his reasons for changing Arwhon’s body. Both Sihron’del and Vehrin’del were fascinated by his account, as they did not seem to know as much of Ch’ron as they thought.

  After the food had been eaten and the platters cleared away, Vehrin’del poured them a wooden cup of wine each and they all settled comfortably back in their seats.

  The Queen stirred.

  “Jahron’dal is away at present. Should we wait until he returns before you speak Arwhon?”

  “No Vehrin’del, I think you must hear what I have to say while it’s still fresh in my mind. If that’s acceptable?”

  “Please, go ahead.”

  Sihron’del came to sit beside Arwhon oblivious to the slight frown flitting over the Queen’s face as she observed them together. Arwhon began.

  “Ch’ron told me of the Q’Herindam and the M’Herindar and the dispute which resulted in the Rift. He says a dark and twisted version of Ch’ron exists on the other side of it.”

  Vehrin’del interrupted. “How does Ch’ron know this?”

  “Apparently he gleans information from the minds of birds which cross the Rift now and again. They are never quite the same if they return from the other side. Ch’ron gave me much information as he repaired my mind. I’ve regained my memory in full and realise I owe your daughter my life. She’s very brave and resourceful. The litany I was reciting when I arrived here was ‘Ring, Puppet, Shiri. It was all my ravaged mind could hold at the time. The first and last are obvious but the second is also extremely important. When we were in the presence of Empress Martine, rescuing the Barsoomi heirs at Gildon’s Keep, the Truth Ring revealed her innermost thoughts and through them the mind of another. Martine is the puppet of an evil Mage and has been throughout her adult life. Ch’ron and I believe it is this Mage which caused her desire for Dominion in the first place, a war started over seventy years ago which resulted in the deaths of many people. People of the race of Man. Undoing the dark results of that earlier conflict, the fighting in the most recent Dominion Wars, nineteen or twenty years ago, cost a lot more lives. That part is obvious. What’s not obvious is the fact the Dark Mage is Q’Herindam and has totally possessed Martine. She is his puppet.”

  The Queen gasped. The implications were immediately obvious to her.

  “You are sure of this?”

  “Ch’ron and I
both agree. The Tree has been in my mind and reviewed all he could find there. It is a means for the Q’Herindam to influence the world without doing battle. Man would quite happily wipe himself out with the most meagre of excuses and Martine is providing one. Further to that, her new plot to gain control of Barsoom was only the beginning and she had a back up plan if it failed. All out war on Southland and Barsoom at the same time. The Draakon Reavers have become allied with the Dominion for some reason I do not know. Normally they live across the Turquoise Sea in Draakonia, a land of which I know nothing. They usually only come to our shores to reave the coastline. The alliance gives her command of the seas which means Myseline is virtually isolated and unable to provide meaningful assistance. Cumbrisia does not have a large armed force and most of that is garrisoned in Crossroads. The problem is one which is very hard to solve. M’Herindar cannot openly become involved without breaking the agreement with the Q’Herindam and if that occurs, I have no idea of the consequences.”

  The Queen exchanged glances with Sihron’del and they both nodded in unison.

  “We cannot afford to become mired in the politics of Man and be seen to break the agreement. Another battle between Q’Herindam and M’Herindar might destroy the world. We would have to answer whatever magical forces they used with ones of equal strength. If we do, we may cause a Rift going right through the world and breaking it in two. We must find another way. What of you. What are you intending to do?”

  Arwhon sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in a war nor do I know how to plan for one. I set out from Trugor on the coast of Myseline around five months ago, a mere boy, off to see his Grandmother and now I have this.”

  He held up his hand to show the Truth Ring.

  “As well as matching weapons and armour, a Servant, an Arm and a Shield. Not to mention having been killed once, then rescuing the Barsoomi heirs, nearly dying again and spending a month inside a magical Tree to come out looking like a M’Herindar.”

  The Queen nodded. “It’s a lot for five months. Men live their lives so quickly.”

  “Mother, Ch’ron suggested to Arwhon he learn to control his Firemagic. It could be important. May I have permission to train him in the discipline of spells?”

  Arwhon looked from one to the other, confused. Permission?

  “Daughter, you are his Shield and it is your duty to protect him. If teaching him how to use his Firemagic is protective. Then do it.”

  Arwhon needed an explanation. “Sorry but what do you mean by ‘permission’?”

  It was Vehrin’del who answered. “Part of the agreement with the Q’Herindam is that we teach no magic to Man. If men or women find their own, well and good but the Q’Herindam do not want Man to ever have magic to use. You however, look like a M’Herindar to me and if you need some refreshing of your abilities, I cannot see a problem.”

  The Queen sat back, satisfied, while Arwhon nodded at the lesson in politics he had just received.

  Sihron’del turned to face him. “Do you know when Empress Martine plans to start the war?”

  “I have no idea, that information did not come through the Ring but it felt as if it could be soon.”

  “I wish Jahron’dal was here.” The Queen muttered. “He is more experienced in things of a martial nature and could give you ideas Arwhon.”

  “When does he get back?”

  “He’s out with the Rangers and isn’t due back for a week or more but I will send a messenger and he should be back with us the day after tomorrow. Is there anything else that you learned from Ch’ron?”

  “Only about the Truth Ring being much older than Ch’ron and he doesn’t know the significance of its magic. Ch’ron does not understand it.”

  “Hmm. You realise of course the Wise Ones will want to see you again. However, I think we can claim tiredness and put it off until tomorrow. You can stay with us, we have plenty of room. You may use Kuiran’dal’s room.”

  Her royal head tilted to one side as she thought.

  “We should give you a M’Herindar sounding name while you are in the Darkwood. What think you of Ahron’dal?”

  Sihron’del clapped her hands, squirming with delight.

  “Yes, yes, I like it.”

  Arwhon grinned at her enthusiasm. “Ahron’dal it is then Shiri.”

  The Queen excused herself and rose to find someone to take a message to Jahron’dal, after which she intended to visit the Wise Ones and inform them of the return of Arwhon from inside the Tree.

  Alone in the room together, Sihron’del hugged Arwhon tightly.

  “Ahron’dal is a fine sounding M’Herindar name. It suits you. Tell me, do you like me?”

  “Yes and I owe you my life.”

  “Do you love me though?”

  Arwhon struggled with his answer, worried where the conversation was leading.

  “I know little of love. I think my father loved me but he didn’t show it openly and there were the flirting, love games behind the granary in Trugor with some of the local girls when I was younger. Until I met you I had never felt the feeling I have inside me. When you were little Shiri I wanted to protect you as I would a sister. You felt more like a little sister to me than my real one ever did. Then when I saw you as Sihron’del those feelings multiplied and widened. I see you now as so very womanly and beautiful, my heart quickens at the thought of you, let alone when I am beside you. Is that love or something else?”

  Sihron’del smiled one of those mysterious women’s smiles.

  “I will be with you as your Shield wherever you go. It’s my destiny until the Wise Ones decree otherwise. Let us hope you know by then.”

  Arwhon rose and went over to the corner where his gear had been stored. He could barely fit the padded undercoat which had been a little large for him before his sojourn in the Tree but to his great surprise, the chain mail slid comfortably onto his new body over the padding, forming perfectly to his new shape. It really was beautiful mail. The links fit together exquisitely and it showed no ill effects for its submersion in water and time in the sun. The reddish links glowed. He supposed this was how a snake felt in its skin. He picked up the Dagger and drew it from the sheath. Whether it was his new eyes or something else Ch’ron had given him he didn’t know but all around the blade spread a very faint red glow. He glanced at his Ring and saw the same red glow. He sheathed the blade and picked up the helm. As soon as he touched it the fiery glow spread across its surface. He turned to Sihron’del, holding the helm up.

  “Can you see that?”

  “Yes, it’s a helm.”

  “Concentrate. Do you see anything else?”

  She looked puzzled. “No, what am I supposed to see?”

  “It’s surrounded by a faint red glow.”

  “I cannot see it Ahron’dal.” She said using his new name.

  So, here was an ability that Sihron’del did not have. He put the helm down and the glow faded from its surface. Interesting, these objects carrying the design were using something from him. Next he took up the sword and withdrew it from its sheath. The metal of the blade was spotless, not a mark on it to spoil the mirror finish where it was not etched with the design. A red glow also surrounded the blade, concentrating at the tip where it streamed an arm’s length from the point. He touched the extended glow to the wall and the room shook.

  “Stop Arwhon! Whatever you are doing, Ch’ron says it ‘tickles’ him.”

  Arwhon resheathed the sword and put it back on the pile before placing his hand on the wall of the room. Immediately Ch’ron’s voice sprang into his head.

  “Part of the magic of your weapons belongs to the Ring; I wasn’t sure what it would do to me if you had moved it closer. I had to call Sihron’del, as it takes many years of living under my canopy to be able to communicate without touching me. Take care Arwhon.”

  With that, the voice faded and Arwhon stood back from the wall, removing his mail and padding to stand once again clad in the lightweight green tunic.

&n
bsp; He felt tired but suddenly Duran tickled his mind with contact.

  “I have to visit Duran; could you show me where he is being kept please?”

  Sihron’del jumped to her feet.

  “Yes. Follow me.”

  In a short space of time he had his arms around the neck of his mighty stallion who nibbled tenderly at him with big rubbery lips, joy leaping the bond between them. Sihron’del was stroking Rancid the mule and it almost looked as if they had the same sort of communication. In answer to his quizzical look she smiled.

  “Yes, Rancid has been ‘gifted’ and now we can communicate as you do with Duran. I know he is not a mighty Barsoom horse but he has been faithful to me in times of need and Chalc now has Darla. Rancid needed to be included.”

  Arwhon stifled a yawn, his new body weary with all the unaccustomed activity.

  “I would like to rest now Shiri, I’ve become a little tired.”

  She rose and took his hand, leading him back to her mother’s tree and into another room. It was Kuiran’s old room and she left him there to sleep peacefully on Kuiran’s huge bed.

  Arwhon was woken by Sihron’del as she entered the room bearing a piece of fruit and a wooden beaker.

  “Is it late?” he asked.

  “No, it’s early. You’ve slept since yesterday afternoon. We decided to leave you. Now, however, you have to get up and prepare to meet the Wise Ones.”

  He sat up, accepting the beaker and fruit.

  “When?”

  “Soon. After you have eaten and washed.”

  The entrance to the Wise Ones’ cavern looked much the same as it had on his previous visit there, although Arwhon’s memory of it was somewhat vague. He followed the Queen and Sihron’del through the tunnel with the carved walls and down into the depths of the cave. The air cooled and the light dimmed as they descended among the stalactites and stalagmites growing together in places to form supportive pillars. As they rounded the final corner of the stairway, cut into the rock, the large cavern opened in front of them, huge pillars supporting the roof high above. In the centre lay the still black pool and on its far side the three Wise Ones sat together. This was the third time Arwhon had been here but he barely remembered the second time. As one, the three old women spoke.