by kubasik
Finished. And now there was nothing. Just a memory that he once had something, now gone.
"Come on, boy. Let's find a place to sleep for the night. If they're after us, we'd best hide."
Garlthik leaned down to help J'role up, but at the ork's touch J'role's mind filled with an image of his father lying on the ground, his shoulder torn open by the blast of the magician's spell. The ring and its magical city had kept J'role's head crammed with a longing for the city. But now released, J'role could think of nothing else. He shook his shoulder away from Garlthik's touch, stood, and started back the way they had come.
"Where are you going?" the ork barked, exasperated.
J'role looked out over the still landscape. He had never been so far from home, a six hours' walk. He'd never needed to navigate back to his village from such a distance, and the landmarks he'd used all his life were useless now. Worse, he'd paid no attention to the way they had traveled.
He thought he saw the tip of the Red Hills, low and dark, but he couldn't be certain. Then he thought he spotted a large rock formation that was just east of his village, but realized it was too round at the top, too wide at the base.
J'role felt as if he were floating in a great void, lost forever to everything he'd known.
No. He could get back. He'd find it.
With his legs aching, the dried blood cool and itchy on his forehead, he started back in what he thought was the right direction. He clutched the ring tight in his hand, not only to hold on to the slight feeling of longing, but because It was all he now owned, his only connection to his home. To his father.
"Where are you going, boy?"
He heard Garlthik take a few heavy strides toward him and then a big hand was on him, spinning him around
The ork leaned his huge face in toward J'role's. "I said, where are you going?"
J'role- stared at the ork for a moment, afraid. Garlthik had attacked him earlier. He might do it again. He pointed back in the general direction they'd come.
"What do you want to go back there for, lad? That magician is certain to crisp your flesh if you should ever meet him." The ork smiled like a friend giving advice, but J'role could not believe him.
J 'role shook his head, then clenched his fists as he tried to figure out how to communicate his concern for his father. Finally he tapped his chest with one hand, then raised the hand above his head. Garlthik peered at him, uncertain. "I could just speak at him. And then run," J'role thought.
"Don't," said the creature, suddenly harsh in J'role's thoughts after so many hours of silence. "He may have magic you don't understand. He might kill you."
It seemed odd for the creature to be giving him advice— and helpful advice, at that—
something the thing in his head had never done before. But remembering the magician's spells and his father's ruined shoulder, J'role decided not to use his voice. But he wanted to go back.
"He's dead," Garlthik said simply.
J'role remembered now. Garlthik had told him, but he'd lost the meaning of the words under the power of the ring. Why had he put it on? He'd forgotten everything when he put the ring on. He should have gone back! He could have done something.
He flung the ring down on the ground, whirled away from Garlthik, started walking.
Letting go of the ring—a quick flash of cold in his hand, suddenly gone—he wanted it back. Part of him wanted to scoop the ring back up, put it back on. Feel the desire, the aching, delirious desire of longing to see the city. But he kept moving. Maybe Garlthik was wrong. Maybe his father hadn't died. J'role couldn't know for sure. So much happened so fast.
"BOY!' Garlthik shouted after him. Again the heavy steps followed. Rough hands grabbed him, whirled him around once more. The broad face that peered-down at him showed no pretense of kindness now. The large teeth that protruded over Garlthik's lips heaved up and down. "You will not go, do you understand? Your father is dead, and there is nothing you can do to bring him back. And I want you. Do you understand? There's something about you. Don't know what it is yet. But you have something … That city you described. I'm looking for that—I think. You can help me. I'm certain of it.
Everybody who's put that ring on is looking for something. But I've got you. I'm going to find it—we're going to find it. And when we do, we'll be rich. Do you understand? Rich!
Only the potential for wealth could make my heart hunger so!"
My father, J'role thought.
"Dead," said the creature. "You let him die when you deserted him. There's no need—"
"I didn't mean to!"
"But you did. You did mean to." A wet chill touched the flesh of his back.
"Do you remember what he asked you? 'Did you mean what you said?' he asked. When you were shouting; in the corridor by the pit. Do you remember?"
"Yes, he asked me that. But it was you who spoke. I didn't say anything."
"Oh, yes you did, J'role, young J'role, J'role the bringer of madness. You did. I let you speak clearly. I let you speak directly. That's why it's so dangerous. Most people can only use words—poor tools, words. But I speak with a clarity—I speak hate clearly. Purified.
Absolute.'
"But how ..."
"It's my talent. Alas, my only talent." With a laugh it said, "We're all limited in our own way. I found all the hate he held in himself and twisted it back on him."
"And my mother?"
"The same. And the fool in the tunnels, now locked in eternal embrace with your mother at the bottom of the corpse pit."
J'role sank to the ground. An emptiness filled his chest as he thought of the ring. The ring clarified emptiness, made such an aching longing comprehensible. It also gave him a hope: to find the city meant being free of the emptiness.
He wanted that very much.
He looked up and saw the ork looking down at him, confused. "Listen t o me," he said carefully. "We need each other now. They're after both of us. And we have the power, together, to find the greatest treasure of all the treasures. Let’s you and me work together.
An alliance." He extended his: large hand.
J'role nodded and slowly stood. He took the ork's hand and shook it.
He walked back to the ring, picked it up, immediately feeling better. The longing caused by the ring's touch pained him, but it was purified, absolute. He did not place the ring on His finger, however. That would be too much right now.
They found an outcropping of large boulders among some hills, and here they sought out a shelter. Soon they found a small cave-like hole formed by three tall boulders leaning against one another. As they settled down J'role began to shiver. Garlthik was cold, too, and set up a small pile of dry sticks he had found while searching for the cave. He reached into the pouch on his belt, and J'role thought he might be looking for another magical item for use in starting the fire. Instead the ork pulled out a piece of flint, which he sparked against the stone floor of their shelter. Soon he had a fire going.
Without another word Garlthik lay down and slept. For a few moments J'role watched the flames grow and wither frantically in their brief lives. The orange and yellow light played over Garlthik's rough, wrinkled face, which looked so peaceful now. Again he wondered at the fact that he had only met Garlthik One-Eye that very day.
J'role stretched out on the ground, the heat of the fire comforting him as his father's body had so often given comfort when J'role was younger. He thought of his father, now dead—simply gone—and then of Garlthik. They were so very different, yet J'role was strangely linked to each one, a horrible imbalance based on awkward dependency.
He tried to imagine what it would be like to have the most important person in his life be someone with whom he was on equal footing. But he couldn't think of how it might happen.
When they set out in the late morning of the next day, Garlthik was in the same jaunty mood as when J'role had first met him. He hummed a song, smiled his broad, toothy smile. His tattered cloak, still as blue as night when the
sun had just set and the stars first came out, billowed around him, and his sword swung at his side. The sky stretched overhead, a pale blue streaked with long, wispy clouds. They walked east, rising higher and higher into a long mountain range.
Every so often Garlthik would stop humming and ask J'role questions.
"Did you actually see the city in your head? I mean, pictures of it?"
J'role indicated no.
"Just words, eh?"
Then the ork would continue to hum, a bit of a skip in his walk.
"Did you see any people? Or landmarks of any kind?"
Again J’role indicated no. And as the day wore on and he continued to answer the odds questions in the negative, he wondered what worth he really possessed for Garlthik, and what the ork might eventually do with him if he proved himself worthless.
The walk itself exhilarated J'role. Where the previous night he had been terrified to realize how far he was from home, now the distance he put between his village and himself sent a strange, unknown excitement coursing through his muscles. He could feel his former life fading from his body, like an old splinter sliding out of flesh. His past would be meaningless to the new people he met. No one would know that his mother had gone mad, that his father was a drunkard. They would know only that J'role was a mute and no more than that. No one would know he was cursed.
"We'll keep walking until I think of something," said Garlthik. "I want to put distance between Mordom and us."
And so they walked.
As J'role saw mountain ranges he'd never seen before, saw rivers running crooked and blue-green that he'd never known existed, he was overwhelmed by the realization of how much there was in the world. By walking forward into it, new possibilities opened for him. The promise of …
Something else.
6
When he was seven, before everything went wrong, something lived in their home with them.
Their home consisted of three rooms—a sleeping room for J'role's parents, one room for J’role, and a central room between the two where they gathered and played. It was a luxurious place to live within the tunneled corridors of the kaer, but J'role's father was an important man.
The thing—a shadow of a thing—a wavering white shadow—sat in the corner of the central room for days. J'role never looked-straight at it, for it frightened him. His parents never said anything about it, so he thought it was his own problem. He never said anything.
He spent more and more of his time in his bedroom, trying to avoid the gaze of the strange thing. When he had to leave his home, he rushed through the room, desperate to avoid its gaze. His mother asked him why he was so nervous. Once he pointed at the thing. It laughed a raspy laugh. His mother saw nothing.
At noon they ate berries and roots that both J'role and Garlthik knew how to find and knew were safe. It was not easy work, finding the food, for though the sky was clear and beautiful the land around them was desolate. It spread out like death, a wasteland testament to the thoroughness of the Horrors, who had in one way or another consumed everything they encountered. Strange furrows twisted their way through the rocky brown dirt of the hills, and the ground showed odd-shaped bulges. Sometimes the weird patterns of the land grabbed J'role's attention, distracting him so that he could no longer walk, nor think on anything it but the sight before him. The chaotic pattern of the land spoke to him in a way he could not understand, as if it reflected the worn and ragged mind inside his skull.
After eating, they continued on their way. Garlthik had stopped asking questions and contented himself with humming. However, J'role's own curiosity had taken root. He tugged on Garlthik's arm and held the ring up in his palm, for Garlthik had permitted him to carry it. Still walking, Garlthik asked, "Yes?"
J'role pointed to the ring, and then shrugged his shoulders.
"Ah," said Garlthik. "Not sure, actually. Magic of some kind. But I'm just an adept, not a magician, and there's much of magic I don't understand. I only know how to think about magic in a specific way—as a means of procurement—if you will. But as to its—" he spread his arms wide, searching for the words—"as to its fundamental nature, I am blind.
Magicians know. Mordom, that crafty dragon's breath ..." Garlthik's green eye gleamed bright. "He knew more than he was saying of that I'm sure." With that the ork fell silent and resumed his humming as if the matter were closed.
But what J'role wanted to know was about the ring itself. After carrying it for half the day, he had time to think about its strange effect on him. He wondered why someone had taken the time to make such a ring. As he continued to walk he slipped the ring on his finger . . . and instantly began to speak, unable to resist the sweet images his mouth held.
Again, he did not know what he would say before the words came out, but as the sounds waited, touching his tongue like delicious dates and nuts, all he had to do was unleash them and listen. He stopped, unable to move on, and Garlthik turned to stare at him. J'role spoke of vaults filled with piles of artifacts and magical treasures, of pictures painted on huge marble walls that moved when anybody looked at them, of towers where ships of stone docked after traveling through the air from distant lands.
J’role pointed at his mouth, then summoned the will to remove the ring. He took it off his finger and stared up at Garlthik. The ork seemed disappointed, like a child who has just been told he must wait until the next night to hear the rest of his favorite bed-time story.
The mention of treasures had surely caught his interest.
Once more J'role pointed to the ring.
"All right," said the ork, turning and talking over his shoulder as he continued. "But let's keep moving."
J 'role hurried a few- steps to catch up, and when he had, Garlthik continued.
"The ring is from a city, I think—and I am close to convinced after seeing the odd effect it had on you. From the wonders you describe, it must be an ancient city of the Theran Empire. Perhaps it's somewhere nearby. But I don't know much about the world. Nobody does anymore. I've got to find out if anyone knows of such a city. I don't suppose you do?” He waited for a response, and J'role shook his head. "Anyway, that's why I want you by my side, young J'role. I believe you can help me to solve the mystery, though I don't know in what way yet."
J'role remembered his father telling him about the Theran Empire many years ago, but his father had obviously not known much about it either because he had said very little. What he did know was that the empire once ruled the province of Barsaive, which included J'role's village as well as lands in all directions, and had created the knowledge to build the kaers.
"Yes, you see. A mystery. What happened to the city—if there was a Theran city here in Barsaive?” Garlthik asked. "Did they survive the Scourge? If so, do they need help now?
If they do, a reward must await whoever comes to their aid. And if they did not survive, well, all the better, for then the city itself is the reward for whoever finds it. Mordom I think, knew more of the ring than he ever let on—and probably more of the city."
Garlthik touched his thick fingertips against his eye-patch. "The man possesses magic the likes of which I have never seen."
But J'role's thoughts had wandered far from the ork's words. A city filled with magicians!
A city filled with people who could make statues dance and chariots fly through the air!
What wonders might they perform on J'role himself? Could they remove the creature from his thoughts? Might he once again have his voice? Certainly if the people of the city were in trouble, and J'role helped save them, such a reward would be little enough to ask.
J'role added a skip to his walk as he continued along.
Garlthik saw this and smiled. "So, now the quest intrigues you, does it, lad?"
J'role looked back and nodded.
"I thought so. I thought I saw something of it in your eyes when first we met.”
J'role stopped now, looked carefully into Garlthik's face for an understanding of his words
>
"You've got the spirit, boy. That's all I meant. You are an adventurer, aren't you?" He smiled a gigantic smile, his mouth forming into a cave, his huge teeth lining the edges like stalagmites and stalactites." You long for it, don't you? And I'll bet you don't even gee it for what it is, you're so hungry for it. You're a starving man let loose upon a feast—
eating everything up so quickly you can't even taste it."
J'role shrugged, uncertain.
"No! Look about you." Garlthik stepped up to J'role and turned him around, placing a strong hand on J'role's shoulder. Standing behind the boy he gestured out to the hills and rivers and mountains that rested on the lowlands below them." I'll bet you're thinking,
'Got to get to some treasure. Got to reach some monsters. Have an adventure.' But this is it, J'role. Simply being out—wandering, traveling. You've left what you knew behind, and now you're wandering into the unknown. This walk, this walk we've taken just today, how many people from your village have ever traveled so far? Right now they're toiling away in their fields, trying to prove that they're worth something in the eyes of their neighbors, struggling to get enough to eat, to feed their families. The children grow up just like their parents. They're all going to sit around on the patch of ground where they were born. They won't learn anything about the world. They won't live through anything they haven't been taught how to live through."
