Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Longing Ring

by kubasik

  Garlthik stared down into J'role's face, looking for a sign of comprehension. Finding none, he drew in a breath and started to speaking again.

  "That's what an adventure is, my boy. Doing what you don't know how to do. I've never traveled to a lost city before. I've never walked over this spot before. What's over that hill? What might try to kill us next? I've no idea." He spread his arms wide and tilted his head back and smiled at the bright sun. "This is it."

  Then he leaned down toward J'role and lowered his voice. "You see, it may seem quiet now, but that's just a trick. In an adventure, the adventure is always present, even if it doesn't look like it. You're an adventurer because you're alert to that. I can tell. Saw it back at the cave when I threw you the ring. You're ready to seize the moment when it presents itself. Most folks, they could even be on an adventure, and when it got quiet, they'd think the adventure had stopped. They'd let their guard down. Then, next thing they knew, something would come flying in and kill them. Or a treasure would present itself and they'd miss it. Just like that. That’s why they have to stay home. At home you know everything. Now his gaze floated away from J'role and out along the tops of the hills. "You know everything oh so well at home," he added quietly.

  Garlthik stared silently out at the hills for a good, long while, and J'role joined him in contemplating the land below. At first he could make no sense of Garlthik's words. Yes?

  it was true he had never seen this land—the winding rivers the barren dirt, the scraggly trees, the hills and mountain tops. But similar sights existed a day's walk from his village.

  What difference did it make?

  He glanced up at Garlthik, who was staring out as if hungry, feasting on the sight before him. J'role tried to imagine what Garlthik saw, and looked back out at the landscape. He tried to suck the sight in through his eyes, as Garlthik seemed to be doing.

  And slowly, something began to happen.

  He noticed a bird, or at least he thought it was a bird, hopping around on the ground fare far away by a lone tree. It was only a dot, but it moved and bounced around, as if struggling with something.

  Then he saw how the water in the river folded over just slightly as it passed a bend in the river. And he saw how the trees, what few there were, each bent in the wind, creating an odd pattern of motion when viewed all together from this distance.

  He began to understand. Though he'd noticed many of the same things in his own village, he'd never seen this particular group of objects and motion before. This combination was unique. In fact, when night fell, the shadows would change, the bird would leave. Not only had he never seen it before, it existed only in this moment.

  It all seemed terribly fragile.

  Thoughts of his father came to him. His father was very fragile. Now gone.

  Without thinking about it, J'role began to walk, continuing along the route he and Garlthik had been traveling all day. He watched his feet take steps over the ground before him, and then vanish from sight as his body fell forward again and again.

  "Wait up boy," Garlthik called. J'role did not slow his pace, but the ork quickly caught up. They walked on in silence.

  A question occurred to J'role: Did Garlthik have a father he loved? What had happened to his father? Did he ever see him anymore?

  That night they made camp on top of a ridge that offered them a view of anyone approaching from the south and the west. "And if they're after us," Garlthik said, "that's how they'll come."

  They built a small fire in an alcove formed by rocks they piled high to keep the light from giving away their location. Then they settled down to the food they'd gathered that day.

  Purple berries with a somewhat bitter taste and half-ripe fruit from a tree that J'role had never seen before, but which Garlthik assured him was safe to eat.

  Despite the meal, J'role was still hungry. He caught Garlthik's attention and pointed to his stomach. "Aye, me too, lad," the ork said. "But if there's a drawback to being an adventurer, it's this: you can't always have what you want when you want it. In four days'

  time we might be- as wealthy as kings. Then again, we might just starve to death before four days are out."

  J'role thought about the words. He thought of how much time the farmers of his village spent tending their crops, how much toil was involved, and how often they still ended up with very little harvest to show for it. Garlthik might be wise in many ways of the world, but not in all. Everyone risked not having what he wanted when he wanted it, just by being alive, adventurer or not.

  As night came on, he stood gazing out over the land below. The cool air washed gently over his face, and the fire buried between the stones kept his legs warm. The mixed sensations delighted him. Extremes, he thought. I like them more and more.

  Then J'role spotted two orbs of light bobbing their way across the land, still distant, but getting closer. Crouching down, he poked at Garlthik's chest. The ork, who had just closed his eyes and begun to drift off, at first pushed J'role's hands away. But then he opened his eyes, saw the look on the boy's face. J'role pointed over the rocks.

  Garlthik quickly scrambled up and looked in the direction J'role pointed. J'role thought that Garlthik looked horribly frightened as the ork removed his torn cloak and used it to smother the fire. When the flames had become no more than embers, Garlthik stood up and stared back out over the rocks. J'role joined him.

  The orbs had gotten closer, and J'role saw now that they were lanterns. He had only seen such devices once before, many years ago when a group of humans and a troll had traveled through his village. Each lantern hung from poles atop wagons that were making their way across the land. Drawn by horses, the wagons rocked side to side over the sloped and rocky ground. J'role could not make out who rode in the carts, but there seemed to be about three people in each one. He also thought he saw shadows, tall, like large men, moving alongside the carts, but he could not be sure.

  Next to him, Garlthik relaxed. "Not them. Just travelers. Wonder what they've got?." He lowered himself back behind their shelter of boulders. "We'll light the fire again when they've passed on a bit."

  J'role knew what they might have—and he wanted it. He tugged on Garlthik's arm, then pointed at his stomach and then over the boulders at the merchants.

  Garlthik laughed and brought his hand up to his mouth I and smothered it. When he'd gained control of himself he said, "And what will we do, young J'role? Go up to them and beg for alms? Those travelers are escorted by obsidimen. Not the type of folk who are usually too generous. I doubt we'd get within fifty feet of them, even with peaceful intentions, before those brutes slammed into our meager bodies with their stone hands.

  Wouldn't even see them coming if they're worth their pay."

  J'role wanted to know what obsidimen were, but knew that getting out the question would be too much work; he didn't even know how to begin. Instead he kept his mind fixed on the issue of food. He gestured back over the rock again, and then he mimed walking along silently, his knees bent, creeping along.

  Garlthik smiled. "Steal it?"

  J'role nodded vigorously.

  "Lad, maybe another time. Certainly, I've stolen from more difficult marks—but I always had help."

  Indignantly J'role pounded his chest with his fist.

  "Yes, yes. You're here to help. But you're not especially well trained."

  J'role pointed to himself again, then mimed sneaking through a door, opening a barrel, pulling out apples. Garlthik cocked his head to one side. J'role gestured back over the boulder; several times in a row, trying to build the impression of distance.

  "Oh. You've stolen ... You stole when you lived in your village?" Garlthik first looked astonished, then smiled again. "Well, that is a surprise. Wouldn't have ... All right. Do you know the talents?”

  J'role furrowed his brow, at first not understanding what Garlthik meant. Then he realized that he meant magical talents. He had never thought that there would be magical talents for thieves, just as there
were magical talents for Ishar, the village metalsmith, but it made sense. He remembered the green glow that poured out of the knots that had been holding Garlthik. That was probably one of them. He shook his head.

  "That's it then. We'll be building our appetites tonight." He rolled over to go back to sleep.

  J'role knelt down beside Garlthik grabbed the ork's arm and shook it.

  "No, no. I can't do it alone, and boy, you're just not ready."

  An idea came to J'role. He pointed first to Garlthik and then to himself, over and over again. Then he took the ork's heavy hand in his and clasped it.

  "What do you want, boy?”

  He continued to point to Garlthik, and then himself.

  "You want to—be me ... ? To learn from me? You want me to teach you the talents?”

  J'role nodded.

  The ork laughed quietly. "We won't be done in time to get that caravan ..." Garlthik shook his head and waved his hand, a sober look coming s over his face. "You probably don't know this, but when you pick a discipline, it shapes how you see the world. Everything feeds into this sight. That's why the magic works. Once a thief, you'll always be a thief.

  You'll always think like a thief."

  J'role patted his belly. The ork laughed, then looked somberly at J'role, as if weighing something out. "All right then. In the morning." He started the fire again, and rolled over once more.

  For a long time J'role stared up at the stars. The tiny points of light seemed to form countless patterns, just like the picture language common to the name-giver races.

  Though J'role could not read, he'd seen words carved in stone, words formed from a picture of a dragon's head combined with a few dots and circles. Next to that would be a cat, and next to that an image of a jaguar, each altered slightly to produce different syllables.

  As J'role looked at the sky he wondered if the stars too formed patterns—words written across the night.

  He could not sleep, and after an hour or so he took out the ring. The silver cold against the flesh of his palm and reminded him of the wonderful, overwhelming desire he'd felt earlier. He craved to feel that longing once more, but the thought also made him afraid. It took complete possession of his thoughts. Two days ago, putting on the ring had made him forget even about his father dying on the floor of the kaer.

  The memory of his father sent a shiver through J'role. What a horrible son he was! How often had he wished the man dead! How could he have wanted that for a man who had tried so hard? So, so hard. An empty ache took hold of J'role's heart; he felt incomplete, as if he still needed something from his father that would now never be provided.

  Without even thinking about it, he slipped the ring onto his finger to escape the sadness.

  He felt his tongue come alive without his will, and the tingling spread across his jaw. He rolled away so as to not disturb Garlthik, then stood up and walked over to a rock and stared out over the barren, windblown landscape, listening to himself speak.

  He said, "Fine stones, each as pure white as sun-bleached bones, led to the city from all quarters of Barsaive." An astounding sight greeted him as he stared out over the barren, dark landscape. Several miles away a thin line glowed as pure as the stars above, reaching off in either direction as far as he could see.

  A road.

  7

  The memory of the nightmare is slight. Not as horrible as what is to come, but all connected somehow, a thread in the web of despair. A little matter, really. Probably not worthy of being relegated to the realm of nightmares. But there it is. He is four. The thing in the corner has not yet arrived His mother is alive. His father happy.

  His mother speaks to him one day when his father is gone. He is her pride, yes. She can show him off to the neighbors, yes. He is facile with language. "Just like his father,”

  everyone says, smiling. So happy.

  "Be careful," his mother warns. Her face is serious. "Don't be like your father. People will expect too much. Don it speak so much. Don't show them how clever you are. "

  Yet she continues to show him off, and he is expected to perform. When speaking to others, if he says the wrong thing — and he never knows what that might be—she looks down. Frowns. He is always disappointing her. He doesn't know why. Everyone else thinks him so clever.

  When they are alone, she looks at him and sighs. He turns away. He wants to do the right thing, but does not know what that is.

  One day she stares at him for a long time. "You're just like your father," she says quietly, hopeless.

  He stared at the remarkable sight before him, not listening to a single word he was babbling. The road had not been there before. He would have seen it. It glowed. Tears formed in his eyes, and he did not know why. Was it the magic of the ring? The longing was strong within him now, stronger than it had been at any time since he'd worn the ring. The road was of course tied to the city, and the city was the source of the longing.

  But no. The tears were for something else. For his father. Here, right before him, something so strange and marvelous. He wished his father could be beside him to see it.

  Though Bevarden had spoken of many miraculous things, he'd spoke of them only through the memories of others. But he too had known a longing—to actually see the magic of the world— the extraordinary. Everything had gone- wrong, though, back at the kaer. First with his mother, and now ...

  J'role wished his father could see it.

  A road of starlight. It was the kind of thing Bevarden always suggested they would find together.

  He turned toward Garlthik, wanting to wake the ork up and show him.

  Then he turned back toward the road. Could he show the ork the road? He fought down the ring's power to make him keep longing for the city, and pulled the ring off The road vanished. The barren lowlands again became mundane and stark.

  J'role nearly cried out with excitement. But years of training had taught him not to speak out spontaneously, and the creature's warmth in his thoughts always kept the need for silence immediate.

  He rushed over to Garlthik to shake the ork awake. When J'role was within five feet of the fire Garlthik suddenly rolled over and sprang up, sword drawn, eye alert and startled.

  J'role stopped dead.

  "Spirits, boy! Don't ever do that. Not unless you want to be able to carry your head in your hands." The ork looked around, seeking possible enemies, then relaxed. "What is it now? Don't you need sleep like the rest of us?"

  J'role pointed toward where he had seen the road, then held out the ring in his other hand.

  The ork lost his indignant manner and eyed J'role carefully. "Something about the ring?

  The city?"

  J'role nodded excitedly, then started walking toward the rocks where he'd seen the road.

  Garlthik followed.

  When they reached the rocks where J'role had seen the road, J'role swept his hand through: the air, gesturing to something out in the darkness.

  "Is the city out there?" the ork asked.

  J'role shook his head, and handed Garlthik the ring. The ork took it and said, ' You want me to put it on?" J'role nodded. "Ah, don't know about that. It hurts to wear the ring. A sweet hurt, but a hurt nonetheless.”

  J 'role simply stared at Garlthik.

  "All right."

  The ork slipped the ring onto one of his large fingers. Immediately a strange expression shrouded his face; his body shook slightly and the shoulders slumped forward, as if an old wound had suddenly opened. J'role became apprehensive, wondering if the ork was in pain. Then Garlthik gave a strange smile—almost like a frown, but happy enough to be different. He sighed, his eye closed tight.

  J'role tugged on Garlthik's arn. The ork opened his eye, and looked toward where J'role pointed.

  A pause, and then Garlthik asked with a breathy voice, "Should I see something?"

  A panic seized J'role. Had he imagined the road? He looked out across the starlit land. Of course, he saw nothing. With a sudden lurch he fumbled at
Garlthik's hand for the ring.

  He had to put it back on, to be sure. The ork immediately pulled his hand away. "No, no.

  Just ... Let ... Feel it…”

  Knowing he could not force Garlthik to give him the ring, J'role simply waited as the ork stared up at the sky. He thought hey saw a single tear appear under the ork's good eye, a soft and small object that seemed incongruous with the ork's rough, bulky body.