Longing Ring

31

In his nightmares, as in his childhood, his mother makes him speak to her: She tests him almost daily, when no one else is around, to see if he still speaks with the voice of madness.

Slowly she becomes insane. The transformation was slow in life, but speeded up in his nightmare, and he can see each of the subtle transformations on her face and in her eyes, like the shifting of colors during a sunset.

Another day of travel followed, filled with growing apprehension among the ork raiders.

J'role noticed that though the leader of the raiders put on a good face for Garlthik, others among them did not. Some of the raiders mimicked his straighter posture; others pointed at his clothes and laughed. It occurred to J'role that Garlthik was not much like his fellow orks, despite being of their race. He spoke dwarven fluently, and dressed in clothing much more like that of J'role's people than the furs and decorative bones of the raiders.

Throughout the day scouts rode off in the same direction the other group had come, returning quickly their expressions like bad news. At noon, when the raiders had stopped to feed their animals and rest, Garlthik came over to J'role and Releana. “We're being pursued. The scouts are certain of it.” he said.

"Dwarfs?" Releana asked with sudden hope.

"Elves, actually. Though I can't imagine what they have to do with any of this."

J'role, however, knew exactly what, but decided not to bother trying to communicate what he knew of the meeting between King Varulus and Queen Alachia.

"The elves number us at least, riding their bone steeds," said Garlthik after a moment. “If they catch us, it could be bad for us all." Garlthik waited another moment, probably hoping either J'role or Releana would offer some information about the elves. When they didn't, he simply walked away.

"She has the ring of longing, doesn't she?" Releana said.

J'role nodded.

"She's after the city. Maybe they know we're heading for it." She paused, then said,

"J'role, have you been able to work your bonds free at all?”

He nodded, lying. Though he had been trying, Garlthik had tied the knot all too well.

J'role didn't know if he'd ever get out of them.

He lied, but wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was so he could make Releana feel that he was doing well. He told her what he thought she wanted to hear

He wanted her affection back.

More anxiety filled the afternoon. Scouts were sent off in another direction; in the general direction they had been traveling, and returned with more bad news. Garlthik never came over to explain what it was.

The orks pressed their beasts harder, and J'role recognized landmarks as the raiders followed Garlthik's instructions.

J'role once looked over his shoulder and saw a line of mounted figures rushing after them from the western horizon. The figures were tall and thin, and their steeds looked white but insubstantial. He tried to focus on the mounts as he bounced along, and saw that they were bones the bones of horses. The sight sent a chill through him, but at the same time there was a stark beauty to the skeletons. As the creatures ran gracefully over the hilly terrain, J'role saw that it was elves from Blood Wood who rode them. But the elf queen was not among them, and J'role assumed, she had sent her servants to finish her work.

Turning forward again, he saw another line of riders approaching from the south. They were closer to the ground than the elves, and J'role recognized them as dwarfs mounted on ponies, their battle armor and swords glinting in the afternoon sun.

Terrible emotions tugged at J'role: Who to please now? He wanted all the choices to go away. He didn't want to hurt anyone else. He just wanted to go adventuring with Garlthik.

"There's a way to make that happen," said the creature.

"I don't want to die anymore."

"But you certainly don't like being alive.”

"Why can't you leave me alone?"

"Soon enough. Soon enough."

As they rounded a turn in the gully J'role saw the wide, flat-topped hill. He did not feel the longing with the same intensity as when wearing the ring, but a ghost of the memory returned. He remembered standing on the hillside, looking at the city, wanting so much to enter it.

And now he could call it back.

Garlthik rode up alongside the mount on which J'role sat. "This is it? Isn't it, lad?" J'role nodded his head vigorously. The ork leader called a halt, and the beasts stopped awkwardly, breathing heavily, spittle flying from their mouths.

Garlthik dismounted, walked over to Releana and grabbed her from behind the ork she had ridden with. He carried her a ways, then set her on the ground, facing the city.

"There's something to be said. Say it!"

She stood silent and emotionless.

A panic began to rise up in J'role. Did she really think they could wait until the dwarfs arrived? What if the elves arrived first?

A long, horrible moment passed among the group. The leader of the ork raiders walked up to Releana and drew his sword. He raised it high threatening her with it, shouting at her in his strange tongue. She did not respond.

He slashed down at her.

J'role scrambled to get off the beast, and fell down to the ground. Lifting his head, he saw Garlthik parrying the leader's blow and then the two men shouting at each other. Garlthik was undoubtedly telling the ork leader that they couldn't afford to kill Releana.

Then the leader of the orks ripped a scarlet jewel from his fur vest, raised it high, and smashed it against a big rock at his feet. J'role pulled back, afraid of the magic it might release. Releana dropped to the ground, as did Garlthik.

A flash cut through the air where the jewel had struck the stone. He heard the roar of hoof beats rushing closer from many sides; within moments the dwarfs and elves would arrive, and the site of the vanished city would become a bloodbath.

When he turned back toward the ork leader, J'role couldn't believe his eyes.

Standing on the spot where the stone had shattered were Mordom, Phlaren, Slinsk Gore, all of them smiling upon the gathered crowd.

Mordom looked around at the assembly, moving his raised palm: this way and that, the eye in the hand blinking every so often. He turned to Garlthik. "I take it we have reached the site of the city," he said. “This is the arrangement I had with these scorchers."

Garlthik reached for his sword, but the orks around him drew their blades and surrounded him. Garlthik stayed his hand.

"One too many tricks, Garlthik," Slinsk said. "I'm going to kill you, but I'll always admire your style."

The ork leader spoke in his own tongue to Mordom, and Mordom looked out past the crowd, toward the two sets of approaching riders. The smugness washed from his face.

He said something to the ork leader, who replied sharply, first sweeping his arm toward the flat hilltop, then pointing at Releana.

Mordom smiled down at her. "My barbaric associate tells me you know the words to bring the city back. Let's have them, quick. I think I've worked hard enough to gather the credit for saving this city." He glanced past J’role and the others again, and this time J'role turned as well. The elves and dwarfs would arrive in mere minutes.

Releana stood defiantly silent, Mordom threw up his hands. "Enough," he said, trusting his hand into the air and squeezing it into a fists Suddenly Releana gave out a gasp and clutched her chest. She stood precariously, as if about to fall over yet unable to. J'role started to rush forward, hut Garlthik grabbed him with his strong hand and held him in place.

"I can do many things to you, girl. This is just the beginning. If you don't tell me how to call the city back when I let you go, it will all get much worse."

The creature began writhing wildly in J'role's thoughts, as if in a: panic. "Do something,"

it hissed at him over and over. "Do something!"

J'role slipped out of Garlthik's grasp and rushed toward Mordom, his hands still bound.

The sudden action startled everyone present. All except for Slinsk, who laughed and slashed his blade at J'role even as J'role raced toward it.

Then Garlthik appeared at J'role's side, parrying the blow at the last — instant, the swords clanging against each other right next to J'role's ear. Garlthik gave out a cry as the orks around him cut him with their large blades. Through the cries of pain he shouted, "Speak the words! Damn your pride! The city is our only chance!"

J'role bowled straight into the surprised Mordom. The two of them tumbled to the ground. Over the rising din of approaching hoof beats, J'role heard Releana shout "You are found. There is a place for you in the world. Come home. "

With one hand Phlaren grabbed J'role roughly by the neck and raised him high, setting his face just in front of hers. "Do you know, I've wanted to kill you for so very, very long now." J'role remembered the man he'd knocked into the pit back at the kaer, and Phlaren's intense reaction to the news of the death. She had carried that hatred for weeks and weeks. With her free hand Phlaren drew a dagger from her belt.

Suddenly an arrow barbed with thorns sliced through her neck. She held J'role for a moment longer, then collapsed to the ground, dropping him as she did.

J'role whirled and saw the elves riding up, their skeleton steeds galloping wildly, their bowmen firing furiously into the ork raiders. The orks grabbed spears and shields and braced themselves for the elven assault. The dwarfs would arrive any moment.

Then something else caught J'role's attention. A shimmering of star-white walls, the dim shapes forming like fog on a spring evening.

The city was returning, but his view was suddenly cut off as the bleach-white bones of a horse galloped by. An ork leaped forward, driving his spear into the elf who rode the long-dead animal, piercing the elf's chest and knocking him to the ground. Dozens more elves arrived, wielding swords that glowed blue in the dying light of day. While the orks scrambled to reach their steeds, the elves struck them down to the right and the left.

J'role turned back too the city, the battle suddenly forgotten as he remembered his longing to find it, his desire to find the people who might help him. He stood, still and ridiculously placid as the battle swirled around him.

The walls formed.

They weren't new and shiny, as before. They were as Garlthik had seen them. Huge blocks that had collapsed onto each other decades before. Thick cracks cut through the ruined walls. Within the walls he saw Parlainth’s fallen towers, the remains of the city's great halls, the huge pyramids covered with gnarled gray vines.

Not a living thing stirred within the ruins.

J 'role dropped to his knees. Stunned.

The dwarfs arrived, reining in their ponies, shocked by the sight. Even the elves and orks brought their mounts to a stop. The silence descended heavily, broken only by the snorts and whinnies of the many riding beasts in the area. Everyone stared in amazement at the seemingly endless ruins of Parlainth. The city stretched on and on, the once glorious, astounding metropolis now the scene of fractures, cracks, rocks, and ruined buildings.

None of them had ever seen anything with as much promise of beauty.

The sight before J'role echoed in his thoughts. The arrival of the city had changed everything. Now all gathered here knew exactly what had been lost during the Scourge.

Then suddenly, inexplicably the fighting began again. Faces filled with fury, the dwarfs, the elves, the orks all raised their arms once more, shouting their battle cries, and rushing at one another. J'role looked around, incredulous. Only those who at any time had worn the ring of longing- Mordom, Slinsk, Garlthik, J'role, and one of the elves in fine clothes of silk and with the ring of longing on his finger-remained too entranced by the city to continue the fight.

An impulse overcame J'role, a sudden urge to rush toward the city walls. He dodged in and out of the fight, just avoiding death by sword, spear, and trampling. The others followed him, desperate to finally reach the city, to be where they had wanted to be for so long. Only Releana, of all those who had never worn the ring, joined the race toward the city, following her J'role.

When he reached Parlainth, J'role staggered once more to his knees, the sight draining him of strength. Shattered skeletons lay everywhere, in some spots become no more than scattered bones. Some of the skeletons had been driven through with swords and spears.

Others were no more than rib cages dangling from spires. But over this image J'role could still see clearly the splendor that had once been Parlainth. The contrast tore at him, and he thought he would die.

Then he spotted a street he recognized, even though he knew that was impossible, and he ran for it. Releana called after him. He ignored her.

Reaching the street, he turned right, and then left, passing ancient bones and ruined buildings, rotted fragments of once-glorious flying chariots. He followed a path he thought he knew, and as he ran J'role began to shake, as if taken by a fever. The sound of his footsteps began to pound loudly in his ears; the air seemed to tear at his flesh. Behind him he heard Releana calling for him. He had lost her, but did not care. What mattered was ahead of him. His "memories" led him forward.

He reached a fallen building. Its wide columns had collapsed and spilled out into the street; the doorways at the top of the steps lay crushed under the roof.

But that didn't matter. He needed to go down. Yes. Down. He ran down the side of the building, toward a door leading down…

Motion behind him. He whirled. A huge ha d grabbed his bound wrists.

Garlthik One-Eye.

He stared down at J'role serious. Terrified? Yes, terrified. The ork licked his lips. His voice was dry and cracked. "Not what I expected …"

J'role shook his head.

But then Garlthik smiled, a child trying to make things right with a wish. "But you know something, don't you? Don't you?" Garlthik did not wait for an answer, but grabbed J'role by the shoulders and shook him wildly. "You know something!" he whispered harshly. "I saw it in you. You know something."

J 'role nodded his head, desperate to please Garlthik so he would stop hurting him.

"Yes, yes," the ork mumbled and with his dagger cut the ropes that bound J'role. "Here,"

he said indicating the stairs leading down. "Down here?"

J'role nodded. Yes. Something important was down there.

"Lead on."

They descended the stairs and came to a heavy stone door. Working together they forced it open, but then had to turn away from the sickly smell that came pouring out, Garlthik raising his cloak before his mouth, J’role using his hands. J'role spotted a torch resting in a sconce. He pointed it out to Garlthik, who grabbed it and lit it with some flint from a sack on his belt.

With Garlthik holding the torch high, the two of them entered the tunnel.

The red torch light flickered gloomily over gray walls. A layer of dust covered the floor, swirling up around their feet as they walked. For the first time since he had rushed into the city, J'role wondered where he was going. He had seen this corridor before, though he had never laid eyes on it. His memories folded back on' themselves. Yet something called him forward.

Garlthik looked down at him to see which way to go, and J'role indicated a left turn at an intersection.

They came up to pit in the ground, ten feet long, stretching from wall to wall. They peered over the edge. Below, two giant skeletons rested on spikes-skeletons of things J'role had never seen before. One was wide and long, with a tail that stretched halfway back up the pit, its bones resting against the wall. The other had a long snout and razor teeth.

"Horrors," Garlthik said. "The city's traps killed some of them. But not all."

The Horrors had reached Parlainth after all. Somehow the creatures had found the city, corrupted it. Even after all the elaborate magical machinations, the people sending themselves out of the very world in search of shelter, they had not been safe.

“Do we keep going this way, boy?"

J'role thought for a moment. Yes, though he couldn't remember seeing the pit. He nodded.

"Come on, then.” Garlthik tossed the torch across the pit. It skittered across the floor, but remained lit Garlthik placed his hands against the walls, searching for cracks and studying the nature of the wall. J'role started to do the same on the opposite wall. He slid his fingers between the stonework, and began to inch his way along the pit.

He glanced down once, saw the creatures, and thought again of all that the people of Parlainth had done to keep themselves safe. For nothing.

The thief magic seeped into his body as he moved, and the voices returned, sensations returned, the need to be alone, to trust no one, to put on a pleasing face for all. He tried for a moment to resist, for in the face of Parlainth’s failure such warnings seemed futile.

Who could ever be safe? But the sensations washed through his thoughts and muscles. As they took hold, once again J'role wondered how he could have been so naive as to believe he could be happy with other people.

The two reached the other side of the pit and continued on their way. They passed many rooms, some with desks, others with baths. Murals had been painted on the walls, but most of them had been ruined by what seemed to be claw scratchings. Garlthik remained silent, letting J'role lead them on. Neither one made a sound as he walked.

Despite the wisdom of the thief magic, J'role felt comfort walking alongside the ork. Here was his mentor. His …

The idea remained stuck for a moment.

Father.

He stopped, looked at Garlthik. The ork returned his gaze, his face startled, perhaps anxious. J'role smiled, and the ork relaxed. "You can sense it, can't you, lad?" Garlthik said. "The treasure nearby. The clues are all here. The pit to keep intruders away, the Horrors who died trying to reach it. Don't know what it is, but there's something of value here."

J'role walked on, and Garlthik followed.

At one point Garlthik put his hand on J'role's shoulder, stopping him. "Wait here," he said, and stepped forward carefully, examining the stones on the floor. Then he stood, withdrew his sword, and poked the tip at the ceiling above.

The ceiling cracked easily-far too easily-and after Garlthik poked a bit more, his work revealed it to be a false ceiling. In the flickering firelight J'role saw the tips of spikes pointing down. "Ahh," said Garlthik. "This is a good one." He leaned forward cautiously and pried at some of the stones in the floor. "The trigger is in the floor stones," he said, softly. "You step on them, and the spikes come down. But it hasn't gone off yet. Which means … Ah."

He found a stone that interested him. He took his dagger out and slid it against the stone's edge. After prying the stone loose, he pulled it out. He turned to J'role and handed it to him, then leaned back toward the hole he'd created. "Yes. Yes. The trigger's gone bad.

Look here."

He stepped back so J'role could see, leaning carefully over the floor to avoid setting off the trap. The hole revealed a series of chains and pulleys set behind the wall. "See here?

That wheel has come off the axle. It's completely jammed. But better to be sure." Garlthik picked up the stone he'd removed from the wall. "Better step back." J'role did so, and Garlthik tossed the stone forward. It clattered across the floor.

Nothing happened.

"All right, then. Lead on."

J'role looked at him, uncertain. Garlthik laughed softly, then stepped forward confidently, willing to show the way. When nothing happened, J'role followed.

Huge cracks ran through the walls, and J'role remembered the collapsed pillars and ruined walls above ground. As they walked on they saw Chunks of stone from the ceiling littering the floor. Soon it took great effort to walk over and around the stones. And then they came to a section of corridor completely blocked from floor to ceiling with stones.

Garlthik turned to J'role. "This way?"

J'role nodded. More than that. It was behind the stones, just a few steps away.

Whatever it was.