Morgan Rice - A Vow of Glory

The door slammed open and out came a middle-aged man, ducking his head at the doorway. He was bald, with graying hair on both sides, a big nose, narrow brown eyes and a double chin, and was dressed in robes, frayed, hardly better than rags. He stopped before the group and stared directly at Thor, clearly annoyed.

“What right did you have to press my grandson to bring you here?” he demanded, angry.

“We did not press your grandson to do anything!” Thor protested. “He offered to take us—”

“And how am I supposed to know that you are not of the Empire?” the man pressed, reaching down and gripping the hilt of his sword, resting at his waist.

Thor and the others instinctively reached for their weapons, too, as they did not know exactly how belligerent this man would be.

“Your dress seems to show you’re not from here,” the old man said, “but what if it’s all a trick? What if you are spies for the Empire?”

Thor sensed that the best way to deal with this wary old man was through kindness, and he raised his hands innocently and took a step forward.

“Sir, we mean no offense,” he said, in as gentle tone as he could muster. “We are not spies of the Empire. We have come here from the Ring. We seek a certain sword which was stolen from our kingdom. We mean you no harm. And if you wish to tell us which direction it was heading, we will be on our way. If you do not, then we shall just leave now, and leave you in peace. In any case, we thank your grandson for his kindness in saving us. We owe him a great debt.”

The man stared Thor up and down earnestly for quite a while, then finally his hand relaxed; he let go of the hilt of his sword, and his face relaxed, too.

“I hear it in your voice,” the man said. “That accent. You are indeed of the Ring. It has been years, too many years, since I’ve been there. A beautiful place. I miss it dearly.”

The man surveyed all of them, then finally relaxed his shoulders.

“Forgive my haste in accusing you,” he added. “We live alone out here, and one can never be too sure. Welcome. I wish for you to stay. Come quickly now,” he said, gesturing with his hands, looking out at the trees as if afraid something might attack them.

Thor looked at Reece and the others, who looked back and nodded, and as one, they all filed into the man’s cottage, as he followed and closed the door, barring it behind them with a large metal pole.

“Sit, please,” the old man said as he entered, tidying up.

Thor surveyed the cozy cottage, and saw that it was roomy, enough to hold all of them. The floors were lined with furs, a small fire roared in the fireplace, and it smelled of food, making Thor’s stomach growl. Krohn must have smelled it, too, because he began to whine.

The boy hastened to do his grandfather’s bidding, hurrying over with a platter of fruits that Thor did not recognize. Thor and the others each grabbed one, and as Krohn whined, the boy took a piece off the platter, leaned down, and fed it to him. Krohn snatched it from his hand, wolfed it down, made a funny face, licked his lips several times, then whined for more. The boy laughed.

Thor examined his piece of fruit. It looked like a fig, but was much bigger, red in color, and covered in a sort of moss.

“What is it?” Thor asked.

“It’s a mooless,” the boy said.

“Try it,” the grandfather chimed in. “It’s bitter but also sweet. It will give you energy after your long hike.”

Thor raised it to his nose, and it smelled unlike anything he had ever encountered—like an onion crossed with a lemon. He could feel from his fingertips that it was sticking to his hand, and as the others, he lifted it and took a tentative bite.

He was struck by the taste: it was delicious, and even this small bite gave him a burst of energy. He gobbled it down and licked his fingers, and already felt like a new man.

Thor sat with the others on the pile of furs on the floor, spread out around the fire, Krohn coming up beside him, and resting his head in Thor’s lap. Thor was surprised at how good it felt to sit, the achiness in his legs slowly subsiding. He had not realized how long they had been on their feet, how much his muscles hurt. They were also all bruised from their encounter with that animal. These furs were so soft and comfortable, Thor felt as if he could fall asleep sitting up.

But he thought of the Ring, under attack, and knew they had urgent business to attend to, and did not want to waste any time. He leaned forward.

“We are most grateful for your hospitality,” Thor said to the old man, “but I’m afraid we haven’t much time. We are on an urgent journey. We must find the Sword. Please, tell us where it went so we can be on our way.”

The old man took a seat, leaning back on a fur on the other side of the fire, beside the boy, and he looked back at them and shook his head.

“You can’t go back out there,” he said. “Not now. Haven’t you seen? The second sun is about to set.”

“I told them papa!” the boy said.

“We appreciate your caution,” Thor said, “but as I said, we have urgent business, and we do not fear insects.”

The old man snorted.

“You don’t understand,” he said. “No one can be out there at night. No one . You would not last an hour. After nightfall, sometime during the rising of the first moon, the rains come. No one can survive outside during the rains.”

“And why couldn’t one survive a rainfall?” Reece pressed.

The man turned and narrowed his eyes at him.

“Because it is not a rainfall,” he said. “It is not water that falls from the sky, boy, but Ethabugs.”

“Ethabugs?” Elden asked.

“A kind of spider, but larger and more deadly. In this part of the Empire, the sky rains them, every night. You’ll hear them falling against our cottage. It will last for about an hour, then they scurry on their way. But if you are outside during that time, without shelter, you’d be finished. I’ve seen a grown elephant devoured by those things in five minutes. No, you will stay here. At first light, you can go.”

Thor and the others exchanged a look of wonder, and he marveled at how different this place was. As he thought about it, he realized he was exhausted, and while his mind was in a rush to go, his body was not. His friends looked exhausted, too, and he did not blame them. Thor realized that being a good leader sometimes meant inspiring your people to go on—but sometimes it also meant allowing them to rest. And if this old man was not exaggerating—and Thor suspected he was not—then he was grateful to have found this shelter, and for the man’s hospitality. He didn’t want to contemplate what might have happened if they had been outside during that time.

“Then we are most grateful for your warning, and for your hospitality,” Thor said. “Thank you for having us.”

The old man shrugged.

“It’s nice to have company once in a while. Especially from the Ring. I spent the better part of my youth there. Lovely place.”

Thor’s eyes opened wide in surprise; this man had been to the Ring?

“And then what are you doing here?” O’Connor asked.

The man looked down, waited several seconds, and lapsed into silence.

“I’m sorry,” O’Connor said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

The old man remained silent for a while more, then finally, took a deep breath.

“I was young, a tragedy struck in my life. I thought the best thing to do was to start clean. I thought I’d head out west, beyond the Canyon, sail across the Tartuvian for the Empire, head into the wilds. I suppose at the time a part of me had been hoping to get killed. My woes engulfed me, and it was the easy way out.

“But that did not turn out to be the case. Somehow, I survived. And then I grew fond of surviving. I have lived here alone, for all these years—until the arrival of my grandson. Now I have something to live for. And despite all the animals, I have grown to like it here. I have traveled across the entire Empire, have seen places and things you can hardly imagine. It is a vast, vast Empire, dwarfing the Ring in comparison. You have not lived until you’ve seen it all. Not just the Empire proper, and not just the islands. But also the Land of the Dragons. And the Land of the Druids.”