D. MacHale - The Merchant of Death

I took the pouch and pulled out the ring. Osa nodded encouragement, so I put it on the ring finger of my right hand. Oddly enough, it fit perfectly.

“You are both at the beginning of a long journey,” said Osa as she grew weaker. “Pendragon, I know you do not feel you are up to the challenge. You are wrong.”

I nodded, but I didn’t believe her.

Osa continued, “Halla is in your hands. Remember that. Let it be your guide. Together you two will-” Osa caught her breath, gave a little shudder and closed her eyes. They would never open again.

This was a painful moment. Of course, I felt sympathy for Loor. The girl had just lost her mother. But I, too, felt loss. In the short time I had known Osa, I had developed an affection for her. She was the one voice of reason in the storm of confusion that I had been swept into. I trusted her. I felt safe with her. And my trust had proven to be well placed, for she had sacrificed her own life to save mine. That’s a debt that can never be repaid.

I wanted to comfort Loor but I didn’t know how. I struggled to find the right words, but Loor spoke first. “Go down into the mine, Pendragon,” she said. “I will meet you there.”

I wasn’t about to argue. I just nodded and stepped away. Before I climbed down onto the ladder I said, “I’m sorry, Loor.”

Loor didn’t acknowledge me. She just sat there, still cradling her mother. As I climbed down the ladder, I could hear that she was once again humming the tune from the river. I had to fight back my tears.

I climbed all the way down to the bottom of the mine and found my way into the giant cavern. Once there I saw that it was business as usual. There was no day here and no night. All signs of the excitement from the explosion were gone. I didn’t know what to do, so I found a quiet corner and sat down to try and think. To say that my mind was a jumble of conflicting thoughts was an understatement. I spun the silver ring on my finger. This strange piece of jewelry might actually be my ticket home. But as much as I wanted to use it, the idea of bolting out of here made me feel incredibly guilty. For some reason that I still didn’t understand, everyone was expecting me to help these poor people fight for their freedom. Stranger still, an amazing person had just given her life so that I could live to carry out that mission.

I wished I knew what to do. If there was something these people needed that I could deliver on, I’d gladly do it. But lead a revolution? That’s insane! I sat there for a while and even got a little bit of sleep. Finally Loor arrived carrying a basket.

“Come with me,” she ordered. So I got up and followed her. She led me down one of the mine tunnels that didn’t look as if it were active. A few feet along we came to an opening to a small room that had been cut from the rock. It was set up like one of the huts with animal fur bedding, a table, and candles for light.

“This is where we come when Kagan is looking for us,” she explained. “You will be safe here.” She then handed me the basket and I saw that it was full of bread and fruit. I needed to eat, but I didn’t have much of an appetite.

I took a chance and asked, “Where’s Osa?”

“She was taken to the village,” said Loor with no emotion.

“Tomorrow I will take her to Zadaa.”

Zadaa. That was the territory where Loor and Osa came from. So that meant Loor knew how to use the flumes to get around. And if she was going to bring her mother’s body back home, I couldn’t imagine she planned to climb back to the top of that mountain to get there. There must have been another way to use the flumes.

There was some serious tension in this little stone room just then. Loor was angry, but I wasn’t sure how much of that anger was aimed at me. I was upset and sad and to be honest, a little scared of her. She had a nasty temper and if she decided to take it out on me, there’d be nothing left of poor Bobby Pendragon except a stain on the wall. I decided not to push Loor by talking. So I sat down on the animal fur and tried to act invisible.

Loor was like a caged cat, pacing back and forth. What I feared was that her anger would build to a point where she’d explode and take me apart. In a strange way, that was exactly what happened. But it happened in a way that I never expected. She didn’t hit me. She didn’t insult me. She didn’t even scream at me. All of those things would have been understandable. But what she did hurt much more.

“I am taking you home tomorrow,” she said flatly. “You do not belong here.”

Whoa. That was thelast thing I expected to hear.

“But…what about the revolution?” I asked lamely.

“You think you cannot help these people because you are not a warrior,” she said. “But the Milago do not need a warrior. They need someone they can trust. You are not that person.”

This took me by surprise. Obviously I was not a fighter like Loor, and I was not exactly the brave, hero type. But trustworthy? Come on! I could be trusted. I was a good guy. Where did she get off calling me untrustworthy?

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

She looked me right in the eye and said, “How can someone be trusted who only thinks of himself? From the moment you arrived, you have plotted to get away. It did not matter how much the Milago need help. It was always about getting home.”

I was feeling a little defensive at this point. I thought she was being unfair and said, “Okay, maybe you’re right. But I was kind of thrown into this mess without a whole bunch of warning. It’s a lot to ask someone to turn their life upside down in a day!”

“I know, Pendragon,” she said. “The same thing happened to me. But there is a difference between you and me and it has nothing to do with fighting.”

“And what’s that?”

That’s when she let me have it.

“You saw how my mother died,” she said, trying to hold back emotion. “I would have done anything to save her. But you…I do not understand how you can only think of yourself when your uncle is about to die.”

Those words hit me hard. She was right. Uncle Press was in trouble. I knew it ever since that sled had landed us in the snow bank. Yet I was planning on leaving without even trying to help him. I had been so worried about saving myself that I didn’t think for a second that Uncle Press needed me. Loor was right and I was ashamed.

“That is why you are of no use here, Pendragon,” she said with finality. “The Milago need someone to have faith in. You are not that person.” She turned and headed for the door, but just before she left she said, “After you get some sleep, I will bring you home. You can go back to the life you miss so dearly and forget that any of this ever happened. I suppose in time you will also forget about Press.” And she left.

I had just learned something about myself and I didn’t like it. Could I really be that selfish? Everything Loor said was dead on. Sure I cared about Uncle Press, but I convinced myself that there was nothing I could do to help him. But was that true? Or was it just an easy way to get out of trying? Did I even let my mind think of the possibility of trying to rescue him? I spent the next few hours questioning myself. Memories of the past few days played over and over in my head. I was haunted by the vision of the guy who was coldly thrown to his death because the Milago hadn’t mined enough glaze. I continued to see the horror of Osa fighting for her life and ultimately losing to a shower of arrows. I remembered the look on Loor’s face when she wanted to help her mother, but chose instead to protect me.

But most of all, I remembered Uncle Press. I thought back to my first memories of him. He was always there for me. It was sad testament that my last memory of him was going to be the sight of him dragged off by Kagan’s knights. That wasn’t right. That was not the way it should end. And that’s why I need your help, Mark.