Tovi shook his head to clear out the cobwebs and reached for the cup the old man held before him. He took another deep gulp of water and cleared his throat. “What about the other ogres who were there? Are they all right?” He thought he remembered seeing a small group of them.
Papaw lowered his head and remained silent.
The old man responded, “Two died back where the attack occurred. I could do nothing to save them. I am sorry.”
Tovi broke the minute or two of silence. “You are Myhrren?”
“Yes. You were searching for me, were you not?”
Tovi stared. Somehow, he thought the object of his search would look… different. This man seemed… small, not special or anything. “Oh, yes. I did come to see you. I’m trying to get home, and nobody else knows how to help me.”
“And what makes you think I can?”
Tovi shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Myhrren chuckled. “And it is a good thing you came this way. At least our large friend here probably thinks so.”
“I guess. Maybe.” Tovi lifted himself into a sitting position. “What were those things, those beings, back there? They weren’t ogres. I’ve never seen anything like them.” But, as he thought about it, they looked a bit like Myhrren himself, although a lot younger.
“Those, my friend, are humans. They are not of this realm. Their kind lives far across the fading in a land called Caravast.” He turned to Papaw. “Which begs the question, what were they doing here? And why did they attack you?”
The ogre scratched the side of his head as he looked out beyond the front door of the hut. “They stole the crystals we were taking to Ankra Kraal. They did not seem to want anything else. But why would they want them? They do not live here, so they would not use them for trade. Do the humans in their land use crystals for exchange?”
Myhrren moved toward the door, peering out into the waning darkness. “No. They use coins fashioned of metal—gold, silver, and copper. They would not use the crystals for trade, at least not in the sense that you understand it.” He turned and strode back into the center of the hut. “We can continue this discussion later. For now, we must prepare a meal. We are, all of us, tired and I suspect a good meal and a dose of pricklyfruit brandy will set us right.” He busied himself by gathering things from various cabinets.
◆◆◆
The food was excellent, better than anything Tovi had had in the kraal and, at least as well as he could remember, as good as anything his mother had ever made. The white meat was moist, salty, and so tender that it fell apart in his fingers when he picked it up. A cooked grain with melted butter drizzled over it gave him a warm, comforting feeling as he swallowed it. The final piece of the meal was a collection of vegetables of different colors, cooked just until they were soft enough to eat without being mushy. As they finished, Myhrren brought out a plate of cookies that tasted like a combination of nuts, dates, and honey with small seeds of some type mixed in. Tovi scarfed down two of them.
With the eating utensils cleared, the old man brought out a bottle with a cork in it. Placing three cups on the table, he poured a small amount of dark liquid into each. “A touch of this will help us all sleep, I should think.” He re-stoppered the bottle, lifted his cup high, and spoke, “To life.”
Papaw nodded, raised his cup, and then downed the liquid, grunting in apparent satisfaction.
Tovi raised his drink and sniffed—a strong, fruity smell but not like nectar or juice. Something different. He had heard of brandy but had never had any. His mother would go crazy if she knew he was drinking it. He grinned and took a sip. The liquid exploded in his mouth, burning his throat on the way down. He coughed and pounded his chest. Even as he did so, though, his spirits rose. He felt good.
Myhrren sipped his drink and leaned back in a rickety chair. “Now, my small friend with the orange hair, you must tell me about yourself. You are not a human and you are certainly not an ogre. Just what in the name of the light are you and from where do you come?”
Tovi, feeling the warming effect of the brandy, dove into the story. His excitement and enthusiasm grew with the telling. For those few moments, he forgot about his predicament and focused on the adventure. His audience—the ogre and the human—listened without comment. When the Azyrean spoke of riding moonbeams, a look of interest and, perhaps, even satisfaction seemed to fill Myhrren’s eyes.
“You rode to this land on a moonbeam.” He rubbed his chin and nodded. “Most peculiar.”
Tovi shrugged. “Yeah. We ride moonbeams all the time.” He didn’t feel the need to disclose that he had never ridden one before that night. “But I guess the colored ones are different. I rode a blue one and it brought me here. Well, out there somewhere.” He pointed toward the door.
“Yes. Very peculiar indeed.”
Before Myhrren could continue, a voice filtered in from outside. “Hallllooooooo!” A familiar voice. Tovi leapt up and darted for the door just as a knock shook the frame.
When the door opened a giant of a figure ambled in. He stood in the center of the room, staring around at the occupants. “Tovi? Papaw? What…?”
Chapter 79: Tovi
Klunk listened wide-eyed to the story, told in turn by Tovi and Papaw, with Myhrren filling in some blanks along the way. The flickering candlelight on the wooden walls lined with makeshift bookcases cast an eerie glow over the inside of the hut. Even as he spoke, Tovi began to take notice of the books and scrolls. The hut actually looked like a cluttered version of his classroom back in Pangrove, although none of his teachers looked like this withered old man.
When the tale had been told and Klunk’s questions answered, Myhrren turned to Papaw. “This brings me back to my original question. What did those men want with the crystals?”
Papaw and Klunk shrugged in unison and the old man’s gaze shifted squarely to Tovi. “You know something of these crystals, yes?”
Tovi glanced at Klunk and then back at Myhrren. “I never saw crystals like these in Pangrove.” He wasn’t sure whether he should tell the old man about his experience with the shards.
Klunk verbally nudged him. “Go ahead, Tovi. Tell him.” He gestured toward Myhrren with his head.
“Okay, well, I don’t know much. It’s just that when you bring them out, it makes any animals nearby just, kind of, stop and stare. That’s all. It has this weird effect on them. I don’t know why. And it didn’t work on Growl.” He glanced at Klunk. “Remember?”
Myhrren nodded knowingly.
As Tovi considered everything they had talked about, another thought flashed through his mind. Where did the voice that spoke to him in his mind come from? He wondered if he should tell the others about it. After all, it spoke of danger to the ogres and apparently knew about the crystals too. Maybe the danger it spoke of was the humans who were after the crystals.
But he had already gotten Klunk in trouble by telling him and showing him things. And the voice had said, at least for now, to keep things to himself. Still, he felt a little sick to his stomach holding this back. But he kept his mouth shut.
Myhrren’s voice interrupted Tovi’s thoughts. “There is one more thing we must speak of tonight.” He turned to face the Azyrean. “You know of the kraal, Klunk’s home. But what you might not know, is that it is one of hundreds of ogre kraals scattered across the land. The crystal mines provide the currency for all of them. But other than that, and the fact that they are all populated by ogres, they have little in common. They are not enemies, nor are they friends. They live peaceably but apart. This intrusion, this attack, affects them all, and they must be warned. This warning must also include the true nature of the crystals, at least to the degree that we understand it.”
That seemed a logical thing to Tovi. At least he had done his part in bringing this information to Myhrren. His problem, of course, was how to get home. And he didn’t seem any closer to that than when he arrived. No one, it appeared, had any idea of how to help him or, as far as he
could tell, any interest.
But Myhrren’s next words brought Tovi immediately back to the conversation. “The task of taking this message across the land falls to you, my small friend.” He smiled.
Tovi nearly jumped out of his skin. “What? Why me? I don’t know any other ogres, I don’t know where any other kraals are, and I don’t know any more about the crystals than you do.” He calmed down as he spoke. He had probably just heard the man wrong. Surely no one would expect an Azyrean, especially a kid, to go all around telling ogres this kind of thing. He recalled, with some guilt, the trouble he had caused in Klunk’s kraal.
Myhrren put his arm around Tovi’s shoulders. “Of course, you don’t know other ogres and you don’t know your way. That is why Klunk shall go with you. As for your knowledge, I will not go into great detail right now, but my role in this society is as a bringer of kindness and compassion to these people. I have been blessed with being the keeper of the book, which entreats them to take care of each other. The message that must be taken around is one of preparation for war, nothing less. I am afraid that I would not be a credible messenger in that regard. And another ogre would simply not be trusted across all of the kraals. You, on the other hand, have no interest one way or the other. You bring information to them, nothing more.”
“What if they won’t listen to me?”
The old man laughed. “Oh, I am quite sure they will resist the message. But you have honesty in your eyes. There is no guile, no deception. You will find the words. And perhaps you will have help when you need it most.” He paused and glanced around the room. “After all, you received help from your two canine friends when you needed it but least expected it. Papaw received your help when he most needed and least expected it. Things happen for a reason, Tovi. You must trust.”
Chapter 80: Tovi
Sleep found Tovi easily. The combination of the two days of trekking, the fight earlier in the day, which gave him the nasty gash on the head, and the sweet fruity drink, that was more than just fruit, all conspired to ease him into slumber. And the total disruption of his life—everything he’d known turned upside down and inside out—only added to his fatigue. But it was not to be a restful sleep.
“You did well today, my little friend.”
This time, the Azyrean pushed back. “Just who are you and why do you keep talking to me?” This time the voice seemed oddly familiar.
“We need you. I need you. We brought you here for a reason, just as we transported Marzi and Jarek. Each of you has a role to play. As for who I am, well, that will wait for another day. You will know me in good time.”
Beneath the anger, which lay beneath the sleep, something felt out of kilter. “Marzi? Is Marzi okay? And Jarek—who is Jarek?”
Laughter. “Yes, yes, Marzi is fine, and Jarek is also one of your kind, your beam keeper. You will meet him soon enough as well.”
“But what is it you want me to do?”
“You are already doing it, are you not? You discovered that the crystals are more than they seem. You befriended the ogres. You set out on a journey that will ultimately take you across the land to hundreds of kraals. To be sure, there are challenges ahead. You are right to question how the ogres will react to you. But you must take it one step at a time. Your first journey is back to Klunk’s kraal, where you must convince them.”
“Why don’t you just talk to them in their sleep, like you do me?”
More laughter. “And this is why I need you. You see beyond the trappings and ask the most direct and true questions. You are not swayed or influenced by the appearance of power. You question the obvious.”
“That’s stupid.”
A moment of silence in his mind preceded the answer. “Perhaps. But desperation sometimes forces us down strange paths.”
“Okay then, why don’t you just answer my questions? At least you could do that.”
“And for that, I do have an answer. First, your questions, while simple to you, are complex. In some cases, even if I gave you an answer, you would not understand it. You simply do not have the basis to absorb it. You will learn the answers bit by bit as you are able to comprehend them.”
“And?”
“Yes. And, you will also understand the answers best if you find them yourself rather than my telling you. Finally, my young friend, while these conversations we have may seem perfectly straightforward to you, I can assure you that this is not the case. Some of what I say indeed comes from my consciousness. But much of what you perceive actually comes from you.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Which proves my first point. Right now, you are not prepared for all the answers. No, it does not make sense to you, but it will. I promise. All will make sense before this is over.”
A related thought struck Tovi. “Why don’t you use Myhrren to do all of this. I mean, he knows the ogres and they trust him already.”
“The old man has a role to play when the time comes. For now, though, this falls to you. Do not get ahead of yourself. Stay in the present. Go to the kraal. Speak to the chief.”
“And what if he won’t believe me?” It was the same question he’d asked Myhrren—the one to which he had not gotten a satisfying answer.
Unfortunately, the voice within gave him no answer at all. It had fallen silent and the rest of the night passed without dreams, visions, or voices. Tovi awoke to a dim, half-light in the hut, and a deep foreboding in his heart. Klunk and his father lay across the room, snoring in harmony. Myhrren slept silently behind a sheet that separated his sleeping chamber from the rest of the hut.
Tovi arose and made his way out the front door as quietly as he could. Outside on the ground, his two dog companions slept beside the monstrous Growl. Klik slept nestled between the two smaller animals. The Azyrean stared at the strange sight and shook his head. Nothing—nothing makes sense any more.
Chapter 81: Jarek
They broke free of the swamp and its overbearing sense of confinement just as the sun eased above the horizon in the east. Virgil led with Mathias bringing up the rear. Burns and Jarek plodded along, sandwiched between the two. Jarek had to pump his legs harder than he’d have liked just to keep apace of the others. But occasionally, the captain would pause, look around, and allow a smile to break his worried countenance. And for a while, he would slacken the pace.
Struggling to catch his breath, Jarek tried to strike up a conversation. “How far to this monastery?”
Virgil responded without pausing or looking back. “Be there by mid-afternoon.” After a moment, he turned his head slightly, speaking over his shoulder, “That is, if we keep the pace and don’t get bogged down with needless stops and questions.” That ended the conversation.
The deep forest gave way to rolling fields with knee-high grass waving gently in the light mid-morning breeze. As he trudged along, Jarek tried to take it all in. These were lands that he’d not seen before. After all, the moonbeam had deposited him in the forest. Here, white puffy clouds meandered across the deep azure sky, barely outrunning the sun. Jarek could see that the fields were dotted with daisies and butterflies. There was a smell, although he struggled to put a name to it. Mostly it was just clean. He longed to lie down and take a nap in the tall grass.
Virgil’s voice, soft but crisp, brought Jarek out of his thoughts. “Let’s hold here, take a breather and get something to eat.” The captain dropped to one knee, unshouldered his pack, and took out a water skin. “Ten minutes, then we move.”
Jarek rustled around in his knapsack and brought out a cloth bag. Opening it, he found bread, smoked quail meat, nuts, and dried apple slices. The aroma wafted up and filled his head. He had to admit, this rag-tag band knew how to feed people. He tore off a piece of bread and chewed on it as he picked out a few apple slices and nuts, returning the rest of the fare to his bag.
The party had just settled into their meal when Jarek sensed a change. Tension invaded. Mathias grabbed his longbow. “Captain!”
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sp; “Yeah. I hear it.” Virgil gestured toward Jarek and Burns with a downward motion. “On the ground.” His voice came out as a hushed but urgent whisper.
He peered around the horizon until he apparently found what he was looking for. “There. Small raiding party. I make five… no… six mounted cavaliers. Looks like they’re headed west and in no particular hurry.” He stared for a few more minutes. “They’re gone.”
Jarek rose up out of the grass just enough to see the backs of the mounted soldiers maybe twenty-five meters distant. Their red tunics gleamed in the bright midday sun as the horses trotted along. He continued to watch, not trusting himself to speak softly enough. Silence held sway in the small band for another five minutes as the threat receded into the distance.
“Okay, all clear.” Virgil remained on a knee, but the volume of his voice and the look on his face signaled that it was okay to relax.
“King’s men?” Jarek eased up into a sitting position.
Virgil nodded. “That they are, my good man, that they are.” He took a bite of smoked quail and stowed the rest of his food away in his pack. “We need to get moving again. Fortunately, our path does not follow theirs.”
Jarek stared out at the small and still shrinking red dots on the horizon. “What are they doing out here?”
“Hard to say. On patrol, but for what specifically, I don’t know. Our group doesn’t operate out here and, at least to my knowledge, there aren’t any farms in this area.” The captain narrowed his eyes as he continued, “They aren’t scouts or rangers. Those normally travel in larger groups for show. I saw only a sergeant with them, so the leadership is low-level. I’m guessing they’re after a particular objective, something perceived as easily achievable.” He glanced at his pack and then shook his head. “I’ll check the map tonight and try to get a sense of where they might have been headed. For now, though, let’s move.”
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