The Eleventh Ring (Bartholomew the Adventurer Trilogy Book 1)

by Tom Hoffman

  “Are you ready?”

  “I am.”

  A large transparent sphere blinked into physical form around them. They were safe inside the sphere, for no physical object in existence could penetrate it.

  Bartholomew clasped Morthram’s paw and they closed their eyes, falling into a deep state of concentration. Bartholomew held up his right paw and Morthram held up his left. Moments later blindingly bright lights appeared in each of their paws. They stood motionless as the lights grew even more intense. Guards ran towards them, paws shielding their eyes. Hundreds upon hundreds of small glowing red spheres poured out from Bartholomew’s paw, followed by thousands of bright yellow spheres from Morthram’s paw. The spheres shot through the wall of the protective shell, flying straight upwards to a height of several hundred feet. Like bees from a hive they spread out in all directions, their speed becoming blurringly fast.

  The guards reached the transparent protective sphere. The first guard smashed into the invisible barrier, squealing in pain and falling backwards to the ground. The other guards stopped. One reached out to touch the sphere and became enraged when he felt the invisible barrier. He pulled out a long dagger, stabbing at the sphere in an attempt to crack it open. When his dagger didn’t even mar the surface, the guard shrieked in anger and pounded his fists on the shell until one of the tiny red spheres landed on his uniform. He jumped back, trying to swat the sphere off his jacket, but the sphere turned to liquid, spreading rapidly through the fabric of his coat. Seconds later he fell to the ground motionless. He was sound asleep and would remain in that state for more than a week.

  Bartholomew watched as guards everywhere were struck by the red spheres, each one collapsing to the ground as the first one had. Prisoners watched in confusion as the guards fell, uncertain what they should do. One of them cautiously approached a sleeping guard and prodded him gently. When there was no response he tried again, this time giving him a sharp kick. The guard did not move. The prisoner raised both arms high into the air and cried out one word. “Escape!” Before he could yell it again, a yellow sphere landed on his heavy canvas mining suit. Like the guard, he tried in vain to brush the sphere off him. The sphere liquified and spread across his canvas coveralls. He blinked out and vanished in a flash of yellow light.

  Bartholomew flicked his paw and the protective sphere around them dissipated. The guards were no longer a threat. He and Morthram watched as the prisoners ran about trying to avoid the yellow spheres. It was an impossible task and soon every prisoner had vanished from the mine.

  Far above them, in the open fields surrounding the Ferillium Inn, a very different scene was unfolding. Hundreds upon hundreds of prisoners from the mine were blinking back into their original physical form. It only took a few moments for them to realize they were free of the mine. The cacophony of their triumphant cries echoed through the nearby canyon. Some of them recognized the Ferillium Inn and began running towards it. Drawn out by the uproar, Mr. Ferillium and the innkeeper Theodore Rabbit emerged through the front doorway. They took one look at the dozens of rabbits racing towards them and realized their predicament. Leaping over the porch railing, they began sprinting madly across the fields in the opposite direction. It was the last anyone heard of either of them. There were rumors of them living deep in the Swamp of Lost Things, but there are always rumors.

  Back in the mine, Bartholomew and Morthram walked past the hundreds of sleeping guards. Morthram led Bartholomew to the entrance of the mammoth Grymmorian tunnel. A long train of empty wagons sat on the tracks. Each wagon was at least forty feet long and fifteen feet wide.

  “Ready?”

  They raised their arms and the bright yellow spheres again flew out. They spread quickly throughout the mine, each sphere landing on a sleeping guard. The guard vanished, only to reappear in one of the huge wooden rail wagons. Once all the guards in the mine had been blinked to the wagons, Morthram directed Bartholomew to a small control house.

  “The metal tracks provide electrical power to the wagons. That power comes from a duplonium powered steam generator which also powers the rest of the mine. This red lever controls the motion of the wagon train.”

  Morthram pushed the lever. With a shrill screeching noise the train of wagons began to move forward.

  “It will take several hours for the wagons make their way through the tunnel. In the meantime, I would like to search Mr. Ferillium’s office and see what we can find out about the mine.”

  They walked through the eerily silent streets and alleys to the main offices. As they passed the empty bunkhouses, Bartholomew was filled with a deep satisfaction knowing the mine would never again be filled with prisoners.

  Finally, they stood facing Mr. Ferillium’s building. Bartholomew made a quick detour, walking around to the side of the structure. The large metal cage where they had first arrived was still there. He touched the padlocked door. “They have trapped their last rabbit.”

  Once inside the offices, Bartholomew and Morthram began searching through the stacks of paperwork. Most of it dealt with the day to day operations of the mine. There were lists of prisoners and their bunkhouse locations, lists of payments made for the purchase of prisoners, and lists of prisoners who died in the mine. Many of the payments were to Theodore Rabbit. They also found ledgers recording shipments of ferillium ore to Grymmore. It appeared the mine had been in operation for over ten years. They found no clues as to the actual purpose of the mine or what Oberon was planning to do with the ferillium.

  Bartholomew opened a door to a connecting room. A gray vault stood against the far wall. Morthram flicked his paw and a red liquid splattered onto the vault door. The door crumbled to dust. They examined the contents of the vault, which appeared to belong to Mr. Ferillium. There were dozens of boxes filled with row upon row of neatly stacked gold coins. Piles of gemstones lay in black velvet cases. Morthram flipped open a silver box and found a pair of World Glasses.

  “We should take these for the Guild.”

  “Good idea. What’s this?” Bartholomew pulled out a small ornate metal box. When he opened it he found a heavy six sided silver medallion attached to a thin chain. Around the edge of the medallion were symbols which he could not identify, and in the center of the medallion was a round blue gemstone.

  “Those symbols look Grymmorian to me. It doesn’t look especially valuable, but perhaps it has some other purpose. Bring it back to the Guild and we can have Fen decipher it.”

  They left the offices and spent several more hours searching through other buildings in the mine, finding nothing of any significance. Morthram looked at his watch. “The wagons are through the tunnel by now and well on their way to Grymmore. It’s time to finish what we’ve started.”

  They walked back to the Grymmorian tunnel entrance. A bright green light appeared in Morthram’s paw, then snaked out like a long rope down the length of the tunnel. The glowing green line began to grow, gradually transforming to a dark gray foam which quickly expanded until it filled the tunnel. A red beam shot from Morthram’s other paw into the foam. Seconds later the foam solidified with a peculiar grinding noise. Bartholomew put his paw on the gray substance.

  “It worked. It’s solid granite, impossible for the Grymmorians to drill through. Shall we go up to the surface?”

  Bartholomew and Morthram blinked out and reappeared in front of the large iron door on the canyon road.

  “May I?”

  “Indeed you may, my friend.”

  Bartholomew held his paw out. A green cube appeared, floating between the heavy iron bars and down into the shaft. Fifteen minutes later the same dense gray foam pushed its way up to the top of the shaft. Bartholomew shot out a bright red beam and the foam became solid granite.

  “The mine is gone, filled with shaped granite. May rabbits never again suffer as they did in King Oberon’s ferillium mine.”

  “Shall we head back to Penrith?”

  “I’d like to search the Ferillium Inn before we go.”


  They strolled along the river road until the Ferillium Inn came into view. Some of the freed rabbits were still wandering about, but most had left the area. Bartholomew saw quite a few shaper masks laying on the grass as they made their way to the inn.

  “Transferring the orange liquid into the spheres worked quite well.”

  “I should bring some masks back for Oliver to examine. I’d like to learn how they prevent thoughts from passing through them.”

  “The Guild would also be more than interested in knowing how they work. Perhaps we could create a countermeasure to use against them other than the orange liquid.”

  Bartholomew put a half dozen of the masks into his pocket.

  The interior of the inn was a shambles. The freed rabbits had torn it to pieces, venting their anger at Theodore Rabbit. They spent an hour searching through the remains but found nothing. If there had been anything of importance the freed prisoners would have taken it. Bartholomew and Morthram blinked back into the Guild hall and found Oliver and Fen waiting to greet them.

  “You were successful?”

  “The mine is no more. The prisoners have been freed and the guards have been returned to Grymmore.”

  “Then we have a cause for celebration.”

  Bartholomew looked at Oliver with a grin. “Perhaps this will be even more of a cause for you to celebrate.” He handed Oliver a wrinkled piece of brown paper.

  Oliver took it with a puzzled expression. He looked at it closely, reading to himself. His eyes lit up and he roared with laughter.

  “Theodore Rabbit’s secret recipe for apple pie!”

  “Just promise me you will leave out the sleeping potion.”

  Chapter 21

  Morthram’s Betrayal

  “I’ve found something!”

  Bartholomew looked up from the reference book he was reading in the Guild library. Oliver stood over him holding an ancient leather volume.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s called Shapres Wisdome, and it’s almost four hundred years old. Morthram suggested I look among the rare books for references to ferillium, and I found this. Read this section right here.” He gingerly handed the heavy tome to Bartholomew, pointing to one specific paragraph. Bartholomew began to read.

  Such crystals within the Circle of Shapres do bear the name Fendaron’s Revenge, thusly called in sacred remembrance of the Great Loss. Argule the Alchemist, trusted diamond within the Circle has written of knowledge long hidden within the Tales of Fendaron. By truth, Fendaron’s Revenge, when standing beside crystals of Aurachalkym are as one. Fendaron did perform this conversion from the dust of Aurachalkym to crystalline form. By his wielding of the Aurachalkym crystal, Fendaron drew inward to the crystal the totality of thoughts and powers from the multitudes of the Circle, allowing for their brutal slaughter by his warriors.

  “It’s hard to understand the old writing. It’s something about a group of shapers who were massacred? Who is Fendaron?”

  Oliver stared blankly at Bartholomew. “Who is Fendaron? It makes no difference who he is. This clearly explains why the Grymmorian King created the ferillium mine.”

  “I saw no mention of ferillium.”

  The inside of Oliver’s ears grew bright red.

  “Good heavens, Bartholomew, it’s blindingly obvious. Aurachalkym is the ancient name for ferillium. Fendaron converted aurachalkym dust into a crystal. The crystal absorbed all the thoughts and powers of shapers, rendering them helpless against Fendaron’s warriors.”

  “Oliver, this is amazing. I am starting to believe your scientific mind is a miracle in itself. The Grymmorian King must be creating a massive ferillium crystal which can absorb the thoughts and power of shapers. But why would he do this? There are no shapers in Grymmore, and certainly there is no threat of invading shapers. He has gone to enormous effort to create this crystal and yet we are no closer to understanding what he plans to do with it.”

  Bartholomew and Oliver showed the book to Morthram, who read it several times over before saying anything.

  “We should go to the library. It’s time I told you Clara’s story and the story of my betrayal.”

  Morthram led them through the main reading room to an empty side room. He closed the door behind them.

  “We will have privacy here. You are not to share this story with anyone. Do you both agree to this?”

  “We do.”

  “Very well. The story begins almost six months before Clara arrived. I had been Guild Master to the Penrith Shapers Guild for almost ten years. One of my goals was to increase the Guild’s membership to bring shaping out of the shadows and dispel the fear it causes in so many rabbits. One day a rabbit entered the Guild hall and introduced himself to me. He wore a level five sapphire Guild ring and said his name was Thaddeus Rabbit. When I asked if he was here to advance his shaping skills he laughed, saying he was quite happy being a sapphire, and had no inclination to advance beyond that. He had moved to Penrith from a small village far to the east where he had spent much of his life. He told me he had reached an age where he felt he should expand his horizons and see more of this world. He left his home and traveled for many months, eventually finding his way to Penrith. He quickly became a fixture around the Guild. All the members enjoyed his company, and when there was work to be done he was the first to volunteer. All in all, he was a welcome addition to the Guild.

  “When a rabbit receives their level one garnet ring, they usually undertake a quest which is more of an informal tradition than it is a real quest. The initiate is always accompanied by a more experienced shaper, and the quest they are sent on involves little or no danger. They could be sent deep into the mountains to find a rare flower, or to bring back a unique crystal of some sort. It is designed to pose no threat, its only purpose being to impart a sense of belonging, a sense they are now valued members of the Guild. Thaddeus Rabbit made a perfect quest companion for the initiates. He was congenial and treated them with respect, never parading his skills in front of them as some rabbits do. He seemed sincerely humble and was a favorite among the new members. He went out on many first quests, never once failing to return with the required item. Many of the stories he told about the initiates were quite heartwarming. I felt it was a loss to the Guild that he chose not to advance beyond a sapphire, but I kept those thoughts to myself. He seemed happy with his lot, and a rabbit can’t really ask for more than that.

  “Thaddeus had been there for almost half a year when Clara arrived. I remember clearly when she walked through the door. I don’t know how she did it, but she managed to simultaneously look woefully uncertain and supremely confident. When she approached me I quickly sensed she was no ordinary rabbit. I could almost feel the vibrations of her shaping power. She had an inborn shaping ability rivaled only by Bartholomew’s. What she lacked was an understanding of what shapers are, and how they fit into the world. She had several bad experiences when she was young which affected her deeply. We spent many long hours discussing the true nature of shaping, and she finally came to understand that shaping in itself is neither good nor evil. It is the actions of the shaper which are good or evil. Her skills were remarkable, many of which she had discovered on her own, but some with help from the Great Tree. To be tutored by the Great Tree is an unparalleled honor, as I have told Bartholomew any number of times.

  “When Clara received her first Guild ring it was a ruby, as Bartholomew’s was. There was no need for her to go on a first quest, but she felt it might send the wrong message to the other members if she didn’t go. Thaddeus Rabbit volunteered to go with her. I had absolute faith in his integrity, and Clara seemed to like him so I allowed it. They were to go west to the Brycin Mountains and bring back a bloom called the Night Blossom. It’s usually found at the lower elevations of the range and isn’t especially hard to find. We expected the entire trip to take about two weeks. On the day she was leaving with Thaddeus, Clara took me aside and gave me a hug. She said if for some reason she didn’t return,
she wanted me to know she was grateful for all the help and understanding I had given her. She said she finally felt at home being a shaper. That was when she spoke the words I also heard from you, ‘Every atom, every molecule, and every bouncing marble is exactly where it should be at every moment in time.’ I believe now she knew what was going to happen, and knew the universe meant for her to be a part of it.

  “Two weeks passed and they did not return. After another week, we became fearful that something had happened to them. We were making plans to send out search parties when Thaddeus returned. He was badly wounded, with dreadful claw marks running across his chest and arms. He was almost delirious from fever but did say Clara had been killed, the victim of a mountain bear. She had gone looking for firewood early in the morning and he awoke to the sound of her screams. He ran to her and saw the bear attacking her. As he rushed towards them he tried to create a protective shell around Clara, but couldn’t make it work properly. The bear turned on him, raking its gigantic claws across his arms and his chest, knocking him backwards into a boulder. His head hit the rock and he was knocked unconscious. When he awoke Clara and the bear were gone. He searched for several days but could not find her. He was all but certain she had been killed. When he finished telling us the story Thaddeus wept, as did many of us.

  “The weeks went by and his wounds from the bear were healing nicely. I had offered to heal him with shaping, but he declined. He said the wounds helped him to remember Clara and to remind him how short life can be.

  “Several months after that everything changed. It was the middle of the night, and I was sound asleep when a voice woke me. I don’t know where it came from or whose voice it was, but it was loud and it was clear. The voice said,‘Clara is being held captive by the Grymmorian King. You must save her before it is too late’.