The Eleventh Ring (Bartholomew the Adventurer Trilogy Book 1)

by Tom Hoffman

  “At first I thought it was just a wishful dream of mine that Clara was still alive, but as I gave it more thought I came to see it as truth. I believe the knowledge came from the self within me, although the voice was unfamiliar to me. I felt strongly that I had to go to Grymmore and rescue Clara. I told the other shapers about the voice I had heard and Thaddeus immediately volunteered to accompany me. The other Guild members were not as quick to offer help. Most did not want to risk their life over something that may or may not be true. At the time, it made little sense to anyone that Clara would be held prisoner by the Grymmorian King. In hindsight, it was because we all believed the story Thaddeus had told us.

  “Thaddeus and I began preparations for the trip. I tried to teach him a few new shaping skills which might come in handy, but he had a difficult time with them. He was not what you would call a gifted shaper, but he did make up for it with his enthusiasm. He didn’t doubt for a moment we would return safely with Clara. Once everything was packed and we had mapped out our journey, it was time for us to leave. Thaddeus didn’t know how to travel in thought cloud form so I held his paw and we blinked our way to the Grymmorian border. We wouldn’t be able to use shaping unless absolutely necessary once we entered Grymmore, since being caught shaping is essentially a death sentence there. The guards take you away and that is the end of it.

  “We crossed over into Grymmore but kept our rabbit forms since Thaddeus had no training in formshifting. I will admit I had a great deal of trepidation when we first entered Grymmore as rabbits, but the worst that happened were some curious looks we received along the way. Not once did I feel in any serious danger. We found a few inns and shops along the way which catered to rabbits, and I will say I was quite moved by the kindness of many Grymmorians. We were given rides in wagons, places to sleep, food to eat, and more significantly, friendly conversation. I had heard so many stories growing up of how dreadful and cruel Grymmorians were that I had come to believe it, but it could not be further from the truth. There are good and bad rabbits and there are good and bad muroidians.

  “Our destination was Malgraven Castle, home of Grymmore’s King Oberon, and my plan was quite straightforward. When we reached the castle I would formshift and enter as a lowly Grymmorian servant. While I scrubbed the floors and walls, I would pull the thoughts of whoever walked past me in an attempt to learn what I could about Clara’s location. Thaddeus would stay outside the castle, since he had none of the necessary skills to avoid detection. In hindsight, I should have made the trip alone, but at the time I believed Thaddeus truly blamed himself for Clara’s disappearance and wanted to make amends.

  “Eventually we arrived at Malgraven Castle. I have seen a number of castles, but nothing like this. It is monumental both in size and in architectural complexity. I had no idea how I would find my way around it once I was inside, even if I knew where Clara was being held.

  “Nevertheless, I formshifted into a rather sad looking Grymmorian servant who was unlikely to be noticed. I armed myself with a bucket of water and a pile of rags, and blinked into the castle early in the morning before most muroids had risen. I left Thaddeus sitting in a tent on the outskirts of the castle grounds. Fortunately, no one witnessed my arrival. Within seconds I was on my knees scrubbing the floor. As the day progressed, any number of Grymmorians passed me by. I don’t think a single one ever looked at me. I pulled many thoughts to me. Most were quite mundane, about their personal lives or castle politics or what they were going to have for dinner.

  “Towards the end of the day a rather frightening Grymmorian guard walked past me. I pulled his thoughts and struck gold. When I pull a thought to me, it’s not like reading a book. It’s not a linear string of words, but is a complete bundle of knowledge which all arrives simultaneously. I know everything at once. The guard was thinking about the King’s throne room. He was on his way there to transport several valuable prisoners to the Lost Fortress in the Fandor Mountains. I could see their faces, and one of the prisoners was Clara.

  “I made a split second decision. I would follow the guard to the throne room and scrub the floors there, slowly making my way over to the prisoners. Once I was close enough, I would grab Clara’s paw and blink us both out of the castle. It seemed like a foolproof scheme, but I could not have been more wrong.

  “I trailed along behind the guard, keeping my head down and making no eye contact with anyone. After weaving through the halls and corridors, the guard reached a set of tall bronze doors and pushed them open, entering into the room beyond. I followed him in, quickly kneeling down to scrub the floors, doing my best to remain inconspicuous. The room was magnificent, and was obviously King Oberon’s throne room. At the front of the room was a long raised dais covered in red velvet, with an ornate golden throne sitting in the center of it. Seated on the throne was none other than the Grymmorian King, Oberon himself. In front of him stood the guard and two rabbits with burlap sacks over their heads. One of them must be Clara, but I had no idea which one.

  “I stood up and began polishing the brass fittings along the wall, gradually making my way down the aisle to the front of the throne room. No one seemed to notice me. When I got close enough I could hear the King talking to the guard.”

  “Take the one named Clara to the Lost Fortress for safekeeping, and make sure she is comfortable and well fed. Hold on, I have a better idea. Take her down to the dungeons and execute her.” He threw his head back and roared with cruel laughter. His grin turned quickly to a scowl. “Take this filthy shaper out of my sight and make sure I never see her again.”

  “I felt I must make my move while there was still only one guard present, so I made my way around to the rear of the throne, polishing fixtures as I went. Then, using the throne to block their line of sight, I sneaked up behind King Oberon. Clara stood only six feet away from me. All I had to do was touch her and we could blink out of the castle.”

  “Guard, take the sack off her head so I can give her a few final words of kingly advice.”

  The guard reached over and pulled the burlap bag off Clara. My heart dropped. It was not Clara.

  “My final words of advice to you are... never trust a rabbit named Thaddeus.”

  “A large black thought cloud shot out of Oberon’s ear. In a fraction of a second I had pulled it to me and read it.

  “What I didn’t see was the guard standing behind me. I never even felt the shapers mask slip down over my head.”

  Oberon was howling with laughter. “I do love a good betrayal.”

  “I turned around and found myself standing face to face with the guard I had followed. He began to ripple and blur, transforming into Thaddeus. I raised one paw to form a protective sphere around me but was rewarded only with a violent shock to my ear. It was my first experience wearing a shapers mask.”

  “Ah, Morthram, whatever are we going to do with you? Oh, I remember – we’re going to add you to the King’s rather extensive collection of shapers. First, however, I will have the distinct pleasure of watching you shovel rocks in the King’s ferillium mine. You have no idea how weary I have become of your endless drivel about compassion for living creatures. Perhaps the guards in the mine can teach you a few lessons about compassion.”

  He rippled and returned to his form as the fiendish looking Grymmorian guard. “Here’s a surprise for you. There never was a Thaddeus Rabbit, there was only me. Did you like my gruesome mountain bear wounds? It took me at least five seconds to formshift them. But I forget my manners, I have not properly introduced myself. I am Zoran, personal shaper to King Oberon of Grymmore and an avid collector of powerful shapers. Do you like my ring?”

  “He held out his paw. His Guild ring had an emerald in the center of it. I spoke the words I knew to be true. ‘I’m not surprised you bear the emerald. But know this, Zoran – as all others who have worn the emerald ring before you were, you also shall be destroyed’.”

  “Ah, that sounds remarkably like a threat. Perhaps my little friend Morthram Rab
bit will be the next shaper to wear the emerald.”

  “Zoran reached out and pulled the shaper’s mask off my head. I instantly shot up an impenetrable defensive sphere around me. A blistering red beam of light shot out from Zoran’s paw and the sphere vanished. I have never seen anything like it.”

  “Well, that didn’t seem to work very well for you. How about I stand here and you try with all your might to destroy me? I know you have such a difficult time taking a life, but know this – if you don’t take mine I shall destroy every rabbit you hold dear to you, beginning with your little friend Clara.”

  “I was at a loss, at a crossroads. Evil such as this demanded a different set of rules. I reached deep inside the center of my being and pulled forth every ounce of shaping power I could muster. There was a single explosion of brilliant blue light and a blinding beam shot out from my paw. Halfway between my paw and Zoran’s black heart the beam simply stopped in mid air. The light turned into solid matter and a myriad of small cracks appeared in it. Seconds later the beam crumbled to glowing dust and floated gently to the floor.”

  “Morthram, you are a sad little bunny dabbling in things beyond your comprehension and you are wasting my time with your foolishness.”

  “Zoran slid the shaper’s mask back on my head and touched my arm. We blinked to the ferillium mine. When we arrived the guards took me to Bunkhouse R, bunk 74. What Zoran did not know was I had read the King’s thought and discovered where Clara was being held.”

  Chapter 22

  The Plan

  Bartholomew looked at Morthram. “Where is she?”

  “She is in the Lost Fortress. It’s an ancient Fortress discovered only ten years ago by a party of the King’s guards. No one is quite certain how old it is, but their scientists think it was built at least several thousand years ago. I saw glimpses of it in the King’s thought. It’s massive. His scientists are building a machine there which I could not identify, but I do know the ferillium crystal is crucial to its operation. I saw a room filled with hundreds of shapers, all alive, but frozen in time. There were other rooms filled with shapers, all wearing masks. That is where I saw Clara. We must rescue her and put a stop to whatever Oberon is planning.”

  “How?”

  Morthram shook his head. “I don’t know. Let’s all think about it for a day. I’ll talk to Fen. He’s familiar with Grymmore and may be able to advise us. Perhaps together we can come up with a workable plan.”

  They left the library and headed to the dining room where dinner was being served. While they were eating, Bartholomew asked Morthram about the emerald ring.

  “Morthram, what do you know about the emerald ring Zoran was wearing? Why would the Guild give their highest level ring to someone like Zoran?”

  “The emerald ring is not given, it is taken. For hundreds of years the ring has gone from shaper to shaper. When the wearer of the ring is defeated in battle, the victor takes the ring. Only a certain kind of shaper desires such a ring. The moment the ring is on your paw is the moment other shapers will try to destroy you. As I said, I was not surprised to see Zoran wearing the ring. It suits him well.”

  After dinner Bartholomew returned to the library. He was curious about the history of the emerald ring and found a lengthy written account of the shapers who had possessed it. None of them seemed very likable, and all of them had met untimely ends. He was engrossed in the tale of a particularly brutal shaper named Forzan, when there was a sudden flickering motion on the floor next to his chair. Bartholomew leaped to his feet, a protective sphere instantly forming around him. He stared in wonderment at the object floating in front of him. It was Clara’s thought.

  He circled around the thought cloud, studying it closely. It looked the same, with its swirling colors and the yellow flashing sparks in the center of it. But what in the world was it doing here? Clara’s thought had gone down with The Adventurer in the Halsey River. Could it somehow have found him on its own? Could thoughts do that? There was only one way to find out. He ran out of the library, past the main hall and dining room, down the narrow hallway leading to his room, and bolted inside. He closed the door behind him and sat on his bed, waiting to see if the Clara’s thought would follow him.

  Ten minutes later it floated through the wall and glided over towards him. It hovered silently several feet away from his bed.

  “This is something I have never seen before. Clara’s thought is drawn to me.” It struck him that this was not such an unfamiliar concept. How many times had he heard the phrase, “My thoughts will be with you.” Clara’s thought was with him. It was a comforting feeling when he thought about it that way.

  The following morning Clara’s thought still hovered by his bed. As he watched the swirling colors and the flickering sparks an idea came to him. Opening a dresser drawer, he rummaged through his clothes and pulled out one of the shaper masks. The masks didn’t allow thoughts to pass through them. Could he trap a thought inside it?

  He held the mask wide open and willed Clara’s thought to enter it. It floated towards him and entered the bag, shrinking to fit down inside it. He tied the mask shut and returned to the library, where he sat and read for almost an hour. Clara’s thought did not appear. When he returned to his room the thought was still inside the mask. His idea had worked. He tied the mask to his belt and tucked it into his pocket. It was barely noticeable. He smiled to himself. If he found himself in a desperate situation, he could slip his paw inside the mask in his pocket, touch Clara’s thought and be instantly transported to The Most Beautiful Island.

  Morthram spoke with Fen, telling him everything he had learned from reading King Oberon’s thought. Fen readily agreed to meet with them the next morning to plan their assault on the Lost Fortress. Bartholomew spent the rest of the day in the library reading about the Grymmorian culture, while Oliver examined the masks and the orange liquid from the mine.

  The following morning they all met in the library. Morthram was the first to speak.

  “Each one of us has a unique set of skills. To successfully rescue Clara and stop Oberon, we will need to use all of our skills in concert. Bartholomew and I are high level shapers. We worked together to close the ferillium mine, freeing the prisoners and sending the guards back to Grymmore. Unfortunately, The Lost Fortress is not the ferillium mine, and Zoran is not Mr. Ferillium. We cannot overcome the forces in the Lost Fortress with brute shaping power. We are two shapers against the Emerald Ring and whatever forces he might have at his disposal. Zoran will have any number of strategically placed defenses to deter us. Even with surprise on our side, we will surely fail if we attempt to use force alone. The only viable option I see is the use of stealth. We must secretly infiltrate the Lost Fortress.”

  “I could not agree more,” said Fen. “I know a great deal about the politics and intrigue which takes place within the King’s palace. I grew up in that world. I knew Oberon before he was King, and I know the sort of muroidian he is.”

  “You grew up in Malgraven Castle?”

  “I did, and I suppose it’s time you knew the truth. I was put in the ferillium mine because I am the last rightful heir to the throne of Grymmore. My uncle was King Loran before Oberon took power. Oberon was his close advisor and staged a violent coup, killing the royal family and most of their heirs, including my parents. He is absolutely ruthless, craving only power. I was young when the coup took place. One of the guards was sent to kill me, but when he saw I was a bunny he sent me to the ferillium mine instead. I suppose he thought I wouldn’t survive.

  “You have all heard the stories of how much Oberon hates shapers. That is pure propaganda. He uses the muroidians’ fear of shaping as a tool to keep Grymmore and Lapinor from becoming allies again. In private, he uses shaping to his advantage in every conceivable way, including having his own high level shaper.

  “The truth is that Oberon wanted to be a shaper himself, but had no aptitude for it. This is not unusual – many are not meant for a life of shaping, but it was hi
s own lack of ability that infuriated Oberon. He was denied the power he so utterly craved. Many of his teachers wound up in the ferillium mine, or worse. It’s safe to say whatever Oberon does, he does in his insatiable quest for power.

  “We can assume whatever machine lies beneath the Lost Fortress was created to bring more power to Oberon. Morthram, you read Oberon’s thought and saw hundreds of shapers being held in the Fortress. We know the ferillium crystal absorbs the thoughts and power of shapers. If we combine Oberon’s hunger for power, his desire to be a shaper, the ferillium crystal, the hundreds of captive shapers, and the infernal machine they are building, there seems to be only one logical conclusion. Oberon is building a device which will allow him to become the most powerful shaper in the world. I don’t wish to sound unnecessarily dramatic, but it’s very possible the fate of Lapinor itself rests in our paws. Oberon only pretends to despise shapers, but his absolute hatred for rabbits is quite real, I assure you.”

  Bartholomew looked at Fen grimly. “This chain of events we are caught up in has no end of surprises. There are forces at work here beyond our understanding, and they are pulling on the strings which lie beneath the physical world. What is crystal clear is that something or someone wants us to stop Oberon. I believe this force has brought us all together for that purpose alone.”

  It was Oliver’s turn to speak. “I have examined the shaper masks and the orange liquid brought back from the mine. This has led me to a number of ideas for inventions which could help us bring Clara home safely and put a stop to Oberon. The devices I have in mind do not require the user to be a shaper and would work even if you were wearing a shapers mask. I would like to set up a small lab here at the Guild. The equipment I need could easily be shaped by Bartholomew. I am not an adventurer and shaper like Bartholomew, but I am a scientist and this is what I can do to help.”