The Earthrin Stones 1 of 3: Inheritance of a Sword and a Path

by Douglas Van Dyke

  Petrow chuckled, “You forget, my friend! We have a flying machine! That vessel flew us over miles of land in a very short time, moving much faster than if a galloping horse had been traveling a straight path beneath us. We can cover a lot of ground quickly, and be able to fly right over the open seas.”

  It astounded Trestan, and he almost stumbled as he considered it. “Dovewing! You mean to have Korrelothar fly us out there? What a blessing to have him stumble across our path!”

  “Umm,” Petrow hesitated in conversation, though he continued to jog along the path, “We haven’t really asked him yet. Also, he might say nay. Anyway, as I pointed out to you time is of the essence. We were ready to try without him.”

  Trestan glared at his friend’s back as they ran. “Haven’t asked him? Are you all crazy? I didn’t let Cat steal a couple of horses to chase after the noble, what makes you think I’ll stand for you stealing a…a…magical flying thing?”

  Petrow answered, “See, that is the funny thing about nuances in the spoken language. ‘Stealing’ is when you take something for your own good and keep it; meanwhile, ‘borrowing’ is when you take it for selfless reasons and intend to bring it back.”

  Trestan shouted, “It is still stealing. How do any of you even intend to fly it without the elf?”

  As the two young men got closer to the village, they could see that the eastern sky was brightening into new colors. The morning sun would be up within the hour, and the village folk would be rising to meet it soon.

  Petrow answered Trestan’s question. “On the way over here, the elf was showing Mel how to fly the thing, and how each of the controls worked. The gnome said he could do it easily.”

  The young smith continued to be astonished, but perceived holes in the logic of his companions. “You can’t take off without Korrelothar helping you! He erected that magical barrier around the vessel before heading out to the Tessald mansion. How do you intend to get around that?”

  “Mel already made it disappear somehow. He waved his fingers and spoke a few words, and after a few minutes of attempts he was able to make it go away, just like that. Nay worries.”

  Trestan still fumbled for reasons, “What about the trap he put on it when you all first carried me off the deck? He announced the fact to the crowd after putting some kind of spell on it.” Just then Trestan seemed to guess at the answer already, “Mel or Cat took care of the trap, didn’t they?”

  Amusement struck Petrow, and he let loose chuckles. “Not quite. It was actually Salgor to whom we owe our gratitude for that one. The poor dwarf triggered it, quite by accident.”

  “I assume he is ok, as you seem to have gotten a laugh out of it?” Trestan inquired.

  Petrow gave a reassuring nod back to his friend, “Oh, aye! At least, I think he should be. It surprised and horrified all of us, but it seemed to be a blast of cold air that engulfed him. He just got a little numb and stiff, but he was already recovering from it when I left.”

  Trestan looked up, talking more to the heavens than Petrow. “Abriana, please tell me this is a bad dream, and that I yet sleep by the light of my mentor’s grave. To think of Salgor hurt, while my friends scheme to steal a most expensive and rare magical treasure!”

  If anything, Petrow enjoyed another chuckle over his friend’s words, unbothered by Trestan’s opinion on the matter. Petrow spoke as they left the brook to cut across a field. “Worry not, my friend. Salgor was incapacitated but not really hurt. Korrelothar is a rather nice person. It seems he just wanted to stun or scare with his trap. Mel says Salgor will be just fine.”

  Trestan simply rolled his eyes and let any further comments rest.

  * * * * *

  The streets were quiet as they ran towards the inn. The two young men wondered how many of their neighbors would sleep late, recovering from the previous night’s party. Trestan’s first glance of the magical vessel confirmed the force field was indeed gone. Cat and Mel looked up with alarm at the new arrivals rushing to them, only to relax upon recognition. Both were dressed in clothes suited for the road, which meant that Cat wore wearing her black leathers. The half-elf and the gnome were busy shoving their packs into the hatches on Dovewing’s deck. The hold was large enough to store all their provisions, and more if needed. Cat’s horse was likely in the stable, since she could not take it with her. Salgor Bandago lay stretched out on the plush couch at the rear of the craft, looking pitiful. White frost clung to the tips of his beard and he looked pale.

  Trestan boarded the craft, running to the dwarf first to check on him. Salgor groaned, but was otherwise conscious and looking about. The young smith asked about his health.

  “Have I not stated upon many occasions, that I hate wizards? I do, I really do. They can take their dangerous and unpredictable magic and go away to some far away land where they shall nay longer be a menace to decent folk. I felt like he almost froze me alive. I’m starting to get more feeling back into my limbs.”

  “A nice spell if I might say,” commented Mel. “I shall have to ask if I can learn it sometime.”

  Salgor’s thick eyebrows lowered as he narrowed a glare towards the gnome. “I’m ever so glad I could demonstrate it for you…maybe you could return the favor whenever I want to try out a new weapon?”

  Mel frowned and went back to stuffing the last of his food into the hold. The companions welcomed Trestan. Their comments encouraged Trestan to gather his things if he needed anything, and to please hurry quietly so they didn’t call attention to themselves.

  Trestan hissed, “Have you all gone mad? Have you stopped to consider what you are doing?”

  The others paused; Cat replied first, “We thought you would want to get the stone back, and help the people of your village.”

  Trestan sighed and shook his head. “Ideally, I would like to get the stone back. This is…just so sudden, and it’s a bad way to go about it. We know how deadly that group can be, I have a certain respect for the damage they could do to us if caught on their ground. But more importantly, you are stealing an expensive and rare magical item. This is probably Korrelothar’s prize creation, and is most likely worth a lot more than the relic.”

  Cat responded, “We are just borrowing it, not stealing it.” As she spoke, Trestan glared at Petrow over the same choice of words they were using to justify themselves. Cat continued, “Plus, it is more likely two stones we are recovering. Have you forgotten the one stolen from the elf’s guild? We have a chance to take back the stone stolen from Korrelothar as well as the one that helped your village to prosper. Try not to worry, Mel can fly this thing, and we will have it back relatively soon.”

  Mel looked up as his name was mentioned and nodded, “Aye. The elf taught me every control, and I watched how to work them. It will be easy!”

  The young smith studied the awkward way that the short gnome had to stretch in order to reach all of the controls from the helmsman’s chair. Petrow put a hand on Trestan’s shoulder, drawing his friend’s attention. “We won’t let them get away. We can find them just like before and take back what they stole. If things go bad, we will just beat them up again.”

  Trestan couldn’t bite back his retort. “Beat them up again? Did you forget how that battle actually went? Salgor and Mel won the fight for us, you and I nearly got ourselves killed!”

  The look on Petrow’s face reflected that he knew Trestan spoke truly. The handyman gritted his teeth. “Regardless, I am going. We are going. I don’t fancy letting that group get away when we have another chance to undo the damage they caused.”

  Salgor groaned from his position on the couch. “It seems the lad did indeed lose his stomach from that spell. ‘Tis nay shame in being nervous Trestan, but the gods have shined luck upon you so far. Certainly you are not afraid to join us? I believe there is some unfinished business here that needs to be addressed. Maybe we are serving some higher purpose. Maybe a god is watching over us. Perhaps we were met with this vessel for a reason; though I personally would have prefe
rred that the gods had sent the enemy to me, rather than using this infernal wizard creation to give chase.”

  Trestan shook his head, “It’s not fear. I am cautious, but that isn’t it. You forget that I have been putting a lot of my own faith forward these past few days. I do believe one goddess has guided and watched over me. She has delivered me back home safely, and how do I know what her wishes for my future can be? Nevertheless, I am worried about taking off into the night with Dovewing without her owner’s consent.”

  “So that is your main concern?” Cat looked into his eyes. “Very well. I suppose we can stay around here while you go up to the noble’s house and knock on the door. I don’t know how they will receive you…as for myself I was standing within a ring of swords moments after showing up at their door with his daughter. It took them some time to even spare a glance my way long enough to tell the guards that they didn’t have to skewer me.”

  Cat pleaded with the young man, “You don’t really want to bother with going up there at this hour. We can’t wait either, for we don’t know how much time we have to catch them. If we fail to gain a reception with the wizard immediately, or if he says nay after we already have lowered his craft’s defenses and got past his trap, then I doubt we will have a second chance.”

  Trestan lowered his head, “I don’t like the way we are doing this, but you are going to go ahead and do it this way with or without me aren’t you?”

  Petrow put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, drawing Trestan’s attention to him. “Hey, we didn’t stop when we had found Cat’s horse outside Barkan’s Crossing, and yet it was a far better treasure than that girl!”

  Trestan lost some of his stern countenance, allowing a chuckle to escape. The handyman continued, “Now why would we stop now when the livelihood of the village is at stake? You were the one who heard the stories about herd diseases and sick crops, yet it has only been less than a week since the theft. Who knows what other things may happen without the stone’s power protecting the welfare of the village?”

  Trestan nodded, “Aye. I wouldn’t want them to get away either. I felt helpless when we thought we could do no more.”

  Cat turned his head so that the young smith was looking into her eyes again. “You want to come and finish this don’t you? This is where your heart is leading you, though you hesitate to give in. Please trust your new friends and follow your heart. The quest is not complete, and we wouldn’t want to try without you by our side. You belong here, on this next small journey.”

  “My heart is hurting, because I belong in two places.” Trestan turned his dark eyes back to face the forge by his home. “I’ve made my choice.”

  He turned back to them, “I’ll grab my armor and sword. It may take a bit for me to get back. You have to wait for me, and allow me to part from here on easier terms.”

  Petrow glanced at the smithy, his eyes roaming over the equipment left out for the night. It wasn’t easy to see, though streetlamps illuminated the area enough to show what hadn’t been left out in the open. “What happened to your armor and the stand it was on? Where is your sword?”

  “Father took them inside because we didn’t want to trust either of them outdoors overnight.”

  Cat and Petrow exchanged glances, then the half-elf spoke. “You have to sneak into your father’s house again?”

  Trestan shifted the weight from one leg to another, and then spoke words that were barely audible. “I didn’t say that I would sneak in.”

  Petrow raised his eyebrows at this news, “You don’t mean to let your father know what we are doing? Maybe you can grab a weapon from outside, or we can scrounge up some other armor.”

  “Nay!” Trestan’s voice split the quiet of the morning. Alarmed by his own tone, he dropped back to a whisper. “When last we left I snuck off into the night. Every day since then, I missed my father greatly. I regretted leaving without a word. I want to do it properly this time. I will not sneak off in the dark, nor fail in leaving him notice that I may be gone for several days…not this time.”

  Even Mel didn’t have an immediate comment to that one, though Mel’s experience had been his father kicking him out the door. Dwarves valued family honor, so Salgor respected the young man wanting to set things proper before venturing out. Cat and Petrow worried that Trestan would be talked out of coming along but they felt they had to honor his decision.

  Petrow spoke, “Don’t tarry. Dawn is not far off, and we could be seen out here. Do what you have to do.”

  Trestan nodded, and then turned to take his first step off the deck. Cat grabbed him, half-turning him towards her and gave a big hug. The surprised smith returned the hug. He looked into her eyes questionably.

  “For luck,” Cat stated. “My father left me without ever being able to say goodbye, and I always regretted parting so suddenly. Don’t let yourselves be angry at one another. You are a man now, and can follow whichever course your heart leads you. He will worry, as any good parent would. In the end, I hope he realizes he has to give you the freedom you need to be yourself.”

  Trestan parted from them, attempting to hide his apprehension behind a smile. He was not sure what he would say to his father, especially past his dry throat. The young man walked to the smithy, wondering why his knees seemed ready to buckle.

  * * * * *

  Trestan entered his home, viewing his armor and sword displayed on a stand in the common room that served as kitchen and dining room. He lit a candle at the table, enough to illuminate the common room well enough for the conversation that was to come. The young men woke his father. Hebden Karok seemed to have as hard of a time waking and clearing his mind as Trestan had earlier that morning. The older smith was baffled as to why he was being wakened, but he always had ears for his son. They sat down together at their little table and Trestan began to talk.

  Trestan did not mention anything about stealing Dovewing, just announced his intent to go with his companions on their new journey. Hebden, as could be predicted, was against the idea. The smith told his son about how lonely and worried he had been. Words were spoken to warn Trestan about the many dangers of the world. The older man disagreed there was any reason for his son to leave the safety of his home and his trade to go on more wild adventures.

  “You would have me wait for some unknown number of days again? I saw each morning as the day a rider may come to tell me my son was dead. Each evening I stayed up late hoping you would still arrive to the comforts of home,” Hebden said at one point.

  Trestan replied, “Would you have me do the same for my friends? I’ve regretted never giving you the chance to say goodbye or tell you of my intentions. I felt it at every step! Now my friends will journey forth for the good of Troutbrook, facing hazards again. I’m not blind to the dangers, but it is because of those outcomes that I must go. I have the chance to go with them instead of staying behind and wondering about their fate. I can stand alongside them when they most need me.”

  “And after that?” Hebden asked. “Would you simply go back to the life of a smith after you return and they leave again, as they surely will? Would you follow that dwarf to build his own inn? Would you follow Katressa on the road of a privateer in the employ of Kashmer? That is a life of constant danger: fighting pirates, monsters and local highwaymen. You have barely known some of these ‘friends’ of yours, yet they would lure you into a rough and dangerous road of adventure? I wonder if you may have been influenced more than I suspected by Sir Wilhelm, and that you look at the possibilities of becoming a paladin.”

  Trestan looked up with a start, “You said that yesterday, back inside the church. I barely know what a paladin is, except by Jareth’s lifestyle. I can be very happy as a smith, father, but more than that I can’t say. I may have touched the path of a warrior, but I am frightened of the concept paladins follow. Paladins and clerics give their whole lives to the greater good of a deity, sacrificing their own wishes and dreams…or so I would assume. I have dwelled on what it means, but that d
oesn’t mean I am trying to walk that path.”

  Hebden sounded unconvinced. “I do not want my son to leave me again for the dangers waiting beyond the civilized lands.”

  Trestan shook his head. “But I can’t let my friends do this alone. They gave as much for me as I tried to give for them. I know enough to be wary of the quest they have taken, and yet I would gladly go with them. It is not for selfish reasons, but for the welfare of others.”

  And so the conversation went in the dim light of the candle. Trestan often stared at his armor when he wasn’t looking at his father. Hebden noticed the way that his son looked at the suit of leather and metal. Father and son expressed their views, and neither would settle for the other’s desires. Hebden felt the stubbornness in his son’s voice. Neither reason nor logic, even the threat of death, would sway Trestan.

  Trestan explained, “Sir Wilhelm met death thanking the gods for the life he had lived. That changed my whole perspective on life and death. Certainly I hope to live a long, healthy life. At the same time, I want to live my life in a way that I can die with pride and few regrets. I have a chance to really help some people, and I will take the opportunity. If I don’t, then I may die wondering whatever happened to some of my friends, or toasting the ones that didn’t come back, and forever wondering if I could have made a difference.”

  Hebden threw up his hands and walked the couple steps it took to get to the far corner of the room. He was silent for a few moments before speaking. “When you were younger, I asked your grandfather how he had raised me during my times of stubbornness. His response was something to the effect that you could guide your young ones, but you can’t control them. All you can do is give them advice on their way, and later on you would get the chance to say, ‘I told you so.’ Indeed, he said those words to me on numerous occasions. I am afraid that if you go on this journey, I may never get the chance to tell you that. You may never return. You know I love you; you are my only child. I fear allowing you to take this dangerous journey.”