The Ring Of Truth

by B Cameron Lee

  “Greetings Ahron’dal, be welcome and sit beside us. Thank you Vehrin’del and Sihron’del for bringing him to us, you should both sit on the far side of the pool opposite us. We were beginning to wonder if Ch’ron would ever finish his work of repairing the Ring wearer.”

  Arwhon glanced at his Ring with its faint red glow as he made his way over to the Wise Ones and sat beside them. The eldest, with thinning silver hair and a deeply lined face, gestured over the pool with a sweep of her hand and muttered some command. The dim light in the cavern darkened and the ink-black pool began to lighten. Mist rose from it, until Arwhon could hardly make out the Queen and Shiri on the far side. As it did, a view of Belvedere’s walls formed in the mist but as it took shape his wonderment turned to dismay as he saw what he believed to be Dominion soldiers massed in front of the city’s walls. There was fighting along the battlements, as scaling ladders were raised along its length only to be repulsed time after time. Swords rose and fell and Arwhon thought he saw a mighty man with a staff amongst the defenders, standing in front of a grey haired lady wielding green fire.

  The Queen must have seen the same thing because Arwhon heard a choking gasp from the far side of the pool. A battering ram was being manoeuvred into position in front of the main gate but hot pitch was poured onto the covering shields and lit with a fiery arrow. Screams could be heard as the men beneath retreated, some on fire. It was war at the gates of Belvedere. The mist thickened and then another picture formed, this time it was the harbour of Belvedere and the red sails and black hulls of a hundred Draakon Reaver ships could be seen heading towards the harbour, decks teeming with Reavers in full fighting gear, right arms bearing the drakon tattoo and an offensive weapon. The harbour looked undefended, all the fighting men being up on the walls.

  Arwhon was almost sobbing in his despair as the scene changed yet again and he saw himself, wearing mail and helm, viewing a landscape littered with huge rocks. Between the rocks the land was farmed. Behind him Chalc sat Darla in front of a mighty throng of Barsoomi horsemen and women. At Arwhon’s side, on Rancid, rode Sihron’del, beautiful in close-fitting armour all of green. The visor of her helm was raised and she was talking to him but the scene in the mist was mute. Once more the mists cleared then reformed into an image of a city with graceful airy buildings, all of one story but pleasing to the eye. Its populace walked with bowed heads, black hair bound in a braid at the rear, as occasional rough looking Dominion guards could be seen patrolling the streets. One of the women looked up and Arwhon was surprised to see a face much like Chalc’s, with slanted eyes and smooth skin. In fact, on close inspection, the face looked very much like Chalc’s, except it was breathtakingly beautiful. The final scene depicted in the mists was of a city with domed buildings and many narrow streets leading off a long avenue. Instead of trees there were stakes along its length, with corpses hanging from them, their hands and ankles bound, while furtive people huddled in doorways, eyes averted. The view faded and the mist slipped away, leaving the flat dark pool to brood once more.

  Silence.

  Apart from the odd drip of condensation into the pool from high above, there was no sound.

  One of the Wise Ones coughed, breaking the spell and the eldest spoke.

  “None of what you have seen has occurred yet and may not. We receive visions of many futures and cannot really control what we see. The visions are influenced by those who are here watching them. We call it the Observer Effect. Arwhon’s influence is strong, due in part to the Ring he wears. It has its own magic which we do not recognise.

  The interpretation of what we have seen is not easy. Kuiran’dal was fighting on Belvedere’s walls but protecting someone who could use Earthmagic to some degree. There were Barsoomi accompanying Arwhon and Sihron’del in the Broken Lands, a town in Tarkent, although the significance of that vision escapes us and finally, a view of Goristoum in Debrishar.”

  “Chalc comes from Tarkent. There must be a link to it through him somehow.” Arwhon supplied.

  “We know not young man but it is all the information we can supply. The Queen has asked Jahron’dal to return as a matter of urgency. When he arrives, we suggest you sit down and discuss it with him. Remember, what you have seen may not be a true vision of the future. Now you must go. Sihron’del will go with you and the Queen will stay. We have business.”

  Arwhon and Shiri rose and bowed to the mystic ones before ascending to the light of the surface again. As they left, the Queen rose and walked around the pool, a tight smile on her face.

  Outside, back in the dappled sunlight, Shiri took Arwhon’s hand in hers.

  “Walk with me in the forest Arwhon. I would like to be alone with you for a while.”

  Arwhon looked away through the trees to his left, across the softly murmuring stream, toward Al’hera, the distant community among and within the trunks of Ch'ron. M’Herindar were coming and going about their business and he knew they would have no time together if they went back. He nodded and Shiri led north along well used tracks before turning west to come back to the stream at a large, clear, well concealed pool. Without a moment’s hesitation she disrobed and dove into the water. Arwhon’s breath caught in his throat at the sheer beauty of her and his body reacted.

  “Come on in,” she called from across the pool but he refused and sat with his feet in the water.

  “Shiri, I desire you so much it hurts but it would not be right for us to be together now. There is much to do and we cannot put ourselves first. Your mother is Queen and I cannot show disrespect to her. It would not be right. Besides, if I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. Let’s agree to wait until after the present troubles and conduct ourselves as befits an heir to the Queen and a would-be gentleman from another race. Your mother does not approve you know, I saw the look which passed over her face when you sat beside me yesterday.”

  “I know but I’ve been avoiding the attention of suitors for over forty years and have finally found the one I want. That should count.”

  “It will but not at this time. I’ll just sit here and drink in your beauty while I kick myself for not submitting to my desires.”

  Sit he did, warring with a body desperate to make his mind justify leaping into the water and joining with Sihron’del. Arwhon felt proud of his decision and his resolve at carrying it through but he didn’t like it much.

  After lunch they went riding together and the big Barsoomi horse was full of energy as they cantered through the forest.

  “I didn’t know you owned a suit of armour,” he commented conversationally.

  “I don’t,” she replied.

  Arwhon pulled his horse up and she stopped also.

  “It could be important, it was in the vision.”

  “Yes, but where am I going to get one?” she replied.

  Arwhon sat his horse, thinking but as his eyes refocused he caught sight of his tunic as it fell over his thigh and his face brightened. He sidled Duran over to the nearest tree and placing his hand on it, communicated with Ch’ron, telling him of the visions above the Wise One’s pool and his memory of Sihron’del on mule-back in green armour. He felt Ch’ron chuckle.

  “What’s the joke?” Arwhon asked the Tree.

  “I can assess her body dimensions while she is in any pool. The armour you showed me will be ready in a few days. Come to my main Tree the day after tomorrow. Let us keep this between us as a surprise, just get her into the water again so I can measure her.”

  Arwhon agreed and after their ride, suggested another swim. Shiri eyed him suspiciously but before long they were both in the water, she magnificently naked and he still in his tunic. It was all he could do to keep his hands to himself. Life around Shiri was not going to be easy, especially when she disrobed.

  He would need to be staunch.

  When they arrived back at the Queen’s apartment together, the Queen took Arwhon aside while Sihron’del went to her room to change.

  “This is awkward for me, as I can see that
you both enjoy each others company but Sihron’del is a Princess of the M’Herindar and I’m hoping she will choose a M’Herindar for a husband one day. I would look ill upon someone who took advantage of her.”

  “Just so. You have the right to raise your concerns but I wouldn’t abuse your hospitality. Yes, we enjoy each others company and yes, she is my Shield but I believe I have honour. I’ll ask your permission before I allow anything to happen between us. On that you have my word.”

  The Queen smiled. “Thank you Ahron’dal. It is good to find a Man with honour.”

  Sihron’del returned in a dress rather than a tunic and pants and Arwhon was bewitched by her beauty. The Queen observed them discreetly. During the evening both the Queen and Sihron’del began to demonstrate for Arwhon what Earthmagic could do and how to access it. They began with the simplest spell songs children learn. He copied them and tried and tried to access the power of the Firemagic he almost felt but to no avail. All he could see was an intensifying of the red glow around his Ring which neither the Queen, or her daughter, could see at all. His head started to ache with a dull throbbing, which intensified the longer he attempted spells.

  It was frustrating for all three of them.

  The next afternoon Jahron’dal returned from his abbreviated patrol with the Rangers. He had been travelling fast but showed little effect from his exertion and soon they were sitting down around a light meal, set out on a low table, discussing the meanings of the visions from the pool of the Wise Ones and trying to knit them into the framework of events. Jahron’dal summed up.

  “It would seem that you are not meant to be at Belvedere when the city is attacked. It will have to survive without you but unfortunately Kuiran’dal will be there. For some reason you have to lead the Barsoomi through the Broken Lands, maybe even free them from the Dominion’s clutches. Empress Martine’s forces will be concentrated down south and if you could take some of her food supply away, there would be a strategic advantage. Tarkent is another thing altogether. From the odd reports we receive, that country is not happy under the yoke of Dominion but does not have a standing army. From what I understand, it would willingly throw off the yoke of Dominion if it could. It appears you are going to be busy Arwhon.”

  “Yes, but I would like to warn the people of Belvedere about the Draakon Reavers and the possibility of a surprise attack from the sea. With the help of the Reavers, Martine could easily take the city and that would be disastrous for every country of Man. I must go there soon and warn them of the possibility of the Reavers attacking. My Grandmother will listen and she may be able to help me with my magic. I could find my Servant and leave before the war starts. It seems cowardly to do so but the Wise Ones place so much importance on the visions seen above their pool that they have given me my life back once.”

  Jahron’dal considered for a while. “Leave our daughter here while you go to Belvedere and collect her on the way back, before you journey into the Broken Lands.”

  Sihron’del leaped to her feet, outraged.

  “No father. I’ll not sit twiddling my thumbs and fighting off suitors while Arwhon rides the countryside alone. I’m going with him. I’m his Shield.”

  “What if I order you to stay, as your King?”

  “I will go anyway and take my punishment when I return.” She tossed her head. “There is more at stake here than merely my life. What if Martine wins and turns her sights onto the Darkwood? We’re not strong enough to combat all of her armies equipped with fire. That eventuality might well be part of the Q’Herindam plan. Not just to wipe Man from these lands but us too. Have any of you thought of that?”

  Jahron’dal looked at his daughter with new respect.

  “You’ll make a good Queen one day if you live long enough. Very well. You and Arwhon ride to Belvedere and warn them of what you’ve seen at the pool of the Wise Ones. On your way back north, speak to the Barsoomi King and try to get him to mobilise the Barsoomi and ride into the Broken Lands with you. Debrishar sources a lot of its food from there so the Barsoomi will need to stay on in the Broken Lands to hold them from the Dominion. The added advantage for us, is the Barsoomi occupancy of the Broken Lands will protect the eastern margins of the Darkwood.”

  Jahron’dal turned his attention to Arwhon.

  “It seems you Arwhon, along with Sihron’del and your Servant, Chalc, are destined to ride from the Broken Lands into Tarkent, which is a long way from here. If you could persuade the locals to throw off the shackles of their oppression, Martine’s grip will be loosened. I cannot imagine her leaving many troops in Tarkent if she’s making a big push on Southland and Belvedere.”

  Arwhon sat, taking in the lines of reasoning as a slight throbbing began behind his temples.

  “It all makes sense really when you explain it in that fashion. I wish I could have thought of the plan.”

  Jahron’dal patted him on the shoulder.

  “You’re doing fine. We have to aid you where possible without infringing on our Treaty with the Q’Herindam but you are carrying the burden of an unknown future and are a pawn in an even bigger game. I suggest you leave the day after tomorrow. It should give you enough time to prepare.”

  Beside Ch’ron’s Tree the following day, the last spent in the Darkwood before they left for Belvedere, Sihron’del could not contain her curiosity.

  “Why did you say we had to be here? Ch’ron has said nothing to me about it. Are you making this up?”

  Arwhon smiled and laid his hand on the Tree. It started to split down the outside and a large slot formed in the trunk. Arwhon reached in and hauled out an emerald green breastplate, quickly followed by the backplate, arms and legs of a suit of armour. Last of all he produced a helm with a closing visor. All the articles were laid on the ground and hardened before their eyes. The material was strong and light, similar to turtle shell and the most striking green imaginable. The gap in the Tree sealed up again before their eyes, leaving no trace on the trunk. Sihron’del gestured.

  “What’s this about?”

  “Take it to the stream, wash it out and try it on. It’s a surprise gift from Ch’ron and me.”

  He helped her take all the pieces down to the bright, babbling stream where they rinsed them out in the crystal clear running water. Each piece dried quickly to shine a lustrous emerald green. Sihron’del rapped hard on the breastplate and it rang with a pure note.

  “Try it on.” Arwhon said excitedly.

  Sihron’del pulled her pants tight around her legs and slid them into the leg pieces of the armour, clipping the front and rear sections at her waist. Then she repeated the exercise with the arm segments and finally with Arwhon holding the back, she pressed the breastplate to her front. It clicked into the backplate trapping the arm guards in place by a flange at the shoulder. Finally, she took the helm and placed it over her head. Her face shone through the open faceplate as she moved around, bending and pirouetting.

  “The articulations are perfect and it fits like a glove. It’s so comfortable and light I can hardly feel it. Thank you Arwhon.”

  “Don’t thank me, thank Ch’ron. He made it for you.”

  She went quiet, communing with Ch’ron Arwhon guessed, then turned to give him a broad smile.

  “Thank you,” was all she said.

  Jahron’dal and Vehrin’del were amazed at the armour Sihron’del returned dressed in and a large crowd of M’Herindar gathered around their Princess to inspect this wonderful gift.

  “I wonder if we should all ask Ch’ron for armour like that. We may need it one day.” Jahron’dal mused. “Something to think on if the times become more desperate.”

  For their final evening in the Darkwood there was a great celebration, all M’Herindar in the area were invited to a farewell gathering for Sihron’del and Arwhon. He was made an honorary M’Herindar and christened officially with his M’Herindar name. The crowd cheered as it was called out by the Queen.

  “Ahron’dal.”

  Ahron’dal, alwa
ys welcome in the Darkwood.

  Friend to Ch’ron and bearer of the Ring of Truth.

  All knew he had a destiny, even though none of the M’Herindar knew what it was.

  Later, in private, the Queen made Arwhon a gift of a cloak. Not quite magical but similar to the ones the Rangers wore, only of higher quality. It took on the colours of whatever was around it. Not exactly invisible but concealing and warm. Arwhon did not know what to say and stammered his thanks.

  The Queen kissed his forehead.

  “We’ll help where we can Ahron’dal, now go to bed. You need your rest.”

  Arwhon went to sleep tired but happy. Events were on the move again and tomorrow, he and Shiri would be riding south to Belvedere where his Servant and Arm were, his Grandmother too.

  He fell asleep thinking about her.

  The story continues in -

  True Fire Book 2 ‘The Fall of Belvedere’

  True Fire Book 3 ‘ The Q’Herindam’

  Appendix.

  Hirondae – The earliest name for the Elder Race

  M’Herindar, Main settlement- Al’hera.

  Sihron’del, Vehrin’del, Jahron’dal, Rohsin’del (small playmate)

  Paran’dal (Ranger in the Darkwood) Mahlin’del (Eldest Wise One)

  Kuiran’dal, (Wyalonion, originating from the Island of Wyalon in the middle of the Wyalonion Ocean to the east of Cheshwon)

  Nahron’dal.

  Servant: Chalc – originally from Tarkent

  Barsoom Royalty.

  K. Daveed, Q. Mareeta, Male Heir Callun, Female Heir Verita,