Sacrifice of Ericc

Thorik hung from the branch like an icicle. The game had been lost, he had been captured, and his options were slim.

  Raython danced in front of her prisoner, enjoying her victory until she heard a noise from within the woods.

  A tall, thin woman emerged from the trees and approached them. Her hair was made of golden wheat interlaced with long thin green grass, flowing down to her lower back. Her dress was a mixture of leaves and moss, and her silky white skin gave off a slight glow.

  Raython turned and bowed toward the woman. “Ovlan, my lord. To what do I owe this greeting?”

  Ovlan’s walk was more of a glide, as her feet never disturbed the leaves she stepped on, nor left a footprint in her wake. “What have you captured, my dear little Luchorpan?”

  Rubbing her hands together, Raython turned her head to look back at the Num without ending her bow. “Dinner. He failed my test, he’s mine to keep.”

  “Indeed.” Ovlan’s voice was soft and airy, and yet was heard as though she was whispering into the Num’s ear. “My children told me of one named Thorik who they met earlier today. Is this him?”

  “I caught him without their help. He’s mine. He will be a tasty meal for my starving body. I get so few outsiders.”

  “Not this one, my love. This one is special. My children have captured several men near the River-Green road. You may select any of those for yourself.”

  Disappointed, Raython knew better than to argue, so she nodded in agreement and rushed off into the forest.

  Ovlan then approached Thorik, and softly brushed a finger against his cheek. “I have been looking for the Polenum named Sec Thorik Dain of Farbank.” Ovlan’s glossy dual-ringed eyes tightened their focus on the Num’s eyes. “It’s good to see you again. It has been a very long time.”

  Thorik’s confines released without warning, dropping him to the beach. Confused, he looked at the woman before him. Her body flowed like water under a flawless silky layer of nearly transparent skin. “Do I know you?”

  Her smile was warm like his mother’s. So much so that it made him uncomfortable.

  “Have we met?” Thorik asked.

  “I have met you, but you have not met me.”

  “I think I would recall if I had seen you at some point.”

  Her smile continued. “You have done what I asked of you and risked so much for me. It is my turn to repay you.”

  “I haven’t done anything for you,” Thorik said.

  “Not yet. But you will.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “What is it you need from me?” Ovlan asked. “Where are you traveling?”

  “I’m traveling to Corrock to save a young man from being sacrificed. Darkmere, his son Lord Bredgin and his Wraylov are hunting him. I need a way to fight them off and protect him.”

  “Ah, a weapon you seek. Perhaps the Spear of Rummon.” She smiled with a distant look in her eyes. “Seems fitting to bring Rummon back into the land, and by you of all people.”

  “I was thinking more of a sword or an axe. Something I can fight with to get in and out of Corrock. A spear seems so limited. I need something that will help me out a little more.”

  “No, Rummon will serve you well. It’s the least he can do.”

  “He? The spear is a he?”

  “Yes, he is the one who took the life of the one your people call the Mountain King. This would be a good opportunity for him to make amends with the Polenums.”

  “The Mountain King? You want to give me the spear that killed the Mountain King?”

  “No, of course not. I’m only going to tell you were he is. It will be up to you to retrieve him.”

  “No! I don’t want to wield the weapon that killed the greatest Num who ever lived. If I were to find it, I would destroy it.”

  “I don’t think you would.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Rummon has suffered enough. He wishes to repent and help you on your journey.”

  “I would have to be insane to use such a weapon. Fir Brimmelle would never let me even carry it.”

  “Rummon agonizes the days away beneath the water carved vats of boiling water and mud. It is in the heart of Carrion Mire where he is imprisoned to the end of time unless you save him. He waits for forgiveness. He wishes to be strong again. He needs you to find him.”

  “I don’t even know where the Carrion Mire is.”

  “Your companion does. Santorray will help you. But Rummon is destined to be yours.”

  “But we don’t have time. We must catch up to Ericc before he tries to attack Darkmere. He’ll be captured. He’ll be sacrificed.”

  Ovlan gave him another gentle smile. “You may only choose one path. Do you wish to prevent him from being captured in Corrock or sacrificed in Surod? I do not foresee you being able to do both, and the latter cannot be accomplished without Rummon.”

 

  Chapter 19

  Choosing a Path