Possessing the Grimstone

chapter Fifteen


A few days after they cleared the Western Isles, Pim, Tolan and the others, reached the shores of Norrow. A white sandy beach awaited their arrival, and beyond that, lush, green jungle with flowering trees reached toward the skies.

The ship cast anchor just off the shore, and they disembarked. The captain and his crew remained behind.

Pim looked around, listening to the sounds of strange birds and the chatter of animals that he didn’t recognize.

They walked along the beach, drawing closer to the jungle. The trees were ripe with a bounty of fruits and nuts. Bushes and thickets grew heavily with berries, and flowers glistened with nectar.

“There is a high point to this land,” Panno said. “It is there we must go.”

“This way.” Jodan pointed into the jungle. A path, strewn with wagon wheel tracks, formed there.

Tolan led the way, drawing his sword. Pim followed next, and the rest followed. Shannara stayed close to her husband seers, and Drith guarded the rear.

The trees provided a natural shaded canopy, and the path led them to a huge clearing. A massive garden spread across the clearing in every direction: patches of vegetables grew wild, and stalks were crowded with blue corn, green corn, and wheat. Fragrant greens grew tall and vivid.

The group walked among the rows of the carefully tended and pruned garden. Around the corners, small trees stood with more fruit: speckled apples, bitter pears, and holly peaches.

Pim had never seen many of these fruits and vegetables back home. He wondered how they were grown. He reached out to touch them when footfalls sounded. Tree branches cracked, and the jungle fluttered.

Within moments, the group was surrounded by men armed with spears. Their lean bodies were dressed in grass skirts, and moccasins donned their feet.

Drith raised his sword. Tolan seized his arm. “No, do not attack. These are the people of Norrow. We mean them no harm.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about,” Drith said. “We’re outnumbered.”

“Just show them we mean no harm,” Tolan said. “Lay down your weapons.”

“Are you mad?” Drith protested.

“He’s right,” Shannara said, setting down her dagblades.

Pim set his weapon down, as did the D’Elkyrie, and finally Drith reluctantly dropped his.

Among the Norrow people, an older man with long white hair made his way through the ranks. He wore a headdress adorned with many colors of bird feathers, seashells, and nutshells. He carried a scepter with blue stones fixed into its head.

“Bow,” Tolan said to the others.

Drith shot him a look. “What?”

“You heard me, bow. It will help.”

The group bowed to the approaching King. The old man held out his hands. “You came from Fionngall. We saw your journey from our homes. You are not of their people.”

“Yes,” Tolan said. “The people of Fionngall are our friends. They helped us on a grave journey to save our world, and everyone in it… including your people.”

“What news do you bring from the other side?”

“An evil people have come to destroy us all. They seek something very valuable… it gives them power. We must not let them find it.”

“Why would you come here?”

“Because they will come here. The great power they seek sleeps in your land.”

“This is very troubling. Come and tell us more of this tale so we may help you.”

“You are very kind.” Tolan nodded and got to his feet. The others followed his lead and got up.

The group followed the island King and is people out of the clearing. They followed a path along cliffs overlooking the shore. Out on the shore, they saw ships and canoes, some rowing ships, and some with primitive sails. There were no real docks, just slabs of driftwood and loads of packs stuffed into the ships to trade with Fionngall.

“Looks like we docked on the wrong side.” Pim said.

“We are still where we need to be,” Tolan said.

“Yes, prisoners, now,” Drith said.

“We are not prisoners, we are guests,” replied Tolan.

“These people are savages,” Drith continued.

“These savages feed your people.”



When they came to an area of rolling green hills, they saw a great fort at the top. The hill fort was surrounded by walls made of wood, fastened together with pegs and rope.

The people of Norrow led them up the hill along a stony path, and came to a set of wooden gates. The gates were opened with a pulley system. Inside, the village thrived. Carts and wagons were filled with fruit and hay; livestock roamed behind fenced areas along huts; goats, fowl, and pigs ran and called among the other noises.

Dogs barked at the strangers in the village. More smoked fished hung from makeshift racks. Smoldering fires cooked stews and puddings. They noticed the people using tools made of bones and wearing clothes made of animal hides. They used every part of the animals they killed. Tolan admired how self-sufficient they seemed.

The armed men returned their spears to a rack beside a huge ceremonial hut, and dispersed into the village.

Their leader stopped the group and turned to Tolan. “Let us share a smoking pipe of herbs and talk at the circle. He pointed to a circle of flat stones with a bonfire in the center.

Tolan and the group took a seat on the stones. The sunlight grew shallow, and shades of purple and scarlet painted the sky as night grew near. Women threw more firewood into the fire, and served everyone a drink.

“Nectar from our flowers. We save it for special occasions. Your visit to us is, indeed, such an occasion.”

“We are honored by your kindness.” Tolan took a drink. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. It ran smooth on his tongue, and tickled his senses. Inside him, nightmare images of being drugged or sacrificed to an unknown tribal god flashed by. He chuckled and drank some more.

Pim could not get enough of it, and actually begged some of the women for more.

“I am Rasa, King of the Cree. We are one of the seven tribes of Norrow.”

I am Tolan of the High Guard from Cardoon. My comrades…” he gestured to Pim.

“I am Pim, from the Wivering of Gonnish.”

“Shannara, your majesty, Queen of the D’Elkyrie. My seers, Panno and Jodan, and my warriors.”

“Drith, King of Glenghorra.”

“Where in Norrow are you heading?”

“To your highest point,” Tolan replied, taking a puff of the pipe Rasa had just handed him.

“The highest point?” There was a look of concern on Rasa’s face. “That would be Hills Mount… where the Lost Caves are.”

“Lost Caves?” Shannara asked. She rubbed her arms. The hair stood up on the back of her neck. She turned and looked up at the dusky sky. The shadow of a great hill loomed in the distance. “I feel magic near.”

“Magic is banished here,” Rasa said. “It hasn’t been used in nearly a thousand years.”

“Well it’s here, despite its banishment,” Shannara said. “In the caves you spoke of.”

“The Lost Caves are cursed. None of the seven tribes go there.”

“Then that is where we must go,” Shannara said finally.

“We know your people fear the caves,” Tolan said. “But we must go there to save our lands.”

“This power is dark. It is dangerous,” Rasa said. “It could destroy you.”

“We must take that chance,” Tolan said. “We appreciate your concerns, but we have great strength, and a duty to our people. May we have your permission?”

Rasa nodded his head. “No one will stop you, strangers. But no one will help you, either.”

“Fair enough.”

“Stay with us, rest, and partake in our bounty.”

“You are gracious. We would love to stay, but only for the night. In the morning, we will continue our mission.”

Again, Rasa nodded and passed his pipe to Pim. The Wivering took one drag and coughed and coughed. He gagged as smoke trickled from his nose.

Tolan laughed and patted Pim on the back to clear his lungs. Pim turned to him, half-smiling. Tolan was glad to see it.

They smoked and drank with the King of the Cree in the night, and after the moon rose, they slept by the fire as the village fell into a peaceful silence.

###

Before they left the village, King Rasa offered Tolan a totem: a bird’s claw adorned with beads and shells. “To protect you from the dark,” the King had said. Tolan tucked it into his pack, shaking his head at the superstition of a magic-fearing people. The irony was amusing, but Tolan found them to be very enlightened for a primitive tribe. His people could learn a few things from them.

Within an hour, the group was scaling Hills Mount, a rocky, tree root-laden hill that seemed more imposing than the enchanting emerald green hills they had encountered.

At the top of the hill was a huge cave opening, nearly rising from the ground like the maw of a gigantic animal. They smelled something foul as they approached the mouth. Just inside, the passage went straight down into the darkness. Jagged rocks formed a natural stairway.

Shannara and Drith took torches from their packs and ignited them with flint and stone. Tolan signled for everyone to draw their weapons, and they descended.

The cave walls were littered with scratches and strewn with cobwebs. Dust and dirt covered the ground, looking undisturbed. There was an ancient feel within. The air reeked of musty, thick age, and stale rot.

As they went further below, the air grew moist, the walls became wet, and the ceiling began to drip. Fungus sprouted on every surface in colors of rust and dark green. Mushrooms appeared in clusters on the ground; some of the glowed with phosphorescence.

“The magic is strong here… and getting stronger.” Shannara twitched. “I can feel it. It’s here somewhere.”

“Are you alright?” Pim asked.

“It is almost too much for me to channel.”

“The cave delves deeper, but our sight is being obstructed,” Panno said. “Our vision may be blinded soon.”

“The stone must be interfering with your sight, dear one.” Shannara said. “Or it is trying to block you.”

“Odd, it’s a stone, yet it’s alive,” Pim said.

“Its magic is alive,” Shannara said.

Finally they entered a wider chamber. Its walls were covered in carvings similar to those of the First People. These were different in that there were no runes, and the figures were not those of the First People.

There were carvings of the stone in various places, fully intact, with energy radiating from it. The people on the wall wore masks and were more than likely descedants of the tribes of Norrow, except smaller.

In some drawings, the masked people wielded magic and summoned the stone from a mystical doorway, as if it had been conjured or teleported.

“The stone… it might not be from our world,” Tolan said. “That is, if this shows what I think it does.”

“Hey, look, over here…” Pim called the others to a fissure in the wall, a crack that led into a secondary passage. A green glow flickered from the other side.

They gathered around the crack in the wall, and Tolan gave it a kick. The wall broke apart, rubble fell, and a new doorway appeared. They moved through the chamber, the floor thick with mud.

Pim looked down and saw the mud ooze. It had moved. He froze. “Something’s in here.”

“What?” Tolan readied his blade. “Where is it?”

“On the ground,” Pim yelled as the mud slithered away from the group and attached to a pile of rocks.

The mud doubled in size, the rocks clung to it like bones, and it formed into a hulking figure. A mouth yawned open, mud seeping out of it. Eyes tore open on a bulbous head, eyes glowing green: the same green as the Neshing fire. The thing sprouted massive arms with fists like mallets.

“It’s a Golem!” Drith said.

It roared at the group and stomped toward them with thunderous steps. Despite its size, the Golem moved fast. It rushed at Tolan, who leaped out of its way. Shannara dropped her torch and flipped toward it. She landed a swift kick, but it had no effect. Swinging both dagblades, she only scraped across it, mud covering her knives to their hilts.

The Golem swung at her, but she ducked and rolled out of the way. Drith let out a war cry and raced toward the beast. He jabbed his serrated blade into the creature’s side; it bellowed and lifted both fists into the air. Drith did not see the blow fall.

Pim did. He raced across the chamber, unleashing his fleet, and tackled Drith in a flash, pushing him out of the way. The fists came down hard, and missed.

Drith looked up at Pim and nodded his thanks.

The Golem recovered and lashed out at one the D’Elkyrie warriors, instead. The giant fists crushed her.

Tolan and the other D’Elkyrie attacked in unison, blades clattering against stone, mud sliding down them all. “I cannot fight against rock and mud.” Tolan groaned as he was forced to drop his sword.

The Golem swung at him, but he ducked to the ground as the fists bashed the wall, debris raining down into the chamber.

The seers, Panno and Jodan, huddled together, scampering out of the way, but the Golem spotted them. It spun around and roared, stomping toward the seers, and blocking their escape. It seized Jodan and drove him into the ceiling, crushing him immediately.

Shannara screamed a heart-shattering, spirit-igniting sound. She ran up the nearest cave wall and flipped through the air, landing on the creature’s shoulders.

Digging both blades into its head, she stabbed it over and over, but nothing seemed to slow the creature down. Shannnara wrapped her blades around its throat and sawed away as hard as she could.

The Golem stomped its feet, hammered its fists against the walls, and reared back, throwing Shannara from its body. She soared through the chamber, landing hard on her back. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked up to see the Golem reaching for Panno.

Drith leaped through the air at it, but it backhanded him to the ground. The Golem was determined to get to the other seer.

Shannara’s blood boiled; she struggled to get up, but yelped in pain. Pim dashed to her side. “You’re hurt.”

“I think my arm is broken.”

“Stay here, I will protect you.”

“No, protect Panno. I can take care of myself. It’s after him. Please, Pim, please don’t let it take him away from me!”

Pim stood up straight and dashed toward Panno as Shannara felt something brush against her skin. She looked over her shoulder to see a pit through a small crawlspace. It glowed and pulsed with green ethereal light. She reached her good arm toward the light, and a bolt of green energy shot into her.

The D’Elkyrie leader sat up and directed the green energy at the Golem. Power coiled around the beast, its stony flesh cracking before it exploded. Stone shards shot around the chamber, and a cloud of dust choked the air.

Pim and Panno were safe. Everyone stood and stared at Shannara.

Tolan stepped toward her. “How did you…?”

“The piece of the stone,” she pointed to the crawlspace. “It’s right through there.”

Tolan helped her to her feet, and they approached the crawlspace.

Drith pointed his torch at the opening. “None of us can fit through there.”

“I know one who can,” Tolan said. He turned to Pim.

“Barely, but I think I can manage.”

“Just hold your breath.”

Pim smiled, his eyes brightened, and he handed Tolan his sword.

He reached the crawlspace and got down on his knees. Pushing his head through first, he wriggled and squeezed his chest through, then crawled on his elbows. He slipped through the passage and reached the pit, the green light bathing his face. For a moment, he was transfixed. The light looked so beautiful. He sat and stared at it, letting its warmth caress him. Then he knew what to do.

He reached into the pit, and his arm sank into the muck. It was slick and wet, and black. He stretched and stretched until finally…

The piece of stone came into his grip and he ripped it out of the trench. Sludge and mud dripped off of his arm. He moved back to the crawlspace opening and squeezed his way through.

They all looked at it, and at Pim. Green light showered them. A jagged piece of green rock sat in the palm of the boy’s hand. They were speechless.

Pim moved past them to Shannara and held the stone up to her arm. “Heal her,” he whispered.

Green light enveloped Shannara’s arm. Her eyes fluttered. Pim pulled the stone away. “My arm… the pain is gone.”

Pim smiled.

“Careful, Pim,” Tolan said. “It is very powerful.”

“Maybe I should carry it,” Drith said. “My will is strong.”

“Pim should keep it,” Tolan said. “He is the most untouched among us: untouched by war, or by darkness. He is innocent.”

“Innocent?” Drith muttered.

Pim tucked the stone into his pack and eyed Drith. “I will carry it.” He said firmly.

“Very good,” Tolan said. “Now let us go quickly. We need to get back to our lands.”

They started off, and Pim watched as Shannara’s head hung low. The loss of one of her husbands weighed heavily on her. She walked close to Panno, not taking her eyes off of him.

Pim felt sad for her, but the stone couldn’t heal this pain, only time could.

###

On the ship back to Fionngall, the group gathered in talks about the next piece of the stone and its location. Pim felt the weig




Bonus Material


An Excerpt from The Scepter of Namiss

Story 1 of the Books of Braenyn



Braenyn the elf stood in the inner sanctum of the crypt. Shafts of pale milk-white moonlight shimmered through grated windows in the corners of the musty room but it was not enough to illuminate the entire place. The dust of ages lying thick on the floor was undisturbed, even though the rotting wooden doors he passed through looked as if someone had tried to break their way out of here.

He surveyed the area with sword in hand, his grandfather’s sword, handed down to him through the generations, its hilt ornate with carvings of great serpents and runes of the Elven Gods. Sconces that lined the decayed walls remained unlit for centuries. Braenyn waved his hand, his eyes glowing white and, with the power that coursed through his blood, ignited them. The flames brought much needed light to the dank crypt.

Before him he noticed a couple of tombs. Encrusted in cobwebs and dust, their foundations were cracked with decay and moisture. There were carvings and inscriptions on them that he couldn’t decipher. He walked over and pulled one of the torches from the sconces, spider webs entangled it like tentacles and stretched across the room as Braenyn moved.

He bent to a tomb and saw lettering on the side, some of it faded over the years. It looked to be a hybrid of ancient human, Elven and Netherling language but he couldn’t quite read it.

A chill slithered up his spine and he shivered, even his studded leather armor was not enough to stifle the cold of this place. The smell of rot hung heavy in his nostrils. He walked around the perimeter of the tomb, examining every crevice well aware that traps might wait to spring upon an inexperienced rogue or thief. Braenyn was neither.

Satisfied, he placed his torch down and sheathed his sword. With both hands he pushed the tomb’s lid and attempted to open it but it would not budge. It felt as if it weighed a thousand tons. It would not open and he was much too weak to make the outcome any different. He thought about using magic but his people viewed it as a vile desecration to use magic on the dead or their places of rest, a curse upon those who did. Besides, he didn’t know any spells that would open tombs.

He eyed the second tomb…identical to the first and approached it to try his luck there. No. It too guarded its secrets well. Well, he thought, if the Scepter of Namiss was in one of those tombs he would have to find another way to get to it.

It was still a little soon however and he wasn’t even deep beneath the ground yet. It would hardly seem likely that the scepter would be this close to the outside world. These tombs were probably just guardians to the lower levels, used to ward off spirits and the living.

No…foolish tales for the children. He didn’t believe in such things. Dead guardians protecting crypts? Absurd. Now Black Hearts, Netherlings, Ogres, Coil worms, Shadow spiders-those were real things…real threats.

But he didn’t think he’d run into any here. Maybe a Netherling, but the crypt seemed to be deserted for a very long time. He was sure he was alone.

He picked up his torch and walked about the room, a set of stone steps waited at the back of it, he would have missed it if not for the torchlight he provided himself with. The light danced about the walls, casting shadows that moved and played tricks with his mind. He swore a shadow moved as if alive, whisking down the steps like a child at play. He shook the feeling off. He would not be spooked, nor frightened away from untold wealth and glory. The scepter waited.

He started down the stairs, dust ruffled in his wake while cobwebs clung to his face. His torchlight revealed fungus and mold growing like rashes all over the stone walls. Some fungus was known to have healing properties, but not this. Only glowing fungus had the power to heal.

The steps curled and twisted into the darkness…the pitch-black…the unknown. He stopped dead in his tracks as a sound caught his slender, pointed ears, a keen sense of hearing in all of his people. It came from behind him.

Footsteps behind…slow, dragging, shuffling. Something was on the steps. He looked back, and saw a form round the corner, chain armor jingled as steel scraped against stone.

He was no longer alone. Guardians? Rubbish…the dead could not harm him. Yet the only things back that way were the tombs.

The form grew closer. Braenyn drew his sword.

Six months earlier

He woke in the arms of his lover, Tarrow, the shape shifter from the hillside. It had been weeks since they were able to spend time together, Tarrow’s nomadic people having moved again.

Braenyn gave Tarrow one last kiss before rising from the animal skins and pine branches. He took a drink of water from the bowl in the corner of the tent and began dressing.

“You’re up early,” Tarrow whispered, lifting himself onto his elbows. “The light hasn’t even breached the mountains yet.”

Braenyn looked up, noticing the disappointment in Tarrow’s eyes. “I need to train if I’m going to start my quest when the moon grows full. That’s in just a few days. You can come watch me if you want.”

“Swordplay and magic don’t really thrill me. I like a more hands-on activity.”

“Oh, I know,” Braenyn said with a sly smile.

“Tell me again about this scepter.”

Braenyn sat on the drum he and Tarrow used many times to sing songs about their relationship, about their lives, and about their Gods, as different as those Gods were, and began his tale again. He knew how much Tarrow loved hearing him tell his stories.

“The fabled scepter is no fable, my love. It is made of pure gold and encrusted with priceless gemstones. It is more valuable then any treasure this side of the Coral mountains. With its value you could buy a kingdom. And legend tells that it grants wishes…whether it is true or not remains to be seen as no one has ever been able to liberate it. Forget the other quests I have braved. Emerald and sapphire baubles, rings of power, gauntlets of platinum, ruby crowns, gold nuggets, silver ore…they mean noting compared to the scepter. No adventurer has even come close to obtaining it.

“And how did you learn of its existence?”

“It was a night of chance and luck.” Braenyn lifted his right arm in grand gesture, reveling in his tales, captivating the admiration of Tarrow from the very beginning, having met him after his very first quest. “I was at a tavern in the human town of Dar. Ironically a bard was singing a boon I had never heard before—all about a fabled scepter. A drunk in the corner mumbled that he knew it existed, that his map told the way. He was ignored by everyone…except me.”

“As he stumbled out that night, I followed him, blending into the shadows and using my stealth skills to find his sleeping quarters in a hollowed out tree and there, relieved him of his possessions. In a smelly, filth-ridden sack I found it—the map to the scepter, a description in some sort of mixture human and Elven writing, a warning and spell. It clearly showed the way, a perilous way indeed but where there’s a will…

Tarrow rose to his feet, covering his nakedness from the cold and walked to his lover. Their lips met. Tarrow sighed. “Perhaps too perilous?”

“Nonsense.”

“This is not just any quest Braenyn. The scepter rests among the dead. That is not to be taken lightly.”

“And what harm can the dead do to me?”

“My naïve love. You wouldn’t say that if you had done battle with a Wraith Lord as I had. I nearly escaped with my life.”

“I fear nothing dead…what is alive is what we must fear. Think of it, Tarrow. All of our dreams, anything we want. No longer living like paupers. No longer moving every time your people are attacked or persecuted as monsters. We can have a kingdom of our own. With an army and servants. Think of it.”

Tarrow paused a long moment, his gaze searching the tent, and then tracing every line in his elf’s adorable face. “Well then let me go with you. I can help keep you safe. My strength in battle is invaluable. As when I took the form of a Golem to chase off the brigands who jumped us last month.”

“No I must do this alone. It is a question of honor. Besides, I need someone to watch over our possessions and keep the home fires burning. I always look forward to returning to you when my quests are done. You are more rewarding then any gold or jewel I have won.”

They embraced.

“Now I’m off to train.” Braenyn took up his sword and left the tent.



Enjoy the sample? Purchase the Scepter of Namiss.
ht of his piece in his pack; it made his toes tingle.

The entire crew of the ship retreated below decks. They feared this magical item: its power actually made the wind blow the sails harder, and it spooked the lot of them.

Tolan looked up at Pim. “Your eyes… they are shining.”

Shannara took a closer look. “Like when you ran across the swamp water of Mort A’ghas.”

“How curious,” Pim said. “I do feel different, as if I could run across the sea right now.”

“The other piece,” Shannara continued. “What else did the Lich Lord tell you? Where did he say it would be?”

“I didn’t understand him. It was wrapped in another riddle.”

“Tell us, anyway,” Drith said from the back.

Pim shot him a look before turning back to Shannara and Tolan. “He told me the last piece was at times in my feet, and at other times, beneath them.”

“Beneath them?”

Pim shrugged.

“Anything else?”

“It was the same place my heart was.”

“Pim, that’s easy,” Tolan said. “Where has your heart been throughout this journey? What have you been worried about most?”

“My family,” his eyes widened. “My home… Gonnish? All this time!”

“Yes!” Shannara said. “It makes sense. Pim, your fleet… has any other Wivering been known to run across deep water?”

“No, my people have a legend: the First People traded their wings so we may farm in the fields and run upon the water.”

“Exactly. What did the First People do? They hid the stones, and risked their own power of flight to do so. Your fleet… you can run across water when no one else can. The stone… the last piece, it gave you this power. You’ve been touched by it. Don’t you see?”

“I’m not sure…”

“Remember the first time you ran across water back home? It is there that the stone is hiding.”

“The river?”

Shannara smiled. “The river. Looks like we’re off to Gonnish.” She turned and went to Panno, placing her arms around him and laying her head on his shoulder. Her last warrior stayed by their side, as if to guard them.

Pim had never seen Shannara as vulnerable as she was now. She exuded confidence at all times, a fierceness in battle, a stern, but compassionate leader. Now she leaned on her remaining husband as if at any moment she may collapse.

His pack vibrated; the stone begged to be freed, to be used. He thought of it and his fleet. It had still not fully sunken in that he’d had help running across the waters. He was not the accomplished, outstanding Wivering he’d thought he was. He was no different than any of the other Wivering in Gonnish. It wasn’t all the practice, the will, the praying… he was not special. He’d been amplified, boosted by magic beyond his understanding. For now, he pushed it to the back of his mind and relished in the fact that he carried the stone, the salvation of the entire world.

He noticed Tolan had walked away from him, too, and stood at the side of the boat looking out over the water. Pim moved slowly over to him. He looked out, watching the waves swell and break. Pim sucked in some air, tasted the salt in it, and turned.

“Tolan… I-I…”

“Yes, Pim?”

“I was a fool, and I am sorry. I had no business…”

“No, you did not have any business. Your Wivering emotions run deep, it seems.”

“It’s no excuse. I didn’t know anything about her, and I was ready to fight you over her. It was childish. It wasn’t the person I wanted to be. Nothing about me is the person I wanted to be. I can’t even run across water without…”

“Enough. You did run across the water. It matters not how. Only you could do it, and you faced the great Lich Lord, the master of the Church of the Dead. No living thing has ever set foot in the Church. You did that. You did that for your people. You did that for the world. You also saved Drith’s life from the Golem. Yes, I did see that. Your care for others is boundless, my friend.”

“Still, I hurt you, Tolan, the last person I’ve ever wanted to hurt.”

“Forget it. I already have.”

“So you forgive me?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re a great man and warrior.”

“So are you, Pim.”

He turned back to the sea. “We’re moving really fast; I can almost see the Western Isles.”

“It is that piece of the stone,” Tolan said. “I think it knows your thoughts. I think it reads your desperation, and is aiding your intentions. At this speed, our journey will be half of what it was getting here. And there is no better time. I do not know how long my home city can stand against the enemy. I fear it will not be much longer.”

“I cannot believe all this time, a piece of this thing was in Gonnish.”

“Pim, Gonnish will not look the same as you left it. Are you sure you are ready?”

“No, I am not, but it must be done. We are too close for me to give up. I will deal with it when the time comes.”

“Just lead us to the river, my friend.”

Drith watched them both from the distance. He sharpened his sword methodically.