Possessing the Grimstone

chapter Six


Inside the great palace at Cardoon, many of the land’s leaders gathered at a massive round stone table. Tolan watched King Endrille enter the meeting hall, a pair of guards escorting him.

Jorrel of the High Guard stood with Tolan, and on his other side, Olani and her escort, Nachin, waited. Some of the other council members of the North stood behind them. A few of the survivors of the Lake Lands lingered in the shadows, fear crippling them.

Ministers from the peasants and farmers of Cardoon also joined the table.

Dwellers of Llewallen Forest, a small, peaceful people, with no real army had sent representatives. They hadn’t fought, but they’d taken in refugees from the Lake Lands.

Representatives from Gwythroth, the Gray City, the most mysterious of the people of Athora, arrived swathed in robes and tribal masks. They were taller than anyone in the city.

Chatter filled the room as people posed question after question and terrified hypothesis after hypothesis. No order had come to the meeting; everyone talked, shouted, and accused. Wild stories were exchanged and compared.

The doors to the room flew open, and all eyes turned to see Drith and his twin brother, Gyrn, from the South, make a grand entrance into the room.

Nachin reached for the dagger in his belt, but Olani put her hand across his arm, halting him. She eyed Drith as he crossed the room, his body and face painted with swatches of scarlet, white, and turquoise. Gold chains pierced his nostrils and stretched to his earlobes, which were also studded with onyx pins. He carried a bejeweled scepter.

Drith turned his head to Olani and nodded to her with a grin. He and his brother, accompanied by a few of their people and some servant girls, stopped at the table.

Finally, Sooth-Malesh appeared. The crimson-robed mage seemed to step from the shadows, themselves, as if they’d woven him there on the spot. His expression was grim.

“Sooth-Malesh,” the King bellowed over the others in the room. “What news of this threat do you bring us?”

“I’m afraid it is bleak, my lord. More of their deathships have arrived on the Red Coast. Their army increases with every passing day. “

Sooth-Malesh pulled a crystal from his robe and set it on the stone table. The crystal spun and spun, moving to the center of the table until a shower of light burst from it.

Everyone took a step back, shading their eyes from the bright light.

A vision appeared: hundreds of thousands of raging creatures with hovering spirits tethered to them marched from the beaches of the Fifling Sea. War machines rolled with fiery quarrels; monstrous reptilian steeds howled and stomped. The crystal scoped the beach, showing the armies marching into many different directions, clubs, axes, daggers, and pole arms clattering against bone-clad armor and shields, stone-like teeth clicking, dozens of mages wielding powerful magic of fire, shadow, and necromancy.

“They have already regrouped in the North, and are cutting a path through it,” Sooth-Malesh said. “They have invaded Bhrungach. The walls have fallen.”

Olani’s head bowed, sadness in her eyes. Drith smirked at his brother.

The old mage continued. “Half of their vast army is marching this way, up the coast toward Cardoon.”

“What of the ghosts with them?” Tolan asked. “These spirits can attack, but cannot be harmed, in return.”

“They’re familiars. They are the spirits of creatures or animals slain in their homeland. They are tethered to them with totems. You see, the bones on their armor are the bones of the creatures they have killed. Their mages have enchanted the bones, thus binding the spirits to their killers. It gives more power to these things… whatever they are. If you break the bond, destroy the bones of the animal, they will be freed, and the master will weaken.”

“What do these monsters want?” Olani asked, her eyes welling.

“Ah, I am glad you asked.” Sooth-Malesh gestured to the crystal and the vision shifted back to the beach on the Red Coast. Among the thousands of tents and barges, a circle of high mages appeared. The horned wizards, twelve or more, wove their clawed-hands over a piece of stone, floating inside a receptacle.

Green-yellow energy swirled around the stone, waves of it rippled off as the mages focused their magic into it.

“They seek the other pieces of the Grimstone.”

“The what?” Nachin asked.

“The Grimstone: the ancient stone that nearly destroyed the First People. Long held as the most powerful magical artifact known to all of Athora. The First People, the Mulcavrii, knew it was too powerful for anyone to master. They tried to destroy it, but it would only shatter into three pieces. They were hidden over a thousand years ago. These creatures have obviously found one of the pieces, and they want the other two. They will wipe out everything to get them.”

“Grimstone?” Olani said. “I have never heard of this stone.”

“Only the oldest of grimoires make mention of it. It had all been forgotten by the people of Athora.”

“We did not forget it,” said one of the emissaries from Gwythroth. He drew closer to the table, tall, statuesque, his movements fluid. “We know it as the Ebon stone. It harnesses the abyss and the world of magic. Its power cannot be tamed. It is not of our world. That is why the Mulcavrii warred over it, and in the end, knew they had to rid themselves of it. It cannot be put back together… not by any being.”

“Why should we care what these creatures want?” Drith said, his brother grabbing hold of his arm. “So far, I see that they attack those whose cups run over.”

“That is not all they will attack!” Sooth-Malesh thundered, turning his enflamed eyes toward the King of the South. “They will stop at nothing to get the stone; they will crush every kingdom until they get it. And once they do, all of Athora will fall. The stone could destroy every living thing on our world. This army means to take our land and wipe all of us from it. No one is safe. This problem is all of ours.”

“Hence why I have summoned each one of you,” King Endrille said. “Dear friends, let us fight for what is ours. I ask you to join Cardoon in our crusade.”

“If we agree,” Drith said, “if we fight for all of our land, we in the South want compensation.”

“Of course,” the King bellowed. “What do you wish?”

“We want some land in the North. Our lands are dry and hot, and we cannot grow food. We want fertile land to keep our people from their harsh lives. What good is saving our lands if we still suffer?”

“Never!” Nachin raged. Olani turned to him in shock. “We would see you dead, first.”

“Northern dog!” Drith whipped his scepter. Its crown sprouted spikes and detached with a chain.

“Enough!” Olani yelled. “Enough of this fighting! Enough of this prejudice and hate! We have common enemies: foes that will destroy us all! In that matter, how can we fight them? They have already conquered all of the North, they march on, unstoppable, unchallenged. They have magic and familiars, and the power of their stone.”

“Together,” said Tolan. “They are but one army. Together, we can defeat them.”

“They are not the only ones with power,” the emissary from Gwythroth said. He vanished from his spot at the table, and then reappeared on the other side of it. Everyone in the room gasped.

“You can teleport,” Sooth-Malesh said.

“Yes, we can. Short distances. It can be useful in battle.”

“They are not the only ones useful in battle,” Drith said. He backed away from the table and headed for the nearest wall. He jumped onto it and scaled it like a spider. When he reached the top, he crawled across the ceiling, and dropped to the floor.

“Very good!” King Endrille clapped. “We will work out compensation: it is the only fair thing to do.”

“Please do,” Drith said, panting. “We have suffered enough; we will not help without bettering our situation.”

“So be it,” King Endrille said.

Nachin snarled. “M’lady, this cannot be allowed. The North will never surrender its land.”

Drith’s brother, Gyrn, walked up to him, and whispered into his ear. “Do not be so hasty to withhold, my brother. If we were to help defeat these creatures, we could claim the stone for ourselves. Then we could destroy the North and take all of its land, at last.”

Drith smiled. “You always know better, Brother.” He rejoined the table.

“Excellent,” King Endrille said. “My brothers and sisters, this scourge threatens our way of life, our very existence. Our Lord, Thet, would want us to work together. In his name, we must meet this threat head on, and vanquish it. I decree it. My good men, stop them from reaching Cardoon!”

Jorrel saluted the king. “Aye, your grace.” He turned to Tolan. “Easy for him to say.”

“Excellent.” King Endrille smiled from ear to ear, then pushed himself away from the table. “When will the enemy get here?”

Sooth-Malesh turned to the King. “About three days. Their beasts do not gallop as fast as our horses, and many of them are pulling great war machines. They are moving slowly, but steadily.”

“Fine,” the King said. “I will be in my chambers. Keep me informed on the battle.”

A sick feeling filled Tolan’s stomach. He had a bad feeling about all of it… the alliance of kingdoms, the new enemy, the stone… what was it, anyway? Thousands of years of no one knowing of its existence, and now…

“I know what you witnessed, my friend.” Jorrel leaned over to him. “After seeing the kingdoms and their talents, I feel that it is the way to go. We need all of the unique abilities we can get. Ride out to the Wivering in Gonnish. Ask them to send as many warriors as they can spare. Their fleet might be an advantage.”

“Aye, Geyess and I will ride. I just want you to know, the Wivering are not trained soldiers. They’re farmers.”

“I know… that’s where you come in.” Jorrel smiled and walked away.

Tolan sighed and watched the others depart: the mysterious people of Gwythroth, the twins of the South, Olani and her consort, Nachin.

I hope Thet cares enough to watch the battle, or we are all doomed. Tolan followed the rest of them out of the palace and into the courtyard with its flowing fountains and bountiful gardens.

Olani turned back and walked past Tolan, returning to the meeting chamber.

“M’lady,” Nachin called, “the meeting is over.”

“I know, Nachin. I follow my own path. Please, see to the council. They need you more than I.”

He gave her a disagreeable look before continuing on.

Olani watched Sooth-Malesh call the crystal back to his hands, and went to him. “Your king was gracious to take my people in. He must see you as indispensable.”

“The King sees what he wishes.”

“I have always been fascinated by magic. Your scrying skills are impressive. When battle comes, the men will be glad to have you on their side. I can only imagine the hell you will rain upon the enemy.”

“I’m afraid you think too much of me, young lady. My magic is weak, and not fit for battle. I have been assigned to spying and foretelling our fates.”

“Who has assigned you?”

“The men, themselves. They are right. I have not fought anything in many years. I am no match for their mages.”

“Magic never grows weak; it is eternal. Only the user loses his faith. You have the power inside you, I can feel it. You broke through their defenses to see their plans.”

“Only because their focus is in many areas… they can’t block me and fight on all sides of the land.”

“You need to believe in yourself, again. You’re the only one who can do that.”

“I might say the same to you, my young leader. You did not fail your people. You saved them. Had you not sought the help of Cardoon, you would all be dead now.”

“How did you…”

“I have impressive scrying skills.” He winked at her before vanishing through the nearest wall.

Olani stood in the silent room, pondering. I did do the right thing. I did. We will get our land back, and return stronger than ever. A shiver rippled over her shoulders; she held herself and walked from the room. Dull pain filled her stomach.

###

Pim and his friends circled one another in jest when they saw the steeds approaching in the distance. It was two men in full battle armor. The boys stopped, and watched the soldiers approach their village.

Dogs barked. Wivering left the fields to greet the strangers entering their land.

Thousands of Wivering gathered as the horses galloped into the village center. The order of Thet made its way from their temple. The Warrior Guild filed from their training ground, swords in hand.

Pim’s heart thumped in his chest, adrenaline pumping through him. He felt his eyes tingle. His feet itched.

The clouds above stirred as the soldiers came to a halt.

“Greetings! I am Tolan of Cardoon. This is my friend and comrade, Geyess.” He gestured to his old friend. “We honor and respect the Wivering of Gonnish.” Both men bowed their heads. “May we speak to your leader?”

Pim’s parents came from their home and made their way to Pim, his younger brother, Tal, with them.

“Pim, what is happening?” His father put his arm on Pim’s shoulder.

“Soldiers from Cardoon,” Pim replied. “They wish to meet with us all.”

An older Wivering, his blond hair mostly white now, wearing a headband of feathers and multi-colored beads, made his way to the head of the crowd. Many of the Wivering’s faces were filled with fear, confusion, and wonder. It had been many years since anyone from Cardoon had been in Gonnish.

“Greetings, sirs,” the Wivering leader, Bru, said. “What brings you to our quiet lands?”

Tolan dismounted, holding the reins of his horse. “We’ve come to ask for your help, by order of my King.”

“What sort of help? What is wrong, my dear lad?”

“A scourge threatens the lands. A strange new enemy has sailed its way through the wall of clouds on the Red Coast, and attacks all of Athora. The clouds you see are not a storm; they are the clouds of war and magic. All of us are in danger… every last person in the world. The North has already fallen, and they make their way east and south. We need everyone’s help to make a counter attack on this foe and send them back to where they came from.”

A nervous chatter spread throughout the village. Some shouted in disbelief, and women cried. Thunder rumbled. The Wiverings looked up at the sky and gasped. Shouts erupted. Panic filled the village. Faces drained of color. Villagers shook their heads, while others stormed off. Still others refused to accept what they were hearing.

“It can’t be!” They yelled.

“It must be some mistake!”

“They are all lies… lies!”

“Are we safe? Are we in danger?”

The stories are true! Pim screamed inside. Both terror and delight filled him. He wasn’t sure if he should jump for joy, or run and hide. It was all happening so fast. The world doesn’t end at the mist! There is land on the other side, dangerous, mysterious land with armies and magic. How amazing and terrifying!

“Calm… we must be calm,” Bru called, putting his hands up to his people. “We must not act rashly. We must seek the wisdom of Thet, and remain strong. We are one family, and we will not fall.” He turned back to Tolan. “What does your king want of us?”

“We need warriors,” Tolan said. “As many of your warriors as you can spare. We need the greatest army Athora has ever seen. Can your people join in the fight?”

Silence swept over the village. The Wivering stared at one another, but the Warrior Guild stepped forward, as few as there were. Tolan counted barely one hundred.

Geyess stared with concern. “Is this all of you?”

“Geyess,” Tolan said. “They are farmers.” He turned to Bru. “We understand an army is not your first path.”

Bru looked around. “Are there any volunteers to the Warrior Guild? Any who would take up the sword to aid our world?”

“We will take any who wish to join,” Tolan said. “And we will train you. The best soldiers of the land will train you.”

Some of the young Wivering stepped forward. More gasps reverberated. Pim looked around, and then to his parents. They held one another, fear wracking their faces.

“I will join,” Pim said, looking toward Tolan, meeting his gaze briefly.

“No!” Pim’s mother threw herself at her son. “By Thet, himself, you cannot! I will not allow it!”

“Son,” his father went to him, taking his arm. “Would you break your mother’s heart?”

“Would you sit back and do nothing? If you were younger and stronger, would you turn your back on your world? A world in peril?”

“You are not of age,” his father argued. “You cannot join the guild.”

Pim’s mother ran her hands over his cheeks. Her eyes welled.

“I will be of age in only two months! I will be man! No, I am a man now. What is two months? In two months, we all might perish.”

“We will take any who want to join,” Geyess said. “Any age, any strength.”

Tolan turned to hush him, but Geyess rolled his eyes. “We must respect your people’s customs and rules.”

“You need all available warriors,” Pim said. “Our leader may grant permission, this close to eighteen, but I need the word.” Pim looked to Bru and smiled.

“You are not a warrior!” Pim’s mother screamed. “You cannot go!”

Bru held up his hands again. A hush came over his people. “There are unknown days ahead filled with unknown dangers and dark skies. We must let go of some of the old ways if we expect to remember them. Those six months from their day of manhood may join the Warrior Guild.”

“No!” Pim’s mother collapsed. His father ran to her aid, helping her back to her feet.

Chatter and gasps filled the village again. Pim went to his mother and kissed her. “I only want to protect you, Mother.”

“My boy, my first boy! The way of the warrior is not your path; it is a path of no return!”

“It is my path, mother, you just don’t want to set me on it. That is why I must put myself on it.” He embraced her, then his father. His father stood speechless, holding his oldest son as long as he could.

Pim pulled away and went to Tolan’s side. As soon as he did, other young Wivering men joined him to the weeping of the entire village.

Pim stood, proud, watching the young men of Gonnish line up next to him. Last came his closest friend, Ono. Arc was nowhere to be seen.

Tolan put his hand on Pim’s shoulder. “I hear your people’s stride is faster than any warrior’s arrow.”

“It is true.”

“I am eager to see this talent I’ve heard only in stories.”

Pim dashed away from Tolan’s side and ran to the back of the village in seconds, his form a blur to Tolan’s eyes. In a matter of a moment, the young man had returned behind Tolan with a sword pressed to his throat.

Tolan laughed. “Very impressive.” He grabbed Pim’s arm and with a snap, flung him over his shoulder. Pim landed on his back, hitting the ground with a thud. “But you’re not a warrior, yet.” He extended his hand to Pim.

Tolan stepped to Pim’s mother, and looked her in the eyes. “I will watch over your son and train him well. He has fire in his heart. He will return to you.”

“I wish I could believe you.” She looked away, burying her face in her husband’s chest.

“We pray that Thet will hear us every night that Pim is gone,” Pim’s father said. “I only wish he’d guided my son onto a different path.”

“Your son will make you proud. I do not believe his entire path has been laid out before him, yet.”

Pim’s father nodded, fighting back tears. Rain fell gently onto his face.

Everyone looked up at the gray skies and watched the cold rain fall lightly.

“We are already proud of him…” Pim’s father whispered.

Tolan walked back to Geyess and the Wivering. The Warrior Guild had just nearly tripled its number. Pim looked at Ono and winked at him. Further behind him, Jun stood, face grim.

“My friends, I thank you. The King of Cardoon thanks you. We must go to Cardoon, meet with the King, and prepare. Are you ready?”

The Wivering nodded, and Tolan climbed back onto his steed. He looked at all the blond haired, fair-skinned Wivering, and furrowed his brow. “Have you no horses?”

“We need no horses,” one of the Wivering called. They turned from their village and ran, their fleet carrying them across the fields and over the distant hills in an instant.

Tolan looked at Geyess and smiled widely, shaking his head. “I think we have our work cut out for us, my friend.”

“Aye, by Thet’s staff, your words speak the truth. Let us catch up to them before they get lost.”

Tolan rode off, but behind him, he heard the sobs of the villagers and their leader, Bru, trying to comfort them.

###

Pim stood in the city’s barracks, wide-eyed. He stared at all manner of weapon and blade, glinting sharp in the weak sunlight. He donned some shiny new armor, and stepped out onto the training grounds.

Cardoon was such a wondrous city. He didn’t know where to look first: the royal palace with its rippling flags and gold-laced balconies and multiple doors, the mansions with carved pillars and posts, or the cobblestone roads filled with massive wagons pulled by six horses, or more.

Even the ordinary houses and hovels were grand compared to his village. The bazaar was total chaos with peddlers and merchants and their customers haggling for the best price. The water fountains overflowed with pure water. Taverns and inns, walls and stone gates were carved with Thet and his many miracles. Turrets and towers sprouted everywhere, but the tallest of them were the black spires to the north of the city, where generation after generation of mages lived and practiced their secret arts. Right now, red smoke billowed from one of the windows.

Pim imagined what might be going on up there. He might even be able to zip over there and back using his fleet before anyone noticed! Before the thought completed itself, Tolan appeared to address the Wiverings.

“My friends, I know you have trained back home in your guild. But this is no ordinary enemy, this is a force from lands we never knew existed. Time grows short, and the enemy makes its way up the Red Coast. They will attack Cardoon in less than three days.”

“Three days,” Ono whispered to Pim. “I can’t learn to be a swordsman in three days.”

“Sure you can,” Pim replied. “I learned in less time.”

“You’re not a swordsman.”

“No, but I can fight and wield a sword during my fleet. That makes me something.”

Tolan raised his voice. “Has anyone here seen battle?”

Pim looked around: not one Wivering raised their hand. He knew it would be the case, of course, but to actually see it, to see the lack of experience, was unsettling.

Tolan shook his head, and then looked back up at them. One lifted his hand in the back. “You.”

Pim turned his head to see Jun with his hand raised. “I once fought a tusked Trow. Ran it off from my father’s farm.”

Tolan paused for a moment. “Alright… that’s better than nothing. Did you use a sword or an axe?”

“A garden hoe… and… the Trow was half-starved…”

“Uh-huh.” Tolan was unimpressed. “Well, good improvisation with your, ah… garden hoe.”

The Wiverings laughed.

“Alright!” Tolan glowered at them. “This is not a laughing matter. We don’t have time for this… people are going to die. Your friends, your loved ones, you! We are in great danger, and these creatures show no mercy. They mean to destroy us all.”

Pim eyed Ono, who held back a grin. Silence swallowed the grounds. Everyone stood at awkward attention. Tolan whistled, and a group of Cardoon soldiers exited the barracks. They joined Tolan’s side, Geyess with them.

“Training begins now,” Tolan said.

“This is who we’re training?” One of the soldiers said.

“What of it?” Tolan asked.

“They all look so… delicate. I would hate to muddy their fair skin.”

The men laughed, grunting and slapping each other on the backs.

Pim’s heartbeat thumped, and his adrenaline surged. He ran from his friends and launched his fleet. In the blink of an eye, he raced past the Cardoon soldiers to the one who’d made fun. Pim unsheathed the soldier’s sword, and before the man could flinch, he drew it to his throat.

The soldier’s eyes widened, and he raised both his hands. “I yield,” he said.

Tolan turned, sliding up behind Pim, and swept his legs out from under him. “Very nicely done, young one,” Tolan said. “But one must be aware of all of his surroundings. There are many enemies in all directions. Performing tricks on one target will get you killed.” He put out his hand out to Pim. The young Wivering took and it and pulled himself up. He felt the blood rush to his face. There was nothing worse than being embarrassed in front of his friends. “You are with me,” Tolan said. “The rest of you, find a partner. Let us begin.”

###

Pim and Tolan faced each other with swords. The young man noticed Tolan was wearing his best armor, decorated with many runes, glittering jewels, and tinted plates. His knee and elbow joints were crowned with spikes; his gauntlets were studded with bolts.

“Sword fighting is like a dance,” Tolan said to him. “You must make eye contact, anticipate the enemy’s move, parry and defend, lunge and swing all to gain an advantage, and move in for the kill.”

“Yes, yes, I know.”

“Excuse me, young Wivering. Why don’t you show me your skills?”

“You’ve experienced only a fraction of them.”

“Your fleet is indeed astounding, but without being able to fight and defend, you will be using it for escape. Your disarming trick is good, but once revealed, is all too predictable. You need to have many more moves in your arsenal to keep your foe off his feet.”

“Like I said, you have only seen a fraction.” Pim lunged for him.

Tolan side-stepped him, and Pim crashed to the ground, landing on his face. “Too headstrong,” Tolan called.

Pim grunted, jumped to his feet, and gritted his teeth. He ran toward Tolan again, swinging his sword like mad.

The two clashed, blade against blade, until Tolan pushed him back and swung his sword hard. Pim ducked the blow and laughed. He never saw the kick coming.

He went down hard again, tasting dirt in his mouth. He spit and cursed.

“Swords are not the only weapons,” Tolan warned.

The young Wivering screamed and threw himself at Tolan, unleashing his fleet.

A shimmering blur shot at the soldier. Pim caught the warrior’s eyes in his sights, and took his sword in both hands, heading directly for him. His heart pounded in his chest. His feet burned. His eyes tingled, but the feeling ceased at the last moment before impact.

Tolan anticipated using Pim’s momentum against him. Pim watched the warrior crouch low, dropping his sword, and lashing out with both fists. It was too late for Pim to change his direction. Tolan caught him in the ribs, and threw him into the air.

Pim landed in a water trough, used for washing by training soldiers. He huffed and puffed, soaked and exhausted, as soiled water ran down his face. His sword sank to the bottom of the basin. Tolan walked up to him, laughed, and extended his hand.

Pim took it and pulled the warrior toward him with all of his might. He used Tolan’s body to hoist himself out of the trough, and kick Tolan in. In his hand, he gripped his sword.

Tolan pulled his face out of the trough and spit water. Pim collided with him, forcing him to the ground, holding the point of his sword to the man’s face. “Swords are not the only weapon, but I’m sure this one will cut you open, just the same,” Pim said to him.

“You have great fighting spirit, my friend,” Tolan said through a chuckle. “Continue.” He flipped Pim over onto his back, and jumped to his feet.

###

That night, Pim sat at the largest table he had ever seen. It filled the room and was laden with all manner of food and drink, baked breads, fresh fruits and vegetables, and platters of roasted meat. The aroma that hung in the air was intoxicating.

The young Wivering had never been in the midst of such splendor. He and the rest of his people now in the Warrior Guild joined the Cardoon soldiers and Northern men from Bhrungach in a great feast before battle.

Women of all ages joined their husbands, sharing in the wine and nibbles before bidding their men farewell in the morn. Some of the wives fought back tears.

In the distance, Pim heard music: soft strings and flutes, a single drum. Perfumed candles burned in all corners of the room.

Tolan took a seat beside Pim and patted him on the shoulder. He looked up the warrior; his expression was the picture of calm and stoic bravery in the face of danger. Along side Tolan, Geyess sat, then Jorrel, the commander of the armed forces.

On Pim’s other side sat Ono and Jun. From there, various Wiverings sat with their Cardoon trainers. All seemed so jovial, as if celebrating. Pim, too, was filled with a burning excitement. He was sure he wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. Battle awaited. In his head, visions played of him outsmarting his enemies, sailing over their awe-struck faces, and crashing down on them with righteous fury.

Across the room, on the other side of the table, sat King Endrille accompanied by many women, including his young wife. They drank and drank, cups overflowing with wine.

“Eat up, my friend,” Tolan said, sliding a plate full of meat and roasted root vegetables toward him. Tolan broke some bread from a loaf in front of him, and handed it to Pim.

“I’ve no appetite. It’s all so wondrous.” Pim’s belly churned, and his limbs tingled. His heart raced.

“I was like you before my first battle, too, but you must eat. It’s important to keep up your strength for the morning. Besides, one never knows when it will be our last meal.” He slapped Pim on the back, again.

Pim gulped, and then sucked in some air. Is that true? Could this be the last thing I ever see? He pulled the bread apart and devoured it before starting in on the meat and vegetables.

Pulling a goblet toward him, he drank something he’d never tasted before. It was a tart, sweet nectar that went down smooth, and made his insides feel warm. It was amazing.

“That a boy,” Tolan laughed. “That will curl the toes of those amazing feet of yours. May they guide you to victory.” He pulled up a goblet of his own, and clinked it against Pim’s.

Pim almost dropped his own cup as a trickle of burgundy seeped down his chin. He grinned, then ate, and drank… and drank some more.

The King bellowed and laughed; the music wafted through the air; the room grew thick with steam and tobacco smoke. Pim absorbed it all. This was more than he ever expected to see outside of Gonnish. The rest of Athora amazed him at every turn. He knew why they must fight. How could they let any foreign kingdom take all of this away from them?

Pim looked around at all of his friends from Gonnish, as well as his new friends, the taller, stronger Cardoon soldiers, the gallant Tolan, and his best friend, Geyess. He was ready. Tomorrow, he embraced fate. Tomorrow, he made a difference to Athora. How proud would his parents be of him? The thought made him glow.