The two walked through the wooden building that surrounded Dharma and passed through two doorways before coming out on the other side. This is where the rest of the village was housed. There had to be at least two dozen houses here. They came upon the one that the village chief said belonged to the boy Mildren. Bartock wrapped on the door loudly. “Mildren, are you there?”
“Hello again, Ing,” said an ecstatic Mildren once he answered the door. “Please, come inside.” Mildren shut the door behind them.
Bartock spoke at once. “I have come here because Ing is to stay the night with us here in the village. I thought you would like it if he stayed here with you. Would that be to your fancy, Mildren?”
“Of course,” the boy said. “That would be great.” Bartock departed and left the two alone. Mildren led Ing down a hallway where they encountered the boy's mother. Ing could see some of the boy in the woman. She had the same nose, mouth, and kind blue eyes. She was slender and tall and looked of an age with his own mother. “Mother, this is Ing. He’s from outside the village. Can he stay here for the night? It is Bartock's request.”
“Yes,” replied Mildren’s mother in a soft voice. “It’s nice to meet you, Ing. My name is Emily Yornak. Mildren's father is not home right now.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Yornak,” he replied.
“We don’t get many visitors here,” said Mildren’s mother. “How old are you? You look about Mildren’s age.”
“I’m fifteen,” said Ing.
“Dear me, he just turned fifteen several months ago,” said his mother. “Well, I hope you enjoy your stay.”
Ing couldn’t help but think about his own mother as he followed Mildren into his room. The images of her final, deeply scarring moments flooded his mind. Mollish would pay.
The room was filled with books that looked like they dated back nearly a century. Ing spotted one titled The Warrior Erdwick. The more he heard the name the more interested he had become in him—the man who had struck down Bolsee. Seeing the book called forth on Ing’s emotions; the letters were etched in gold and the book was in pristine condition. It was obviously very important to Mildren.
“Can I see your sword, Ing?” Mildren said, breaking Ing’s thoughts about the times long past.
“Sure,” said Ing. “Just be careful with it.” Ing felt weird about Mildren’s apparent fascination with him. Ing was just a boy of the same age. It felt strange how Mildren seemed to place him in such high standings.
Mildren stared at the gift from Horwin in amazement. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful sword. I hope to become a great warrior one day like my father. I want to start training, but Bartock says I’m too young.”
What do I say?
“Your time will come,” were the words Ing chose upon. “Just be patient.”
“I hope so...” said Mildren thoughtfully.
Ing suddenly spotted a ruby on one of the room’s shelves and recalled the words of the Illusionist Lady, Gretta, whom he had met in the Forest of the Mother: ‘The ruby for this necklace can be found in Dharma.’ He had almost forgotten.
“Can I see that ruby?” he asked.
“Certainly,” said Mildren.
Ing pulled the necklace out of his pocket and saw that the ruby fit perfectly. It couldn’t be just a coincidence. With the necklace complete, he was one step closer to the Lady of the Lake.
“May I keep this?” he asked. “It’s very important, and vital to the completion of my quest. I hope you understand, and allow me to bring it with me.”
“Of course you can have it,” said Mildren cheerfully. “It’s an honor to help you.”
Chapter 12: The King on the other Side
King Heroi Smo—the one they called Heroi the Gallant—stood before him. “Here in Condeth Rahal I think we need not fear Slithzalien and his minions. They are a world away from us. Our duty is with the protection of the east.”
“I know that, King Heroi,” replied Joseph Longhall. “Eclestia is a way from the Dark Realm and Condeth Rahal farther still. But the dark one has taken refuge in Eclestia and that puts him closer to us. Did they not assault Condeth Rahal many years ago and nearly crush us?”
King Heroi smiled and light seemed to fill the room. He was rightly named the Gallant by his people. His features were rough and hard, with a thick jaw—so different from his ancestor's soft features—but his heart was kind and he had not forgotten the ways of Erdwick. Heroi was strong and tall with a bushy auburn beard with spots of grey beginning to show. “Call him Slithzalien, lest we forget his name.”
“I have not forgotten his name,” said Joseph, his auburn hair seeming to reflect that of the king's. “People have begun to call him the dark one. They say the light may be shrouded from this world.”
“As for the assault on Condeth Rahal in the Sad Years,” said the king, “Slithzalien did not nearly crush us, even when he was at the peak of his power sailing out of the Dark Realm with his host of those who were like him. And I don't believe he has ever assailed the Forgotten Isles which none can speak of. He has his boundaries. He has taken refuge in the north of Eclestia, yes, but he will not come to Condeth Rahal again, not after his defeat.”
“And if he does?” asked Joseph. “What if the dark one means to assault us again and change the Sad Years into the Years of Waste? What then?”
King Heroi Smo looked suddenly tired. “The High King and the Ten would protect us.”
Joseph didn't look convinced.
