“Of course, you’re wrong!” This accusation seemed to anger the little man even more. “And if I say the treasure is mine, then it’s mine. Now hand it over. It doesn’t belong to you.” Stone wasn’t sure that the elf wasn’t going to start steaming from the ears or stamping his foot next.
“Nope. Can’t do that.” Stone quickly put the rock back in his pouch. Then he reached out with an open palm just like the elf had done to him. “But you can hand over my king’s wealth. Now, give it to me, and be on your way.”
“I’ll do no such thing.” The elf hugged the bag to his chest. “You two need to go back through the portal and get out of Mura before it’s too late. You don’t belong here. Now leave!”
Fang growled and showed his teeth.
“And take that mangy mutt with you.” The elf turned to go, but Stone didn’t want him to leave yet. After all, they were in a strange land with a million unanswered questions. They needed Elric to tell them what they wanted to know and also to guide them. Hopefully, the elf would even know where to find Rancor Ruse.
“Please, wait,” said Stone. “I’m looking for a man. A thief named Rancor Ruse. I want to know if you’ve seen him.”
“The only thief I see is you!” With that, the elf dashed away, moving so fast that it was only a second before they could no longer see him.
“Well, how do you like that?” asked Aithrod. “And what do we do now? I’m tired and hungry and thirsty and need to pee.”
“There must be other people around here somewhere,” said Stone, looking around but not seeing a soul. “I suggest we start walking and try to head for the nearest village or town.” He ran a hand over the dog’s head. “Fang can lead the way. Plus, I will use my tracking skills to find whoever passed through here lately.”
“All right,” agreed Aithrod, brushing dirt from his clothes. “And let’s just hope we capture Rancor and find a way back through the portal before that irritating little elf returns.”
Five
“Are you enjoying living in Mura so far?” Lira asked Persimmon the next morning. The traveling party made their way to Kasculbough Castle, where Persimmon would be spending some time with Medea next. Rhys showed up this morning and now led the way atop his huge silver snowflake horse that was grey with white spots. The steed was like nothing she’d ever seen before. She was sure it was rare or mayhap just common here in Mura, although she didn’t see another. Lira and Persimmon rode in a wagon being pulled by one normal-sized horse.
“Oh, yes, I am enjoying myself,” Persimmon answered her newfound sister. “Everyone has been extremely kind and nice to me.” Then she thought of the way her father had been treating her and mumbled under her breath. “Almost everyone.”
Rhys escorted the women for their safety, relaying to her that they weren’t far from his castle. He also told Persimmon that there were a lot of bad people who couldn’t be trusted in Mura. One of those to be leery about was the evil King Sethor of Macada Castle. It was a place she had yet to see and wasn’t in a hurry to visit.
“Uh oh. There seems to be a problem up ahead,” Rhys called over his shoulder, stretching his neck to look down the road. “It appears to be some kind of trouble. Stay here. I’ll check it out.” He sped forward atop his horse, unsheathing his sword as he rode.
“What do you think is going on?” asked Persimmon. Lira pulled on the reins and stopped the horse, waiting on the road for Rhys to come back for them as ordered.
Lira shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s probably bandits.”
“Bandits,” Persimmon repeated, pulling her crystal orb out of her pouch. Running her hand over the smooth surface, she hoped to be able to see something that would help them. After all, her mother always used this orb to scry and help those around her when they needed guiding. Why in the world wasn’t it working for her? When she looked into the orb she saw nothing. She was about to put it away when she thought she saw those same swirling colors again that she’d seen last night. But it was just a quick flash, and once again she doubted herself. Persimmon felt as if she had no power to scry and never would. A little voice in her head reminded her that she was only a half-sorceress. Perhaps that just wasn’t enough power to let her see the future, and she’d only ever see a quick flash of color and nothing else.
This wasn’t at all what she’d been hoping for. She sighed deeply, letting go of all hope. Then, in her mind’s eye she saw two bandits attacking an older couple on the road up ahead and then running away. The thought or vision, she wasn’t sure which, disappeared as fast as it came. It wasn’t clear to her if it was a premonition or her imagination. Still, she felt strongly that this must have something to do with the trouble up ahead.
“Oh, nay!” she cried out, so shocked that she had finally seen something, even though it wasn’t from scrying, that she almost dropped her crystal ball.
“What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” asked Lira in alarm, combing the area with her gaze, looking for bandits approaching.
“We must hurry. There is no time to lose.” Persimmon tucked the globe back into her pouch and pulled the string closed on the velvet bag. “I think there is an old couple up ahead on the road. It must be what Rhys went to investigate. They’ve been robbed and beaten and will be close to dead.” Persimmon grabbed the reins from Lira and urged the horse to move quickly down the road. She didn’t stop until she saw Rhys. He was down on his knees leaning over the prone couple.
“We’re too late,” she cried, stopping the wagon and jumping off. “They were robbed and beaten and are near death,” she called out to Rhys. The information spilled from her lips although she didn’t really know if it was true. She ran to join him. Persimmon looked down at the victims who were an old man and old woman just like she’d seen in the vision in her mind. Falling to her knees, she used her hands to feel for pulses, shocked to see so much blood. “Oh, no. This isn’t good.” She shook her head. “They are severely wounded and their pulses are faint.”
“I’m afraid we’re too late,” said Rhys. “They’ll be dead before we can bring them to the castle and find help.”
“Nay! Nay, we have to help them,” cried Persimmon, wondering just what she could do. She didn’t have the power of healing. She didn’t even know how to administer the type of help that these two wounded people needed.
“What is going on here?” Lira ran up to join them, stopping in her tracks when she saw the prone, bleeding couple on the ground. She gasped.
“They need healing immediately,” Rhys informed her.
“Rhys, don’t you have healing powers you can use?” asked Persimmon. “After all you are half-fae, aren’t you? That is what your wife told me.”
“I do have the power of healing,” he answered, looking sad instead of hopeful for some reason. “Unfortunately, it only works on myself. My power doesn’t work on others.”
“Damn,” she whispered under her breath, feeling her heart go out to this old couple. Persimmon didn’t like to see others suffer. She wasn’t about to give up trying to help these two right now. “How about you, Lira? Is there something you can do to help them? Is there an elven power that heals?”
“Oh, sister, I wish there was, but I don’t think so,” she answered. “You see, my elven powers are more suitable for war, not healing. However, I do know a little about how to heal using herbs. Unfortunately, I don’t have any supplies with me. Besides, that is more the skill held by the fae folk.”
“Yes. We need the help of the fae,” agreed Rhys. “They will know what to do and how to heal them. Sampson, call for Murk. Quickly.”
“Sampson?” Persimmon looked around them, not seeing anyone else there but them. “Who are you talking to?”
“His horse is named Sampson,” Lira informed him.
“He talks to his horse?” Persimmon thought this was a little strange. “Does the horse talk back?” She wasn’t trying to be snide, just honestly didn’t know how things worked in Mura.
“Nay. He doesn’t talk to me. Just to Murk.” Rhys busied himself trying to wrap the wounds of the injured couple with some cloth he’d brought from his travel bag.
“Murk?” Why did that name sound familiar? Once again, Persimmon looked around but saw no one with them. When she turned back, Lira was pointing at the sky.
A large black raven swooped down from the air, landing on the saddle of the horse. It opened its beak and let out a few short squawks.
“Ah, Murk. Right?” Persimmon whispered to Lira, remembering hearing this bird’s name mentioned at the table yesterday.
