the source.
"Artus Endria, it is good to see you again. You have found much character since our last meeting. And Deah Vole. It is unfortunate that your brother does not have your courage. It is something that could have made him a formidable presence."
Several shapes appeared at the edge of Artus' vision.
"Well, the question remains what to do with you? There is no reason for you to be here accidentally. The Council would not have moved so quickly so I assume Gerrand sent you of his own accord. He is one man who outlived his usefulness years ago. He has kept great stores of knowledge to himself. Did you know that? He doles it out in minuscule portions to those he deems worthy. That is to be changed. I have found my own cache of learning and I shall master it and then Gerrand will not lord over me again."
"Show yourself Wolk," said Artus. "Or do you fear us?"
"Little Artus. You are special. There is a fire inside you that I did not expect. Perhaps Gerrand does possess a singular insight. However, I shall not show myself until you have surrendered. I saw what you did with that blast of power and I do not wish to show myself plainly. It would make a most horrible delay in my plans."
Suddenly, an arrow flew out of the darkness and pierced Deah Vole's jersey. He gasped and slumped to the ground. Artus screamed in rage and moved to unleash his power on their attackers. As he turned, something exploded in the back of his head and he remembered no more.
Petyr Wolk walked into the open space of the shelter and nudged Deah Vole with his boot. Then he motioned for Artus to be picked up.
"Leave the other for the scavengers." They faded back into the shadows leaving Deah Vole bleeding to death.
Artus came to while they still carried him. His head throbbed and he fought nausea. When the ringing in his ears softened, somewhat he listened for clues to where they were bringing him. His captors were silent and he could not determine Petyr Wolk's whereabouts. He estimated they carried him several hundred yards before dumping him on the ground.
"Oof!"
"He's awake," said one of the men.
"Leave him to me," said Wolk. "You do not have the skill for one such as him."
"I knocked him out, didn't I?"
"You were lucky once, Grosey. Do not push your luck. It never lasts."
The barrel-chested man sniffed and walked to the fire to join his companions. Wolk watched him, and then looked to another man who nodded. Wolk returned his attention to his captive.
"Well, Artus. Are you well?"
"Your concern touches me, Wolk. I mean it. The only thing that surpasses your compassion is your stupidity."
"Artus, Artus. What have you done? You have angered me and you have no recourse against my anger. It will prove difficult for you to survive your time here. I will not allow anyone who does not serve me to live."
"I'm sorry to hear that, but I am with Gerrand and against you."
"Ah, Gerrand. What if I convince you that Gerrand and I are on the same side? The poor old man just does not realize it. That Faeya Ryr clouds his mind. Didn't you see that? For the last two years, she has filled his mind with her image, her fragrance, and his aged memory no longer is clear. It is a sad thing, especially for one as noble as Gerrand."
"You can't make me believe you," said Artus.
"Make you? Why would I want to make you believe me? All I want is to tell the truth and you can decide if you want to believe the truth or lies and misrepresentations. The choice will be yours and I mean choice. I will not compel you. I respect you too much, Artus Endria. You will choose your own mind."
Wolk moved Artus to a sitting position and gave him water to drink. Artus thought is useless to resist. He sensed a spell hovering around the camp. It was unfamiliar to him and he did not mention it to Wolk. Perhaps his abilities were stronger than Wolk suspected. He would not give anything away. It had not occurred to him before that Wolk might cloak his camp with a spell. Artus and
"Artus Endria, it is good to see you again. You have found much character since our last meeting. And Deah Vole. It is unfortunate that your brother does not have your courage. It is something that could have made him a formidable presence."
Several shapes appeared at the edge of Artus' vision.
"Well, the question remains what to do with you? There is no reason for you to be here accidentally. The Council would not have moved so quickly so I assume Gerrand sent you of his own accord. He is one man who outlived his usefulness years ago. He has kept great stores of knowledge to himself. Did you know that? He doles it out in minuscule portions to those he deems worthy. That is to be changed. I have found my own cache of learning and I shall master it and then Gerrand will not lord over me again."
"Show yourself Wolk," said Artus. "Or do you fear us?"
"Little Artus. You are special. There is a fire inside you that I did not expect. Perhaps Gerrand does possess a singular insight. However, I shall not show myself until you have surrendered. I saw what you did with that blast of power and I do not wish to show myself plainly. It would make a most horrible delay in my plans."
Suddenly, an arrow flew out of the darkness and pierced Deah Vole's jersey. He gasped and slumped to the ground. Artus screamed in rage and moved to unleash his power on their attackers. As he turned, something exploded in the back of his head and he remembered no more.
Petyr Wolk walked into the open space of the shelter and nudged Deah Vole with his boot. Then he motioned for Artus to be picked up.
"Leave the other for the scavengers." They faded back into the shadows leaving Deah Vole bleeding to death.
Artus came to while they still carried him. His head throbbed and he fought nausea. When the ringing in his ears softened, somewhat he listened for clues to where they were bringing him. His captors were silent and he could not determine Petyr Wolk's whereabouts. He estimated they carried him several hundred yards before dumping him on the ground.
"Oof!"
"He's awake," said one of the men.
"Leave him to me," said Wolk. "You do not have the skill for one such as him."
"I knocked him out, didn't I?"
"You were lucky once, Grosey. Do not push your luck. It never lasts."
The barrel-chested man sniffed and walked to the fire to join his companions. Wolk watched him, and then looked to another man who nodded. Wolk returned his attention to his captive.
"Well, Artus. Are you well?"
"Your concern touches me, Wolk. I mean it. The only thing that surpasses your compassion is your stupidity."
"Artus, Artus. What have you done? You have angered me and you have no recourse against my anger. It will prove difficult for you to survive your time here. I will not allow anyone who does not serve me to live."
"I'm sorry to hear that, but I am with Gerrand and against you."
"Ah, Gerrand. What if I convince you that Gerrand and I are on the same side? The poor old man just does not realize it. That Faeya Ryr clouds his mind. Didn't you see that? For the last two years, she has filled his mind with her image, her fragrance, and his aged memory no longer is clear. It is a sad thing, especially for one as noble as Gerrand."
"You can't make me believe you," said Artus.
"Make you? Why would I want to make you believe me? All I want is to tell the truth and you can decide if you want to believe the truth or lies and misrepresentations. The choice will be yours and I mean choice. I will not compel you. I respect you too much, Artus Endria. You will choose your own mind."
Wolk moved Artus to a sitting position and gave him water to drink. Artus thought is useless to resist. He sensed a spell hovering around the camp. It was unfamiliar to him and he did not mention it to Wolk. Perhaps his abilities were stronger than Wolk suspected. He would not give anything away. It had not occurred to him before that Wolk might cloak his camp with a spell. Artus and
Similar Books
Goat Mother and Others: The Collected Mythos Fiction of Pierre Comtois
Pierre V. Comtois, Charlie Krank, Nick Nacario
