Black Ice: The Rings of Belzantra

Realization

For what I was sure would not be the first time, I cursed the lack of cushioning on both Liny’s saddle, and my own backside. Dust from the road filled my nostrils, and my throat burned with thirst, but Gregor wouldn’t let me drink any more water. According to him, we wouldn’t reach the next river until nightfall, and even then, he cautioned we might have to travel in the dark until we reach a safe place to camp.

I longed for my cot in the cabin, or to sit on Gregor’s fluffy bed, or even his less-than-padded wooden chairs. A backrest would be wonderful. Instead, I settled for leaning forward on Liny’s mane, which smelled of must, oil, and the same dust already filling my nose, and let her hold me up. She obliged, and continued to walk down the road.

“You can sleep if you wish,” Gregor intoned from next to me. He seemed to love the journey, his eyes sparkling such as I’d never seen them before. He had his new cloak --a deep blue one with a gold clasp-- thrown back over his shoulders, and with his shirt sleeves rolled up, the sun soaked into the pale skin of his veiny forearms.

“No, I am just not used to riding; I think I’d rather walk.” My own new clothes, packed mostly upon the third pony –newly purchased and currently lacking a name—consisted mostly of parted riding skirts and dresses. But I was glad for the few pairs of snuggly-fitting, short pants I had ordered. They came to just below my knee, were made of the softest hide, and extremely easy to maneuver in. The shirts, made of a woven fabric, were stout, yet cool and gentle against my skin. I relished the feel of them; I would imagine they were the only comfort I’d have for a while, but it was more than I was used to.

“We can walk tomorrow; today we ride.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Although, the more you ride, the more used to it you would be.”

I groaned involuntarily. I had ridden multiple days in a row as a child, when I visited family; I remembered the saddle-sore feeling in my legs and rear, and how much it had hurt to sit on the saddle the second day, and even more on the third. I did not want to think of the fourth.

“I would rather walk.” I repeated. I felt so sullen, but I couldn’t figure out why. It had been so long since I’d been as free as I was at that moment. I could go anywhere, but I couldn’t even bring myself to discuss our destination. I had merely given Gregor the name of a town, and he had led ever since.

“Tomorrow, then.” He gave my pony a light tap on the tail, and I was forced to sit up as our pace increased. We trotted the ponies for a few minutes to gain some ground. But the animals hated the pace, so we returned to their normal trundling gait.

I struggled to find something to discuss. The obvious choice was the rings we both wore, but I wasn’t even sure how to broach the subject. I chose something easier.

“How long will it take us to reach Mairon?” The closest town to my parent's homestead that I could remember.

“A week? Perhaps a little more?” His face barely showed a sign of having needed to think.

“Have you traveled this road often, Gregor?” I prodded gently. I knew so little of his past.

“I have traveled all roads, young one,” he smiled at me, “at least once.”

“All roads?” I fought to keep the skepticism out of my voice.

“I made a point of it.”

I realized he was not joking, and the presence of seriousness in his voice sobered me instantly. I let my chin-length dark hair fall over my eyes, and tried to shield my sudden ashamed blush from the old man. I knew very little of the world. This man had saved me, why could I not trust him completely?

We rode in silence for a while until Gregor’s voice nearly threw me from my pony.

“Do you not wonder how you arrived to be in my front yard?”

It took me a moment to collect both my thoughts and my throat. “Yes, I do; but it hurts my head if I think about it too much.”

“Why?”

“Because!” I blustered. “Unless I wandered there in a trance, all the way from the… the mine,” my words faltered, ”then it had to have been something way beyond my comprehension.” I stopped, and then breathed the word that I was afraid to speak. “Sorcery.”

“Yes, child. That it was.” He kneed Hellion in my direction, his pony gladly taking the chance to nuzzle Liny, whom whinnied softly in return.

“How did it happen?”

“You were wearing the ring, and by the looks of things, had been in great peril.”

“So the ring just swept me away?” I asked, confused emotions filling my belly. Sorcery was evil. An ancient practice which was hated, and known about even among the slaves in the mine.

“It brought you to me, specifically.” He smiled at me. I could tell he was trying to ease my discomfort, but I felt incorporeal suddenly. How had I moved, through just space, or through time as well? Was it even the same year, the same month, it had been when I left the mine? The season had been different when I arrived in Belzantra. My thoughts spun out of control quickly. What if I was being hunted as a runaway, and the slavers were closing in on me right now, as I sat upon Liny’s stout back. Or the Owner… He had certainly wanted my ring; he had shown me a terrifying anger for stealing it.

“Gregor. I will be hunted for this ring.” I could not keep the edge out of my words. I knew they were true, even if they were born out of my own paranoia.

“I am glad you have finally realized that, child.”