The Paladins of Naretia

Chapter 14

The dusty roads, parched from lack of rain, soon gave way to a dark landscape devoid of trees, grass or any indication of life whatsoever. The intense sunshine of southern Naretia was swallowed greedily by vast fields of blackness, which refused to let any light reflect off its glassy surface. Dark waves, frozen in place by some magical spell, stretched out as far as the eye could see, and looked as though it could have consumed every vector of life instantly.

Though they had not yet stepped onto the ominous terrain, the intense heat radiating off the surface blew suffocating air in Olórin's direction. Dwarven legends tell of how they used the blood of the fiercest demon, the heart fires from the hottest volcano, and the strongest diamonds from their mines, to create this impenetrable obsidian landscape. There were many legends too about men spending weeks, and all of their resources, trying to break though the surface so that they might lay hands on the dwarf's riches. But all perished in the end.

"What is that?" Aramus asked, squinting against the bright sunlight.

"That, is the city of Balbuldor," Olórin answered, pausing to riffle through his hat.

The heat had forced Olórin to relinquish his thick cloak and fur boots into his hat, in favour of lighter clothes. Aramus, however, seemed unperturbed by the heat, despite his black leather jacket (which now had a sizable hole in the shoulder) and heavy boots. Olórin felt faint just by looking at him, and wondered if his tolerance for the climate wasn't another trait passed down to him by his father.

"I see no city, old man."

"No, of course you don't," Olórin replied, fishing out a small bundle of pink wool with a sigh of relief. "It wouldn't be protected very well if it were just lying around in the open, now would it? The city lies beneath the ground."

"How do we get there?"

Olórin plopped his hat back on his bald head and proceeded to detangle the lumps of pink wool until four knitted tea cozies emerged.

"With these," he said handing two of them to an astonished looking Aramus. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not crazy. The dwarfs have enchanted this obsidian with an Infernos curse. Should any living, or non-living thing rest upon its surface, it will superheat it until the object melts or bursts into flames. So, I would suggest that you put those on your feet before you walk any further."

Aramus shot Olórin a sceptical look. Throwing his eyes to the heavens Olórin sighed and shoved his staff into his hat. He slipped on his own tea cozies and walked, unharmed, onto the obsidian. Reaching into the pockets of his robes, he pulled out a small item, and tossed it toward Aramus.

A round, yellow pebble skidded to a halt no more than a foot away from the young man. Slowly the black rock beneath the pebble began to change. It turned a bright crimson colour and an intense heat began to emanate from it. Olórin watched as Aramus shielded himself from the rising heat with his arm. Within seconds the pebble shattered into a thousand pieces from the heat.

"You must take care not to accidently drop anything onto the surface," he continued. "Don't sit down, or lean on anything, because it is only these pink shoe coverings that prevent us both from being burned alive. You can thank my good friend, Zerran, for these."

"Was Zerran a wizard too?"

"Heavens no. Zerran is a somewhat dim-witted farmer that lives in the middle of Lothangard, where he has no fields to plough. But what he lacks in common sense, he makes up for with his gift in creating heat-absorbing tea cozies. Although, I think it may have more to do with his one and only livestock, Bella the sheep, who lives in his kitchen. According to Zerran's neighbours, Bella was involved in some kind of horrendous incident involving the raspberry bush and an overprotective wizard. Since then, she's lost her taste for raspberries, and given Zerran nothing but magically imbued pink wool that protects from all things hot. Fascinating really. Of course, being the dim-witted soul that he is, he lacks the imagination to fashion anything but tea cozies from it."