"Where are you going?" the ork barked, exasperated.
J'role looked out over the still landscape. He had never been so far from home, a six hours' walk. He'd never needed to navigate back to his village from such a distance, and the landmarks he'd used all his life were useless now. Worse, he'd paid no attention to the way they had traveled.
He thought he saw the tip of the Red Hills, low and dark, but he couldn't be certain. Then he thought he spotted a large rock formation that was just east of his village, but realized it was too round at the top, too wide at the base.
J'role felt as if he were floating in a great void, lost forever to everything he'd known.
No. He could get back. He'd find it.
With his legs aching, the dried blood cool and itchy on his forehead, he started back in what he thought was the right direction. He clutched the ring tight in his hand, not only to hold on to the slight feeling of longing, but because It was all he now owned, his only connection to his home. To his father.
"Where are you going, boy?"
He heard Garlthik take a few heavy strides toward him and then a big hand was on him, spinning him around
The ork leaned his huge face in toward J'role's. "I said, where are you going?"
J'role- stared at the ork for a moment, afraid. Garlthik had attacked him earlier. He might do it again. He pointed back in the general direction they'd come.
"What do you want to go back there for, lad? That magician is certain to crisp your flesh if you should ever meet him." The ork smiled like a friend giving advice, but J'role could not believe him.
J 'role shook his head, then clenched his fists as he tried to figure out how to communicate his concern for his father. Finally he tapped his chest with one hand, then raised the hand above his head. Garlthik peered at him, uncertain. "I could just speak at him. And then run," J'role thought.
"Don't," said the creature, suddenly harsh in J'role's thoughts after so many hours of silence. "He may have magic you don't understand. He might kill you."
It seemed odd for the creature to be giving him advice- and helpful advice, at that-
something the thing in his head had never done before. But remembering the magician's spells and his father's ruined shoulder, J'role decided not to use his voice. But he wanted to go back.
"He's dead," Garlthik said simply.
J'role remembered now. Garlthik had told him, but he'd lost the meaning of the words under the power of the ring. Why had he put it on? He'd forgotten everything when he put the ring on. He should have gone back! He could have done something.
He flung the ring down on the ground, whirled away from Garlthik, started walking.
Letting go of the ring-a quick flash of cold in his hand, suddenly gone-he wanted it back. Part of him wanted to scoop the ring back up, put it back on. Feel the desire, the aching, delirious desire of longing to see the city. But he kept moving. Maybe Garlthik was wrong. Maybe his father hadn't died. J'role couldn't know for sure. So much happened so fast.
"BOY!' Garlthik shouted after him. Again the heavy steps followed. Rough hands grabbed him, whirled him around once more. The broad face that peered-down at him showed no pretense of kindness now. The large teeth that protruded over Garlthik's lips heaved up and down. "You will not go, do you understand? Your father is dead, and there is nothing you can do to bring him back. And I want you. Do you understand? There's something about you. Don't know what it is yet. But you have something … That city you described. I'm looking for that-I think. You can help me. I'm certain of it.
Everybody who's put that ring on is looking for something. But I've got you. I'm going to find it-we're going to find it. And when we do, we'll be rich. Do you understand? Rich!
Only the potential for wealth could make my heart hunger so!"
My father, J'role thought.
"Dead," said the creature. "You let him die when you deserted him. There's no need-"
"I didn't mean to!"
"But you did. You did mean to." A wet chill touched the flesh of his back.
"Do you remember what he asked you? 'Did you mean what you said?' he asked. When you were shouting; in the corridor by the pit. Do you remember?"
"Yes, he asked me that. But it was you who spoke. I didn't say anything."
"Oh, yes you did, J'role, young J'role, J'role the bringer of madness. You did. I let you speak clearly. I let you speak directly. That's why it's so dangerous. Most people can only use words-poor tools, words. But I speak with a clarity-I speak hate clearly. Purified.
Absolute.'
"But how …"
"It's my talent. Alas, my only talent." With a laugh it said, "We're all limited in our own way. I found all the hate he held in himself and twisted it back on him."
"And my mother?"
"The same. And the fool in the tunnels, now locked in eternal embrace with your mother at the bottom of the corpse pit."
J'role sank to the ground. An emptiness filled his chest as he thought of the ring. The ring clarified emptiness, made such an aching longing comprehensible. It also gave him a hope: to find the city meant being free of the emptiness.
He wanted that very much.
He looked up and saw the ork looking down at him, confused. "Listen t o me," he said carefully. "We need each other now. They're after both of us. And we have the power, together, to find the greatest treasure of all the treasures. Let’s you and me work together.
An alliance." He extended his: large hand.
J'role nodded and slowly stood. He took the ork's hand and shook it.
He walked back to the ring, picked it up, immediately feeling better. The longing caused by the ring's touch pained him, but it was purified, absolute. He did not place the ring on His finger, however. That would be too much right now.
They found an outcropping of large boulders among some hills, and here they sought out a shelter. Soon they found a small cave-like hole formed by three tall boulders leaning against one another. As they settled down J'role began to shiver. Garlthik was cold, too, and set up a small pile of dry sticks he had found while searching for the cave. He reached into the pouch on his belt, and J'role thought he might be looking for another magical item for use in starting the fire. Instead the ork pulled out a piece of flint, which he sparked against the stone floor of their shelter. Soon he had a fire going.
Without another word Garlthik lay down and slept. For a few moments J'role watched the flames grow and wither frantically in their brief lives. The orange and yellow light played over Garlthik's rough, wrinkled face, which looked so peaceful now. Again he wondered at the fact that he had only met Garlthik One-Eye that very day.
J'role stretched out on the ground, the heat of the fire comforting him as his father's body had so often given comfort when J'role was younger. He thought of his father, now dead-simply gone-and then of Garlthik. They were so very different, yet J'role was strangely linked to each one, a horrible imbalance based on awkward dependency.
He tried to imagine what it would be like to have the most important person in his life be someone with whom he was on equal footing. But he couldn't think of how it might happen.
When they set out in the late morning of the next day, Garlthik was in the same jaunty mood as when J'role had first met him. He hummed a song, smiled his broad, toothy smile. His tattered cloak, still as blue as night when the sun had just set and the stars first came out, billowed around him, and his sword swung at his side. The sky stretched overhead, a pale blue streaked with long, wispy clouds. They walked east, rising higher and higher into a long mountain range.
Every so often Garlthik would stop humming and ask J'role questions.