Dack decided to ride as fast and as long as he and his horse could handle without collapse. Since the roads were well maintained, it was an easy trip on both horse and rider. Dack never owned a horse when he was growing up and neither had Theterm. How then did Theterm manage to get so far in his travels? Theterm would tell him stories of his travels to the island’s shores. Was the island really that small, or did Theterm have help that he never told anyone about? It didn’t matter; Dack was sure Theterm wouldn’t tell him anyway.
As the day changed, so did the landscape. Thick, lush forests turned thinner and less occupied. Even the bugs seemed fewer. Dack noticed more signs of the war in the form of scorched patches of the forest’s floor where nothing grew twenty years after Lucan’s rampage. What could have caused so much destruction that nature itself was prevented from healing with ample time? Dack shook his head in disbelief, as this type of damage became more frequent and extensive as he approached the Western Territory.
At the first chance Dack stopped at a stream to cool himself and his horse. Horses were really important, and Dack was glad to have one, even if it appeared to be old and was slightly bony. The horse drank and ate, and Dack watered its underbelly to get ready for many more miles. After apples for them both they were off again.
Several hours later Dack saw the first houses approaching in the distance. They were small shacks surrounded by grain fields. He saw some people in the fields, but they ran for their homes when they saw him. Were the people as damaged as the forests?
“Hello!” Dack called from his horse as he closed the distance.
No one responded, even though he could see eyes staring at him through shutters. Dack decided to sit there for a few minutes in hopes that one of them, maybe a leader, would emerge to talk.
“I mean you no harm, good people. I am passing through and want to be polite. Is there no one who would like to come out and talk?” Dack asked in hopes of calming their fears.
“We do not wish to be bothered,” came a reply from one shack. The voice sounded like a child’s.
“Are your parents at home, little one?” Dack asked as he turned his horse around slowly.
“There are no old ones here, now go!” yelled someone from another home.
“Have they gone to the Western Territory?” Dack asked, ignoring their desire for him to go.
“They were taken by Lucan, and we have raised ourselves with no one’s help since. Now go,” were the last words Dack heard from any of the shacks.
Dack decided it was pointless to continue, so he rode off, wondering if anything at all could be done to help people who were so deeply affected by their circumstances. He vowed that he would use whatever power he gained to help individuals and groups find purpose. Too much time had passed as everyone helped themselves without thinking of those who really were abandoned, left to their own devices for an entire generation.
Many miles and hours passed before Dack saw improvement in the land and the people who lived there. He decided he must have been getting closer to the castle, so he slowed down to draw less attention to himself. More well-tended fields and gardens proved to him that many had been able to make things right after the war, even under less-than-ideal situations. People stopped what they were doing to watch or wave as he quickly passed.
After another section of thick forest, Dack emerged to see a fantastic castle in the distance. It was not as big and glorious as its northern counterpart; however, it still showed the difference between the ruling few and the working many. Something in Dack made him wish he was on the throne so that he could show everyone how he would do a good job. Something else told Dack that it wouldn’t matter if he was in charge; life would still be hard because of the loss of freedom caused from kings not allowing the island to return to its roots.
Dack rode closer to the castle so that he could see what types of challenges he would experience in getting the key. There were no guards posted along the road to the castle, and the main gate was open with no one stationed there. One lone guard, high on the front wall, walked back and forth. Dack watched him for a few minutes and decided he would be completely useless when it became dark.
A cautious ride around the castle exposed numerous holes in the wall in many places. Had they never been fixed after the war, or was the castle simply falling apart? Either way, there were no guards posted at any of the locations where security should have been. Dack smiled at how easy it would be to get into the castle, even in the middle of the day, but he decided to enter before sunrise the following morning just in case.
Because he still didn’t know where the king kept his key, or even where the king’s chambers were, he rode around the castle one more time, plotting where he would enter, where he would have to go, and how to get out again without alerting the king or his guards. Feeling very confident, Dack headed back toward the thick forest outside the castle so he could prepare and rest until the time was right.
As Dack approached the forest, he heard another horse coming quickly. He saw the rider stop, dismount, and pull himself and his horse toward a small stream. The rider looked exhausted from riding in full armor. Without thinking, Dack rode over to him for a better look. Both horse and rider were too busy to notice anything more than the water they were greedily imbibing. Dack noticed that the rider appeared to be from the Northern Territory, and Dack was almost certain that the horse he rode was the one Dack received from the Shadow Cult.
“Nice horse you have there,” Dack said abruptly.
The rider’s hand reached for his sword as he quickly turned to face Dack. After determining that Dack was not a threat, the rider smiled, nodded, and returned to drinking. Dack waited until they were finished refreshing themselves before speaking again. “Where did you get such a fine horse?” Dack asked when the rider’s eyes met his.
“It was given to me so I could deliver a message. I think he’s probably Cult,” said the rider as he patted the horse.
“You have no problems riding a horse that used to belong to them?” Dack asked, hoping to discover to whom the rider had pledged his true allegiance.
“It’s a fine animal, best I’ve ever had the pleasure to ride. The thing outlasted me. I’m exhausted and he’s hardly broken a sweat,” the rider said, smiling at the horse. “As for where it came from, it doesn’t bother me who owned it before.”
Dack was glad to meet someone who saw past all the things that caused others to create walls that impeded the healing process. “So are you from the North?”
The rider nodded and began to stretch. “I’ve been riding almost nonstop from there.”
“What’s so important that you had to push yourself and this fine horse to its limits?” Dack asked, thinking he probably already knew.
“It’s a message from the king of the North to the king of the West,” the rider said matter-of-factly.
“Do the kings often send messages to each other?” Dack asked.
“In all the time I’ve served the king, this is the first message I have had to deliver. Others might have been sent, but I doubt it. The king thinks it is important enough though.”
“Is there another war coming, or something terrible? Maybe it’s an announcement that the King’s Tournament will begin again soon,” Dack said with feigned excitement.
The rider laughed. “No, nothing like the King’s Tournament.”
“What message could be so important then?”
Dack could tell that the rider was deciding whether or not to tell him, so Dack waited quietly. After a few moments, the rider began, “The king of the North is informing the king of the West that there is one who is planning to steal something he possesses, and will stir up rebellion against him.”
“Really,” Dack said, trying to hide the disappointment of betrayal. He knew that he had to act quickly before the rider delivered his message and put the whole castle on alert. “Has the king moved against the Brotherhood too?”
“The Brotherhood?” the rider asked, looking at Dack cautiously. Dack nodded. “I heard the king was planning something. Why do you ask me about such things?”
“I am not sure whose side you are on,” replied Dack calmly.
“Side?”
“Yes, if it came to it, would you betray the king to return the island back to the way it was before the war?” Dack asked, hoping the rider was sympathetic to the Brotherhood’s cause. The rider appeared nervous and he became slightly flushed. “Getting a little scarlet in the face, I see,” said Dack with a slight smile. That calmed the rider enough for Dack to continue. “There are many people who think things would be better if the current kings allowed the people to begin the King’s Tournament again. The Scarlet Brotherhood is trying to achieve that goal too. Would you like to see the Brotherhood crushed or triumphant?”
“Well, definitely not crushed,” the rider said firmly.
“They will be if you deliver that message before sunrise. Their only hope rides on surprise, which you will shatter by telling the king only part of the story,” Dack concluded.
“So you know the whole story? Tell me, and I will determine for myself what course is best,” returned the rider confidently.
“Fair enough,” Dack said as he dismounted and led his horse to the stream. “The Scarlet Brotherhood wants the return of the King’s Tournament; the kings want someone to remove the problem of those who are left in the Central Territory. I have been groomed since birth for this challenge. The Brotherhood has the popular support, and I am now going to gain the support of the kings whether they like it or not. So, now you know the truth, whose side are you on?”
Dack saw the rider’s hand move but reacted too slowly. Sharp metal connected with soft flesh as the rider held his sword to Dack’s neck. “You know I can end it here. You know I should end it here, if I were loyal to the king. Tell me, why should I let you live?” asked the rider as he pressed his point into Dack.
“Because I will not stop nor be stopped by those who only do things to please themselves. I am Storality’s best chance. I know you want the best for everyone. I can sense that about you. Ultimately, right here you can end it.” Dack looked at the rider and smiled. “You are free to choose. I hope, not only for my sake, but for the sake of the whole island, that you let me finish what I’ve set out to do.”
“You seek to rule the Central Territory?”
“If I have to do that in order to move things closer to normal, I will. I do not claim to know how to rule humans, let alone those that Lucan stranded; however, I will surround myself with many who can,” Dack said honestly. “I would like to think I can do it myself, but I am sure that it will take everyone’s help.”
As quickly as the sword appeared, it disappeared again into the rider’s sheath. “What do you need me to do?” the rider asked.
“Wait until after sunrise to deliver your message to the king. That should give me enough time to get in, get out, and be on my way,” Dack said as he felt his neck.
“There was another messenger sent to the king of the Eastern Territory. We are to meet at the Southern Territory and return to the Northern Territory after informing the king.”
Dack shook his head in disbelief at how foolish he was for plunging hastily forward on his trip. “I might have the element of surprise in the Southern Territory if I push myself to beat the other rider. If you could slow down enough for me to make it there, I will move east and see what I can do about gaining entrance to the castle. I am sure by then I will think of some way to get what I need.” Dack patted his pockets until he found what he was looking for and showed it to the rider. “This gem is the only thing they left me with when they threw me into prison in the Northern Territory. Take it to the Brotherhood when you return and let them know I will seek them out when I have what I need.”
The rider studied the gem, put it in his saddlebag, and patted Dack on the back. “You will need your sleep if you are going to be up and out by sunrise. I will wait here until I see you depart and will deliver my message. Should I give you my horse?”
Dack thought for a few seconds and concluded, “If you return with the horse I left with, I am sure you will not live long enough to explain. An experienced rider like yourself would greatly enjoy a relaxing pace on such a powerful beast,” Dack ended with a wink. “I will camp closer to the castle so that I can leave quicker. You will be better off staying here so that you can come galloping up when I am out.”
“Farewell, I hope to meet you again in the north,” said the rider as Dack rode off into the forest.
Dack stayed in the thicker part of the forest as he got closer to the castle. He decided that resting near the back part of the castle by the larger holes would give him a quicker way into the castle and cause less noise moving out of the underbrush. Sleep was not something he planned on, but as Dack rested, he began thinking about Theterm and where he might be at that moment.
Strong feelings of sorrow struck Dack as he thought about Theterm. Was it Dack’s feelings or Theterm’s that filled Dack? He tried to ignore the emotion, but it was genuine. Somewhere Theterm was alone and feeling sorry for himself, or Dack, but it passed too quickly for Dack to know which for sure. Theterm is probably just brooding in his keep, sad to see me all grown up, thought Dack as he stared at the stars.
As he watched the stars, he saw a flash in the sky—a falling star, Theterm called it. Dack thought about Lucan and how much he could have done if he wasn’t so selfish. Dack wanted to do what Lucan could do, but remembered Theterm saying it was not possible, that the knowledge was gone with Lucan. “Where was Lucan buried?” Dack thought aloud. In all the time anyone talked about the war, no one mentioned where he was laid to rest.
Intense rage and bitterness filled Dack the more he thought about Lucan. Trying desperately to think of something else, Dack found images of pain and isolation that proved to be more than he could handle. Dack awoke hours later on the ground with sweat pouring down his face. Not wanting to experience such raw emotion again, Dack stood and focused on the holes in the castle. He wasn’t sure how long he had been lying there, but the stars he had been looking at previously were nowhere to be seen; the sky was beginning to show signs of morning’s approach.
Dack splashed cool water on his face, ate some berries, and tied his horse to a tree as he prepared to run from the forest to the castle. He stretched, looked for guards, and then ran the distance in almost complete silence. Waiting by the wall, Dack saw no one looking as he quickly snuck into the castle through a hole large enough that he could walk upright. Even though it was almost completely dark, his eyes adjusted.
Entering the castle, Dack saw that water was the reason for the castle’s problems. It was probably built on an underground stream that was destroying its foundation. Without the combined resources of Storality, it would be less than another generation before it would be a useless pile of rubble. Dack knew that in order to stop that from happening he would have to succeed.
Getting his bearings, Dack determined that he was probably in a storeroom, although much of it was deserted because of flooding. Tables and shelves that once were full had been left to rot in the water. Slowly moving to the door, Dack saw light under it and pressed his ear quietly to the wood to listen for any noise. Closer to the door, where the ground was dry, bags and boxes were stacked neatly.
Dack decided to try the door and found it difficult to open. Not sure if it was barred from the outside, he pulled cautiously. It budged. The door is swollen from the conditions, or the frame is damaged, Dack thought, but at least with effort he opened it to reveal a long, empty corridor. Moving quicker now, Dack crept to the end of the hallway and saw wooden stairs leading upward.
He tested the steps for creaks and found it to be a sturdy set, so he climbed rapidly. Nearby another set of stairs made of stone connected all the floors. Dack figured that once he found the main staircase he would be close to the king’s chambers. Seeing no guards, he went all the way up to the castle’s highest floor. Another long hallway had a guard at the end, and Dack knew the king was behind the guarded door. The guard was sleeping soundly, but Dack knew he had to be quiet.
As he approached, Dack could see a large pitcher and cup next to the chair on which the guard was sitting. Was that the king’s or this guard’s? By the way the guard was slumped back in the chair, snoring loudly, Dack guessed the guard had finished what the king had not. The problem, however, was that the chair was leaning on the door Dack had to go through. Dack decided that he would try another door in the hallway to see where it led; maybe he could get into the king’s room through an adjoining door.
Moving down the hall, Dack saw another door that led to the room next to the king’s chambers. He opened it while watching the guard, slipped inside, and closed the door. Turning around slowly, he saw that he was in a laundry closet full of clean linens. Dack couldn’t remember the last time he had slept in a bed with fresh sheets. Even at Petrose and Faith’s house the accommodations had not included clean sheets. He breathed in the fresh scent of the room and began looking for a way into the next.
There was no door, but a tiny window led to a crumbling ledge outside. Dack poked his head out cautiously and saw that the ledge would gain him access to the next room, so he proceeded out. Either time was moving more quickly than normal or Dack was taking too long, but the sky was brightening rapidly. He moved along the ledge slowly, his back against the wall, until he came to another window. He looked in and saw that it was another closet.
Pulling his body in the window caused many small rocks to dislodge and clatter down the castle’s outside wall. The ledge was almost completely gone below the window, and Dack would only use it if he couldn’t get out any other way. He began his search of the closet when he determined that he wouldn’t be heard by the king, who was sleeping more noisily than the guard outside.
Dack knew he was looking for a key, but what did it look like, and where would a king keep such an important item? Was it still important after twenty years, or had its symbolic meaning faded with every day the king ruled unchallenged? There were tiny boxes full of ribbons attached to stamped shiny medals. Wooden plaques lined the walls, telling the good deeds done by the king. All in all, the closet was full of dusty mementos of the war, so it was the best place for Dack to start his search.
After several minutes Dack began to get frustrated that he had not found the key. “What did I expect?” Dack mumbled aloud. “I have no idea what I’m looking for in a place I’ve never been before, and I’m racing against the sun.” He shook his head in disappointment as box after box revealed nothing but trinkets. At the far end of the closet a set of keys hung on a ring by the door to the king’s room. With the light beginning to filter into the closet, it beamed brightly as it hung on a rusty nail.
Dack picked up the key ring slowly and began to look at each key. He didn’t think there were that many locks in all of Storality. After carefully viewing each key, Dack decided they were ordinary and started to return the ring to its nail. Due to age and improper handling, the key ring’s clasp broke and the keys began to slide off the ring onto the floor. Each key produced a slightly different noise; however, it was still noise that Dack was sure would wake the king. Dack managed to stop the keys from continuing and sat on the floor trying to reconstruct the order in which they were originally on the ring.
“What am I doing?” Dack asked aloud, frustrated at the situation and wondering if he should quit. He thought of leaving the keys where they were and exiting the castle, but his hand hit something under a shelf as he reached for one of the fallen keys. A long, thin box made of elegantly carved wood was what Dack discovered as he pulled it from its hiding spot. He paused before opening it and took a deep breath in hopes of calming himself.
Opening it slowly revealed that the box was filled with even more keys of different sizes, shapes, and purposes. In his frustration, Dack threw the box onto the floor, spilling its contents across the entire closet floor. The noise brought Dack back to his senses as he scrambled to his feet. He grabbed the box in one hand and began sweeping the keys under shelves with his foot. As he reached for the lid, he felt the box lighten and heard the sound of another much larger object hit the ground.
Turning to see the source of the noise, Dack spied the key he was sure he was looking for gleaming in the light. “The sun is rising,” Dack said as he grabbed it, placed it in his cloak’s pocket, and opened the closet door. The king’s chamber was still and silent except for the occasional snore; Dack crept to the door leading to the hallway. He knew that if the guard’s chair was still leaning on the door, he would fall into the room when he opened it, so Dack opened it quickly. No one was there, not even the chair, pitcher, or cup.
At least he didn’t have to face an armed guard. After stepping out into the hall and closing the door, Dack heard voices coming from the opposite direction of the main staircase. It appeared that he would have to walk down the steps and out the front gate. Not the most subtle route, but he was running out of options. Looking down the stairs, he saw many people moving about, probably preparing breakfast for the entire castle. Walking down the stairs, Dack remembered that his horse was tied to a tree toward the rear of the castle. It was probably too dangerous to exit the way he entered, so Dack decided he would have to risk the front gate.
He saw lots of people who looked at him, smiled, and continued on with their business. Trying to walk at a normal pace was difficult under the circumstances; however, Dack made it down the stairs and to the front gate before anyone spoke to him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” asked a deep voice behind Dack; he felt something press against his back.
“I am returning to my horse,” Dack said nonchalantly.
“Horse? Who do you think you are?”
Dack turned slowly, trying not to upset the guard. He fixed his cloak as if the mere presence of the guard caused it to need adjusting.
Dack cleared his throat. “Another rider and I have been sent from the king of the North with a message for your master. I am returning to my horse to head for the Southern Territory, and when I leave my fellow rider will be here to deliver the message personally.” Dack bowed low as the guard looked on in confusion. “Thank you for your time and your curiosity. I must go quickly.” Dack stood slowly, smiled at the guard, who nodded, and walked out.
The first evidence of the new day was becoming more apparent as the entire forest livened with noise both human and animal alike. Dack began to head for his horse when he heard someone trying to get his attention from the forest. Looking until he found its source, he walked over to the rider from the Northern Territory, who was hiding in the underbrush.
“Did you get what you needed?” he asked excitedly.
“Yes, and now I am off to the Southern Territory. I told the guard at the front gate that you would be coming soon, that I was with you and am now heading south,” Dack said as they continued to walk to Dack’s horse.
“I saw you hanging outside the castle,” the rider said, laughing.
“That was definitely not one of my favorite moments, but I made it. What are you doing here?” Dack asked as he untied and mounted his horse.
“I was worried that you had failed or that you were gone and that I was waiting for nothing. So I walked through the woods, saw your horse, and waited nearby. When I saw you walking on that ledge, I decided to wait here,” the rider said as he watched Dack ready himself and his horse for the next part of the trip.
“Well, thank you for your help and your concern. You had better get back to your horse and deliver that message.” Dack shook the rider’s hand and urged his horse forward. “Farewell,” they said as each returned to their missions at hand.
After a full day of riding hard, Dack was hopeful that enough miles were between himself and the following messenger. He saw a comfortable-looking cluster of shade trees ahead as he rapidly approached the top of a sizeable hill. Deciding that it was time for a much-needed break, he slowed down and then stopped his horse under the spreading branches. Dack threw his left leg over to meet his right, jumped down from the saddle, and promptly fell to his knees.
Pain racked his body from his lower back to the tips of his toes as he attempted to regain his stance. This leg of the trip, while seeming easy, proved difficult for one not used to riding a horse for such an extended period of time. Dack decided to give his body a few minutes in a sitting position before attempting to stand again.
His horse did not seem to be feeling any ill effects, even though outwardly it looked bony and weak. It gave him a glance and then started eating the grass by the side of the road. Dack stood slowly after minutes and stretched awkwardly a couple of times; he limped to the closest tree and managed to sit quite roughly, his back against it.
“I think I will get used to this,” Dack sighed, “I just hope it’s soon.” He ran his hands through the tall grass in which he sat. “I do not know how one minute I can have control over myself and then the next be fighting to keep from falling on my face, but I guess there’s not much left to do but rest a little,” Dack said aloud to his horse, although it wasn’t listening.
His horse was focused on something sneaking up behind Dack through the grass. As it got closer, Dack, too, became aware that something was coming fast; he began reaching for his dagger. He remembered that he no longer had his weapon as he braced for the impact he was sure would injure his sore body.
As quickly as the sounds erupted, all was silent again. Dack’s horse went back to eating, and Dack relaxed slightly. “I know you are still there,” he announced, hoping he was wrong.
“So,” was the whispered reply.
“What do you want?” Dack asked as he slowly moved to his knees and prepared to lunge around the tree.
“I want you to find me,” Dack heard as he dove around the tree in time to see nothing more than swaying grass and a small, quick-moving blur running toward another cluster of trees. “Come on, you don’t want to let them find you!” The creature disappeared around another tree.
Dack watched awhile longer, but the thing had finally disappeared in the direction of several small houses. When he was sure his legs could support him again, he stood to investigate the area. Grabbing the horse’s reins, he led it in the direction the little thing had headed before it vanished.
“Hello!” called Dack as he neared what looked like a large garden surrounded by a group of houses. “Is anyone here?”
“Be right out,” came a deep voice from a large shed. “I’m just finishing up,” concluded the man as he emerged into the sunlight. “Can I help you?”
Dack tried not to stare at the man’s outfit, but curiosity got the best of him as he looked at the man’s red-stained leather apron and gloves. “S-sorry to b-bother you,” Dack stammered, “I was just riding by and d-decided to take a break when I saw your house.”
“You’re welcome to stay the night if you need to; there’s plenty of room in my workshop. Hot bath and a soft blanket can do wonders for a dusty traveler.” The man could see that Dack wasn’t sure what to say or do, so he added, “How about a cool drink at least?”
“That would be great. Is it okay to let my horse just wander?” Dack asked, concerned for the garden.
“It’s several hours before dark; it’ll be okay until then,” he said as he paused to look around. “Not too safe after that. Too many things that would . . .” he paused again to look around, “ … like your horse.” He motioned strangely as if he was attacking the air.
Dack laughed nervously, but the man stared at him intently. “Wait here, I’ll go get that drink for you.” He turned around and Dack could see more stains of different colors on the man’s clothes. Minutes later he returned with a pitcher and two cups on a tray.
“Not much to offer, but it’s a start,” said the man as he headed toward a wooden table with several chairs around it. Dack followed him and sat down after his host did. “So, where are you headed?”
Dack looked at the contents of his cup and couldn’t quite identify the liquid by color or smell. Realizing that he had been asked a question, he looked up to see the man drinking quite happily. “The Southern Territory, but I was hoping to get there as quickly as possible. Is there a faster way than the kings’ roads? Maybe through the Central Territory?”
A fine mist gently covered Dack as the man across from him inadvertently forced the contents of his mouth through tightly pursed lips at the mention of the Central Territory. “Sorry for that sudden outburst,” exclaimed the man apologetically, “but do you have any idea of the dangers? This area itself is plagued by strange happenings that all lead back there.”
“Like quick-moving blurs in the grass?” Dack asked, remembering his encounter at the tree.
“So you saw it too? Unbelievable! That’s a first; that thing usually only torments us at night. Was it alone or with others?” asked the man nervously.
“Others? No. What else is there?”
“Men who transform into animals, or they might be animals that can take the form of humans. No one is certain. We hear them and barricade ourselves in our houses. I am sure I’ve seen them by the mountain pass. It’s how they come and go,” said the man, almost wild with fear. “You had best stick to the kings’ roads and forget the pass.” He sat back and began drinking again as if nothing had happened.
Dack wiped his face and looked again at his drink. “What is this?” he asked as he sloshed the greenish liquid in his cup. “I’m not familiar with anything of this color. Smells like limes, is that right?”
The man began to laugh heartily. “Most people only smell the lemons. You have very good senses about you. It’s fresh-squeezed lemons and limes with some orange thrown in for good measure. I make it myself from the local orchards that we keep.” He raised his cup to Dack and said, “To your journey.”
Dack raised his cup also and finally drank what turned out to be a delicious concoction. “You grow all the fruit nearby?” he asked as he peered into the cup with a new appreciation for fruit. “I’d like some for the road, if I may.”
“You don’t want to stay? My family will think I’m making up more stories if they don’t get to meet you,” said the man, slightly disappointed.
“I am sorry, but I have pressing business that I must attend to in the Southern Territory. I do have time to pick some fruit, and then I must get going, if that’s okay,” Dack said, hoping to make more to drink from the harvest.
“The trees grow along the road on the way. Stay to the kings’ road and you’ll have plenty. By the mountain the road separates into three, one to the south, one to the coast, and the third into the pass and the Central Territory. Follow the middle road and you should make it to the south in three days.”
Dack couldn’t imagine another three days on horse, so he asked, “How much time does the pass cut out of the ride?”
The man began to shake his head slowly. “Have you heard a word I’ve said?”
“I did, but I’m still curious,” Dack admitted.
“You could cut off up to two days, but you could also have other things cut off, like your life. I beg of you, stick to the kings’ road, pick some fruit, and tell everyone to try my blend,” the man concluded with genuine concern for Dack’s life.
Dack stood, thanked his host for his time and hospitality, and mounted his horse. He waved politely and headed south again on the kings’ road. “If we hadn’t’ve seen it ourselves, I wouldn’t have believed him,” Dack said aloud. “There was something, but that does not mean that those other stories were true.” He did not like the prospect of an additional two days in the saddle if it could be avoided.
The distance to the orchards seemed short as he weighed the choices in his mind. “I might as well get some fruit and at least look at the pass,” he decided. He was able to pick some fruit as he rode slowly through several orchards before arriving at the fork in the road.
To the left he could see the road slowly winding upward and then disappearing in the distance. Straight ahead the road disappeared into more orchards. Either choice would get him there; however, speed was the deciding factor as he nudged his horse to the upward slope on the left. After several uneventful hours, he made it to the mountain pass and rode through without incident.
“I know the other rider will stay on the south road, so we can ready for a well-deserved night’s rest,” he announced to his tireless steed. “First sign of water and I promise we stop,” Dack said as he scanned the horizon.
As promised, they stopped at the edge of a misty plain by a small grouping of trees surrounding a small pool of water. The water was stagnant, but the horse did not seem to mind as much as Dack when he set up camp. In the distance it looked like a large stone fort was peeking through the mist, but because it was getting dark, he wasn’t too sure of its size.
Better get a good night’s sleep and be ready for anything in the morning, he thought as he finally settled down for the night. It is the Central Territory, you know. Dack chuckled as he drifted into a much-needed deep sleep.