Chapter 2

After the excitement of finding the ring and his discussion with Elder Miriam, life returned more or less to normal. It had been nearly a month since he found the ring in the forest, and yet it was as if his life hadn’t changed at all. He was still here, working the forge, occasionally missing a step and getting yelled at by Master Ironhand, and he still slept in the small storage room behind the forge.

And yet, in other ways, it had changed completely. He was more distracted, for sure. Master Ironhand was forced to correct him much more regularly, to the point where he even contemplated sending him to a nearby village that had a healer, fearing Osric had somehow fallen ill. Osric had convinced his master that wasn’t the case, but it had been a close thing.

He knew why he was having so much trouble focusing, of course. He could feel the reason lying heavy under his shirt. Each evening, when work was done, Osric would hurry to Elder Miriam’s cottage, asking if she’d found anything, and every evening, he’d been sent away, disappointed. Last week, she’d told him she’d all but exhausted her own materials, but that that wasn’t the end. She’d reached out to friends in Wolfsridge, the baronial capital, asking for their help in the search. Those assurances had also come with not-too-subtle hints that perhaps Osric should stop checking every night. She promised to let him know the very moment she heard anything.

He hadn’t been back since then. Not that he distrusted her, he just found the wait unbearable, and desperately wanted answers. Absently, Osric’s fingers clasped the ring that hung from a chain beneath his tunic. Its etched band was warm against his skin. Over the passing weeks, he swore he’d felt it stir subtly ... but decided it was just his imagination, fueled by his restlessness.

Osric barely saw Master Ironhand in time to refocus on his work. Ironhand stopped and inspected the glowing shoe Osric had on the anvil in front of him.

“Well struck, lad. See, if you just focus on your work, you do fine,” he must have seen the look on Osric’s face, because he paused and said, “Go on then, get going. Try to relax; shake off whatever has you so preoccupied. I want you back in the morning, focused and ready to do an honest day’s work.”

“Yes, Master Ironhand. Thank you,” Osric said, ducking his head in appreciation as he cleaned up his work area.

In ten minutes, he had everything put away and the forge cooling for the night. Like he had all week, he stepped out of Master Ironhand’s shop and stopped in the doorway, looking one way toward the center of town and Elder Miriam, and then the other toward the tavern where he would find dinner and a cold drink before returning to sleep on his pallet in the storage room.

He looked back toward the city center, thinking hard. It wasn’t just finding out about the ring, although that was certainly part of the pull toward the town center. He also wanted to talk to Talia. Ever since that night, the Elder had kept her apprentice Talia close at hand.

He wanted to ask her about the magic he’d seen that night. Not only what they had done to make the light appear, but how she even knew magic. They had talked so many times and not once did she let it slip. He couldn’t imagine keeping something like that a secret.

Or maybe he could, he thought, his hand going again to the ring hanging around his neck. It wasn’t really an option, though. The Elder was keeping her locked away, limited to quick trips here or there to retrieve things, on purpose, and she’d made it clear she wanted fewer visits from Osric.

Sighing, he turned towards the tavern. As with every night, the tavern was a hive of activity as people came and went, drinking with friends or getting something to eat that they didn’t have to make themselves. You could hear the laughter and noise even before you stepped through the door.

Osric entered the familiar warmth of the tavern and nodded greetings to the regulars as he pushed his way through the crowded room, finding an open table. They were a small community, so every face was a familiar face. Some he saw regularly, like the stable master, who always seemed in need of a horseshoe, while others he saw only on rare occasions, like Osbert, who lived far north of town.

He’d just taken his seat and waved for Lily to bring him a drink when he caught the briefest snippet of conversation. It was one of those moments when the sound dies down just enough that a word or phrase can be picked out of a conversation from a nearby table. While that wasn’t uncommon, what was said was. He heard the words ‘unusual,’ ‘found,’ and ‘recently.’ Separately, they might not mean much to others, but they sent a shiver down Osric’s spine. Turning as subtly as he could, he looked over his shoulder to see who had said the words. The man had a hood pulled up over his head, covering most of his face, making it impossible to see what he looked like. That was also strange. It was warm outside and warmer still in the tavern. Much too warm to have a cloak on, let alone with the hood pulled up. He was talking to three men that Osric knew, none of whom seemed much interested in the stranger.

Osric felt his blood run cold as he stared at the hooded stranger. He knew with sudden, absolute certainty that this man was looking for the ring. How could he have found out about it already? Elder Miriam said she had told no one other than her friend in the capital.

Osric slowly turned back around, his mind racing. The man was making his way from table to table, talking to different groups around the tavern. Finally, he got close enough that Osric caught snippets of his questions.

“Have you ... unusual discovery...?”

When the villagers shook their heads no, he moved on to the next table, and then the next. Each time, the man was met with confused responses or casual dismissals. As the hooded stranger stood up and moved toward the next table, his hood fell slightly back, revealing a face marked by an impressive scar trailing down one cheek. A face unfamiliar to Osric. The stranger’s demeanor seemed urgent, frantic even.

Osric knew he couldn’t stay there. The man was getting closer, and would soon be on him, asking him questions. Osric wasn’t a strong liar; it just wasn’t a skill he’d ever had. If the man asked him questions about the ring, Osric didn’t know if he could make him believe he didn’t have it.

As Lily came over and set his drink down, Osric set a copper piece on the table and stood up, leaving his drink untouched.

“Don’t you want this?” she asked, a confused look on her face.

Osric looked at the man, worried her question would draw attention to him, but the man was still several tables away and didn’t seem to be paying attention.

“Uhh, no. I just realized I forgot something. I’ll be right back,” Osric said, and turned to hurry out of the tavern.

His first steps took him toward home, toward the blacksmith shop, then he thought better of it. The man might ask who the fellow who ran out was. They all knew Osric, knew where he slept. Finding him would be simple. He thought about Elder Miriam, but he couldn’t bring this kind of danger to her or Talia.

He settled on a side road that would take him out of town toward the hut where Fergus lived. Fergus was little more than a laborer, hired to do this or that simple job, which was fine for Fergus, who was equally simple. He was also as large as a house and Osric’s friend. If anyone could protect him, it was Fergus.

He’d just turned the corner when a figure stepped out from the shadows, blocking his path. It was the hooded stranger from the tavern, his scar seemingly more pronounced in the dim light, his eyes fixed on Osric with serious intent.