The sun was setting, and its light silhouetted them against the desert as they rode north toward the tavern. Trik led Brudolf’s horse behind his own as he rode. Their shadows stretched long on the desert sand. “What will you do with the handstone?” asked Trik, turning to Fenn.
“I will take it to the Sea of Soros, said Fenn. “I own a shop of fine goods.”
Trik’s eyes narrowed on Fenn. “After you have seen its power,” he said, “you will sell it like some common trinket.”
“Leave it to me to decide what to do with the stone,” said Fenn. “I will find a buyer for its power.”
“A doomed power,” said Trik.
“Perhaps,” said Fenn, “but a great power all the same.” He grinned. “Now tell me honestly, before we part ways,” he said, “were you not challenged by this quest?”
Trik turned back to the desert before him. “More so than I had imagined I would be,” he said.
Fenn laughed. “Then I have cured your weariness,” he said.
Trik’s eyes narrowed. “No,” he said, “only delayed it for a while.”
“Well, a temporary remedy is better than none,” said Fenn. He turned to Ebon. “And what of our quiet companion?” he asked. “Do you have nothing to say?”
“I am glad it is done,” said Ebon, “and I am eager to see my wife and children.”
“You have children,” said Fenn. “You had never said so.”
“Four sons,” said Ebon. “Three daughters.”
Trik rode up beside Ebon. “They should be proud,” said Trik. “Their father has fought valiantly today.”
Ebon bowed his head to Trik, but said no more.
They rode onward in the last light of the setting sun, toward the tavern far in the distance, with the smoke from its fireplace rising into the darkening sky.
Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks, m.p. ecksteinWrite a Review