The Home Stone

“I have to leave quickly before they return,” Roma began. “They will be asking questions in town and someone will tell them where I live. Tom, you will saddle two fresh horses. One for you and the other for me. You will go to Montrose where you will try to get an audience with the king. Tell him that the elves request that he send an army north to prevent the barbarians from occupying the Hillshire. Tell him that the dwarfs and elves will come from the east to help and Rogalandt will protect the western border.”

“What about me?” asked Melba. “What can I do to help?”

“You must stay and act like nothing has happened and that you are still waiting for me to return from Caldor,” answered Roma. “This just might buy me some time to get away. Tom, you will tell anyone who asks that you are going to Montrose to pick up some supplies that you can’t get here in Storr. This way you won’t have people suspecting something else.”

Tom nodded and disappeared through the back door, leaving the two girls alone. He returned a few minutes later and announced that the horses were ready to go. Packing some food into her knapsack, Roma wished them well and quietly stole out the door to where the horses were tethered. Picking the one she needed, Roma grabbed the reins and led the animal around the house and onto the road. After checking that all was clear, she mounted the steed and rode off back down the mountain road, in the direction from where she had come earlier that day.

Meanwhile Tom with his backpack filled with supplies that he would need for the two-day journey to Montrose, kissed Melba good-by and rode out onto the road towards Storr. The farm was about ten minutes hard ride from the village and as he approached the halfway point he came upon four riders heading back towards the farm. They were riding hard, so he pulled off to the side to let them pass. He knew from the description that Roma had given him that these were the four women warriors that were chasing her. They passed him without incident and for a moment he thought of turning back, but he knew that Melba could take care of herself. She would tell them that Roma had not yet arrived and that she was not expecting her for at least another two weeks. Satisfying himself that Melba was in no danger, he resumed his journey.

Roma rode hard down the road until she came to a small path that lead deeper into the woods. Once on the path she slowed and stopped. Dismounting she cut a branch from a fir tree and ran back to the main road. Quickly she erased all traces of her passing. She then returned and mounted her horse and continued deeper into the forest and out of sight.

The four riders stopped at the farm, only to find Melba bringing in some firewood. Seeing the four the young girl put down the wood and approached the four.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“We are looking for the woman called Roma,” answered one of the riders. “We were told in town that she lives here.”

“She does,” answered Melba, “but she’s not here. She went to Caldor to visit some friends. I don’t expect her back for at least a couple of weeks.”

Notching an arrow, one of the riders aimed and fired. It caught Melba square in the chest dropping her like a sack of potatoes. “Wrong answer,” was the last thing Melba heard before she died.

The four dismounted and searched the farmhouse and finally the barn. In it they found the two horses that Roma had rode in on. Not bothering to hide the body they quickly returned to where they had left their horses.

Back on the road, they found two sets of horse tracks. One set headed towards Storr and the other led back down the road towards the plains. After studying the tracks, they realized that Roma could not have passed them on the road to the village and so the only way was back down the mountain. Mounting quickly, for they had lost precious time searching the farm, they made the best speed following the second set of tracks.

They had not gotten far when they ran into a caravan heading towards the village and had to wait for it to pass before they could continue, but the horses and wagons had wiped out all traces of Roma’s passing. The four stood around checking for any sign of her. They searched for some time and the hours passed. Then suddenly one of the warriors shouted. In the failing light, they found Roma’s trail.

The light was beginning to fail, when Roma reached the turn where the path led back up into the southern part of the Crystal Mountains. She rode on for a short time until she heard the distinctive sound of hooves clicking on solid rock. Here she stopped and dismounted. Looking around she found some loose rocks just off the large flat one where she had left the horse. Filling the saddlebag to mimic her approximate weight, she whispered into the mare’s ear. The horse then started forward, leaving her on the flat rock. Seconds later Roma was off and heading away from the clearing. It did not take long and she found a small footpath, which was used mainly as a deer run and followed it back down to the river. Here she stopped and rested. Roma told herself that she needed to go as long as she could and put more distance between her and her pursuers that she believed were not too far behind. If they were, they would follow her horse all the way to Crab Apple Grove; an old abandoned orchard that had grown wild over the years. The horse would continue all night until it reach her favorite spot and eat her fill of apples. By then Roma would be almost a full day ahead of them and could afford a short sleep.

It was well past midnight when she decided to stop and rest. She could not afford to sleep too long or her advantage of staying ahead of the warrior women would be lost. Her thoughts went back to Tom and Melba. Roma wondered how she made out? Was she convincing enough or did they see through her story. Then a horrible thought crossed her mind. If they did not believe Melba, would they have harmed her? If so she would make them pay dearly. That thought stayed in her mind until exhaustion finally over took her and she fell asleep.

A sudden noise woke her. With her dagger in her hand she sprang to her feet only to find her staring at a small deer. She froze and let the startled animal run off deeper into the forest. Breathing a sigh of relief, she packed up her belongings and continued along the path until she reached the river. Here Roma turned south towards Summerhill, a small fishing village on the banks of the South Sea. Form there she would hire a boat that would take her to the islands far to the south of Aan and to the land of the Drow Elves. Roma figured that by now the warrior women had caught up to her mare and realized that she had tricked them, but now, where to look. Would they back track right away or would they spend precious time searching the area? Roma was hoping for the latter.

Tom passed through Storr and was well on his way to Montrose. Something in the back of his mind kept bothering him. He soon put it out of his mind and concentrated on the road ahead. How would he gain an audience with the king? He had never even seen the man. All he knew was that he respected the elves and when they were in his city, they were treated with such respect as if they too were of royal blood.

The next two days were uneventful and downright boring. He reached the city and headed straight for the Royal Palace. At the gate, he dismounted and approached the guard. At first the guard dismissed him, but Tom’s perseverance finally got him and audience with the Captain of the Guard, who escorted him to the Captain of the Palace Guards. What a waste of time Tom thought. Why could he not just get to speak to the king right away, instead of all this time wasting? He had to get back to Melba, for she could be in trouble.

After a few more hours passed the guard finally approached him and took him to a small chamber off to one side of the Great Hall where most of the major decisions were made. Here he waited another hour before he finally saw someone approaching. Escorted by two burly looking guards stood a small man not much bigger than he himself.

“What is so important that you must take me away from my meeting?’ asked the King.

“I was sent here with a message from Kirin of Maitland,” answered Tom, bowing to his Lordship. “He says that the barbarians from the Snow Lands are planning an attack on the Hillshire and is asking you to send help to defend the little folk there. The elves and dwarfs are amassing their armies but need to stop the northern folk from reaching the Saradan. What message can I bring back to him?”

The king thought a moment and then said. “Tell him that we are aware of the threat from the north and are in the midst of discussing the matter. Also tell him that we will do what we can.”

The king then turned and left the room. Tom was escorted back through the castle and out passed the gate where he had left his horse. “He’s not going to anything,” he muttered to himself. Grabbing the reins, he flung himself up into the saddle and turned away from the palace. He was hungry and now needed to find an alehouse and eat. He found one a short time later and entered the vast room. It was almost empty because of the time of day. Sitting at one of the nearer tables he waited patiently until one of the serving girls took his order. He took his time and when the meal was consumed and a couple of tankards of ale were downed he realized that it was almost dark. Not wanting to travel at night Tom decided to take a room and spend the night right here at the inn. He ordered a few more flagons of ale and was not feeling any pain. By now the ale room began fill with patrons who had just finished work or had closed up shop for the night. Standing up, he walked over to the bar and picked up his key and climbed the stairs to search for his room, which was situated on the floor above. Closing and locking the door behind him Tom walked over to the bed and lay down. At first the noise from the ale room disturbed him, but after a short time his eyes closed and he was off to sleep.

The next morning well after sun rise Tom packed up his gear and made his way to the back of the inn where he had stabled his horse. Paying the stableman, he saddled the horse and made his way out of Montrose and back onto the road to Storr. He rode on all day just stopping to eat and rest his horse. By evening he stopped by the roadside and camped under a large fir tree. After consuming a meal consisting of bread and cheese, which he washed down with fresh water that he had brought from the inn before leaving. Early the next morning he was back on the road and by late afternoon he came upon the outer farms that surrounded Storr. As he approached the village he saw that old man Willard was flagging him down.

“You’d better see Chandler at the hotel before you go to the farm,” he spoke

Looking queerly at the old man he nodded and rode past him and over to the hotel. Tethering his horse near the front of the hotel, he entered and walked over to where Chandler was seated. Motioning to Tom to take a seat he leaned forward and spoke in low tones.

“Something terrible has happened at the farm,” he began. “A rider came into town a few days ago with the news that someone has been killed there.”

Tom’s blood ran cold. He remembered the feeling he had when he left some five days ago.

“It’s … my … my … sister isn’t?” he asked almost choking on the words.

I’m afraid it is my son,” Chandler replied. “From the looks of the wound she died instantly. She didn’t suffer.”

That was of little consequence to Tom. She had been the only family he had left. She was always there for him and he for her and this news hit him hard. For a while he could not say anything. After some time, he turned to Chandler and asked. “Do you know who did this?”

“Were not sure,” replied the man sitting across from Tom. “Some days back some warrior women came through here and asked where Roma lived. They seemed friendly enough, so I told them where the farm was. They just thanked me and left.”

“But, … why?” Tom stammered. Catching himself, Tom stood up and went to leave the room. Looking back, he asked. “Where is my sister now?”

“She is still at the farm,” replied Chandler. “We didn’t want the town folk to know about this. Not at least until you had returned.”

Nodding his head for the secrecy, Tom left the hotel and returned to the farm. There, in the barn on a slab of wood, lay his sister. Protruding from her chest was the arrow that had killed her. He found it difficult to look at her as his mind raced. He had not been there to protect her. He had let her down and she paid for it with her life.

The trek along the riverbank was harder than she had expected. It has been a few years since Roma had come this far south to hunt. Most of the trail was overgrown with new shrubs springing out here and there, causing her to trip a few times until she moved away from the path and deeper into the woods. She continued along this route, keeping the river within view, for a few more days. The forest was full of noise and the cheerful chirping of birds helped soothe her and kept from worrying of what was chasing her.

On the morning of the third day, Roma awoke to hear nothing of the forest sounds. It was deathly quiet out there. Slowly grabbing her long knife, she rolled away from her little camp and into a thicket. The thorns pierced her clothing and even her skin, but she was well hidden and fought back the pain from the stabbing needles. She had forgotten her backpack, which was leaning up against the tree that she had been sleeping under. Had she been seen? Had they found her? Then suddenly out from the forest stood a hunter. With bow in hand he approached the camp. Reaching down to pick up the pack, Roma burst out from her hiding place and held the stiletto to his neck forcing him to lower his bow.

“That doesn’t belong to you!” she growled.

“I… didn’t… know… anyone… was camped here,” he stuttered. “I’m only hunting for game. Not stealing other people’s belongings.”

“Who are you?” asked Roma.

“My … name … is Terrance,” he continued to sputter the words with the knife at his neck. “Terrance Holt. I’m from Summerhill. Look I’m not here to steal anything or hurt anyone. I’m just here on a hunting trip for deer.”

Relaxing the blade Roma back away keeping a sharp eye on his bow. Seeing that she still did not trust him, he removed the arrow and replaced it into his quiver. With his hand now free he rubbed his neck where the blade had left a tiny mark.

“You’re pretty good with that,” he said. “I really am sorry, but I honestly thought that someone had left it there. Now if there’s nothing else I’ll be on my way.”

“Wait!” Roma almost cried out. “I could use your help,” she continued in a low tone. “There are four warriors following me. Have you seen them? I need to get to Summerhill a quickly as possible. Can you help?”

Terrance just stood there for a moment staring at her. “No, I haven’t seen anyone, but you.” He continued to study her and finally said, “why are you running from them?”

Roma decided to tell him her story, but left out the part that of the home stone and he finally agreed to bring her along as he made his way back to his village. They took turns the rest of the night to stand guard and in the predawn morning they packed up and left the camp. Several hours later they came upon a small clearing on the riverbank. Here the river raged over rapids that by the looks of them would tear a man apart if he ever fell into them. Spanning the raging waters was a rope bridge that consisted of a single rope to walk on and two more ropes that acted as railings. It was an old bridge that had been there for many years. The ropes were frayed in some parts showing the bridge’s age.

“You’re seriously not going to try and cross here, are you?” asked Roma. “That doesn’t look safe at all.”

“I came across it just the other day,” Terrance replied, “and I am still here. I will cross first and when I’m on the other side, then you can cross.”

“If it held him,” Roma thought, “then it’ll hold me too,” as she watched him climb the tree to where the bridge was attached. Adjusting his packsack and making sure his bow and quiver of arrows were properly secured he carefully stepped out on the rope. Slowly putting one foot in front of the other Terrance made his way out towards the middle of the river. The ropes creaked and groaned, but they held. Three quarters of the way across Roma heard a loud cracking sound coming from the other side. Terrance stopped and looked back to see if Roma had done something to the bridge. Seeing that she was still on the riverbank he continued. He had gotten another ten feet when the cracking sounded again. This time it did not stop. A moment later, the branch holding the far side gave way, crashing Terrance down into the raging waters. Roma watched in horror as he was carried down river, bouncing off the boulders jutting out of the water. It looked like he was going to make it safely through the rapids, when Roma heard him cry out. The raging water had slammed Terrance against an underwater rock, which knocked him unconscious. She watched as his head disappeared under the white foaming water, never to be seen again.

Roma just stood there and watched in horror as her guide disappeared from view. Now how was she ever going to cross, because Summerhill was situated on the far side and at least two days walk. Slowly she made her way downstream hoping to find him washed up on her side of the river and still alive. She walked as far as she could before the forest opened up onto a grassy plain. She searched both sides of the river for any sign of Terrance, but found none. The rapids most probably kept the body jammed against a rock or in one of the many crevasses created by the violent water. Though the rapids ended some ways back in the forest the water here was still too fast for a safe crossing. Roma would have to walk out onto the plain exposing her to whoever was still following her. With little choice, she doubled her efforts and followed the riverbank. She knew that eventually she would have to try and swim to get to the other side. Roma continued until it became too dark to see. Then on the bank of the river, she decided to stop and wait for early morning. Not wanting to make a fire, she ate what little food she had left and drank the fresh water from the river.