The Jack of Ruin by Stephen C. Merlino

Author:Stephen C. Merlino [Merlino, Stephen C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Fiction
ISBN: 9780986267444
Publisher: Tortoise Rampant Press
Published: 2017-12-11T22:00:00+00:00

If the bright sun loves you, why worry about the moons?

—Arkendian proverb

33

Fractured

Harric scrambled to the top of the hillock, Brolli at his side, and peered through the deepening dusk.

“It is our friends,” Brolli said. He pointed, and Harric saw them in the deepening shadows, picking their way toward them through the fallen trees. Halfway down this side of the hillock, Father Kogan waved a blanket over his head.

A glimpse of Caris’s profile sent a rush of mixed emotions through Harric, and chief among them was relief.

But in the last few days, she’d changed. Unmistakably. And unnaturally. It scared him. It seemed the ring had gone from creating an artificial love that she could fight and resist to making physical impulses she didn’t seem to have as much control over. The sensuous looks, the outright invitations… It was possible she’d given up resisting, but she was too disciplined and tough for that to be likely. Something must have changed in the ring.

And you haven’t even asked Fink about it yet, you cob. Serves you right for forgetting.

A little knife of panic pricked his gut as he realized he hadn’t set up his bedroll in the camp, and if he didn’t set it up soon, she’d arrange another private grotto for them. She’d be angry, cob it. But there was nothing else to do. With luck, he could get Willard to say it was his idea.

Hurrying to his saddlebags, he grabbed his bedroll just as Willard approached the top of the hillock. Harric flopped the roll beneath the canvas tarp he’d already strung for the old knight, and laid out Willard’s blankets as well.

Willard crested the hill and, with only a stiff nod to Harric, took Molly to the far side of their camp. Father Kogan joined Willard, and the two spoke about the wildfire. Harric trotted to the edge of the hillock to locate Caris, and saw her dismounting below and lifting her saddlebags from Rag, as if to make her camp there.

Harric joined her, and as she hung Rag’s saddlebags over a log, he removed the saddle for her. As he rounded the mare to lay the saddle beside the bags, he stopped dead in his tracks. There beside her stood Mudruffle—indeed, the little golem walked up to meet Harric and performed a stiff little bow.

“Greetings, Squire Harric,” Mudruffle honked. “I did not wish to alarm your priest friend in the dark, so I asked that Squire Caris stop short of the camp where he rests. Willard also thought this best.”

“Mudruffle!” More feeling came out in the exclamation than Harric had thought he held for the creature. He glanced at Caris, who watched with a sad smile.

“He woke up when we got on the yoab run,” she said. “We thought it would be best if he didn’t make an appearance till daylight. I’ll tell Father Kogan tonight, so he’s prepared for it tomorrow.”

“Good idea.” Harric set the saddle on a hummock of moss and took the golem’s cold clay hand in his.

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