The Iron Ring

By GG Koe

Book 2 of the Books of Rings, The Iron Ring, tells of Jarran, the half-elf foundling's return along with his companions across the land of Azwyr from Landsend Keep to the valley of the sandwellers, his battle with the goblin horde on the escarpment plateau, the unification of men, and their pledge of allegiance in the battle against the Dark.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GG Koe
• Release date: Sep 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310790850

GG Koe

GG Koe was born in Edmonton, AB and raised in Nelson, BC. This is where he came to love the outdoors and dreamt of adventuring. He has pursued an avid life of exploration and travel, and loves the wilds of British Columbia. He has an interest in folk lore, also reflected in his writings.His first novel, The Ring of Light, was published in 2014, and he is currently working on other books in this series. He has written numerous professional articles.Since his retirement, he currently lives with his wife in Mission, BC, where he pursues his passion in writing.

Book preview

THE STORY SO FAR...

While hunting east of the Vale, the foundling Jarran is set upon by troggs, saurian denizens of the great swamp of Azwyr and seeks refuge on the escarpment. While scaling the cliffs he finds the bones of a previous climber and a ring adorned with a cat's head with two opalescent stones for eyes.

When the willowy young elf returns to the Vale, he and his foster brother, Altor, visit the seer, Gilanthora, who tells Jarran that the ring belongs to the Old Ones, an alien and mysterious race that inhabited the land prior to the cataclysm. The legend speaks of two rings, one to be found and one to be won, that together will heal the land.

Gilanthora tells Jarran the ring will gradually drain his life force and, if he removes it before he learns to control it, the ring will kill him. She prophesizes, To heal the land, two must journey and one return.

The two brothers travel east, narrowly escaping a swamp lion, before they scale the escarpment cliffs to find themselves on a barren desert plateau where Jarran is attacked by a snarebush, a predatory plant, and captured by sandwellers.

The sandwellers test Jarran to determine if he is the Chosen One. When he passes the test, they train him in the arcane arts. His mentor, Mythalor, tells him that to keep the ring from draining his life force, he must walk the Pattern of Power. The sandwellers also train his foster brother, Altor, in the ways of a warrior.

The ssndwellers are attacked by cavers, degenerate dwarves, who lived beneath the escarpment. The cavers capture Tyera, daughter of Wyscar, Keeper of Wisdom. Jarran uses his newly learned powers to help defend the sandwellers from a subsequent attack by the cavers, while Altor rescues Tyera.

Following her rescue, Tyera joins the brothers on their quest to find the Pattern of Power. Together, they travel through an underground passage exiting into the swamp. While in the passage, they have a close encounter with giant rockworms.

On leaving the escarpment, they sleep on a mound of the dead and are visited by spirits of the Old Ones who instruct them in the history of the land and battle tactics. Jarran learns that sacrifices have to be made for the good of all, Altor is instructed in battle strategies, and Tyera discerns the true nature of evil.

While traversing the swamp, Tyera is captured by a giant otter that mistakes her for a snakeman and brings her to the swampdwellers. Here, Tyera learns that her companions had been captured by the snakemen. She almost looses her life in the Test of Truth trying to get the swampdwellers to help her.

The swampdwellers attack the snakemen and rescue Altor and Jarran. However, when they return to their village, they discover their homes overrun by troggs, saurian denizens of the swamps of Azwyr. Altor leads the swampdwellers to ambush and defeat the troggs.

Larinae, an ancient crone, leads the companions east, through the great swamp to the foothills of the Emerald Mountains. They have many adventures in the swamp. Later, in the Emerald Mountains, the party is beset by trolls. Jarran is buried in a landslide, rescued by gnomes, and taken to a cavern beneath the mountain. Altor is captured by the orcs of Oceanwatch and forced to fight in their gladiatorial games.

When Jarran is well enough, Tyera and Numkyn, a tiny gnome hero and inventor, accompany him to Oceanwatch, where the orcs are holding Altor. While they wait outside the gates of Oceanwatch, Altor leads the slaves in a revolt, killing a number of Malador's elite guard. The escaping slaves flee Oceanwatch, chased by the orcs, and make their way north to Landsend Keep.

In the ensuing battle, one hundred slaves stand for six days against several thousand orcs in a heroic defense of the keep. During that battle, Jarran finds the Pattern of Power and defeats Malador. As Malador retreats from the battlefield, he warns Jarran that the battle is not over. Jarran has not found the second ring and without its protection, he can't hope to win the confrontation with Malador and so, he sets out in search of the second ring ...

CHAPTER 1

Two days had passed since the hard won battle against the orcs of Oceanwatch and a moist silvery ocean fog now blanketed the slumbering land beneath a diaphanous quilt causing nearby objects to take on an indistinct ghostly appearance in the eddying and swirling mists shrouding both the plain and forest. This thick cloud provided the concealment that the handful of survivors had been waiting for. It would last until noon before the warm sun of Azwyr chased it back to the sea where it belonged.

Even in the dim half-light, the mist could not obscure the differences between the two brothers standing on the wall of the keep. Jarran, the Chosen One, was tall and slender with silver hair cascading down over his shoulders. His pointed ears and purple eyes accentuated his elfin appearance in the dim light. Beside him stood his foster brother, Altor, in sharp contrast, his dark hair and solid build, more like that of the swampdwellers, waiting nearby in the shadows.

Tyera, the sandweller maiden, who had accompanied them on their quest, Stoneman, the giant from the far north, and Numkyn, the tiny gnome from Cairngorm joined them on the wall.

Are there any signs of the orcs? inquired Tyera.

I haven't seen any, responded Altor. However, you can't see much in this thick fog.

I could go out there and look, offered Numkyn.

If the fog hides the orcs from us, it'll also hide us from them, observed Jarran. It's time to leave.

Yes. I would like to get out of here. We're badly outnumbered and this place is a trap, reiterated Tyera.

Tyera, like Jarran, favored her elfin ancestry. Although, she was taller than most sandweller maidens, her hair had the same silvery sheen as Jarran's, cascading down over her slender form and reflecting the golden flecks in her purple eyes. Beside her, the impractical little gnome, Numkyn, looked like a miniature dwarf, his misshapen features contrasting sharply with her subtle beauty while Stoneman, the giant from Jotunheim, towered over both of them, with features similar to that of the swampdwellers and people of the Vale.

While searching for the Pattern of Power, Altor had been captured by the orcs of Oceanwatch, before escaping in a revolt of the slaves, and fleeing north towards Landsend Keep, a walled fortress situated on an ocean promontory, on the eastern coast beneath the high cliffs of the escarpment. Almost one hundred of the escaped slaves from Oceanwatch had accompanied him. Jarran was waiting for Altor by the gates of the city where the slaves decided to follow Altor and joined Jarran in his search for the Pattern of Power. It was at Landsend Keep that Jarran, the Chosen One and leader of the forces of Light, learned to control the Ring of Light that was slowly draining the life force from his body and used the ring to channel the magical energy from the Pattern of Power against the evil wizard, Malador and the orcs of Oceanwatch.

With the defeat of Malador, the majority of orcs had fled the battlefield, but remnants of the elite guard still lurked in the forest waiting for the slaves to abandon the keep. Tyera, the sandweller maiden, had feared Landsend Keep would become their prison and she was probably right. Only the four companions and twelve escaped slaves remained from the nearly hundred that had originally escaped from the orcs of Oceanwatch.

It had taken the companions two days since the end of the battle to make their preparations. The swampdwellers tied rags along the upper tiers of the keep to flutter in the wind, deceiving the orcs into believing that there was still movement behind the empty walls. The dwarves scurried about, as only dwarves can, collecting swords and spears, which they carefully hung from the walls to clang together in the ocean breeze, adding sound to the deception. The elves spent their time making shelters on the floor and tiers of the keep to prevent Malador's bats from observing reporting their absence. Stoneman stood watch on the ramparts, his gigantic form intimidating the orcs, encouraging them to keep their distance.

Numkyn carefully positioned a clear quartz crystal from Cairngorm, to focus the rays of the afternoon sun on some dry tinder in a pile of wood on the floor of the keep. He chuckled to himself, as he anticipated the roaring blaze that afternoon when the hot sun ignited the kindling, adding enough wood to keep the blaze going well into the evening.

With Stoneman's help, Numkyn liberated the old leaky bucket from the Well of Light. He tied the rope to the door of the keep and hung the bucket over the eastern side of the keep, so that when the tide came in, waves filled the bucket with water, weighing it down, opening the door of the keep. He wedged a green sapling into the ground and fixed it against the door of the keep to act as a spring. When the tide went out, the water slowly leaked out of the bucket and the green sapling straightened and pushed the door closed once again. Numkyn laughed and danced about when he visualized the door opening and closing with the tides long after he and his companions had abandoned the keep.

At last, Jarran announced, I think it is time to go.

The little gnome, Numkyn, jumped up and disappeared into the fog shouting, I'll lead the way.

Be quiet, cautioned Altor. Even though they can't see us, they still can hear us.

Yes, observed Jarran. And Malador may sense that we're leaving. We must move quickly and quietly.

Tyera added, I'm happy to leave this place. I didn't want to come here and I certainly don't want to stay here.

Let's go, ordered Jarran

While the thick fog obscured their activities, the defenders cautiously cracked the massive portals of the keep and quietly crept through the swirling mist, attentively listening for the sounds of orcs hiding in the forest, as they progressed slowly westward along the base of the escarpment using the solid rock cliffs to guard their flank. Occasionally, they crouched down beneath the bushes while an orc patrol passed nearby before proceeding once again.

Towards mid-morning the fog began to dissipate, leaving only the leafy cover of the deciduous forest to protect them from the watchful eyes of Malador's minions. Here in the transition zone between the open plain and the deciduous woodlands, nature's competition was keen. Tall golden grasses swayed between circadia and alder. Beech, birch, and maple crowded together amidst patches of rhododendrons and shade tolerant herbs. Raccoon, squirrel, fox, and roebuck vied with grosbeak, chickadee, thrush, and hawk for the abundance of this deciduous forest.

The companions listened to the static bursts of a pleated woodpecker echoing from the trees, as it searched for woodborers and carpenter ants amongst the dead branches. The whir of a willow grouse startled them as it flushed beneath their feet causing nervous fingers to convulsively reach for weapons. Eyes searched the undergrowth, but there was no sign of the orcs.

Jarran noted that the leaves were beginning to turn and realized the wooded foothills of the Emerald Mountains would soon be as colorful as the rolling hills of the Vale and he couldn't help but wonder how his newfound companions would get along with the stalwart folk of the Vale.

Many of his companions were quite different from the people he had grown up with. The swampdwellers were perhaps the most similar to the people of the Vale, even though they lived on platforms in the trees, high above the swamps. But, Jarran was intrigued by the appearance of the elves with their golden eyes, pointed ears, and slender forms. They added an endearing spirit to the land enhancing the form and beauty around them as they passed gracefully through the shrubs and trees. Then, there were the stocky dwarves with their hoary beards and armor making them appear even more forbidding. Of course, there was the tiny gnome, Numkyn, whose tiny physique belied his enormous intelligence and courage. The tale spinners told of elves, dwarves, gnomes and giants, but they were creatures of myth and legend, never encountered before in the Vale.

When he thought of Tyera, he could not help but wonder how she could possibly be the product of the union between an elf and a dwarf. She was far too tall for a dwarf and was even taller than the elves. Her eyes and hair mirrored his own. Towering over her stood the giant, Stoneman, adding his imposing stature to this unique group.

As he observed his companions, he noted that his brother, Altor limped from a deep cut on his right leg obtained during the defense of the keep. An orc spear had bitten through his inner thigh. They had irrigated the wound with water, disinfected it with bioseptic juice, and bound it with cloth. While Numkyn had prepared a broth from willow bark, the leg still appeared to be painful.

How's your leg? he inquired

Not too bad, replied Altor. There's some pain, but I can still walk.

Jarran also noted that Tyera favored her right arm, similarly treated by Numkyn, after being nicked by an orc sword. Like Altor, she would bear the scar for the rest of her life. Several of the others sported minor wounds. However, most of the wounds were not life threatening and would not impede travel.

As they entered a small clearing, Jarran was jolted out of his melancholy by the sudden stillness. There was no whisper of wind and the forest seemed frozen in time. He could no longer hear the continuous sounds of birds and other small animals and knew that silence in the forest often heralds danger.

Hands groped for swords, as eyes carefully scanned the surrounding trees. Within moments, a patrol of the elite guard marched in disorderly fashion across the far side of a clearing. There were twelve of the ugly beasts, with pig shaped snouts, greenish skin, and sharp canine teeth protruding like tusks from the sides of their mouths. They were dressed in leather armor, carrying scimitars and shields that bore Malador's red insignia.

The orcs seemed oblivious to their surroundings and did not spot the companions until they were well into the clearing. Then, they stopped abruptly, bumping into one another, as thoughts slowly registered on sluggish brains. Before them stood the very slaves they were seeking. Morae had blessed them today and their eyes shone with greed at the thought of how Malador would reward them for capturing the escaped slaves.

The trees stood sentinel, an audience for the impending conflict. The orc commander looked towards the companions and yelled. Hold there, slaves. Remain where you are or die.

There was a short pause, as though he expected the companions to sheepishly submit to his command and he seemed unexpectedly surprised when the escaped slaves didn't do what he said. Then the air was filled with bloodcurdling screams, as the orcs charged the companions to teach them a lesson.

CHAPTER 2

For a moment, Jarran thought of using the Ring of Light to channel energy from his companions and incinerate the orcs, but he knew if he used the ring, it would alert Malador to his location. Although he felt responsible for protecting his companions, the ring could put them in far greater danger than the orcs they currently faced.

Altor yelled, Drop your packs. Pair up. Back to back. We can take them. Just don't turn your back on them.

The small company closed on the orcs and the sounds of clashing scimitars and swords rang across the clearing, accompanied by the occasional shriek of pain. The skirmish raged back and forth beneath the watchful trees for what seemed like hours as the orcs attempted to crush and overwhelm the escaped slaves with the sheer ferocity of their attack.

Altor's rune blade shone with its ghostly light as he wove a pattern of death and destruction amongst the orcs. Tyera was hard pressed to guard his back as he effortlessly breached seemingly impenetrable defenses with ease drifting from one fight to the next. First one orc fell and then another, as he moved through the clearing like a deadly shadow. Twice he was there to kill orcs attacking tiny Numkyn who danced nimbly away slashing their legs with his