The Rock of Ivanore (11 page)

“Quendel, sir.”

“Quendel? Is that north of here?”

“No, sir,” answered Marcus, trying not to stare at the man's injury. “East of the mountains, through the pass.”

The man arched his eyebrows.

“I see,” he said. “Then perhaps you can help me.”

Marcus nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“My name is Arik,” the man continued. “I'm looking for a man who wears a black cloak—a half-breed. There is a bounty on his head.”

Marcus glanced up into Arik's face. “Bounty? Has he committed a crime?” he asked.

Arik leaned forward until his face was mere inches from Marcus's. Their eyes met, and the man held his gaze like a magnet to iron. “He has something that belongs to me,” he said, lowering his voice. “Have you seen such a man?”

Marcus shook his head. “No,” he said. “No one like that.”

Arik straightened himself and sighed with mock disappointment. He waved a hand in the direction of his companions. “Perhaps you haven't,” he said, “but this creature has.”

One of the Mardoks shoved a young boy forward. His hands were bound with ropes, and the other Mardoks laughed as he stumbled forward. Marcus instantly recognized him as Bryn, the Groc that had nearly killed Kelvin in Vrystal Canyon.

Arik spoke again. “Don't be fooled. This
child
is a monster in disguise. I was fortunate to have captured it, but not before it killed one of my men. It claims that a
man in a black cloak attacked him only yesterday. What's more, the beast says the man was not alone.” He walked over to Bryn and forcefully pulled up the child's chin. “Is this one of the boys you saw yesterday?”

Bryn stared forward with defiant eyes. Arik slapped him across the face, nearly knocking him to the ground. “Answer me or you will be severely punished!”

Marcus held his breath. He could not, however, keep his heart from racing. What would happen if Bryn identified him?

Bryn winced in pain and then shook his head. “No,” he said. “I have never seen that one before.”

Arik lifted his hand to strike again, but Bryn curled his lips, revealing two rows of razor-sharp fangs. Arik dropped his hand, turning instead toward Marcus.

“Sorry to have troubled you,” he said. “If you see the half-breed, tell him Arik is looking for him.” As he turned to rejoin his men, Marcus called after him.

“And what will you do with him when you find him?”

This time Arik did not turn around. He stopped beside Bryn and glared at him with contempt. “The same that I will do to this creature.” Arik looked back at Marcus. His lips twisted into a satisfied grin, and the scar on the side of his face contorted grotesquely. “I'll execute him, of course.”

Arik turned to the Mardoks. “Search the village! Every door, every stone must be explored! And find me some horses!”

Arik and his assassins dispersed, leaving one behind to guard the Groc. This Mardok, however, seemed disinterested in his prisoner and wandered toward the tavern,
leaving Bryn tied to the well. Marcus approached cautiously. As he did so, Bryn turned away, hiding his face with his arms. His shoulders trembled ever so slightly.

“Why didn't you tell them you recognized me?” asked Marcus.

At first Bryn ignored him, but after a moment he lifted his head. Marcus was shocked to see tears trickling down his cheeks.

“I hate you,” said Bryn, “but I hate
him
even more.” He held up his hands, and Marcus saw the raw patches on his wrists where the ropes had burned them. Bryn's lip began to quiver, and a new round of tears began to fall. Seeing him like this, it was difficult for Marcus to think of him as the fierce creature that had attacked him only yesterday.

“Thank you,” Marcus offered.

“For what?” snapped Bryn.

“For your kindness in not giving me away.”

“It wasn't kindness! I haven't eaten in three days! I would have finished off that Mardok in the canyon, but how was I to know there were so many of them not far behind?”

Marcus could see that Bryn's lips were cracked and parched from thirst. He took a bucket resting on the edge of the well and filled it with water. He held it up to Bryn's mouth. The Groc eyed him with suspicion but then greedily lapped up the water with an elongated tongue. When he had finished drinking, Bryn leaned back against the fountain, apparently satisfied.

“Thank you,” he said meekly. “It is the first drink I've had in many days. And it will likely be my last since that man plans to kill me when he returns.”

Marcus thought for a moment. He remembered what Jayson had told him about Grocs and their cunning and deception. Yet Bryn had protected Marcus from Arik. He owed him for that.

Keeping one eye on the back of the Mardok guard who had his head tucked in the tavern door, he worked quickly to untie Bryn's ropes. Once free, Bryn rubbed his injured wrists. Marcus thought he saw a slight smile on Bryn's lips, but then in a single swift moment, Bryn dashed across the courtyard and was gone.

arcus hurried toward the inn. He wanted to be alone. He needed time to think. But just as he reached the door, someone grabbed him from behind.

“What did that man want with you?” Kelvin demanded.

“Nothing,” Marcus replied, trying not to sound anxious. “He's looking for someone—”

“A half-breed,” said Kelvin.

The word caught Marcus off guard. “You heard him from inside the library?”

“He's looking for Jayson.”

“No.” Marcus forced a smile, but he suspected Kelvin could not be so easily fooled. “He was looking for someone else. I told him we couldn't help him.”

“Half-breeds are rare,” said Kelvin. “I've seen only one in my whole life, and I suspect it is the same one you have seen.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “The book spoke of a half-breed who kidnapped Ivanore. Maybe it was Jayson.”

Marcus thought about this. Kelvin could be right, and the truth troubled him. He was tempted to tell Kelvin all he knew about Jayson, but he dared not break his promise. Instead, he heard himself say, “Jayson would never do such a thing.”

Kelvin's response was harsh. “How can you say that when we know nothing about him, nothing except that he saved us from being eaten by that disgusting Groc, he had supper with us, and now he's gone?”

“Will you betray him to Arik, then?” asked Marcus.

Kelvin recoiled at the accusation, as if it had stung him like a hornet. “I won't betray the man who saved my life. I am in his debt,” he said. “But I must know the truth about him. Tell me what you know.”

“There's nothing to tell.” The deceit tasted bitter in Marcus's mouth. He tried to keep his gaze steady, but he could not, and he looked away.

“You're lying!” Kelvin grabbed Marcus by the shoulders and pinned him against the building wall. “I don't like liars,” he said menacingly.

Marcus struggled to break free from Kelvin's grip. He wrapped his arms around Kelvin's neck and twisted with all his might. They collapsed on the ground, where they wrestled against each other's strength. Marcus was surprised to discover how equally matched they were in the struggle. At last Kelvin broke away.

“You aren't worth the trouble,” he said. Then he spat on the ground and walked away.

Marcus waited until Kelvin had gone before he tried to stand. He felt weak and his legs wobbled beneath him. He touched the side of his head. Blood trickled from a small cut. Though he felt angry, he blamed himself for Kelvin's actions. He had lied to him, and Kelvin knew it. But though Kelvin meant well, Marcus was determined to keep the secret entrusted to him—at all costs.

He was about to return to the inn to wash, when a glimmer on the ground caught his eye. The sunlight reflected off something near his feet. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand. It was a stone, flat and triangular in shape. One edge was smooth and rounded while the other two were rough and uneven, as if the piece had been broken from a larger whole. It was translucent, like crystal, but clearer than any crystal he had ever seen. Its color was the palest green, or was it blue? It seemed a blend of both, just a hint of the color of the sea.

Marcus held it up by the leather cord on which it was strung. It seemed familiar to him somehow, and he realized that he had seen it once before, but only for a brief moment. It was Kelvin's pendant that he now held in his hand.

Marcus touched the wound on his temple and flinched from the pain. Kelvin doesn't understand that I have to keep my word, he told himself. He should have trusted me.

Marcus placed the leather cord around his neck and tucked the pendant inside his shirt. Then he hurried through the inn door and ran up the stairs to his room.

arcus shut the door of his room and closed his eyes in momentary relief. He wanted to be alone to sort out the many thoughts that were spinning inside his head.

Xerxes stood propped up in the corner, unmoved from the spot where Marcus had left him the night before. Xerxes' eyelids fluttered open, and he let out a soft squawk.

“Where have you been?” he said. “You missed our lesson this morning!”

“Not now, Xerxes,” said Marcus, sitting on his cot.

“You look ill,” said Xerxes. “Have you been eating that horrid stew I've been smelling all afternoon?”

Marcus laid his head on his satchel. “I think Jayson is in trouble,” he said. He wanted to tell Xerxes everything—
about Jayson's secret, that he was Ivanore's husband come back to find her. But he had sworn an oath not to reveal it to anyone. “I met a man outside just now,” he began cautiously. “I went to the library with the others to research the Rock of Ivanore—”

Xerxes interrupted him, his voice tinged with excitement. “What did you learn?”

“Ivanore is a woman,” Marcus began, “the daughter of Dokur's sovereign.”

“A woman?”

“The book claimed she was kidnapped many years ago and has not been seen since.”

“Kidnapped by whom?”

Marcus hesitated. If I tell Xerxes about the half-breed, he will surely think it was Jayson, Marcus thought. Marcus tugged at a loose thread dangling from the frayed edge of his blanket.

“It didn't say,” he lied.

“Well, did the book say anything about a rock?”

Marcus shook his head. He felt a pang of guilt for his deception but reassured himself that he was keeping his oath and that once Jayson had delivered his message, he would be free to tell Xerxes the truth.

A knock at the door startled him.

“Who is it?” called Marcus.

The door squeaked open, and Jerrid Zwelger stepped into the room. He was wearing his cloak and that annoying new satchel of his. He's so anxious to get this quest over with, thought Marcus, he's probably come to hurry the rest of us along.

 “I thought I heard you talking to someone,” said Jerrid, “but I see that you're alone.”

“What do you want, Jerrid?”

“I'm looking for Jayson.”