“Ah, my girl!” Old Tom said, as he lounged on his elbows at the crest of the hill, gazing at the village below. “What sharp eyes you have!”

“The better to see you, Old Tom,” Terry replied. “And I guess that’s something only I can do.”

“I show myself to whom I choose,” Old Tom said, and smiled. “Today, it’s you. Well done, last night! Well done! What has happened to the little princess, tossing the ball on the royal grounds? She is well on her way to becoming a warrior.”

“You flatter me for no reason,” Terry responded. “I don’t need it.”

“No, I guess you don’t,” Old Tom said. “It’s not flattery, though. I’m glad you’ve become so strong, and found strong friends, in such a short time. And you didn’t even call my name!”

“Would you have come?”

“Of course! A promise is a promise. But I’m glad you did not. I was needed many places last night.” He sighed. “There’s trouble in the forest. I didn’t think you would be required to take on such a task so soon, but even Old Tom must bow to the hand of fate.”

“What task?” Terry asked.

Old Tom’s merry face grew very somber, and he continued to gaze straight ahead while he spoke.

“There are those who hate life,” he said. “Hate it with all their might. They live to extinguish joy, happiness, contentment, the few pearls that life casts to mortals, that most mortals cherish during their short existence. Some others turn their backs, embrace a darkness, join it, cultivate it. Some become very powerful doing so. Such a one is coming to the forest.”

“An evil wizard?” Terry asked.

“You could call him that,” Old Tom replied. “He was a mortal once, rejected by a beautiful woman. This one event consumed him, and he grew jealous of other’s happiness. Even a moment of brief joy—a baby’s laugh at a dust mote in the sun—would cause his heart to spasm. He fled to the northern mountains many centuries ago, never to be seen again. Old Tom never looked for him—there are too many like him, each generation, and they usually burn themselves out with their own hate, or fall into magic that destroys them.”

“But not him?” Terry asked.

“Not him. Stubborn and strong as an ox. He learned magic slowly, stupidly, ploddingly, and now he has stumbled into great power, while his hatred of all humanity has only grown. This region is his home, and he is returning to it, to take his revenge. It was he who conjured the wraithlord, the only creature that could summon a swarm.”

“But why did he target this tiny village?” Teresa asked.

“He didn’t just target this village,” Old Tom said. “Throughout the forest, entire villages have been decimated by wraith swarms. There is great sadness across the kingdom today. So many lives,” Old Tom said slowly. “So much death. Now, let me see that golden ball.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Terry withdrew the ball from its pouch and handed it to him. He examined it all over.

“Ah,” he said. “What a glorious story it tells. Victory, friendship, sacrifice. Your strength and the strength of your friends—well, perhaps it will be enough. But not yet.”

“What do you mean, not yet?”

“You must be four,” Old Tom said. “Four are needed to defeat a wizard.”

“Oh,” Terry said. “But we are only two.”

“Two?” Old Tom answered, and laughed. “What about your cleric?”

“Maurice?” Terry answered. “I don’t know. Just because he helped us last night doesn’t mean he’ll want to join us on any quest.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Old Tom replied. “You’ll have a hard time getting rid of Maurice, I reckon. And I’m glad of it. You’ll need him, just as you needed him last night.”

Terry shrugged. “I’ll be glad to have him. But, still, that’s only three. Where do we find the fourth?”

“Where the grass grows upside down,” Tom replied.

“Where the grass does what?” Teresa asked.

“Hey! What are you doing up there!” Gregor called from the bottom of the hill. Teresa glanced down at him.

“Nothing! Be right down!” she answered. Then she turned back to Old Tom. “So tell me again—the grass grows upside down somewhere? How in the world does it do that?’

But he was gone.

“Where the grass grows upside down,” Teresa muttered to herself. “Thanks a lot, Old Tom.” The breeze shivered around her for an instant, and she almost heard his laughter in the air.

“If you’re so worried about this wizard, why can’t you help me more?” she demanded to no one in particular.

This time there was no answer or sense of Old Tom—only Terry remembered what her mother had said about him. Neither bad nor good. If he had decided to help her only a little—well, she had to take what she could get.

She walked down the hill to join Gregor.

“Let’s go look at some armor for you,” Gregor said.

They walked over to Cyril the shopkeeper.

“Let me see the best suit of armor you have,” Gregor pronounced.

Cyril laughed. “I have no suits of armor.”

“What?” Gregor said.

“We’re a tiny village in the middle of nowhere,” Cyril said. “We don’t have anything such as that in stock. I have a chain mail shirt. Would you like to see it?”

“Yes,” Terry said. Anything was better than her leather jacket alone.

She slipped it on. It was surprisingly light.

“Elven,” Cyril said. “Really a lovely piece. Protects against magic as well as physical attack.”

“I’ll take it,” Terry said.

Gregor traded in for a slightly better axe.

Cyril was delighted to receive the gold. “I should hardly accept this, considering that you saved our village,” he said, as he scooped the coins into his drawer, his eyes alight.

“Please don’t give it a second thought,” Terry said, knowing that he wouldn’t.

“We still have so much gold left,” Gregor said. “And this ring! Well, if we can’t trade, I shall wear it,” he said, and slipped it on his pinky finger.

“It suits you,” Terry said.

They exited the store, and saw that Maurice was waiting for them.

“Nice shirt!” he said. “Where are you headed next?”

“To where the grass grows upside down,” Terry said.

“We’re going where?” Gregor said.

Terry sighed. “I’ll tell you later. And as for you, Maurice, I guess you’d like to join us.”

“Well, I would,” Maurice said simply, and laughed. “Of course I would! This is the adventure of a lifetime, and I want in.”

They gathered for a final meal at the inn before departure, and Teresa told them of her strange meeting with Old Tom.

“A nasty wizard,” Maurice said, “who disappeared a generation ago, went to the mountains, and now has returned. I think I know of whom Old Tom speaks.”

“Do you?” Terry said. “Tell us more of what you know.”

“Yes, do go on,” Gregor said.