A Quest of Heroes (Book #1 in the Sorcerer's Ring)

had been magical, way beyond
his expectations, and he no longer worried about the depth of her feelings for
him. It was the perfect day—except, of course, for what happened at the end of
their encounter.
    That white snake, so rare, and
such a bad omen. It was lucky they had not been bitten; Thor looked down at
Krohn, walking loyally beside him, happy as ever, and wondered what would’ve
happened if he had not been there, had not killed the snake and saved their
lives. Would they both be dead right now? He was forever grateful to Krohn, and
knew he had a lifelong, trusted companion in him.
    Yet the omen still bothered him:
that snake was exceedingly rare, and didn’t even live in this portion of the
kingdom. It lived farther south, in the marshes and swamps. How could it have
traveled so far? Why did it have to come upon them at just that moment? It was
too mystical: he felt absolutely certain that it was a sign. Like Gwen, he felt
it was a bad omen, a harbinger of death to come. But whose?
    Thor wanted to push the image
from his mind, to forget about it, to think of other things—but he could not.
It plagued him, gave him no rest. He knew he should return to the barracks, but
he had not been able to. Today was still their day off, and so instead he had
walked for hours, circling the forest trails, trying to clear his mind. He felt
certain the snake held some deep message just for him, that he was being urged
to take some action.
    Making things worse, his
departure with Gwen had been abrupt. When they’d reach the forest’s edge, they
had parted ways quickly, with barely a word. She had seemed distraught. He
assumed it was because of the snake, but he could not be sure. She had made no
mention of their meeting again. Had she changed her mind about him? Had he done
something wrong?
    The thought tore Thor apart. He
hardly knew what to do with himself, as he wandered in circles for hours. He he
needed to talk to someone who understood these things, who could interpret
signs and omens.
    Thor stopped in his tracks. Of
course. Argon. He would be perfect. He could explain it all to him, and set his
mind at ease.
    Thor looked out: he was standing
at the northern end of the farthest ridge and from here had a sweeping view of
the royal city below him. He stood near a crossroads, and he knew Argon lived
alone, in a stone cottage, on the northern outskirts of Boulder Plains. He knew
that if he forked left, away from the city, one of these trails would lead him
there. He began his journey.
    It would be a long journey, and
there was a good chance Argon would not even be there when Thor arrived. But he
had to try. He could not rest until he had answers.
    Thor walked with a new bounce in
his step, walking double-time, heading towards the plains. Morning turned into
afternoon, as he walked and walked. It was a beautiful summer day, and the
light shone brilliantly on the fields all around him. Krohn bounced along at
his side, stopping every now and again to pounce on a squirrel, which he
carried triumphantly in his mouth.
    The trail became steeper,
windier, and the meadows faded, giving way to a desolate landscape of rocks and
boulders. Soon, the trail, too, faded. It became colder and windier up here, as
the trees dropped away too, and the landscape turned rocky, craggy. It was
eerie up here, nothing but small rocks, dirt, and boulders as far as the eye
could see; Thor felt like he was journeying on a wasted earth. As the trail
completely disappeared, Thor found himself walking on gravel and rock.
    Beside him, Krohn began to whine.
There was a creepy feeling in the air, and Thor felt it, too. It wasn’t
necessarily evil; it was just different. Like a heavy spiritual fog.
    Just as Thor was beginning to
wonder if he was heading in the right direction, he spotted on the horizon,
high up on a hill, a small stone cottage. It was perfectly round, shaped as a
ring, built of a black, solid stone and low to the ground. It had no windows,
and just a single door, shaped in an arch—yet with no knocker or handle. Could
Argon really live here, in this desolate place? Would he be upset that Thor had
come uninvited?
    Thor was beginning to have second
thoughts, but forced himself to stay on the path. As he approached the door, he
felt the energy in the air, so thick he could hardly breathe. His heart beat
faster with trepidation as he reached out to knock with his fist.
    Before he could touch it, the
door opened by itself, a crack. It looked