The Wizard

Melock's Ring

"Supper." 

Mevner had been dreaming of food. He could even smell it. Mouthwateringly delicious food.

"Wake up, friend, you must be hungry."

He shook himself out of sleep. The gnome was back and had built a small fire with a cast iron cauldron simmering on it. He was stirring a stew with the warm scent of roasted mushrooms. The sun was setting in the west and the forest was alive with chirping crickets and the fireflies of summer's end.

Next to the gnome was a large duffle bag or from Mevner's perspective, a small pouch. Mevner pushed himself up on his elbows and gestured a crooked hand at the bag. 

"Ah, yes, well, sadly, everything you said was true. These are Melock's ashes or at least as much as I could gather. There really wasn't much left. I've seen this kind of magic before. Back in my days of adventure, when we defeated the Necromancer and Melock kept his accursed gauntlets. You didn't say if you knew who did this?"

"Re-gh-wha-ing," said a still much too swollen to speak tongue. 

"Redwing? A young boy, named Nicholas?" The gnome rubbed his chin through his whiskers. "Ah, but I suppose that was 40 odd years ago. Sorry I haven't seen you in so long old friend." He patted the sack of ashes. 

"It is, as I mentioned before, my two-hundredth and ninety-second birthday. I hadn't planned for any company, let alone a visitation. Melock would want us to celebrate his life. And mine." 

He filled a small bowl full of stew. 

"The biggest size I have I'm afraid." 

Mevner leaned forward, put the whole thing in his mouth, swallowed, and spat out the bowl. His neck and back were near unmoveable, but hunger was stronger. The gnome filled his own bowl. Then Mevner's again, five more times. 

"Now, if you're wondering how I know it wasn't you who killed my old friend here. You aren't wearing the gauntlets and neither was he. You certainly took that ring off his dead body, that's the only way he'd ever part with it. So, whoever killed Melock cursed you too. It's probably this Redwing. He wasn't bright enough to take the ring though. I bet Melock never told him what it does. But he told you, didn't he?"

Mevner nodded. 

"That's about the same as him wanting you to have it. Did he tell you how he got it?"

After Mevner shook his head in the negative, the gnome opened a little bottle of wine, poured half of it in Mevner's bowl, and lit a pipe. He took a swig from the bottle, exhaled a purple plume, and elbowed the sack. 

"Old friend, I'm glad to tell this story to my new friend here. Any student of your's is wise enough to learn a thing or two from me, I'll wager." 

He took another long toke and began.

"I'd say it was a century and a quarter ago, putting yours truly, Mr. Grimble, at a spry 167 years young. We'd been traveling in the company of a rather treasure obsessed group. A young rogue named Sabastian de Martín had made the acquaintance of Melock and shadily acquired a detailed map of Luhng island. 

"I'm sure you're used to Melock's endless list of oddball associates." He elbowed the bag of ashes again. "Guess I'm one of those, eh, old friend?"

Mevner indeed understood. His twenty-year apprenticeship was full of characters. He leaned up and gestured at his chest. 

"Mvvv-nirrr." 

"Mevner, eh? Nice to meet ya." 

Grimble reached out and shook a twisted thumb before continuing.