Read Magic of Thieves: Legends of Dimmingwood, Book 1 Page 10
Springtime lengthened into summer and the nights grew warm, the days uncomfortably hot and sticky. As soon as Terrac had recovered enough I needn’t fear for him any longer, I moved back into the cave. I had my own semi-private space there, a cozy alcove with the waterfall sheeting down one side to form a thin screen between the outside world and me. I didn’t mind the dim light or the lack of space. At this time of year, the slight dampness on the walls and floor was pleasant and I could roll over and stretch my hand out to touch the splashing fountain as it cascaded downward. The cool water was refreshing on hot nights.
But Terrac couldn’t be persuaded to move into the cave with the rest of us. Even when the brown needles fell away from his flimsy, pine bough shelter, leaving only a naked frame of bare branches, he remained outdoors. I think it was the company inside he objected to. I was discovering he had a definite sense of superiority over the rest of us and I teased him this was unbecoming in a boy destined for priestly vows. He only sniffed unapologetically and cajoled me into helping him contrive a sturdier hut beneath the trees.
One morning, only a few days after the building of the new hut, Terrac and I were crouched together along the bank of the stream bordering camp. He was looking on with squeamish disgust as I gutted a rabbit for our breakfast when Rideon approached.
The brigand captain glared down on Terrac and stated his object without preamble. “It has come to my notice that you are able to move about again, boy.”
Terrac nodded cautiously. I could see he was nervous in the outlaw’s presence but striving to hide it.
Rideon said, “If that’s the case, it appears the time has come for you to make a decision. I’m going to lay two choices before you. There is no third alternative, so don’t ask for one. Give an answer I don’t like and the question will be taken from your hands altogether. Understand?”
Terrac swallowed. “I suppose so.”
“Good. These are your options. Firstly, you can swear on your honor to forever make your home in Dimmingwood with us. You’ll earn your keep here with menial tasks around the camp, same as Ilan does, and never set foot beyond the borders of the forest again.”
Terrac’s eyes widened in alarm and I could see him forming a refusal, but Rideon didn’t allow him time to get out the response. “Or,” the outlaw continued, “should that idea not appeal to you, you may choose the second alternative—refusing to take the oath and thus being put to a quick death. Priest boy or not, my generosity extends only so far and I won’t risk a large-mouthed brat wandering loose to tell my enemies exactly where to hunt down my band.”
I held my breath waiting for Terrac to say something foolish and he didn’t disappoint me.
“You don’t seem to care that the oath you’re asking of me will change my life’s plans,” he protested.
Rideon shrugged. “I wasn’t aware I was advocating one option over the other. I’m merely here to accept the first choice or to execute the latter, should it be your preference.” He tapped the blade at his side for emphasis. “The ultimate decision is entirely yours.”
Terrac flicked a frightened glance at the black blade, drew a deep breath, and appeared to startle even himself with the words that spilled from him. “I swear on my life and honor that I’ll never leave the boundaries of this wood as long as I breathe. Not without the express permission of the outlaw, Rideon the Red Hand.”
Rideon was the only one of us who appeared unsurprised. “A reasonable decision, priest boy. If ever you should rethink it, my blade and I will be on hand.” He flashed his teeth in a grim smile and left us.
Terrac immediately looked miserable and I suspected he was thinking of how, with a few short words, he destroyed his hopes of entering the priesthood. In an attempt to cheer him I said, “It isn’t so bad, you know. Maybe you’ll come to like it here. And at least you’re alive, which is more than anyone would’ve expected on the day you came.”