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The people counted the New Moons, and on the third New Moon, twenty-seven of the people were given to Tralth in the rings. And Tralth ruled over all the plain, and the Versek benefited greatly from the power of Tralth.
Then came the Baca, the Big Men, who hunted the Versek like wolves, for any time that the Versek went forth to do battle. Their small size meant that even in victory, they took terrible losses. And because the Baca bore a power as well, Tralth could give no aid to the Versek. So men of the Versek sought in all the lore and wisdom available to them, and found hints of a way of escape, a Gate to another world beyond this. Yet when Tralth became aware of it, he strove against it with all his might, until some of the Versek called on the High Powers for aid. Tralth must then content himself with sending oracles of doom and destruction.
But the people, torn between service to Tralth and survival of the people, chose survival. And it was found that Tralth, that through the nature of the Gate, could not pass through. In his final anger, Tralth arranged it so the Baca should find the route into the heart of the Versek lands, and that they should move so fast that the people had not time to escape.
But Cael, the hero, with his three hundred men, held the final barrier at the valley’s mouth to let his people escape. And in the end, his force all dead on the field, Cael gave himself willingly to Tralth in exchange for his halting the Big Men for the necessary time.
And though many Versek stayed behind, the power of Tralth was lessened, for no longer were people given to him regularly. At the last, he was doomed to remain within his rings, reaching out to take whoever came near unwarily.
-Book of the Versek
Laechan Who Stayed Behind
In the morning, Rorick led. his small force out northward. It would be better, he felt, if there was no possibility of the Hygerians hearing of Asbalnian warriors approaching the River, so they would go to Virden first. There were some Icarians at Virdan, down for trading, and they showed great interest in the army's progress. Rorick, making hasty preparations for his journey, spent a good deal of time in the market square. It was there that he noticed a young Icarian woman, flanked by two young bowmen in shaggy fur kilts. Her back was to him, but he was certain he recognized her.
As he stepped up, the two men turned swiftly, hands going to their short swords, but they relaxed when they saw him. He recognized them as coming from Carill Don, though they were not men he hew personally. The woman turned then, and he saw Helana, her eyes widening with surprise. “Rorick! I thought you to be some miles south of here!”
“And I thought you to be safe in the Hills. I am on a special mission with a small force of men, and even for you, Light-in-my-heart, I will not speak of it in this market. “
“And I convinced my father it would be safe enough for me to come down here with a trading group. He asked these two, my cousins, to watch me, and asked me to enquire as to the fortunes of the army. As though he did not know why I wished to come down to Virdan.”
They did not have long to spend together, and they were always under the watchful eyes of her two cousins. But Rorick, as he parted from her, kissed her and said, “I shall return to you.”
“And I shall wait for you.”
The Warriors went on to the River, where they set about making rafts. In two days, they had enough rafts for the whole company, and they set out. They used the current, with men manning poles solely to keep them off any obstructions in the River. Each evening they would find a fairly dry place to stop and camp, sometimes having to divide and find several places.
On the second night, as the men set up camp among the marshes, Rorick went out walking, a vague feeling of unease lying on him. When he set his hand to the hilt of the Sword, he felt a curious tingling in it, seemingly akin to the feeling he had felt when he fought the magician at Orden.
He topped a small rise and looked down into a hollow containing a ring of standing stones. They were only six feet tall, and of all which had originally made up the circle, eight remained standing. They were old, he knew, for the Derrakos made no such monuments, nor did the men of Asbaln, and these must have been set up before Asbaln’s folk had come from the Old Island over the Sea on the Night of Fire.
It was only as he walked down the slope that he realized he was not entirely in control of his movements. As he strove to halt, he became aware of the strength of the power which locked his hands to his sides, and moved his legs in a slow, steady pace down the hill. He knew, somehow, he was in the grip of something which dwelt within this circle, and that once he entered that circle, he would not come out alive.
Silently, he prayed to the High Powers, striving to reach the hilt of the Sword with his left hand. Steadily, step by step, he approached the dread circle, and silently, fiercely, he strove to reach the Sword, which he somehow knew to be the only weapon he possessed against the maleficent thing which gripped him.
Then his hand twitched, jerked, and suddenly moved. He knew he had only escaped because the power in the ring was old and weak from so long without feeding. In earlier times, he would not have escaped.
As his hand found the hilt, he felt the invisible bonds disappear, and he stumbled back. As he ran for the riverbank, he felt the hilt growing unbearably hot under his hand, but he did not dare to release it until he was well away from that malevolent power.
As he stumbled back toward the camp, he shouted at the men to cease preparing camp and launch the rafts again. They looked at him in amazement, but when they saw his face, they bent to their work and were soon out in the river again.
Rorick never spoke to the men about what happened, though he asked the Old One, who told him some hints of old lore and frank tall tales. All the men claimed to have had evil dreams that night, though they moved several miles downstream.