The Forging of the Ring

The Forging of the Ring

Short Stories By

Cassidy Raine Wolters, Jon Flushing, Doug Ward, Jerry Clark, B.C. Richards, Leonard Herrington, Scott Lee, April Ward

Copyright 2018

Cassidy Raine Wolters, Jon Flushing, Doug Ward, Jerry Clark, B.C. Richards, Leonard Herrington, Scott Lee, April Ward

Smashwords Edition

Introduction

There is a burning desire within us all that wants us to be more than we ever thought we could be. Bigger, stronger, and more confident in our abilities than we ever thought possible. What if all of those possibilities were literally at your fingertips? The Forging of the Ring is a series of epic tales that allow us to do exactly that. Follow the ring as it makes its journey from mystical lands on the hands of heroes and villains alike battling monsters and creating the fine line between good and evil. A little luck can lead to a great deal of adventure …

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writers’ imaginations or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Other fine books by these authors include;

Tome of Terror

Contents

The Forging of the Ring By Doug Ward

The Identity of the Ring By Jerry Clark

Reborn By Leonard Herrington

The Ring Goes Missing By Scott Lee

A Tune in a Minor Key By Cassidy Raine Wolters

The Ancient Oak By April Ward

Friends and Foes By B.C. Richards

Idiots Find the Ring By Scott Lee

Even My Bones Ache By Doug Ward

The Last Hope By Jon Flushing

Fool Circle By Leonard Herrington

About The Authors

Let the stories begin.

The Forging of the Ring

By Doug Ward

The ogre's massive shoulders strained under the weight of the giant bellows as he pumped them up and down to heat the forge. The result forced powerful bursts of air into the coals super-heating them to a temperature akin to lava.

Grumpf eyed the other two beings in the blacksmith's cavern with hate and suspicion as he methodically pumped the upper handle the other being fixed to the floor. At ten feet, the ogre had to stretch to reach the apex of the bellow's handle. It made the beast wonder who had worked the mechanism before he wound up in the dwarf's charge.

The object on the anvil was a ring. It wasn’t very ornate. It was a simple band of gold that grew thicker toward the front where a flat bezel was affixed. The ring was by no means a work of art but it was beautiful in its simplicity. Even a creature as crude as the ogre could appreciate the exquisite token being made.

Darius, the dwarven smithy, was more at home forging weapons and armor. His strong arms were singed from the effects of his many years of crafting at the anvil, butut even though the object of his current labor was small, the magic-laced in the token made every part of its creation a struggle.

Over the past week, Fazil the Conjurer stood by the diminutive smith’s side, casting spell after spell into the glowing artifact. Even before the lump of precious ore was heated, the wizard had imbued it with powerful enchantments. Each time the hot metal was quenched; they didn't dip the ring in ordinary water. Instead, the ring was dunked into potions to seal the magic invested in the ring.

The two worked on their token in tandem. Fazil guided the creation with a stern, commanding voice with the smithy following his every word without hesitation.

For seven days the three labored with little rest and food. Both the mage and his craftsman’s advanced years lay heavily on their features. The pair, drawn and exhausted, labored on at their task.

More heat, you beast! Darius barked at Grumpf while pushing the now cool ring into the coals.

The dwarf wiped a leather-gloved hand across his brow as Fazil placed an unsteady hand on his smaller companion’s shoulder. The act was as much to reassure his friend, as it was to steady his weak and weary legs.

It is nearly complete, the spell-caster said encouragingly. This last spell will complete our creation. It has to be cast into the ring while it is nearly at its melting point.

The ogre worked the bellows furiously. He had no idea what they’d been fashioning but if it was about to be finished, he could finally get some rest.

Grumpf was just a young warrior when he’d been taken in battle. The dwarves had raided his warren and slain his mother all so they could expand their mining complex. He had fought hard but was laid low by one of their foul hammers. The next thing he knew he was in iron chains and lead off to this cavern, somewhere in the mountain home of his dwarven enemies.

At first, Grumpf refused to cooperate. Spurning meals and water in an effort to die. That was years ago. He now cooperated and acted as a willing slave all in order to survive. He’d grown strong during his labor in the forge. He even gained the dwarves trust, all in a facade to survive.

With a practiced eye, Darius saw that the circle of gold was ready. A nearly liquid shimmer danced across the red-hot surface of the ring signaling its condition. The smithy thrust the tongs into the coals and plucked the glowing token from the heat.

Setting the ring on the anvil the dwarf stepped back giving Fazil space to do the task. The wizard stepped forward and began to chant. His sleeves fell down his thin arms as he raised his arms in arcane gestures. Strange symbols began to glow from somewhere deep within the surface of the item as the enchanter’s voice rose. Magical tendrils trailed from Fazil’s fingers slowly filling the ring with power.

Quench it! Now! the mage commanded staggering back. Then, set the stone with all haste.

Darius seized the ring in his tongs and dropped it into the nearby potion. The still-glowing object hissed as it struck the liquid’s surface.

We must be quick. When the stone is in place, we must seal the power before it can escape.

As Darius withdrew the ring from the blue potion he was amazed that it looked new. It was as if it had been buffed and polished to a high luster. Feint outlines of the arcane symbols still danced on the shimmering surface as he set a white opal into the bezel and began sealing its edges.

Evil will rue the day this ring was forged, he mumbled with a wide grin.

At those words, Grumpf’s eyes opened wide.

Our work here will surely bring an end to all dark creatures who befoul our realm, the mage agreed. Now, set it on the anvil and I will trap the magic inside.

As the pair tarried with the ring the huge ogre’s mind struggled with the implications of such a token. The horror of a world overrun with good. The thought was terrifying.

The exhausted wizard started chanting when Grumpf sped into motion. Jumping forward the ogre rushed toward the mage. Darius, worn and tired from his work, was barely able to intercept his thrall, shouldering the ogre away from Fazil.

Younger and stronger, the ogre swatted his master out of his way and dealt the spell-caster a massive blow sending him hurtling onto the anvil.

There was a strange sucking sound as the man’s chest flattened against the ring. A moment later and he was gone. Vanished from sight.

Grumpf stood stunned. The magic-user was gone. What had happened to him? As he pondered the question a hammer crashed into his shoulder.

Sparks of pain flashed before his eyes but the enormous brute shrugged off the pain and spun on his attacker, an arm hanging limply at his side.

You want to play, you ungrateful brute! Darius spat as he raised his hammer intimidatingly before him.

The rage Grumpf felt made him forget his injury. The indignities he’d endured at the hands of his captor rose to the surface. This wasn’t a battle for himself. It was a struggle for all his kind. He couldn’t let these fools loose such a powerful token upon the realm. With a feral growl, he raced toward his armed foe.

Darius was armed with a smith’s hammer, not a war hammer. If it were the latter, he’d have stood a chance. All dwarves are trained as youths to fight with both war hammer and ax. But this was not a weapon. It was for forging weapons.

As Grumpf quickly closed the distance Darius swung downward. His fatigued limbs urging the hammer with all the power he could muster. It wasn’t enough.

The blow glanced off of the monster’s wounded shoulder and sent the weapon skittering off to a corner. With one arm useless, the ogre was still more than a match for the exhausted dwarf. They grappled on the floor, tumbling for a moment before there was a sickening snap.

The two lay in a heap for a moment before the larger of the two rose to his feet. Grumpf had won. He’d killed his master and now must flee.

Still wary of the wizard he searched the room. But the mage was gone. All that remained was the dwarf, his head lolling at an odd angle, and the ring.

He couldn’t leave it. Snatching the token up, he made for the exit. On his way, he saw a weapons rack. With only one hand available he popped the ring in his mouth and snatched a battle ax from a weapon rack. As Grumpf flew to the door barring the way out, the weapon felt like a toy in his great hands but it was something.

Ogres aren’t known for stealth and Grumpf was in a hurry so he forwent sneaking and sprinted through the halls in all abandon.

Behind him, he could hear calls of alarm. But they were too late. He threw himself into the exit door and burst into the light of day.

Having been a prisoner for most of his life he didn’t know where to run but run he did. Anyplace was better than here. So he hurried straight out and away from the dwarven halls and down the side of the gently sloping mountain.

His chest was heaving like the bellows he once worked but he pushed on for many miles with the ring rolling around in his dry mouth. Twice, he almost swallowed the ring having to cough it back behind his jagged, brown teeth before hurrying on.

Ogres are powerfully built creatures. They were created to stand and fight. Spent from his long days at the forge and having run for miles, Grumpf finally reached his limits. He dropped heavily at the base of a tree and lay there struggling for air as the sounds of pursuit neared.

Before long, an armor covered dwarf appeared of the back on a pony. He was followed by four more as the five surrounded him drawing wicked-looking axes and hammers.

The tired ogre stood for what was to be his last stand. Measuring his foes he readied his ax in his good hand and crouched looking for an opening. Legs weak and quivering he saw one of the riders look at a companion and he sprang. Ax arching high through the air it bit deeply into his enemy’s hip, just under his breastplate. With a startled cry of pain, the rider fell causing his pony to rear in fear. As the horse calliopes away the others fell on him. Smashing hammers and axes dealt him serious wounds his own ax slipping out of his hand sometime during the melee.

Then the ponies backed away leaving the ogre mortally wounded and bleeding out. As the four dropped from their mounts two rushed to their companion to administer aide while the others took up a position between them and the ogre.

On instinct, Grumpf crawled toward the large oak tree he’d rested near earlier. Its roots cradled his dying form. He was like a child in the embrace of his mother nearly unconscious in what would be a never-ending sleep.

That brute killed him! he heard one of the dwarves announce. Blasted ogre nearly cut him in half. I hate those evil creatures!

Those words made the ogre smile.

We’ll make them pay, another said. We’ll make them all pay!

It was then, that he remembered the ring. The ring still clutched in his teeth. The ring that was the reason he’d risked and lost his life; the ring that would spell the doom of his and all other evil beings.

With another smile, Grumpf swallowed.

The Identity of the Ring

Jerry Clark

Time out! Time out! the coach yelled.

Okay ladies, we are up by one and there are 15 seconds left in the game, said Spring City girls varsity basketball coach Mary-Kay Stills as her team clung to a lead in a game needed to clinch a playoff spot.

Look, we have no fouls to give, but we have got to lock them down on defense, Stills said. Be aggressive, but be smart.

Coach, get your team on the floor! the referee yelled into the huddle.

The Spring City Lady Volunteers put their hands together in the huddle, One-two-three … Lady Vols, they shouted as the huddle broke.

As the players headed out to the floor, Stills grabbed the jersey of No. 12, junior forward Bri Johnson, Look, kid, this is your time … bring it home.

Johnson looked her coach in the eyes, gave a smile and a subtle thumbs up as she trotted out to her block in an attempt to help the Spring City squad make the playoffs for the first time in 20 years.

Johnson transferred to Spring City halfway through her sophomore season and made an immediate impact on defense. Johnson was labeled a try-hard by her teammates. She was a very good player, but quiet, and not as confident in her abilities as her coach was in her. Because she always did what her coach told her to do, her teammates resented her a little, but Johnson’s strong play kept them from being as mean to her as they sometimes wanted to be.

The whistle sounded and the ref handed the ball to the opposing Lady Raiders who inbounded the ball. The Lady Raiders knew they had to get the ball in, but had to avoid Johnson, who had thwarted several of their efforts on this particular evening. Just as Stills had suspected, the play was drawn up motioning away from Johnson. The Lady Raiders’ guard caught the inbound pass, and with a nifty crossover dribble, she beat both Lady Volunteer players who converged on her. Johnson identified the breakdown, left the player she was guarding and lunged toward the player with the ball. The clock was ticking down, and Johnson’s effort forced the opposition to lose control of the ball. Johnson knew if she could grab the ball, the game would be over. But, instead Johnson’s aggressive play drew a whistle with 5 seconds left and the referee signaled a foul on Johnson, her first of the game.

Dejected, but still in the lead, the Lady Volunteers took their place around the paint and awaited the shots. The first shot fell, tying the game. Stills yelled from the bench, Bri, rebound! But, the second shot fell, and in a panicked rush, Emalia, the senior guard and leading scorer, grabbed the ball and inbounded it before Stills could send in a play. The pass was errant and time expired.

*****

That’s enough … coach Stills yelled as the team bickered on the bench! If it weren’t for Bri, this game was over in the first quarter!

Emalia stormed into the locker room.

The coach gathered herself. Look ladies … we control our own destinies, Stills said. We have our chance on Tuesday. Practice on Monday! Nobody do anything dumb this weekend!

Stills left the gym, reminding the girls they still had the chance to make the playoffs for the first time since 1964. I have to go. The gym is locked up from the outside, Stills said. Hit the showers and let yourselves out.

The girls headed to the locker room, except for Bri, who just sat on the bench and replayed the last seconds of the game over and over in her head. What if I had just let them score? she thought. At least we would have had a chance to set up a play at the end. What if they shot and missed? I could have secured that rebound! As her teammates cleaned up and left the gym, most of them patted their teammate on the shoulder and told her to relax, and that they would take care of business on Tuesday.

When Bri thought everyone had left, she decided she better clean up and go.

The rusty shower water hit her face, but it was refreshing. It was as if it washed away the last hour of her life and promised better things ahead. She was not excited to leave, as she knew there was little to go home to. Her parents were divorced and her dad lived more than an hour away. Her mom was a partier, so the chances of her being home were nil.

When she