The Staff of Sakatha (20 page)

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to interrupt,” said Jon with a smile on his face as he polished off the last of the liquid in his tumbler, made a face, and then got up to pour himself some more.

“Could you top me off as well,” said Sorus, his cheeks a little red and a rather silly smile on his face.

“Be careful with that,” said Proteus with a grin. “It’s more potent than that beer you brew in town and we don’t need you with a hangover tomorrow morning.”

“Just one more,” said Sorus with a smile. “I think I’m acquiring a taste for this stuff. Next time I’m over the mountains I’ll have to buy some for myself.”

“Next time you’re over the mountains,” said Jon, pouring the whiskey in both of their glasses, and then adding a generous dollop of water. “You’ve barely been out of Black Dale in your life and now you’re talking about the next time you go over the mountains?”

“It was a sigure of feech,” said Sorus and then hiccupped.

“That’s your last,” said Proteus shaking his head and smiling. “But they say the lesson learned best, is the lesson learned hard.”

“Hear, hear,” said Sorus and took the proffered glass from Jon, tilted it back, and splashed some of the burning liquid down his throat. “Whoopee!”

“Vipsanius didn’t know what this relic of the Old Empire was or how it tied in with Elekargul, only that those interested in it were in the region. About a month after that, or one month ago, I got a visit from a roaming band of knights, and they planned to head up into the mountains to investigate a sighting of undead creatures. They stopped here to provision and gave me a map of where they were going in case they didn’t come back. They didn’t say anything about this relic, but I think we all knew what was going on. They never came back and just two days ago I got a message from the First Rider.”

“What did it say?” said Jon and looked over to Sorus, whose head was back and his body slumped in the chair fast asleep. “Kids,” he said with a smile to Proteus.

“How much older than Sorus are you?” asked the square-jawed father of two with a smile.

“Only about two years,” said Jon, “but I’m the son of a lord and I’ve trained for things like this all my life. My father taught me to drink but not get drunk, to listen to everything people say even if it seems immaterial. My brother Val is better at it than I am, and my sister Jane is also, but I’ve learned a few things at least. Sorus there was born to be a brewer not a knight, not a man of responsibility, a man who orders other men to their death. He didn’t have anyone to teach him, so maybe I’m only two years older than him, but I’m ready to help the knights of Elekargul take on a darkling army, an armada of reptile men and their dragon children allies, or endless waves of creatures from the abyss. I know about relics of the Old Empire,” he went on with a look to the great stone sword that leaned against the wall by the door, “and if something like that is around here then you’ll want my help.”

Proteus nodded his head and frowned, “All well-spoken Jon,” he said, “but you remain seventeen years old and, despite your size, many of the knights of Elekargul will likely not let you lead them. You’re going to need our help, and to get it you need to convince the First Rider that you are on our side. After all Jon, you must look at it from his perspective. A relic of the Old Empire suddenly surfaces and all sorts of factions want to claim it. Why is your claim more legitimate than anyone else’s?”

“I can show you that,” said Jon, as he stood up and went over to his pack, “but you don’t have to believe it any more than the mayor of Black Dale did. I am an ambassador of the Gray Lord come to Elekargul all the way from Tanelorn. We are nations of free people, two of three that my father knows to exist in the entire world. We must band together despite the great distance between our nations.”

“Stop right there, Jon,” said Proteus and leaned forward in his seat and put his hand up to stop Jon. “I’m not the First Rider and I have no authority with my people. I’m merely a Brokenshield, my past accomplishments withstanding. It’s not me you must convince but the First Rider. I don’t want to see what you have there. Save it for the right time. Now, let me tell you what the note from the First Rider said and then you can tell me what we should do next.”

Jon stopped in his tracks, the papers in his hand held out towards Proteus; then he turned and put them away.

“The message told me the location the patrol went to in the hills and that more knights were coming to further explore the region. He hoped to be with those knights but thought it might not be possible. He wanted me to pass the map onto them but they aren’t due here for at least another week. If this relic of the Old Empire …,” said Proteus.

“The Staff of Sakatha,” interrupted Jon, his gray eyes steady on Proteus.

“If this … Staff of Sakatha … has emerged up in the Mountains of the Orc and there are already minions of the abyss and dragon children there, then every day, every hour is of importance. We can ride out in the morning to the plains and hopefully meet up with the First Rider within two or three days, but we might just as easily miss them entirely. Another choice is to wait here until the First Rider or the patrol he sent arrives but, as I said, that might be a week or even more. The First Rider is trying to assemble an experienced group and that can take some time in Elekargul as everyone is off on their own patrols. Generally the most experienced knights lead a patrol for a twelve month. Or,” he said as he summed up, “you, Sorus there,” with a finger pointed to the sleeping boy, “and I can follow the map ourselves up into those hills.”

“What about your sons?” said Jon.

“I can leave them here to tell the First Rider where we went or to pass along a copy of the map in case Vipsanius isn’t with them,” said Proteus, standing up, and going over to a large desk in the corner of the room. He reached under the desk, flicked something with his hand, and then pulled open the drawer. Inside was a map on a plain piece of parchment although from the distance Jon sat he couldn’t make out much of anything else. “I have the map here and I’ll make a copy for us if you think that is what we should do.”

Jon looked first at Proteus, then at Sorus, and finally he gazed into the fire for a moment to watch the flames lick over the thick logs as they turned from brown to black. The wood slowly consumed released its energy into the room in the form of heat. He spent several moments at this and then turned to Proteus, back in his seat and with his tumbler at his lips. “I think we three should head up into the mountains first thing in the morning,” he said. “But, I can understand that you might not trust me and prefer to find the First Rider and gain his counsel.”

Proteus smiled broadly, “You are a boy of action,” he said, “it’s plainly written on your face and I expected nothing less. As I’ve gotten older, and wiser,” he went on, “I find that action is almost always the best strategy but not before you analyze all the pertinent information with a critical eye. The bad First Riders are always the ones who surround themselves with men who agree with everything they say. I’ve heard your council and I’ve weighed the facts; we ride in the morning … to the mountains!”

Jon nodded his head and looked the logs as they burned, their energy slowly sapped away to leave nothing but burned out husks, and then he looked at fifteen year old Sorus Nightwalk. “I don’t like taking Sorus with us,” he said. “He’s so young and there will be danger.”

“When Sir Germanius granted him a name he became a knight of Elekargul. Cincanattus Clay was younger than Sorus when he took a name and perhaps just about your age when he intitally became First Rider,” said Proteus as he nodded his head and looked at the sleeping lad. “It will be dangerous but, if he survives, he might become a great knight.”

“Who was Cincanattus Clay?” said Jon, turning his head to the side to gaze at Proteus.

“You’ve not heard that story?” said Proteus. “It’s one of the most famous in all of Elekargul.”

“I’ve only been in the nation for a week,” said Jon, “although I’ve heard a number of astonishing stories. Your people were born of fire and war, like my own. Tell me about this Clay.”

Proteus stood up and tossed another pair of logs onto the fire, then returned to his chair, and leaned back with a long sigh, “Cincannatus Clay was an apprentice potter not taken on as a squire when he was a boy. He longed to join the knights, much like Sorus. He lived in the little village of Dale Camp which is in the far north of Elekargul beyond the Hollow Wood. In those days the insect men did not yet rule the lands to the north of our nation but instead a tribe of mixed bred orcs and ogres lived up there and attacked us on a regular basis. The mayor of the town was a Brokenhand and a former First Rider. He only had one son and spent his life training the boy in the ways of the sword and lance. His son showed considerable promise with both weapons; many thought his future quite bright and those included most of the eligible young girls in town. His son thought a bit too much of himself, as spoiled boys often will. One day a band of orcs led by a powerful ogre killed some farmers in the north and the patrolling riders mustered in town to ride them down. The town mayor offered his son to squire for one of the knights headed out to battle, as the laws of Elekargul prevented him from abandoning his civilian duties. That night the boy dallied into the late hours with pretty girls and drank too much. He did not fall asleep until only a few hours before the group planned to head out after the marauders.”

Proteus stopped her for a moment. “Yes, there are spoiled children in Elekargul as there are everywhere in the world but we try to teach them better.” The square-jawed knight took a sip from his glass and continued his story. “The rules back in those days were such that no boy without master could take the field of battle with men, so Cincannatus broke into the other boy’s equipment, stole his arms and armor, and left a single copper coin behind as payment. The thinking being that the coin was as valuable to Cincannatus as the armor to the squire. I suppose you can imagine the rest from there. Cincannatus performed great deeds of valor on the battlefield, saved several knights, and personally slew the leader of the maruaders. When they returned to town the mayor himself heard of his son’s performance in the field and insisted on rewarding the boy. When Cincannatus took off his helm everyone knew the truth and the mayor, being a knight of Elekargul, did not become enraged but instead honored Cincannatus by not only making him a knight but also giving him the opportunity to create his own name. It is the only time in the history of Elekargul that a newly made-knight also create a new name line at the same time. Cincannatus chose the name Coppercoin and only boys without knightly masters who perform valorously on the field of battle take it. It is the rarest of names in all of Elekargul and any Coppercoin you might meet is a force with whom you must reckon. Cincannatus went on to become First Rider eleven times and is probably the most famous knight in all of our history after Brutus Brokenhand.”

“That’s quite a story,” said Jon. “In Tanelorn anyone can become a knight but, like here, only if another knight deems them worthy. We don’t use names in the same way you do though. A parent names a child at birth and they keep that name all their lives.”

“The First Rider is a Coppercoin, Vipsanius Coppercoin. He’s quite a fellow and it will be most interesting to see you two fight side by side if that ever comes to pass,” said Proteus and he nodded his head and smiled at Jon.

“Why is that?” asked the tall young man suddenly feeling a little light headed, but did not let that stop him as he finished off the dregs of the last tumbler of whiskey.

“That is a tale for another night, my young friend,” said Proteus. “Now, do you think you can carry your friend to the barn? We should get an early start tomorrow if we want to get to the mountains by midday. I don’t like to climb those things under anything less than ideal lighting conditions.”

Jon stood up, walked over to Sorus, looped his arm under the boy, and threw him over his shoulder with an almost casual move. “I think I can manage,” he said and then turned towards the front door.

Proteus lit a lantern with a stick from the fire and led the two outside to the barn and watched as Jon put Sorus on a bed of straw and then arranged his own. “Good night, Proteus, and I’m sorry I’ve gotten you involved in all of this,” said Jon.

“Don’t be sorry, Jon, the Black Horse works in mysterious ways, perhaps it is time I started to think about being a knight again. These years with the boys, most knights consider it the worst thing that can happen, taking the Brokenshield, but these years raising the boys, farming, working in short sleeves with a hoe and a plow horse, well, I’ve taken to them, I must admit. After … after my wife died … I didn’t really want to go on living at all and I thought … I could raise the boys just long enough … well … I hate to give it up but I think now it’s time. We’ll see. In any case, Jon, what happens happens, what doesn’t, doesn’t. Sleep well knight of Tanelorn and may the morrow bring us good fortune.” With that the square-jawed man walked away and Jon watched the lantern swing back and forth until it reached the house and disappeared completely.

Sorus already snored lightly and Jon listened to him for a few minutes and then put his own head down on the straw and soon was asleep.

“Dead!” screamed Lord Whitebone as the skeletal creature stood in front of his bony throne and looked at the ghoulish form of Thantos. His death mask skull radiated a wave of palpable heat and his eyes burned so intensely that they appeared blue in color. “What do you mean dead?”

“He now serves the Mistress of the Abyss, She Who Rules Eternally, She who has Ruled in the Abyss since the …,” said the ghoul and licked its lips and smiled at the rage of Whitebone.

“Enough of your listing of her titles, is she so insecure in her reign that her servants must repeat endlessly this mantra of her eternal rule. Damn you, Thantos, and damn your mistress as well,” said Whitebone turning his back on the ghoul with a sweep of his long cape.

“Shall I convey that message to She Who Eternally Rules,” said Thantos, unable to keep the smirk from his face but the comment did not provoke the angry reaction for which he hoped.