The Staff of Sakatha (29 page)

“No, Jon,” said Sorus, “don’t listen to him. It’s some kind of a trap.”

Proteus continued to skirt around the edge of the circle and get in position to bypass the energy field that blocked them off from the skeletal creature.

“I’d heard you were a stupid oaf,” said Whitebone to Jon with a nod of his head. “A boy incapable of thinking on his own, but perhaps the rumors were unfounded. You seem quite reasonable.”

Jon nodded his head, “Make your offer, Lord Whitebone.”

The skeleton moved a hand to its chin and apparently did not notice as Proteus sidled another step closer, “The Staff of Sakatha is a relic from the Old Empire. The reptile men of Darag’dal are degenerate dragon children, their blood thinned over the generations, but they hope to raise a great hero from that bygone era, Sakatha the Great.”

“Go on,” said Jon careful not to look at Proteus, who edged closer in small motions and now stood only twenty feet from the bone lord.

“The Lady of the Abyss wants the staff for a similar purpose; she hopes not to raise Great Sakatha but to animate his corpse and make him one of her most powerful minions,” Whitebone said as his red eyes began to blaze with fire. “I want neither of these things, and if your father takes the staff out of circulation or even destroys it I will be quite pleased.”

Jon nodded his head, “Are you not a servant of She of the Undeath? You certainly have the countenance of the dead,” he said as his eyes glanced once towards Proteus who now stood no more than three steps from the undead lord.

“I am subject to her will, yes,” said Whitebone, “but she and I have different agendas. Have you heard the name Shinamar?” he said with a tilt of his head.

Jon shook his head, “No, should I?”

“No,” said Lord Whitebone, “and I am not in such an expansive mood as to illuminate you to his role in all of this. All I need is a child of the dragon to tell me where the thing is located; you help me find it, and then we turn it over to your father. That seems reasonable, does it not?”

“It does,” said Jon.

“Don’t trust him,” shouted Sorus and pointed with his finger to the skeletal warrior. “I bet that white dragon was his all along, that’s how it knew your name!”

Whitebone stood up stiffly for a moment but then resumed his previous attitude, “I am not lying to you Jon,” he said. “I am not telling the complete truth of course, as our desires do not match exactly. But, in this case I think we can, and should, work together.”

Jon nodded his head, “I’m willing to accept that, Whitebone,” he said.

“Did the boy mention a white dragon,” said Whitebone his inflection apparently calm.

“It was traveling with some dragon children,” said Jon with a shrug. “Sorus, myself, and another knight came here and found the creature. I suspect it wanted to find the Staff of Sakatha as well. It probably worked for the dragon children.”

“That would seem to make sense,” said Whitebone with a casual nod of his head. “You’ve been in this region before?”

“Yes, just a couple of days ago,” said Jon. “We came across the creature and its friends in the darkling lands below the mountains. Sir Germanius killed it but died in the effort, so the dragon cannot be of any help to us now.”

“I see,” said Whitebone his voice suddenly cool, but the fire in his eyes now glowing with white hot intensity.

“Jon,” said Sorus. “Something’s up!”

“This friend of yours, Sir Germanius the dragon slayer, he died while killing the beast,” said Whitebone as his body began to tremble.

“Yes,” said Jon with a nod. “It was a fair battle and they killed one another. There was a darkling with them that I killed, and Sorus here fought and killed a dragon child at the same time.”

Whitebone stood silently for a long moment as his eyes grew more intense until they were white hot and boring into Jon with pure hatred.

“Watch out, Jon,” said Sorus and leapt forward to push Jon out of the way as a bolt of energy shot out of the skeleton lord’s eyes at the young gray knight. Sorus hit Jon like a wooden practice sword against a set of heavy plate mail, bounced off straight backwards onto the floor, but the impact caused the Gray Knight to turn sideways and the white hot bolt sailed past his right ear. He clapped a hand over it as the near miss sent a burning sensation through his body.

As Sorus picked himself up off the floor Proteus moved in from behind the skeletal lord with his sword raised and began a quick motion aimed at the creature’s midsection. Whitebone whirled with astonishing speed and parried the blow. Proteus slid sideways but managed to get his own defense up in time to knock aside the riposte that sailed harmlessly past his head.

Jon looked at the green shield that separated him from Whitebone, and the lord of death glanced over his shoulder, smiled, and then his blade flashed out again, this time it caught Proteus a glancing blow on his shoulder. The knight of Elekargul winced in pain but struck back, although he missed missing widely, as Whitebone moved with tremendous grace.

“Jon,” screamed Sorus, “I’m going to go around it,” he continued and then dashed off to the side of the energy field as he hoped to follow Proteus’s movements. This time the green glow actually lurched at Sorus, and the boy, surprised, was unable to dodge aside. It hit him with a crackling burst of energy, and he flew back against the wall and smashed his head with a dreadful thunk. The lad slid to the ground with his eyes rolled back in his head and his sword on the floor next to his limp hand.

Whitebone parried another blow from Proteus with apparent ease and his own blade nicked the warrior on the right hand, drawing a narrow stream of blood, “I’ll kill your friend here first,” said Whitebone with a casual glance at Jon, “and then I’ll finish you slowly and painfully.”

Jon paused for a moment, watched the swordplay between Proteus and Whitebone, took a quick glance at the fallen Sorus, set his jaw, and raised his sword, “For the Gray!” he yelled and charged directly at the glowing green energy shield as his massive stone sword swung down with devastating force. The two forces met, green energy shot up the blade and into Jon’s arm. His body stiffened but his momentum kept him going forward until he reached the shield itself. There was a strange silence as its energy engulfed the sword and then Jon at the same second, but then there was a terrible cracking sound and Jon plunged through to the other side, stumbled for a moment, and then caught his feet and turned to Whitebone.

Lord Whitebone looked over at the sound and Proteus lunged forward, the tip of the sword penetrated the skeletal master’s heavy cloak, slid into his body, and nicked a rib. Whitebone whirled with a move too fast to completely comprehend, raised his free hand, slapped Proteus across the face, and the knight turned almost instantly blue, flew backwards ten feet, and collapsed to the ground, his entire body shivering.

Meanwhile, Jon moved directly at Whitebone who spun again and brought his sword up to block the descending stone blade. There was the slightest clink when the skeletal lord’s blade broke, but the parry did nothing to stop Jon’s sword and it continued to decend almost unabated and crashed into Whitebone’s shoulder with such force that the bone turned to powder and sprayed out of the collars around his neck and wrist with a puff.

Whitebone screamed in agony, his eyes burning red, Jon flipped his massive sword up with a simple wrist movement, and then turned it in a downward sweeping arc aimed at the skeleton’s head. The creature shrieked out a single word and vanished as the sword plunged through the spot it occupied a moment before and crashed into the ground with the terrible sound of rock on rock. Jon looked around but could not see Whitebone, and then rushed over to Proteus who lay in a curled-up position, his face blue and his body cold to the touch.

“Are you all right?” Jon said as he put his hand on the man.

“I’m cold,” said Proteus with a smile, “which means I’m not dead, should you care to look on the positive side of things.”

“True enough, here, take my cloak,” said the gray knight and pulled off the gray cloak with the mistletoe symbol on the shoulder. “I’m going to check on Sorus, I think he’s all right as well, just dazed from that energy shield thing.”

Proteus nodded as his teeth chattered, “I’ll try to get up and move around; my legs don’t seem to want to take orders at the moment but I’ll convince them.”

Jon walked over to Sorus who sat against the wall and blinked wide eyes set in a face ashen white. He reached back to feel his head and immediately knew he was bleeding again, “I think Proteus is going to be mad at me for opening my wound,” he said with a smile.

“Just sit right there for a bit,” said Jon. “You were right about Whitebone and you saved me from that bolt he threw. Proteus is going to be okay but we need to get out of here as quickly as possible. I think there are more darklings about and we’re in no condition to deal with them.”

“Just give me a second,” said Sorus and put his hands by his legs in an attempt to slowly rise, “I’ll be okay.”

Jon went back over to Proteus who had somehow managed to get shakily to his feet, and his color changed to a slighter redder hew although he still shivered uncontrollably. “I’ve never been hit with anything like that,” he said with a shaky voice. “Let’s get out into the sunshine. I don’t think I like it here in the darkling lands much.”

“Agreed,” said Jon with a nod of his head and he put his arm under Proteus’s and helped the warrior along. “Don’t forget your sword,” he reminded the knight as he pointed to where it lay on the floor.

“Right,” said Proteus, “I must be more addled than I realized,” he continued, “a knight never leaves his sword on the field of battle unless he’s dead.”

The two staggered over to the blade, Proteus picked it up, sheathed it, and then they walked slowly over to Sorus who was also barely on his feet. Jon slipped his other arm around the young knight and the three of them walked arm in arm back towards the entrance of the cave.

The two figures, one immensely fat atop a draft horse that plodded along, and the other short and stout aboard a thickly muscled horse, arrived at the gates to the Black Horse temple as the sun set early in the shadows of the Mountains of the Orc. A livery boy, wearing a cloak with a simple Black Horse symbol emblazoned on it, dashed out from a long building and over to the men. “Hello,” he started to say and then saw the two men clearly and pulled up short, “First Rider, sir! Welcome to the Black Horse temple, can I take your horse, sir?”

Vipsanius dismounted quickly althought it took a bit longer for the rotund Odellius to swing his leg around and get off his own mount. A few seconds later the two strode off to a tall stone building in the center of the courtyard while the boy led the horses to the long structure not far away. As soon as the young livery boy got to the paddocks he shouted out to another boy who lazed nearby on a bale of hale, “It’s the First Rider and Sir Odellius!”

“What?” said the second boy jumping immediately to his feet. “What’s that you say?”

“The First Rider! He’s here, this is his horse, look!” said the first boy and pulled the steed over for examination. “And fat Odellius too,” he continued with a huge grin on his face. “Look at this draft horse he’s riding. It’s probably the only one big enough to carry him!”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” said the second boy, his eyes wide as he looked around the barn, “my father said Odellius believes that a beating now and again does a boy good! Come on, get that saddle off, we have to get them rubbed down. The First Rider might want to leave in the middle of the night on an urgent mission and I’m not going to be the one to let him ride out on a scruffy horse!”

The two boys began to work on the horses with great dedication as the sun set and their lanterns provided light in the dim paddock.

“First Rider,” said the rather plain human wearing a heavy black robe that came down to the floor as he waved his hand to a thick wooden chair at the head of a large oak table. He had brown hair, marginally silver at the ends, and wore a small gold ring on his left hand ring finger but showed no other fine jewels on his person. To his right a young man, in an equally black robe, piled kindling into the fire and began to work at it with flint and steel. “We were told to expect you later in the week, you’ve made good time but your quarters are not yet ready.”

“I won’t stay long, Imprilius,” said the First Rider as he moved over to the large chair and sat down on a small cushion that propped him up a little higher than his normal stature. “Sir Odellius and I are here in regards to the unpleasantness in the Mountains of the Orc. There is important news that may change our interpretation of events.”

“Odellius,” said Imprilius with a nod to the fat man. “I thought you were in Black Dale this twelve month but, let me say, it is always a pleasure to see you. I’ll notify the cook immediately.”

“Sir Odellius,” said the First Rider and put his hands on the stone table just as the fire sprang to life under the administration of the acolyte. “I’ve revoked his twelve month for this situation.”

“I realize that magic from the Old Empire is a rare thing,” said the priest of the Black Horse as he motioned with his head to an older man who also wore the standard robes of the temple. “Tell the cook that we have an extra guest and that it is Sir Odellius.”

The man slid out of the room silently as his soft leather shoes seemed to glide over the floor and then he was gone. The boy who tended the fire got up, satisfied the blaze was well started, and also moved out of the room without a word.

“We’ve a visitor from far to the north,” said the First Rider, “An emissary of the Gray Lord of Tanelorn.”

The priest sat back in his chair and his brown eyes narrowed as he looked back and forth between Odellius and Vipsanius. “I’ve heard of Tanelorn,” he said and folded his hands on his laps as his fingers intertwined. “But what on earth could our two nations offer one another in an alliance? The distance is far too great for any sort of military aid.”

“Indeed,” said the First Rider with a nod of his head leaning forward in his seat. “It is about this relic from the Old Empire,” he continued. “The Gray Lord clearly knows about it and has known for some time. The journey from Tanelorn is many months, even years long at best.”