“My head hurts,” said Sorus as the trio of men and their horses walked slowly east towards the Mountains of the Orc. Ahead of them the Frosty Run gurgled with snow melt and promised fresh fish for dinner but, for the moment, the air was crisp, the sky blue, and the boy’s head hurt.
“Let that be a lesson,” said Proteus as he glanced over from his mount. “Next time drink in moderation. All things in moderation, drink, food, battle, horseback riding, and dungeon delving for lost relics of the Old Empire.”
“Ooooh,” moaned Sorus as his horse’s hooves plowed into the lush fields of grass where pretty little orange flowers blossomed more fully as the morning progressed. “I’ll never drink again,” and then he suddenly pulled his horse over, tried to dismount, fell to the ground on his knees and then elbows, and then threw up with great heaves. The horse moved away.
“Eggs,” said Jon with a shake of his head and looked at Proteus with a smile on his face, but also turned the other way, his own stomach suddenly queasy.
“I didn’t think that was such a good idea this morning,” said the square-jawed Brokenshield who also shook his head, “but I did suggest just some stale bread and a little milk.”
“Shut up,” said Sorus from the ground, “it’s not like I can’t hear you,” and then he started to heave again although only liquid came up and then nothing at all. After a few more moments he staggered to his feet, lurched over to his horse, pulled off a canteen, and took a shallow swig of water. He breathed deeply for a few more moments and then took another sip.
“At least he didn’t throw-up on the flowers,” said Jon. “What are those orange ones? Our flora and fauna is totally different in Tanelorn.”
“Flora and fauna?” said Proteus.
“That’s what it’s called,” said Jon. “Animals and plants,” he continued and moved his hand, open palm towards the landscape.
“I know that’s what it’s called,” said Proteus with a smile as he threw up his own hands in a defensive gesture. “I just don’t often here those terms used. You did have quite the education back in Tanelorn.”
“I guess so,” said Jon. “My mom made sure of that and my older brother Val is kind of a stickler about learning things. He’s a gray druid now and he talks with dad and the other elders about important things.”
“An older brother,” said Proteus. “I can’t imagine your poor mother wanting to have children after one like you,” he said as they waited for Sorus to roll onto his horse and continue the journey. The poor boy managed to mount on his third try as he slung his leg up and around and then fell forward, face down, onto the mane of the beast.
“He was born early,” said Jon. “He’s much shorter than me and has a club foot so he’s more of a wizard than a fighter. That’s not to say he doesn’t know his way around the blade though,” said Jon suddenly and turned his head and looked at Proteus. “I didn’t mean to say…”
Proteus smiled and shook his head, “I didn’t take it that way Jon, and I’ve got an older brother myself. I’m sure he’s a fine bladesman but everyone has their own specialties and interests. Not everyone is made out to be a knight,” he said with a shrug and looked over at Sorus. “Sit up straight boy, leaned over like that you bounce more, and in your condition, that’s not good.”
“Uhghh,” said Sorus and tried to sit up but only managed a half slump in his seat. “I don’t feel good.”
“Is your brother a knight?” said Jon as he looked at Proteus, “or is he a potter or something?”
“He’s a knight as well,” said Proteus with a shrug and quick rise of his eyebrows, “but that doesn’t mean it’s for everyone. Some of my friends growing up wanted to be knights but then as they got older decided on something else, farming, pottery, tailor, tanner, anything really. There’s no shame in it and those are important professions,” he continued and slapped the leather riding saddle and then the thick wool shirt he wore. “Like I said before, we knights take our twelve month but we don’t really learn a profession. If the journeymen didn’t do their job then the nation wouldn’t be the same.”
“Do you have many wizards here?” said Jon as he glanced over at Sorus. “The reptile men to the south of Tanelorn have snake wizards and we skirmish with them regularly and then there are the rock beasts.”
“Rock beasts,” said Sorus suddenly alert, “what are those?”
Jon shrugged, “That’s something the gray druids want to know as well,” he said and suddenly became quiet. Sorus looked at Proteus who held up his hand palm toward the young knight and nodded twice quickly with his head as they watched Jon. After a few moments the gray knight seemed to come out of his reverie and looked at the other two and shook his head as if to wake himself up. “Sorry, it’s just that I haven’t been away from home for this long ever before. I was just thinking about my family, my friends, my girlfriends.”
“Girlfriends?” said Sorus smiling, “plural?”
Jon shrugged and smiled with a closed mouth, “Well, who am I to say no when they come knocking at my door. I hate to be rude.”
Proteus laughed, “It must be tough to be the son of the ruler,” he said, nudged his horse over to Jon, and smacked the broad-shouldered boy on the back.
“You forgot to say, ‘the son of the ruler and devastatingly handsome,’” said Jon and gave the older man a punch to the shoulder that rocked him to the side.
“My mistake,” said Proteus and reached up with a pained expression to his shoulder, “and watch yourself when you punch your elders, we’re frail old men.”
Jon and Sorus laughed and the young knight of Elekargul suddenly remembered the original question, “Jon, what are rock beasts?”
“There is a… creature… an elemental thing… well, something to the east of Tanelorn called the Rock Lord. No one really knows what it is to be honest. He appeared before I was born not long after my father settled in the region, before Tanelorn. He… it…whatever, it somehow turns living creatures into stone beasts, not just animals either, plants, insects, and people.”
“How do you fight a thing like that,” said Proteus and looked at Jon with a shake of his head.
“That’s what the gray druids do most of the time; they keep the Rock Lord and his minions in check. It’s not hard once you learn the proper spells, a liberal dose of water, a quick bit of cold, and then a heavy batch of hammer play from the gray knights does the trick,” said Jon. “I’ve broken up quite a few in my day. Luckily they’re not too bright, not much different from fighting zombies and skeletons really. They don’t coordinate well and can’t function as a unit on anything other than at the most basic level.”
“That’s horrible, living creatures turned to stone but still alive,” said Proteus. “No wonder the druids of your land want to destroy them so much. If they can’t function as a military unit why doesn’t your father just march on them, kill this Rock Lord, and end his reign once and for all.”
“My father swore never to launch an aggressive military campaign. The knights of gray and the druids of gray only go to battle if we are attacked by someone else,” said Jon. “That was one of the pledges he made to the Union of Grelm and the Five Nations so that they accepted his rule in the region.”
“But you said the rock beasts and you fight regularly,” said Sorus. “Why don’t you just wait for them to attack and then counterattack them all the way back to this Rock Lord.”
“My father,” said Jon with a shrug of his shoulders, “thinks that a violation of the spirit of his pledge. When attacked we only fight back to the edge of our borders and then leave off. I don’t agree with him myself but he’s still in charge of the lands and, until I’m in command, that’s the way it is.”
“Will you be the Gray Lord eventually,” said Sorus and looked at Jon closely with lips slightly parted.
Jon shrugged again, “I don’t know. My brother says he doesn’t want to be ruler and there are other men, older than I, who are powerful warriors and my father’s aides. My father didn’t get married until later in life and Val is twenty-five; I’m seventeen like my sister but my father is sixty. There’s Scar Blackheart, he’s an orc formerly of the Black Rose tribe of the Five Nations, and others as well. My father says that each generation has to rule themselves and overcome their own hardships so I don’t even know if Tanelorn will go on after he dies.”
Proteus and Sorus continued alongside Jon as their horses moved at a slow but steady pace. No one said anything for the next few miles, and soon a little eddy of the Frosty Run appeared in the clear morning air. Sorus rode ahead, dismounted, and plunged his head into the cool mountain-fed river for a moment. He then pulled out and shook his head back and forth before he ducked it back under for a second time. He repeated this process several more times until his ears were bright red and his face had a huge smile. “Now, that’s more like it,” he said and stood up straight, bent his back, and looked up into the blue sky where a few fluffy clouds drifted past. “I’m feeling better now!”
“Kids,” said Proteus and shook his head as a broad grin came across his face. “It takes me four days to recover from something like that.”
“You drink too much frequently?” said Jon although he also laughed at Sorus’s new found energy.
Proteus looked at Jon and raised his eyebrows, “Come on, Sir Sorus, let’s try and find a ford in the river so we can head up in the mountains, find that relic, and get back to my boys before the First Rider even knows we’re on the mission.”
Jon pulled on his reins and turned his horse north and upstream, “I’ll head north,” he said and spurred the two toned trotter into a canter.
“I guess we’ll go downstream,” said Proteus to Sorus and the young man looked up towards the square jawed former knight and managed to glance at the sun. He turned his head and closed his eyes, “Ughhh, maybe I’m not so great,” he muttered and bent over for a moment but managed to keep from a repeat performance.
“Mount up there, Nightwalk,” said Proteus, “and let’s find that ford before Sir I’ve got ten girlfriends back home finds one and starts to feel even better about himself.”
Sorus managed to get back on is horse and they took off downstream at a slower pace than Jon. It took them about twenty minutes to find a good spot to cross the river and they met up with Jon about half way back. A quick decision sent them across the river and within an hour they approached the foothills of the Mountains of the Orc.
“Where does that map say we head up?” said Sorus as they rode along the foothills and occasionally glanced towards the mountains that loomed high above them.
“It’s not really that fine a map, Sorus,” said Proteus with a glance towards the saddlebag where the map rested. “We should find a small trail somewhere along here and then head up. If we find the right one then we’ll find some ruins about halfway up the mountain but it might be dark by then.”
“Great, another night in the mountains,” said Sorus. “At least I’ve still got my cold weather gear from the last time.”
Soon enough they found a trail but, before they headed up, Sorus spent considerable time scouting out the region to look for any hidden ambushes. When Proteus looked to Jon the young knight nodded his head and said, “You can’t blame him after what happened before,” and then explained the death of Mikus to the older knight.
“The problem,” said Proteus in a low voice to Jon while Sorus was off, “is that an ambush might be around any corner and you can’t spend hours looking under every rock.”
“I know,” said Jon, “but I think we can afford to lose ten minutes here and he’ll learn in time that sometimes things just happen and no one is to blame.”
After the short delay they led the horses up into the mountains on the small trail. They spent most of the day in the slow ascent and stopped once when a goat almost ran headlong into them. Proteus took it down with a quick shot from a small bow he carried at his side and they dressed the creature quickly before they continued the journey.
“I don’t think we’ll make the ruin before nightfall,” said Proteus as he looked to the darkened sky. “We should find a campsite soon. There are goblins up in the hills most nights and they’ve been more aggressive of late.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” said Sorus as he continued to look at each large rock or tree in the hopes he might spot an attack before it happened. “Can we start a fire to cook the goat?” he said, “or should we try not to draw attention to ourselves with the smoke and light?”
Jon looked to Proteus who replied, “A fire should be all right if we keep it under an overhang. Smoke isn’t easy to see at night and the light won’t be visible from too far away if we keep it low.”
Soon enough they sat around a fire, goat haunch over the open flame, as they drank hot water and complained about the already cold temperature. “It’ll be colder later,” said Proteus. “Jon, do you think we should set watches or just try and get a good night’s sleep?”
Jon shrugged, “Watches are probably a good idea just to get into the habit. It might take us a couple of days up here to find the ruins and if we’re on the wrong path longer than that.”
“Sorus,” said Proteus to the young knight, “why don’t you get to sleep first to recover from your overindulgence, I’ll take the first watch after dinner, Jon you take the second, and Sorus can take over from you until morning.”
Late that night Jon shook Sorus’s shoulder as the boy lay curled under the heavy wool blanket and it took a moment for him to wake up, “Hmmm,” he grunted, “my watch?”
“Here,” said Jon and handed him a mug filled with hot liquid, “I stoked the fire a bit and boiled some water. This should wake you up, drink it and have some food as well, that helps on watch.”
“Thanks, Jon,” said the boy as he rolled out of his blanket and found his heavy boots in the dark after a missed grope or two. He knocked them together and flipped them over for a few seconds before he put them on his feet, while Jon crawled under his own heavy woolen blanket and began to breathe heavily within a few seconds.
The moon was low on the horizon when Sorus looked up from his cup of coffee towards the sky. Even at this lower altitude of the mountains the sky seemed clearer than on the ground near Black Dale and the twinkles of the stars gleamed like lanterns during a festival night. The moon was low on the horizon and the only sounds that came to the young knight’s ears were the snores of Proteus and the rhythmic croaks from the little frogs that lived in the trees. On the night he and Jon chased the goblins into the cave he didn’t notice such things and he couldn’t help but stare at the stars and listen to the new sounds for a moment before he shook off his wonder and looked around the camp. By the fire several chunks of goat meat sat in a pan and the coffee pot rested on a little mesh tray just next to the fire.
Sorus took a few steps over to it when a small crack from somewhere beyond the camp caused him to stop suddenly and snap to attention. In the night it was impossible to tell from what direction the noise came, but the camp rested against a little notch in the hillside which limited the possibilities. He stood frozen with the empty mug of coffee in one hand, strained his ears towards the darkness, and waited for another sound, but long minutes passed without a repeat. Sorus realized he wasn’t breathing and took in a large gulp of air when an owl flew silently overhead. It was only the fact that he happened to look in that direction that he noted the creature at all and he jumped backwards with a cry as it sailed a few feet over his head.
Proteus and Jon were up in a flash, both with swords in hand as the first looked into the darkness and then at Sorus, “What is it?” they said almost in unison.
“Just an owl,” said Sorus. “It flew past my ear and startled me.”
“There are some little ones up in the mountains,” said Proteus, “I think they call them elf owls and they eat mostly insects and such. They make a whinny like a horse,” he continued as he lay his sword down next to his bedroll and started to climb back in. Just at that moment a heavy growl suddenly came out of the darkness and the square-jawed knight reached for his sword again.
“What was that?” said Sorus and Jon shook his head, shrugged his shoulder, and looked to Proteus in the dim light of the campfire.
“Not a cougar,” said Proteus who stood up his blade in one hand, “more like a wolf or a pack of those wild dogs that roam up here, what do they call them, bush dogs, good swimmers but not active at night much,” he said.
“I don’t know,” said Jon as he stared out into the darkness just as a second growl and a little bark emanated from the night. “If they’re just dogs then they’d leave us alone, unless they’re more aggressive down south.”
“No,” said Proteus with a shake of his head. “Dogs like that won’t attack men, not during the day at least, but they travel in packs, up to a dozen or more. I don’t think they’d come at us but maybe something has them worked up.”
“What should we do?” asked Sorus as he looked back and forth to Proteus and Jon. “Attack? Wait for them?”
“Do goblins used trained bush dogs?” said Jon with sword in hand as he tried to penetrate the darkness with his gaze.
“No, not around here at least, they hate dogs, kill them on sight, but they do ride lizard creatures sometimes,” said Proteus who also looked back and forth as the three men drew up into a semicircle around the fire. “That didn’t sound much like a lizard and goblins generally don’t stalk around much, they just attack.”
Two more growls sounded from outside the fire and Sorus repeated his question, “What should we do?”
Jon looked to Proteus who reached into the low fire, pulled out the back end of a smoldering log, took a few steps into the darkness, and waved it back and forth. Sorus bent down and picked up another branch while Jon simply watched the darkness and spotted a pair of green eyes glowing to his left, “There’s one,” he said and pointed with his huge stone sword towards the eyes, but they blinked out almost as soon as he gestured.
“I don’t see it,” said Sorus as he tried to follow the point of Jon’s sword. Proteus continued to advanced forward in half steps while he waved the smoldering log.
“I don’t see anything,” said Proteus but another growl sounded to their right and Jon spun in his tracks, lashed out quickly with his sword, but saw nothing and hit the same. “They’re not behaving like wild dogs,” said the older man his back towards Jon and Sorus. There’s something strange going on here, they wouldn’t hold back like this if they weren’t under some sort of intelligent command.”
“Do you think they’re being controlled by something, someone?” said Sorus.
“I don’t know said,” Proteus, “but the fire is getting low and they’re just standing out there growling at us. Put some more wood on and, if they are just wild dogs, that should frighten them off quickly enough.
Sorus went over to the small wood pile and looked at the few pieces stored for a quick morning fire and little else, “There’s not much wood here,” he said. “We only piled up enough for breakfast tomorrow.
“Put it all on,” said Proteus, “no sense in taking half steps.”
Sorus looked over to Jon who nodded his head, “If you’re going to do something do it all out, no half measures.”
Sorus began to pile the few pieces of wood onto the fire, which first began to smoke, and after a few seconds burst into flame. The region lightened noticeably with the increased blaze but the growls seemed to grow in intensity with it until it seemed like at least a dozen of the dogs surrounded them. “It’s not working,” said Sorus, “and that’s the last of the firewood. It won’t last more than half an hour.”
“No dog is smart enough to wait like this,” said Proteus. “Who’s out there?” he suddenly yelled into the darkness but the only response was another chorus of growls.
“That’s it,” said Jon suddenly and rushed out into the darkness and left Proteus and Sorus to look at one another for a second and then, as if by some unspoken but mutual communication, they both rushed after him. Sorus felt his heart hammer in his chest as he charged into the darkness unable to see much of anything. A large shape came up suddenly to his right and he lashed out and stuck his blade several inches into a small tree. “Damnit,” he shouted as he looked around but saw nothing. A shout from Jon to his left caused him to pull at the sword. This action seemed to wedge it more deeply into the tree. “Let go!” he shouted at the tree, put both hands to the sword, pulled with a mighty heave that unstuck the blade with a sudden lurch, and sent him backwards head over heels where he landed with a thump and cracked his head against a large rock.
He sat up a second later; the world swam in front of him and a rough hand grabbed him, he tried to lash out with his sword but the blade didn’t seem to be there and he smacked Proteus in the side. “Sorus, are you all right?” said the square jawed farmer as he looked around.
“I… I’m okay,” said the young knight with a shake of his head and a glance around. “I fell down.” He reached back and grabbed at the sharp pain in the back of his head and suddenly touched wet hair. “I’m bleeding?”
“Did something attack you?” asked Proteus, “Jon, he’s over here.”
“No,” said Sorus and looked at his wet hand in the darkness not able to tell much of anything. “I swung at a tree and my sword got stuck and then when I tried to get it out I fell over backwards, my sword!” he suddenly said and looked around wildly in the darkness.
Proteus scanned around as the hulking seven foot form of Jon Gray suddenly emerged from the darkness, “They’re gone,” said the gray knight. “That was no band of bush dogs,” he went on and then noticed Sorus sitting on the ground. “Are you ok?”
“Here it is,” said Proteus a few feet away as he picked up the sword. “Come on, let’s get you back to the camp and look at that nut of yours.”
“Is he wounded?” said Jon and glanced at Sorus with his eyes wide in the darkness.
“It’s not bad,” said Sorus, “I just hit my head on a rock when I fell down,” and he moved his hand back to his head and the wetness that seemed to grow more damp.
Proteus took the boy by the arm, helped him up, and the three found their way back into the camp after a couple of mistrials in the darkness. Only a low, orange flame remained in the campfire as Proteus lowered Sorus down, “Here, let me look at that. Jon, see if you can find a few more logs but don’t go too far from the camp. Whatever was out there isn’t far away.”
Jon nodded and headed out into the darkness as Proteus had Sorus lean over and saw the large amount of blood that came from a gash across the boys head, “Head wounds bleed like a creek at spring flood, let me get some bandages from my bag,” he continued and headed over to his pack. When he got there it was clear someone ransacked the camp while the trio blundered around on the mountain. “The map!” he exclaimed and rushed over to the open sack and the scattered possessions. It didn’t take him long to find it missing.
“What’s wrong,” said Sorus as he began to feel a little lightheaded.
“They stole the map,” said Proteus who soon returned with bandages. “But how could anyone know that we had it?” as he applied the thick cloth to Sorus’s head. “Hold this in place,” he ordered Sorus who put his hand to the cloth and pressed it down. “If it doesn’t stop bleeding in ten minutes or so I might have to stitch it up. I’ve got needle and thread in the pack if they didn’t steal that.”
“You know the healing arts?” said Jon as he returned at that moment, his sword sheathed, and a thick pile of dead wood in his arms.
Proteus nodded, “All knights need to know such things in case there isn’t a priest with healing magic available after a battle.”
Jon nodded, “The knights of Tanelorn can learn much from those of Elekargul,” he said as he put the wood onto the fire which almost immediately sprang back to life.
“They stole the map,” said Proteus to Jon, “but they didn’t kill the horses or take anything else that I noticed.”
“That means…,” said Jon.
“That they know exactly why we’re here,” finished Proteus. “The only way that can be is if they watched the trail because they captured or killed the others.”
“That makes sense,” said Jon. “It also means we’re on the right track. They were stupid not to kill the horses when they had the chance.”
“Probably just low level thugs sent with orders to steal the map and nothing else,” said Proteus. “That’s the problem with slave based militaries. You can’t trust the average soldier with even the simplest task because they have no motivation to think on their own.”
Jon nodded, “It’s the same in Tanelorn. We defeated the orcs of the Five Nations just a couple of years ago when they attacked us. The orcs themselves come from five different tribes and don’t coordinate well, but they also relied on slave auxiliary who never fought like soldiers.”
“I thought you didn’t fight wars of aggression,” said Proteus as the two moved over to Sorus. “Keep pressure on that for a few more minutes,” he said and examined the blood-soaked bandage, “I don’t like the look of that, we’ll probably have to stitch.”
“It was a strange war. I was only eleven or so when it started” said Jon with a shake of his head. “It began with them trying to fight a group of elves that live on the opposite side of Tanelorn. They marched across our territory and we didn’t allow it. After that they sent an army but we defeated them and all of sudden the orcs began to revolt against their leaders, against the idea of slavery. My father says the presence of a free nation like Tanelorn makes every right-thinking man want a better form of government for themselves.”
“We’ve seen similar things here in Elekargul,” said Proteus, “but I think now we need to take care of young Sorus here. Have you ever stitched someone up before?”
Jon shook his head.
“Now’s as good a time as any to learn and I’d prefer you practice on the boy in case something happens to me later!” said Proteus as he clapped Jon on the shoulder.
Sorus looked up while he still held the bloody bandages to the back of his head. “Do I get any say in this?”
Proteus shook his head, “Nope.”
Jon looked nervous as well. “Do I get any say in this?”
Proteus smiled and walked over to his pack and began to rummage around for the needle and thread. “You want to put the needle in the fire for a bit to keep down the chance of infection,” he said, “and we’ll douse Sorus’s head with some of the bourbon to clean the wound.”
“Can I drink some as well?” said Sorus as he eyed first the needle that Proteus pulled out of his pack and then Jon Gray’s huge hands. “Do you think you can handle something so fine?” he asked the big knight.
Jon shrugged, “There’s a first time for everything,” he said with a smile, took the needle from Proteus, then looked to the fire as he twisted the little thing in his hand back and forth. He thought about it for a moment and then pulled a fiery brand from the blaze and held the needle up to it for a few moments. Meanwhile Proteus found the flask of bourbon and applied it in equal doses to Sorus’s head and mouth. Jon attempted to thread the needle several times without success but eventually managed the trick.
“I’m gaining a new respect for mother,” said Jon with a shake of his head as he tried to tie a knot in the end of the string after watching the thread slip out the first time.
“Your mother,” said Sorus, “Not your sister; hey can I have another swig?”
“My sister,” said Jon with a snort as he finally managed to tie off the thread. “She wouldn’t know a needle and thread if I stabbed her in the behind with it. You think I’m a stubborn mule? I wish you could meet her,” he finished as he walked over to Sorus and Proteus with the tools of his new trade. “All right Sorus, this will hurt you more than it’ll hurt me!”
“Great,” said the young knight with a smile and bent his head over. “Let’s get this over with.”
Proteus leaned over and offered advice as Jon began to slip the needle through the skin on the top of Sorus’s head, “Come in at a steep angle, that’s right, there you go, and pull it through, excellent. Now repeat that about ten more times back and forth.”
“What are we… unnh… going to do without the map?” said Sorus as he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the pain.
“Good question,” said Proteus as he watched Jon’s work carefully. “You’ve got to pull the thread tight but you don’t want to break it, that’s the way.”
“You pretty much know that map by heart anyway, don’t you Proteus?” said Jon, his huge hands on Sorus’s forehead making the knight look more like a child than a young man. “I think we just go on with the mission. Our other choice is to head back down the mountain, find the First Rider, and then climb all the way back up and be pretty much in the same position.”
Proteus nodded, “That’s right, now loop back one more time, there, I can’t say I disagree with you, Jon. I’d rather get in trouble for doing something than not doing something, but the thing that concerns me the most is that our foes know we are here, they know where we are headed, and they might even know what we are looking for if they captured the other knights.”
“We don’t even know who are foes are,” said Sorus and winced as the needle passed through his skin one last time. “They can ambush us any time.”
“That is true,” said Jon. “There, now what?”
Proteus looked down at the stitch work and smiled, “You’ve got to make a little knot there at the end, no, don’t cut it until after you finish the knot. Here,” he said and took the needle from Jon’s hand, “it’s a special kind of knot called a square knot, like this. There we go. Good as new, Sorus. I’ll want you to clean that out with bourbon or alcohol every day but we’ll dress it for now with some more cloth. Was that too bad?”
“No,” said Jon and Sorus in unison and then they laughed.
“I think he was talking to me,” said Sorus and held a wad of fresh cloth to the back of his head while Proteus wrapped a length of leather around it.
“This won’t be such a great hold,” said the older knight as he cinched the bandage on, “but it’ll do for now. The light is coming up already so we need to decide on our next course of action pretty quickly now.”
“They might still be watching us,” said Sorus with a pat to his head to test the bandage.
“Don’t play with it,” said Proteus. “You could be right. There are plenty of places to get a good vantage point. They probably had scouts at the pass waiting for the next group of knights to come up. Then, whoever is in charge ordered last night’s little show.”
“I’ve got an idea,” said Sorus and suddenly sat upright which made him dizzy for a moment. “Bury me and head back.”
“What?” said Jon.
“Not really bury me, make a cairn while I hide somewhere, and then ride back like you’re giving up. Then I’ll stay here and watch who comes along. Head back a couple of hours and then get in a fight or something and pretend to change your minds. When you get back I can report what I saw. I might even overhear something important!”
Proteus looked to Jon and nodded his head while he tucked his lower lip under his upper, “That’s actually a pretty good idea, Sorus. Jon, what do you think?”
“It’ll be dangerous,” said the gray knight and looked intently at Sorus. “You’ll have to be very quiet and don’t do anything heroic. Just watch and listen.”
“My head hurts so much I’m not sure I want to move around all that much anyway,” said Sorus with a wan smile.
“We need to get going with this then,” said Jon as he suddenly stood up and looked around. “If they are watching us it’ll be light soon, so you need to figure out a hiding spot while Proteus and I build a cairn.”
Sorus looked around, “There are plenty of spots, over there behind those rocks, back there beyond the tree, somewhere overlooking this camp is probably good because that’s the first place they’ll come.”
“Here,” said Proteus, “take your blanket, some food, and water too. You might be there for hours depending on how long it takes Jon and me to get down the mountain a ways and turn around. I think we should go a couple of hours at least to convince them we’ve really quit.”
“Good idea, Proteus,” said Jon. “Take that stuff and get yourself hidden. We can check if you are visible. Get a decent distance too or they’ll hear you breathing. But, not far enough away you can’t hear them talking. Proteus, maybe we should start talking like Sorus is dead.”
“Right,” said the older knight with a nod of his head. “Here Jon, help me with these rocks. We’ll bury Sorus and then decide what to do.”
The two busied themselves building a rock pile until light began to filter in from dawn, and then saddled their horses and headed back down the mountain as they continued their phony conversation. Sorus waited in the shade wedged between two large boulders partially under a massive tree root. It seemed like a comfortable spot when he first chose it but as the minutes wore on it became less so as a colony of ants began to stir and wander around. “At least they don’t look like the biting kind,” he muttered to himself as they wandered over his boot. “They’ll be in my pants before too long.” He tried to tie his cuffs off with some string he had in his pocket and managed a moderately effective job. He also took a few sips from his water flask and ate a bit of leftover goat meat from yesterday. The voices that came from down near the camp didn’t sound much different from the songs of the morning birds and it wasn’t until they were almost on top of him that he noticed.
“I’ve heard Whitebone is here,” said the voice suddenly and almost in the ear of Sorus. The boy almost jumped up but managed to control himself, although his breath sounded suddenly extremely loud. He peeked through the small crack in the rocks, towards the clearing where they spent the night, and saw the shadow of a man but nothing else.
“Once the dragon died that was inevitable,” came a softer voice, more like a whisper and Sorus barely heard it. “We need to find the staff before he gets here or sending it off to the High Priest will be that much more difficult.”
“Our soldiers are overdue as well,” said the first voice. “General Pharrassa and the others were to arrive by now.”
“We cannot count on them,” said the soft voice. “Their ships might not clear the Dorian peninsula, they all might be drowned.” At that moment the two figures suddenly appeared in the clearing. One wore a heavy brown cloak up over his head and soft leather gloves on his hands.
“It must be a darkling,” thought Sorus to himself, as he knew the creatures did not like to expose themselves to the intense light of the sun. The second figure was very thin and his head looked like a snake with a narrow, green-scaled neck, and no ears. There was a mouth, thin little slits for a nose, and its body appeared more humanoid although the heavy green cloak with red trim around the arms and neck hid almost everything from Sorus’s view.
The darkling spoke next as it pointed to the rock pile, “One of them died in the night,” it said. “We ordered those damned goblins not to attack but simply steal the map. I’ll have Ugred’s hide, we want them alive.”
“It’s no matter,” said the soft voice, its strange snake’s tongue flickering out to taste the air. “The others survived and have fled for the moment. They will be back with reinforcements eventually and without the warriors of Sakatha to aid us we cannot stand against them in the open.”
“Why face them in this awful brightness,” said the darkling. “We can lure them underground where my people have every advantage. We will slay them all.”
“Advantage or no,” said the snake creature as it turned to face the darkling. “How many of your men did you lose capturing that first group of knights?”
“We underestimated their strength,” said the darkling. “A mistake we will not make again. We killed them in the end though.”
“Yes,” said the snake. “You killed them in the end against my orders. I wanted prisoners. We must find out how much they know about the Staff of Sakatha and what they intend to do with it if they recover it.”
“Why must we waste time with such things, master,” said the darkling. “You will find the staff and we will transfer it to your high priest so that he might awaken Great Sakatha from his slumber.”
“It is not so simple as that,” said the snake man. “With Whitebone on his way, he brings not only his power to the task but also that of the delusional mistress who currently occupies the throne in the Abyss. Against undead armies we might well lose the staff forever and potentially Great Sakatha himself might fall under her sway. This must not happen. We might be able to use the freeriders to our advantage. Let them take the staff back with them to their capital and then wrest it away for delivery to the high priest.”
“That is a dangerous course,” said the darkling.
“There are no easy paths,” said the snake creature with a little hiss. “There never are. Both of the children of dragon are dead and we don’t have access to the dreams of the Toxic One anymore. The staff is somewhere nearby but under who knows how many tons of rock in some hidden chamber of the Old Empire. Your excavators work hard but without those dreams we are simply flailing about like a blind man in a brothel.”
“As you so correctly point out, master,” said the hooded creature with a shrug of his shoulders and the two men began to move again and quickly left Sorus’s view. “There is much rock and even with great effort the chances of stumbling on the site is unlikely. Given enough time the slaves will dig into the right chamber but the work is difficult and killing them is a costly procedure. We have to bring up new ones from the lower levels and train them in the use of the tools.”
“I’m well aware…,” said the sibilant voice that slowly trailed off into the distance as the creatures continued their conversation, but Sorus could no longer hear them.
The hours passed slowly after that and the young knight of Elekargul began to get cramps in his left calf at about the same times the ants penetrated his defenses and began to clamor up his right leg. He gritted his teeth and bore the discomfort for a time but began to shift restlessly as the minutes dragged slowly by. “It’s been like eight hours,” he said to himself in a small whisper but a look at the shadows cast by the trees told a different story. “By the Mare, not even midday yet,” he muttered to himself. “I’ll be bitten to death by the time they get back.” After a bit longer he decided to change the dressing on his wounded head and carefully unwrapped the bandage, put a splash of the liquor on it, which almost made him shriek in agony, and then tried to rewrap it. The bleeding seemed to have stopped at least, although as soon as the sharp pain cooled, the dull ache returned.
More time dragged by with no sign of any activity when he suddenly felt a strange presence in the clearing and then a tall shadow fell across it as he peered through the rocks and held his breath.
“Lord Whitebone,” said a quiet voice that sounded like the snake creature but might not be the same as the one earlier.
“Speak serpent mage,” said a cold voice without any inflexion.
“This is where the second group of knights camped,” said the snake creature. “Our goblin servants attacked them in the night, slew one of their numbers, and took the map. I fear that there will soon be more of them in the region. They know about the Staff of Sakatha and clearly have their own designs upon it.”
“The survivors fled?” said Whitebone.
“That is accurate, Lord Whitebone,” said the snake mage in its sibilant voice. “I sent some of the goblins down after them to make sure they did indeed move off the mountain. But, as I said, I’m sure they will return with reinforcements. My own darkling allies are unreliable on the surface. If you could loan me some of your undead warriors I might make an effective defense.”
“The first group you captured,” said the first voice as the two suddenly moved into the clearing and gave Sorus his first look at the skeletal master, Lord Whitebone. He looked like a normal man with a heavy cloak, boots, and thick gloves but one look at the skull that served as his head made it clear this was not the case. Sorus again managed to keep his gasp mostly muffled but for a moment it appeared the strange boney creature looked in his direction.
“Sadly, my message of their capture was premature, Lord Whitebone,” said the snake beast. “The entire group died in the battle along with a number of darklings and the last of the dragon children. We no longer have access to the dreams of the great green dragon.”
Whitebone turned to the creature and stared at him for a long minute and even Sorus could see a faint red glow around the eye orbitals. “I want the creatures that killed my dragon, serpent priest. You can have the staff for your own ends if you desire, but I shall have vengeance upon those that slew my dragon.”
The snake mage gave a strange little hissing sort of laugh and flicked its tongue out several times, “As you wish Lord Whitebone. I can bring forward the slave who stumbled across the scene of your pet’s death but there are no witnesses as to the men who did it.”
“That is not good enough,” said Whitebone. “Once you have the staff you have in your power the ability to raise great Sakatha not as an undead minion to that vile creature in the Abyss but as a living dragon child capable of leading your people in the new empire. Great Sakatha has much knowledge of the Old Empire buried in his brain and this is an incalculable advantage.”
“I am not a child of the dragon,” said the snake creature. “I am a child of great Nechustan the World Snake. The children of dragons are our slaves and have been ever since the fall of the Old Empire.”
“Of course,” said Whitebone with a strange little bow. “How terribly ignorant of me to forget that fact. Yet, you work with the lizards who want the staff to bring back Sakatha as a living entity.”
“Just as you work with the Mistress of the Abyss who wants to bring back Sakatha in his undead state and thus increase her own power,” said the snake creature. “We are all looking for our own advantage; perhaps you and I can work together in this case. I do not wish either your mistress or the lizards to have the staff. My people want it for another purpose.”
“And what purpose is that?” said Lord Whitebone as he turned to face his companion.
“I am not willing to divulge that Lord Whitebone,” the snake man replied, “perhaps if you told me your own plans for the thing I might prove more accommodating.”
Whitebone laughed, a clack of sorts, and shook his head no, “A valid argument. No, I do not want the staff in the hands of the eternal ruler of the Abyss. You haven’t seen a dark cloud of a creature named Tenebrous hanging about by any chance?”
The child of Nechustan shook its head for a moment, “I’ve heard the name but never had the pleasure of meeting the thing myself. I understand it escaped from the Deathlands a dozen times before the Mistress of the Abyss allowed it stay?”
“I’m not particularly familiar with its history,” said Whitebone with a shrug. “In any case, if you see the creature, inform it that I want a meeting with it.”
“As you command, Lord Whitebone,” said the snake beast starting to say something else when the sound of hurried footsteps suddenly came from down the path. Within a few moments the footsteps came close, then suddenly stopped and although Sorus could not see the creature, a third party joined the conversation.
It began to speak in some sort of strange language that Sorus did not understand, but the snake creature gave it a sharp rebuke and it then started talking with a strange accent in the language of the local traders. “Master Shill, Master Shill,” said the voice.
“What is it?” said the snake.
“They return, the big one and the freerider,” said the voice. “They come quickly, they surprised us, they killed…,” it went on apparently ready to continue its speech.
“I do not care who they killed,” said the snake creature. “Lord Whitebone, we must make haste back to the old ruin before they catch us here.”
The skeletal creature looked at the snake man for a moment, then turned his gaze to the hastily constructed cairn, looked around in all directions and, for a moment, his hot red eyes seemed to come to rest on the exact spot where Sorus lay hidden. “I,” it said, “I sense something.”
“We cannot wait,” said the snake creature.
“They’re coming,” said the goblin, its voice quaking with fear, “you didn’t see the big one with his awful sword, Smasher. He killed my brother!”
Whitebone waited a moment longer, his terrible gaze finally lifted from Sorus’s hidden spot, and darted to a small rocky outcropping above them, but then nodded his head. He started to say something but turned with a twirl of his heavy cloak and the group was gone from Sorus’s vision. Just a few minutes later Jon and Proteus trotted up the trail, their horses making enough noise to wake the dead.
Jon came into the clearing first and looked around, “Sorus? Did it work?”
Sorus popped his head out from the rocks, a huge grin on his face. “Better than I ever imagined,” he said and then began to slap at his leg where apparently the entire colony of ants had decided to roost. “I’m infested!”