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.”
“Unless the Gray Lord has access to the portal system,” said the priest of the Black Horse and looked at the First Rider impassively.
The squat man paused for a moment, “I had not considered that,” he said. “Did this Jon Gray say anything to you about how he got here?” he asked Odellius.
The big man shrugged his shoulders, “No First Rider, we didn’t really discuss such things. He might have told Germanius or the boy Sorus but I have no knowledge; no wait, I do,” he suddenly said and snapped the fingers on his right hand.”
“Go on,” said the First Rider and leaned back in his chair.
“He had one of those two-tone trotters that they breed in Tarlton. I’m sure of it, the horse was a gelding, and those desert nomads never sell breeding stock to foreigners. He must have sailed south from Sea’cra to Tarlton and stopped there before continuing to Elkargul.”
“That does make sense, First Rider,” said the high priest of the Black Horse, his brown eyes reflective as he sat back in his chair. “I don’t remember where this Tanelorn is exactly, other than far to the north, but if they have access to portals he would’ve come straight to us, or at least as close as possible. If he purchased a horse in Tarlton it’s likely he didn’t sail around the peninsula, but instead stopped in Doria perhaps, or even Darag’dal, which might be explained by the nature of the relic.”
The First Rider nodded his head, “Yes, the staff is associated with the reptile creatures. The little force we just defeated proves our theory correct in that regard,” he said as he suddenly pounded his fist into the table. “They are here for the staff and so is this emissary. What was his name again, Odellius?”
“Jon Gray,” said the rotund man just as a group of boys and girls came into the room with plates, glasses, and silverware, which they began to set up industriously. It only took them a minute to prepare the entire table for all three men. As they finished another young boy in priestly robes entered then room, a decanter filled with a red liquid in his hands, which he poured into the glasses, careful to fill them to precisely the same depth. After this he left the three alone once again.
“Some relation to this Gray Lord,” said Imprilius with a look to Odellius, his head cocked at a slight angle.
“I assume so,” said Odellius, “but the subject never came up. He has the noble caste about him that’s certain. Seven feet tall if he’s an inch and powerful as an ox. He’s charmed all the Speeds in town and most of the boys worship him as a hero.”
“They say the Gray Lord is a giant of a man,” mused the First Rider with a nod of his head. “Perhaps a son?”
“If so,” said the high priest, pausing to guide a boy and girl acolyte as they returned with platters of food, “then this is of the gravest importance. If he sends his son all this way then the… old relic must be of tremendous value.”
The men paused in their conversation for a moment as the servers spread out several dishes that included a brown-glazed whole chicken on a bed of carrots and cauliflower, as well as a side of beef that stewed in its own juices with little cooked onions as a garnish. Odellius reached forward with lightning rapidity and began to carve the chicken with the expertise of a true trencherman while the high priest took on the side of beef. After a few moments dedicated to this important pursuit the men loaded their plates, Odellius refraining from a double portion after the slightest of glances from the First Rider. They began to eat and resumed their conversation.
“He’s not more than eighteen,” said Odellius. “Just a boy and come all this way. His father must have great faith in him,” he managed between mighty forkfuls of food. “Damn fine beef,” he said to the high priest, “I’m reminded of the dinner served to me by the wife of an orc we fought against back in the day. He had five daughters and the meal
…”
“Sir Odellius,” said the First Rider, “I’ve spoken to you before about your bawdy stories and colorful anecdotes and when they are appropriate.”
Odellius looked up, a chicken wing in hand and poised in front of his mouth, “I’m hurt, Vipsansius, deeply hurt that you think I’d say anything inappropriate in front of his high holiness here.”
“I’m surprised he can say anything with half a chicken in his mouth,” said Imprilius and pointed his knife at Odellius.
“Half?” said Odellius, “I think that’s underestimating a tad.”
“Likely,” said the high priest with a shake of his head and hearty laugh. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“That’s kind of you,” said Odellius as he shoved another forkful of food into his mouth. “I appreciate your concern.”
“Are you two ladies done with your niceties,” said the First Rider, although a smile appeared on his face as he pushed back his half empty glass of wine. “We only have the nation to save, if you don’t mind.”
Both Odellius and Imprilius nodded their heads although the high priest said, “There is still dessert to come so we might lose the big man for a bit.”
“The reason I came to you,” said the Vipsanius and looked at the high priest with a squarely set jaw, “is help on where in the Mountains of the Orc we need to head if we are going to find Jon Gray.”
“I know,” said the high priest with a nod. “You know that Sir Giaus is half reptile and his dreams alerted us to this situation in the first place. I spoke with him extensively after our first meeting and learned a great deal.”
“Tell us then,” said the First Rider with a nod of his head, “You can, of course, say anything in front of Sir Odellius with complete confidence.”
“Sir Gaius believed the dreams emanate from the legendary mount of the Sakatha, a tremendously powerful green dragon called Chusarausea, as we discussed before. But, there is something new. Gaius thought the dragon is somehow being manipulated into giving the dreams and has resisted revealing the true location of the staff.”
“Interesting,” said the First Rider as his eyes closed for a moment and he paused. “That is why the forces trying to find it have so far utterly failed. Does Gaius know who manipulates the dragon?”
The high priest shook his head and smiled as a young boy brought in thick apple pie whose aroma immediately filled the room. “Vipsanius, would you do the honor please?” he said and pointed to the silver pie server that accompanied the dish.
The First Rider began to cut into the pie industriously and soon all three men had equal-sized slices on their plates. “Now, if you gluttons are done with the food can we get on with the important business?”
Odellius sighed, “If a man does not eat then he cannot perform heroic deeds. So it is written.”
“I’d ask by whom but I think I know the answer,” said the high priest with a laugh. “However, First Rider, I take your point. This is a serious matter and deserves our full attention. Gaius suggested that the dragon hoped to steer his followers in the wrong direction to keep the device from whomever is manipulating it. But that this subterfuge is slowly failing and those guided by this endeavor are getting close to the staff.”
“Is Gaius still here?” said Odellius between bites of his slice which already lay in ruin, two-thirds eaten. “Why not let him lead us to the thing?”
The First Rider looked down as did the high priest and Odellius instantly knew that the man was no longer alive.
“No,” said the Vipsansius. “I ordered him and a troupe of warriors into the hills to retrieve the thing and they have not been seen since. I’m almost certain they were captured or killed by the orcs or possibly the darklings.”
“There is this invasion of reptiles of Darag’dal to deal with as well,” said Odellius and High Priest Impilius looked up sharply.
“Yes, the messenger said something about that before riding off. An invasion? The creatures are ill equipped to fight our mounted style of warfare,” he said and looked back and forth between Odellius and Vipsanius. “I can’t imagine what they hope to accomplish.”
“I’m not convinced it was an invasion,” said the First Rider and stuck his fork into the partially eaten pie. “They managed to get all the way to Black Dale without anyone noticing them. I suspect they were on a stealth mission to reach the Mountains of the Orc and help liberate the Staff of Sakatha from whatever force is manipulating the dragon. But, they attacked the warriors and somehow Thorius Brokenshield guessed that they were there, which is something I still don’t understand. I have a theory about that that is not material to the current conversation,” went on the First Rider. “Whatever force searches for the Staff of Sakatha knew about the lizards and directed or somehow manipulated Mayor Thorius into sending them off in chase.”
“But if they were on a mission of stealth then why attack us?” said Odellius. “I was there the night of the battle from the beginning. The creatures launched the first assault although only with a small force. We beat them back easily and then the mayor and his men ran into the main group. We were beaten like a boy who can’t master the niceties of brushing down his horse every night and readied ourselves for a last stand when you arrived, First Rider.”
“Yes,” said the First Rider with a nod of his head. “That is true but our interrogators found that more of them, mostly the priests, were still hiding up in the hills. I suspect the priests knew of the mission in greater detail than the warriors.”
“And the fighters attacked out of sheer aggression,” said Odellius. “That does have the ring of truth about it. They stood no chance against heavily armored horsemen once daylight arrived, so attacking was foolish.”
“The priests escaped the carnage?” said Imprilius and gazed to the First Rider, his hands on either side of his plate and his brown eyes suddenly ablaze with intensity.
“That’s right,” said Vipsanius. “At least that is the last news I received. I sent a troop after them and they might well be destroyed by now.”
“Order them off immediately,” said the high priest. “That’s how you’ll find the Staff of Sakatha and this Jon Gray fellow. You have to follow them to the staff. They’re in tune with the dreams of the green dragon.”
“But didn’t you say the dreams are false,” said Odellius and looked to the high priest as he leaned back in his chair to pat his enormous belly. “Wouldn’t they be going in the wrong direction?”
“Not false,” said Imprilius and suddenly got to his feet, “just resistant to give the true location. That was the interpretation of Sir Gaius. These are clerics of Sakatha, they have direct access to the thoughts of the dragon. They are headed for the staff, for the mountain, for whatever force is manipulating the dragon, and for your Tanelornian friend.”
“Why don’t we just leave it to them then,” said Odellius. “Let them destroy whatever this evil force is, take the thing back to Darag’dal, and use it however they please.”
“No,” said the First Rider. “Imprilius and I discussed that possibility at great length. If the reptiles gain the staff they will become that much more powerful.”
“We are far away from Darag’dal, a thousand miles almost,” said Odellius, “and even with this staff their armies are useless in open terrain against armored knights. We have nothing to fear from them.”
“That was my point,” said the high priest with a shrug, “but the First Rider and I decided that the risk of them getting such a powerful relic from the Old Empire was dangerous. They might ally with the orcs of Adas Jdar, or relight the conquering ambitions of Relm, or, who know, align with the insect men. There is also the possibility that they fail in their mission and the other forces gain the thing.”
“What do we know about these other forces?” said Odellius as he once again turned to the First Rider. “Do we even trust Jon Gray? Should we just take the thing ourselves, throw it into the Maw, and be done with it once and for all?”
“That was my idea,” said the First Rider. “We know that anyone who wants it, be it Jon Gray, the reptile folk, or the manipulators whose identify we do not know, are not aligned with us.”
“I do not think Jon Gray wishes us harm,” said Odellius. “I know that I only tussled with him in the ring, but the boy seems true-hearted to me and what I’ve heard of the Gray Lord is all good.”
“You fought him in the ring?” said the high priest with a smile, “a seven foot boy against a seven hundred pound man, an interesting image.”
“Seven hundred? That hurts,” said Odellius his lips turned down in a frown and even the First Rider laughed aloud.
“He impressed you in the fight then,” said a smiling Vipsanius as he took a bite of his pie.
“The first round was easy enough,” said Odellius, as he leaned back in his chair the stout wooden legs creaked loudly, “I got in close and tumbled him as quickly a girl on her wedding night.”
“And the second?” said the high priest who leaned forward, his fork hung in midair and his mouth partially open.
“Ah, that was a tussle,” said Odellius. “The boy learned quick and stayed away from me. I dodged in close once, but he’s quick for his size and his stride is enormous, so he jumped back and I couldn’t catch him. He’s got a reach like a forest troll and kept whacking me with his stick from further than I could reach, and he’d a had me if he kept it up but the crowd started to give him whatfor and even some of the young Speed girls seemed to turn against him. Then he tossed his stick at me, grabbed me around the waist, and tried to spill me.”
Imprilius looked at Odellius for a moment his eyes blinking rapidly, “And how did that work out for him?”
Odellius nodded with a big grin on his face, “You haven’t heard the best of it yet. The boy got his arms around me; don’t say anything Imprilius,” noticing the high priest beginning to open his mouth to make a comment.
“Me?” said man in the robe and closed his mouth, opened his arms palms facing up, and smiled broadly.
“Gray lost his grip and went to a knee, so I put my weight onto him and the boy drove his shoulder into my belly and lifted me off the ground. I thought I was going over but managed to get in a good thwack with my practice sword behind his knee and he went straight down after that. I almost fell on him. That would have been the end of him for certain!” Odellius finished his voice almost rose to a shout and his face red as if he just finished the fight again.
“Off the ground?” said Vipsanius his mouth agape. “He actually lifted you?”
Odellius nodded.
“I was going over if I didn’t get in that lucky blow on his leg,” concluded the rotund warrior. “For me, the important thing is he didn’t beat me by staying away and tiring me out when he knew that was the way to victory. He came after me like a man, not a silly boy. That’s why I don’t think he’s lying about our mutual interests with the Gray Lord.”
First Rider Vipsanius nodded his head, “I’m willing to agree with that. High Priest Imprilius, Sir Odellius and I will stay here the night and head out first thing in the morning looking for those reptile priests. Do you have any trustworthy boys you can send out to scout for more patrols to join us?”
“Our stable lads are excellent horsemen,” said the high priest as he eyes flickered towards an attendant who stood in a nearby doorway. “I’ll instruct them to find men patrolling along the Mountains of the Orc and tell them to report to you anything they see of reptile priests. You’ll be heading south along the mountains so you should have news within two or three days at the most.”
“I hope that is soon enough,” said Odellius, “and I’d like to know more about this mysterious force that can coax a dragon to dream. That is our true enemy.”
“Agreed,” said the First Rider with a nod of his square head. He stood up, although this added little to his height, and smiled. “Imprilius, you’ve been an excellent host as always. Have our horses prepped for departure at dawn tomorrow and you have my permission to let chef stock Odellius’s saddle bags.”
“Why Vipsanius,” said Odellius. “I was beginning to think you didn’t love me anymore,” he continued with a huge grin and then grabbed the decanter of wine that sat nearby and poured himself a brimming glass. “Perhaps one more before bed to help me sleep.”
The First Rider shook his head but Imprilius nodded his own and motioned for Odellius to fill his glass. “It is many hours until morning and wine helps the digestion. You don’t mind if I stay with Odellius for a bit?” he said to the First Rider, “I’d like to hear how he’s doing in Black Dale as a mason. My nieces Shia and Rhia live there.”
“Of course not, Imprilius,” said the First Rider with a little bow. “I, on the other hand, will turn in for the evening to contemplate these matters. You’ve both given me much to think about.”
“Good night, sir,” said Odellius with a raised glass.
“Don’t stay up too late thinking about things Vipsanius,” said the high priest bobbing his own head up and down. “You cannot do anything by thinking and you need your sleep.”
The First Rider said nothing, frowned, and walked slowly out the room.
“He thinks too much,” said the high priest once the leader of the knights was out of earshot.
“He didn’t used to be that way,” said Odellius. “He was a bubbly little fellow, always cooking up something or another, got that from his mother, a lovely Halfling woman; although what she saw in that hobgoblin husband of hers I’ll never know. I offered to marry her when I was a lad, finest cook in all of Elekargul. I remember the puff pastries, she made the bread so light, filled with honey and berries.”
“Since he became First Rider he’s given up a lot of that,” said Imprilius as he sipped lightly from his glass, a small frown on his face. “It’s a position of great responsibility. He worries about all the people in the nation. Their lives are his responsibility.”
“That’s why I’ve never tried for the honor,” said Odellius who, in contrast, took a great swig of wine some of it spilling out of the corner of his mouth and on to his jerkin. “We Buffaloriders are not suited for such positions of leadership. We’re much too frivolous.”
The high priest looked at Odellius for a moment and took another shallow sip of his wine, “You’d be a fine First Rider, Odellius, and it’s not that you couldn’t do the job, it’s that you don’t want to.”
“What’s the practical difference,” said the rotund warrior and poured himself another full cup of wine. “The end result is the same.”
“Times are changing my friend,” said the high priest leaning back in his chair. “This Staff of Sakatha is just the first of it, I think. There’s a great deal more going on in the world these days.”
“You’ve piqued my interest, Imprilius,” said Odellius and also sat back in his own chair that again squeaked in agony from the pressure. “Tell me what else is going on.”
“You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve spoken about with the orc priests from Relm,” said the high priest, “and some traveling monk warriors from just outside of Doria, Thilnog Monks they call themselves, live on the side of the Maw volcano.”
“No one lives there,” said Odellius. “I’ve heard it’s as tall as the moon and erupts as frequently as an drunkard visits the slit trench.”
The high priest shook his head, “Now that Vipsanius is gone please feel free to exercise that vile tongue of yours to your heart’s content,” he finished with a laugh.
“You know you love it,” said Odellius with a smile. “Those acolytes of yours probably bow and scrape, and any petitioners do the same. You and I rode together as boys before you took up the calling. A fine knight of Elekargul we lost when you took the robes. The world is worse off without you in in armor astride a charger.”
“That is kind of you to say Odellius,” said the high priest with a smile and continued, “but that is one of the things that the clerics of Relm, and Adas Jdar, and the Thilnog Monks are concerned about. The Gods. The future of the world.”
“Go on,” said Odellius, “although keep in mind that I’m not a religious sort of fellow. The Black Horse is fine for most but I prefer to put my trust in my lance.”
“Have you heard the name Shinamar, Shinamar the Loathsome?” asked the high priest his voice lowered almost to a whisper as he looked around the room for the sign of another presence.
Odellius looked around as well, his eyes half lowered as he returned his gaze to the high priest, “No, can’t say that I have,” he replied not quite in a whisper but in a lower than normal tone.
The high priest nodded his head, “You know that the entire world was once ruled by an emperor. He built the great cities, Doria, Tarlton of the Sand, Sea’cra, Caparal, Stav’rol, and the most ancient of them all, the King of Cities Das’von.”
“Everyone knows those legends,” said Odellius with a shrug and took another sip of wine. “The old stone ruins that are everywhere. They say it was once a portal system where anyone could travel anywhere in the world with a few simple words. I’m not sure I believe any of the nonsense but I’ve been to Doria and I’ve seen those towers. No one could build them today and people say the same about the other ancient cites, Sea’cra, Stav’rol, and everyone knows about Caparal thanks to the Tales of Yumanar. Fine stories they are to fire the warrior spirit.”
“Yes,” said Imprilius with a nod of his head and then lapsed into silence as his eyes gazed off to the far side of the room at shelf filled with china.
Odellius waited a few moments and then broke the silence, “About this Shinamar fellow…,” he prompted.
Imprilius shook his head as if awakening from sleep and smiled sheepishly, “Yes, of course, I was lost in thought there for a moment. My apologies. Shinamar the Loathesome. They say he was second in command to Elucidor the Omnipotent in Das’von before it was destroyed.”
“That name sounds familiar,” said Odellius scratching his chin, “I’ve heard it before at least, a magic user as I recall, mage king of Das’von.”
“That’s right, my friend,” said the high priest. “Shinamar is said to have betrayed Elucidor and destroyed the city.”
“A bad character, his moniker indicates as much,” said Odellius with a laugh, “never trust a man titled Loathsome.”
“There are those who think the emperor will rise again,” said Imprilius, his voice lowered even further as he leaned across the table to shorten the distance between them. “Some think Shinamar did it to hasten the rise.”
“That old story,” said Odellius. “I’ve heard it a hundred times from the orcs of Adas Jdar and Relm. They think that humans will rise and attempt to conquer the world. That’s why they don’t want anyone living in Doria. I don’t understand it myself but they seem to believe it.”
“That’s right,” said the high priest. “The demi-humans largely believe that when the Emperor arises so too will the Usurper. That the two forces will battle for control of the world. That the Emperor will support the demi-human races, the orcs, dwarves, elves, halfings, goblins and such, and that the Usurper will garner the support of humans.”
“I’ll not live long enough to see such a thing,” said Odellius, “so I’ve never taken the old legends seriously.”
“Something is happening,” said Imprilius, his brown eyes blazing. “We priests, we worship the Black Horse, the Dorians worship Mixcoatle of the Spear, the Dwarves worship Davim of the Anvil and on and on and on. There are thousands of so-called gods, each race worships them and gains their magical powers from them.”
“That’s true,” said Odellius, “everyone has a different god.”
“This Shinamar,” said Imprilius and now he spoke so low that the huge knight could barely make out the words, “this Shinamar is still around. He is active in the world and he has agents who do his bidding.”
“And he wants to bring back the Old Empire?” said Odellius.
“I… I don’t think so,” said Imprilius his eyes darting back and forth. “I had a strange dream where he spoke to me, I think it was a dream, I’m not sure. I awoke and I’ve not heard nor seen him again, but from hints the others drop, he may have contacted them as well. He is immensely powerful but somehow shackled, he cannot act directly, and he has enemies.”
“What did this dream say to you?” said Odellius his own wine cup forgotten and the huge warrior mimicked the whispered tones of the high priest.
“He… he said… he means to…,” Imprilius stuttered and was unable to finish his thoughts.
“Yes?” said Odellius.
“He means to slay the gods. To remake the world without them.”
Odellius looked at the priest for a moment and then burst out in laughter, his huge roars filled the hall, which brought out several of the acolytes who looked in at the jolly giant.
High Priest Imprilius did not laugh.