The Staff of Sakatha (5 page)

“Look at the tall one run,” shouted a boyish voice, followed immediately by another cutting comment, “Fight like a man, Julia,” it came and hurt him deeply. He took a moment to look at the spectators and spotted the sisters, Rhia and Shia and their look of acute disappointment hit him like one of Odellius’s strikes.

Jon looked at Odellius, who now breathed like a horse after a long run, and suddenly decided on a change of tactics. He charged forward, let his wooden sword drop to the ground, drove his shoulder into the midsection of the man, wrapped his long arms around him, and tried to throw him off balance. For the briefest of instants the fat mason seemed to slide off his feet and Jon had him all but tipped over, but then Odellius shifted his weight forward and Jon felt his knees buckle. The gray knight went to one knee and, with a tremendous effort that turned his biceps into massive balls, drove forward, and lifted Odellius to his toes and then a few inches into the air. At the last moment the big man used his little wooden sword to smack Jon on the side of the leg and Jon felt all this strength suddenly leave him. He collapsed to the ground as the big man stumbled and dodged to the side to avoid smashing him.

Jon rolled on his back and looked up at Odellius whose face was red with exertion and whose hand was out in an offer to help him up. It was only when he took the hand that he heard the eruption of screams and cheers that came from every member of the crowd. Jon walked off the pitch his arm around Odellius as everyone continued to applaud. They walked to a wooden bench and collapsed on it together, the thing creaking ominously beneath their weight. A young boy, not more than seven or eight, rushed over with a huge mug of frothy beer that he handed to Odellius and another boy, whom Jon vaguely recognized as Sorus Brewer, handed him a smaller mug filled with water. Odellius tilted back and drank with one huge pass, then pulled off his helmet to reveal wet and sweaty hair.

“Well fought, Jon Gray,” he said with a nod of his head. “I never thought I’d know what it feels like to fly but I was like a bird there for a moment!”

The people nearby broke into laughter, whispering back to those further away the words of the immense mason; laughter began to break out all over the little pitch. Jon stripped off his own iron helmet revealing his shock of sandy blonde hair and began to pull off his jerkin as a dozen young hands immediately reached in to help him.

Mikus Swift ran quickly back to the manor house his feet covering the distance quickly. He burst in the front door of the home, slammed it, and dashed to the large office where his father awaited his report. The man sat behind his large desk and drummed his fingers on the surface. “Well?” he said, his eyebrows arched.

“Odellius beat him, dad,” said Mikus, and Thorius smiled broadly as he eased back in his chair.

“So the young warrior from Tanelorn was humiliated?” he asked and Mikus hesitated for a moment, his face turned down towards the wooden slats of the floor. “Well?” repeated Thorius as his eyebrows came together. “The boy was thrashed, yes?”

Mikus nodded his head. “Twice straight.”

“And this Jon Gray did he take defeat poorly, whine and complain?” said Thorius and sat up in his chair and eyed his son closely. “Tell me what happened, boy!”

“It was a fair fight and … and …,” the story tailed off into silence.

“And,” said Thorius who stood and came around the table to hover over his teen son. “What happened?”

“Jon Gray tried to wrestle Odellius down,” said Mikus suddenly in a burst as his eyes shone brightly. “He had him for a second too, had him lifted up, but then Odellius knocked his leg out and he fell!”

“In the air?” said Thorius as he turned and sat on the edge of the desk. “Odellius?”

Mikus nodded, “He almost had him!”

“I suppose the crowd thought that it a noble effort,” said the man as his shoulders slumped.

“They went crazy, dad,” said Mikus. “Maybe you’re wrong about Jon Gray. He seems like a pretty nice guy.”

“I’m not wrong,” insisted Thorius and shook his head sadly. “You remember that. No matter what happens from here on out that boy will bring trouble to Elekargul. Any sort of alliance with Tanelorn will bring down dangerous foes upon us.”

“We’re knights of Elekargul,” said Mikus, standing tall, his eyes shining with passion. “It doesn’t matter what danger comes against us. We’ll fight it and defeat it!”

“You’re not a knight of anything, squire,” said Thorius. “But the chance to defeat the boy early is clearly finished. I must muse upon a new plan. Get out of here, Mikus. Go practice in the yard, your sword skills lag behind other boys your age.”

“Yes, father,” said Mikus and turned around and left the old knight by himself.

“If anyone is going to be a hero it’s not going to be some trumped up teenager with delusions of grandeur,” he said to himself, and then returned to the desk and looked at its empty surface for a long time.

Strange draconic creatures apparently spun lthrough the air and battled one another in etched figures on the high domed ceiling. At the apex a massive green dragon with a half a dozen horns thrust from its forehead held court. On its back sat a human with strange, white, reptilian eyes, a long staff shaped like a crocodile in his right hand. Far below a decayed skeletal figure sat on a marble throne, its hands clenching the arms of the chair and its empty eye sockets peering endlessly out towards some unseen vision.

Two creatures appeared in a narrow corridor and argued with one another as the first, and taller, jabbed the second with a forefinger inches from his face.

“I tell you, Usharra,” said the first as his features became visible in the dim glow of the cavern. His head was horny and scaled while long layers of scales streamed down his arms and neckline. The scales were predominantly green but a sprinkle of red and purple gave them an iridescent look. “The staff has been found. How else do you explain the dreams?”

“The great Green One has always dreamed,” said the second creature. It was clearly the same species but its scales were predominantly blue in color although smattered of green giving him a rippled look much like waves breaking on a shore. “There is no reason to suppose these dreams are different than any of the others chronicled over the years.”

“These are more specific than others mentioned in the Chronicle of Dreams,” said the first creature. “You know I’m telling the truth, you’ve read the chronicle as often as I, and you know Chusarausea has never dreamed so specifically of the staff before, so specifically with directions for actions.”

“We know nothing of the sort, Melharras,” said Usharra with a wave of his long fingered hand. “There are many visions, by many people, over the centuries. There is also the untold amount of time that the Great Green One slept before he began to dream. Finally, there is the matter of great Sakatha’s condition,” this last with a glance to the skeletal figure on the throne. “Even if the staff were found, we would awaken not a leader of our people but the monstrosity of death there. It is uncertain how he will react to we children of the dragon all these centuries later.”

“How can you doubt his reaction?” said Melharras and stopped before the skeletal figure on the throne. “He led us in the great rebellion against the emperor thousands of years ago and when awakened will lead us once again.”

“Legends are notoriously inaccurate,” said Usharra with a dismissive wave of his hand. “There are no guarantees of the nature of that thing, nor its agenda if awakened.”

“How can you be so stubborn?” said Melharras. “This is the great awakening, this is the time generations of our people have long awaited. We must find the staff; we must take it to the Great Green One who will use it to awaken his former master. Then great Sakatha will ride the skies again and we will emerge from our skulking in the swamps and waterways of the world to take our rightful place at the head of a new empire, this one our own.”

“The legends also speak of the awakening of the emperor,” said Usharra. “If all you say is true and Sakatha rises and rides the toxic one, then do not the legends also suggest that the emperor will rise again? What makes you certain that this time great Sakatha,” again with a distasteful glance at the thing on the throne, “will be able to best his old foe?”

Melharras stood silently for a long moment his head bowed and the dim light twinkling off his scales. “It is not for me to say what great Sakatha will do upon rising. It is my duty as a child of the dragon to make it happen. The great green one dreams of the lands to the south of us, where the freeriders roam, he dreams of the Staff of Sakatha. We must send spies to find out what we can and then we must prepare a fleet to sail around the Dorian Peninsula and attack, if necessary, to take the staff.”

Usharra also stood quietly for a long moment and gazed at the strange creature on the throne, “I will not oppose you in Council,” he said. “We will send spies and we will prepare at least one ship for the journey but I do not like this turn of events. I do not trust the dreams of Chusarausea and in particular I do not trust the lich who promises to raise our former lord. The creature is dangerous and manipulates us. Mark my words, Melharras, this will not end well for our people. But, that being said, I will support you to the Council and if sent to Elekargul, as I suspect I am most suited for the job, I will perform my duties to the best of my ability.”

“You have chosen wisely, Usharra,” said Melharras eagerly fingering a long dragon shaped medallion on a chain around his neck. “I am not as concerned by Lord Whitebone as you. He is a foolish creature who hopes to use great Sakatha for his own ends but that, quite clearly, is not a problem. Once brought back to life the great one will not be subject to the orders of one such as Whitebone.”

“I hope you are right, Melharras,” said Usharra, shaking his head from side to side as he studied the motionless creature on the throne, “I hope you are right.”

“Lord Whitebone,” said the shadowy creature who hovered both off the floor and on it at the same time. The skeletal creature he addressed sat at a stone desk covered with parchment as it scratched something out with a quill pen. The thing wore a heavy wool cloak of deep purple and a chain shirt over a leather jerkin, but its bone hands and skull were exposed in the room barely illuminated by a pair of reddish glow stones. It kept its head down as the shadowy thing waited patiently in the small room furnished with a shelf of books, a small table, and a dresser with four drawers. Long moments passed with the scratch of the quill the only sound. Finally, after some minutes the skeletal creature at the desk lifted his head, “What brings you to me, servant of the Abyss?”

“The mistress of the Abyss, she who has eternally ruled, wonders about your progress in the resurrection of the dragon child king,” said a low dark voice that emanated from the vaguely human shadowy form.

“I have contacted the children of the dragon that hold his bones, I have found the toxic dragon and ordered the manipulation of his dreams, I have sent minions to the lands of the freeriders where the Staff of Sakatha has reportedly surfaced, and I continue to gather information. Does your mistress ever leave her little den of pleasure and do something herself?” said Whitebone and turned the full focus of his gaze on the shadowy form. His eyes were not empty sockets but red embers that glowed and seemed to shoot forth a light that caused the dark form to waver. “Tenebrous, I grow weary of these disturbances. When Sakatha is raised,when I control him and his foolish followers, then I will alert the mistress of the Abyss. If you have nothing useful to report, stop wasting my valuable time.”

“Lord Whitebone,” said Tenebrous with a shadowy bow of sorts, “I was not aware if you knew of the Gray Lord’s involvement in the situation.”

“That meddlesome old fool is a trouble maker,” said Whitebone putting down his pen and crossing one leg over the other as a bony ankle flashed from beneath a pant leg. “But how could he be involved in this? Tanelorn and it cursed gray wall is too far away to influence matters in the south.”

“He sent his son to look into the situation. I believe he wants to collect the staff and put it in his vault away from anyone who might use it for their own ends. The same thing that he did with …,” here he looked around and his voice lowered. “The Black Sword and the Gray Horn,” said Tenebrous. “His commitment to neutrality is difficult to fully comprehend but it is most strong.”

“Valarius? The druid? That might well present a problem. He is a worthy foe. I must ponder this,” said the skeletal lord tapping his bony fingers on the stone desk.

“Not Valarius,” said Tenebrous. “The younger boy, Jon.”

Whitebone threw back his head and laughed, a strange sound that was more like the clack of hail stones on a rocky shore. “The hot headed one? Jon Gray? Really?”

Tenebrous’s form seemed to waver momentarily but he said nothing.

“You have something you want to say, dark servant?” said Whitebone.

“Yes, Lord Whitebone, about Jon Gray,” said Tenebrous.

“Go on nether spirit before I lose my patience and send you back to the Deathlands from whence you came,” said Whitebone.

“I think the boy is a greater danger than you might realize,” started Tenebrous but was interrupted by Whitebone who shook his head.

“I’m more afraid of his sister than of him,” said Whitebone. “He can easily be manipulated into doing whatever I choose. He is young and foolish. They do say he is capable enough with the sword but that is not a concern of mine. We will twist his reason so that he ends up helping us. This is good news indeed and a way to get back at that meddlesome lord of gray and his delusions of peace. Is there anything else, Tenebrous?”

“I suspect that the Gray Lord is being assisted by the Unbeliever,” said Tenebrous and chose his words with slow care.

Whitebone looked up sharply, “That is a matter more for your mistress than for you or me. I have no delusions about my own divinity and if Shinamar is able to disperse the power of the gods then so much the better for me.”

Tenebrous bowed as best a shadow might and offered one final piece of advice, “Shinamar, while not directly opposed to your interests is most powerful even in his current reduced condition. When he fled the vanished Das’von he took the magical tomes of Elucidor the Omnipotent, his former master. If he is aiding the Gray Lord and participated in the decision to send Jon Gray to Elakargul then this might be something of a concern for you.”