Tom Liberman - The Staff of Sakatha

“I think it was Torrentius Oldhill watched the camp that night when we was attacked,” said Germanius. “He was mostly hobgoblin old Torrentius, he leapt in front of them ambushers and was near chopped in half by the dog-man but held them off long enough for the rest of us to get up. It was quite a scramble I can tell you that. At one point one of them, a little fellow, goblin or some such, jabbed a dagger right up my arse. Now boys,” said the old warrior, “let me tell you straight, don’t ever let a goblin feller jab his dagger up there unless you’re fond of screaming like a little girl every time you take a crap for the next month.”

The three young men burst into laughter, Jon and Sorus clutched each other, tears streaming down their faces, and Mikus rolled around on the ground so much so that he put the tail edge of his leather jerkin into the fire and had to throw it off and stomp it out, which led to more merriment.

After everyone finally settled down Germanius continued his story, “The way that dog fella laughed was enough to chill the bones, sorta half a laugh, half a scream, and a little something else as well. I stuck my sword in his eye and that was that, but we had to bury poor Torrentius in the morning,” finished Germanius and this sobered the boys a great deal.

“He died a hero though,” said Mikus. “I mean he saved the rest of you from getting ambushed in camp.”

Germanius nodded his head in agreement, “Every day I’m alive is because of that,” he said. “I had forgotten about that until you mentioned gnolls,” he went on. “There’s quite a number of good fellas in their grave instead of me. Sometimes I wonder if the Black Horse wanted it that way or whether it’s just the fate of things.”

“Tell me about the Black Horse. I don’t know much about your religious beliefs,” said Jon with a look to Sorus.

Sorus thought for a moment as Germanius poured the hot water off through a strainer and began to dish out piles of vegetables; carrots, onions, cauliflowers that set off a cloud of steam, onto tin plates and passed them to the boys. “The Black Horse is sort of a god to us here in Elekargul but also sort of just a thing to say. Nobody really prays to it and it doesn’t really give bounties to priests or anything,” said Sorus between bites. “We just sort of talk about him and go about our business.”

“It’s like that in Tanelorn, everyone who settles there comes from somewhere else so they all worship different gods, there isn’t anything really common to the gray city,” said Jon and gobbled down his own food in great bites. “My father doesn’t worship any gods at all but some of the gray druids are very religious.”

“Doesn’t worship any gods at all?” said Mikus.

Jon shook his head, “Nope. He says that it’s up to a man to make his own way in life and that anyone who prays for guidance is just fooling themselves.”

“That’s pretty raw,” said Mikus. “I know a lot of men who’d have something to say about that.”

Jon shrugged his shoulders, “That’s my dad. He says what he wants, or at least he used to.”

“Getting soft as he gets older?” said Sorus with a look at his friend, concern in his eyes.

Jon paused the shovel like motion and stared at Sorus for a long minute before he replied, “I don’t know. Right before I left to come here he told me that a nation… what was it… a nation without heroes is a nation run by thugs.”

“What does that mean?” said Mikus and looked at Jon who shrugged his shoulders but Germanius nodded his head and put his hand to his sword hilt.

“It means that ambitious, strong men of action drive a nation, and if those men aren’t heroes then the thugs take over. The only ones who can stop self-interested bastards are the heroes,” he said and stomped his foot. “By the balls of the Black Horse I’d like to meet your father Jon, but I’m too old, too weak. You’ll just have to act like him and I’ll settle for that.”

Jon looked down at his plate for a few seconds, “Big boots you’re asking me to fill Germanius, I’m not sure I’m up to the task.”

“Paint my left leg black and call me a zebra boy,” said Germanius and walked over to Jon and put his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “It’s the thugs that are sure they’re right, they don’t doubt their capabilities. It’s the heroes that worry if they can do it. That’s what stops heroes and lets the scoundrels into the barn. Get off your arse and start acting like a man.”

“You sound like my father,” said Jon and put his own hand on the old warrior’s shoulder.

“I’m getting all weepy here,” said Sorus and put his arms around Mikus as the two young boys began to sob into one another’s shoulders.

“Okay, okay,” said Jon his arm still around Germanius. “I get it. Let me tell you all about what might be up in those hills. You too, Mikus. You’re father doesn’t much like me.” Mikus began to say something but Jon raised his hand and shook his head, “No, no, Mikus. He doesn’t much like me but that doesn’t mean I hold you responsible for the way he thinks. Actually, a lot of people don’t much like me. I’m a spoiled rich kid whose had everything in life go his way and sometimes I get a little full of myself,” he went on.

“A litte?” said Sorus.

“I’m baring my soul here,” said Jon, “and this is what I get?”

“You’ve got a thin hide for someone with such a thick head,” replied Sorus with a smile and Jon laughed.

“Fair enough, Sorus,” said the massive young knight of gray. “Mikus, you’re part of the team and that means you get to hear everything. You can make your own judgment about me. Does that sound about right?”

Mikus nodded his head and remained silent.

“I’m here looking for something called the Staff of Sakatha,” said Jon, “and I when I came over the Mountains of the Orc I spotted a strange mark on a rock up near the peak. It reminded me something my father said about the staff. I’m not getting anything done in town waiting for the First Rider so I thought now was the time to act.”

“That’s the boy,” said Germanius with a nod of his grizzled head. “You can’t wait for somebody else to be a hero.”

“I don’t know about all that old man,” said Jon with a smile on his face, “but I aim to figure out what that thing up on the mountain was and if the First Rider cares to join us then maybe we’ll let him have some of the glory!”

“Let him suck the blister juice off our feet,” said Germanius. “Ours is the glory!”

“Wahoo!” shouted Mikus.

“Who’s going to clean the plates,” said Jon his eyebrows raised.

“Being a hero is sometimes pretty unheroic,” said Sorus, grabbing the plate from Jon’s hand, and walking towards the creek.

“I’ll help,” said Mikus, with a laugh as Jon poured cool water on the fire and began to stomp at it while Germanius limped slowly over to the horses and began to pack up some of the equipment.

They reached the foothills of the Mountains of the Orc that night, but the main trail lay further to the north, so they stopped and camped near a small creek that meandered out of the hills and towards the Frosty Run behind them. Even though it was only their first night together they already seemed to have established a routine as Mikus gathered firewood, Jon and Sorus took care to set up camp, and old man Germanius brushed down the horses and prepared them for the long night.

“Should we let the horses run,” said Jon over his shoulder to Germanius who hobbled the horses with a length of rope.

“Not this close to the mountains,” said the old soldier, suddenly able to hear again apparently thanks to the daylong activity. “Strange critters roam these hills, you’re lucky you didn’t face off agin one on your way over the mountain.”