Tom Liberman - The Staff of Sakatha

“Yes,” said the dark shape as it shifted continuously. “I hear my mistress’s call to me even now. She knows the fate of her disciples instantly. I wish you well, Jon Gray and I suspect that we will meet again,” he said to the fallen lad. “As for you, First Rider Vipsanius, I don’t think our paths will cross again but perhaps I am mistaken. I wish you and your nation prosperity.”

The First Rider nodded, “Come along, Sorus,” he said, “grab that sword already and let’s be out of here. Hopefully the horses are waiting for us and we’ll be back in Black Dale to return Odellius to his duties as a mason as soon as the day after tomorrow.”

It took the returning warriors three days to reach Black Dale because Jon’s sluggishness proved slow to improve and he was unable to guide his horse properly. Sorus spent much of the time riding next to Jon, with one hand on his own horse and the other on the reins of Jon’s trotter. After a couple of painful tumbles they tied a reluctant Jon to the saddle and did not hesitate to make merry over the fact. Jon proved unable to reply with his normal wit, as the aftereffect of the ghoul poison seemed to affect his mind as well as body. Eventually, they arrived in the town safely with both the Staff of Sakatha and all of their lives intact. News of their return preceeded the three, and the entire town’s population and most of those from the surrounding countryside, including Proteus and his two sons, were on hand to greet them with a rousing welcome.

In the next couple of days Jon recuperated at Sorus’s house, tended to by Titia, while the young brewer turned knight trained Proteus at the Swift Strider in the proper arts of brewing. After Jon regained most of his usual vigor he began to prepare to return to his far off home of Tanelorn. The First Rider suggested as much primarily because of the danger presented by the Staff of Sakatha. Before he took his leave from Black Dale he visited Odellius and the two took a trip to the nearby quarries to haul back a stone large enough to honor the deeds of Sir Germanius. Jon made his farewells with Titia, both tender and urgent, while Sorus spent his last few days with Shia but soon enough the evening of the day before their departure was upon them.

The townsfolk planned a large party for the heroes and even the First Rider returned from patrols to Black Dale to attend the event. As the celebration went late in the evening, Jon sat in a large chair near the head of the table, a tall glass of fine beer in his hand, as well wishers came by to give him their regards. The First Rider was one of the last to come up, “Jon, I’m leaving on patrol first thing in the morning so I won’t be able to say goodbye to you and Sorus,” he said and patted the boy on the shoulder.

“I understand,” said Jon sipping his beer slowly in the hopes of retaining a clear head for the morning. “Thank you, Vispsanius,” he said with a broad smile. “I appreciate all your help and I’ll take your message back to my father. I’m sure that he will be pleased with the alliance of our nations.”

“I hope so,” said Vipsanius with a smile on his craggy face, “I hope you don’t mind, but your old gray cloak took rather a beating during our time underground and I had some of the girls make a new one for you,” he continued, making a motion with his head. At this signal, Odellius, also seated at the table and had shown less restraint with the beer than Jon, pulled out a cloth-wrapped package from under the table and at the same moment a hush came over the room.

Jon opened the package carefully, with a rather goofy half-grin on his face, pulled out a supple cloth jerkin, and spread it open on the table. His eye came quickly to the shoulder where a symbol of four outward-facing horseshoes surrounded a sprig of mistletoe. Many of those in attendance gasped and the gathered people began to talk excitedly back and forth among themselves. Jon looked at the symbol for a long moment before understanding came to him, “Does this mean?”

“Yes, Sir Jon Gray,” said the First Rider with a smile. “You are now a knight of Elekargul with the name of Gray. In the future when a stranger comes to Elekargul and proves themselves as true friends of the nation they may, if they wish, take the knightly name of Gray to commemorate you and your visit.”

Jon sat in his chair for a while, gulped a few times, and proved unable to make any words come out of his mouth.

“I think the lad is crying,” said Odellius suddenly and smacked him on the back so hard that Jon almost fell out of his chair, although the blow seemed to force out the words Jon couldn’t manage a moment before. “Thank you First Rider,” he said, “this is truly an honor I did not expect. I hope… I hope that I can live up to this… wonderful honor. Maybe someday, if circumstance allow me the pleasure, I might return to Elekargul, to see you all again.”

“We’ll be waiting,” said Vipsanius with a nod of his head. “You take good care of him, Sorus; I suspect Jon’s adventures are just beginning and it gives me great hope that a knight of Elekargul rides with him.”

“I will, First Rider Vispsanius,” said Sorus with steady eyes as he moved over to stand behind Jon’s chair, “I will.”

At another table young Rhia Quick firmed her own little jaw, which showed no signs of the Purple Face disease, and muttered, “I’ll follow Jon to Tanelorn, I’ll be a gray knight just like him.”

“What was that?” said Shia glancing over at her little sister.

“Nothing,” said the younger girl and put her hands demurely in her lap, “nothing at all.”

Far away in Darag’dal the ancient cathedral stood as before, and the decayed skeletal figure that sat upon the throne in the center of the floor still made no movements. Standing next to the ancient lord of all the dragon children stood Usharra; he held the claw of the Great Toxic Dragon in one hand and spoke with a tall dragon child in hushed tones. A pair of large red bat wings furled on the creature’s back and a dozen spikey protrusions emanated from its face. The creature nodded his head, with closed eyes, as the priest spoke at great length but refrained from making any comment for a long time. As Usharra’s story slowly wound down the dragon child opened its eyes with a languid motion and stared fixedly at the priest. Then it looked at the figure on the throne and nodded its head as its wings slowly unfurled, “What tribes of our people are located in the north, near Tanelorn?”