The Staff of Naught

by Tom Liberman

  “Of all days to have a ceremony,” said Seymour with a shake his head. “What are these heathens worshipping anyway?”

  “It looks like some sort of lunar celebration,” said the paladin. “They are setting up now but the event probably won’t take place until tonight or maybe tomorrow morning. There is nothing to do but wait.”

  “That will give the girl and her friends time to catch us,” said Seymour.

  “If they bother chasing,” replied Oliver. “You killed the daughter and I bested their finest warrior. Perhaps they will leave well enough alone and return to Doria. They know we plan to destroy the staff in any case, what benefit is it to them to come and see the result?”

  “The little girl, with the teeth,” said Seymour. “She is driven by powers she does not understand. She will force them to come somehow. It will be difficult to fight them with all these Hobgoblins around. The Icon of Ras, while powerful, is not subtle.”

  “No,” said Oliver. “Perhaps we should take up position on the far side of the hill and move to the top as quickly as possible come morning.”

  “If the heathens have left,” said Seymour.

  Oliver nodded, “Yes.”

  The wagon moved over the grass at the same pace as always the donkeys put one hoof in front of the other in unceasing monotony and the grim face sitting at the head of the wagon blinked back tears and in the back the witch woman, Tylan, the Wizard of the Golden Worm, and Almara sat in silence not looking at one another but instead gazed at the floorboards. Every once in a while Tanner looked over his shoulder and back towards the west where the rest of the group decided to pursue the Tarltonites.

  Far ahead in that direction, Shamki road his horse while Lousa rode on Sutekha’s old horse with Unerus sitting behind her his arms around her waist. Humbort walked along with little Ariana perched on his shoulder although the mood of this group seemed no better than that of those in the wagon.

  “Do you think we’ll get there in time to watch the ceremony?” asked Unerus from behind Lousa.

  “I don’t think so,” said the woman in a quiet tone of voice as her eyes watched Shamki ahead of her. “I’m not even sure why we’re going on to be honest but I didn’t want to say no to Ara and I thought it best to let Tanner and Almara head back.”

  “Some kids I knew back in Iv’s Folly got killed,” said Unerus and blinked away a tear. “But, not anyone I really liked. I think my parents are dead too but I didn’t know them much.”

  “It’s okay to be sad,” said Lousa half turned in her saddle and looked down on the lad. “You and Shalalee were friends.”

  “I’m not just sad,” said Unerus his body suddenly stiff and his eyes narrowed. “I want to kill Seymour and Oliver too.”

  “I understand,” said Lousa. “I’ve wanted to kill a lot of people over the course of my life. People that did bad things to my mother, bad things to me. Sometimes you can let those sorts of thoughts take over your life. Sometimes it’s best to let them go and just go on with your own life as best you can.”

  “I don’t think I can do that,” said Unerus.

  “I doubt we can kill, or even hurt, Seymour,” said Lousa and turned back around to face the long trail. “They are too strong. Sometimes people are beyond your reach no matter how much you want to make things right. Life isn’t fair.”

  “You don’t have to explain that to me,” said the boy. “I’ve known that since I was little. I’ve had some pretty bad things happen to me and I let them go mostly but this time I just … just hurt inside.”

  “I know,” said Lousa. “If we catch up to Seymour and Oliver promise me you won’t do anything stupid. I don’t want to lose you or your sister.”

  “Or Shamki,” said Unerus and looked towards the horseman ahead of them. The big half-orc’s arm was in a sling courtesy of Hazlebub, the last thing she did before a tearful farewell separated the group.

  “Or Shamki,” said Lousa. “I don’t know what he’ll do if we catch them.”

  “Why don’t you talk to him,” said Unerus, “like you’re talking to me?”

  “His pride was hurt,” said Lousa her body drooped in the saddle. “He is a proud man and when something like that happens it can be humiliating. He doesn’t need me to tell him what to do right now. He would just resent me, hold it against me later. I’ve known a lot of men in my days. They’re not much different than boys like you sometimes, most of the time.”

  “Oh,” said Unerus. “I guess I understand. What will you do if Shamki tries to fight Oliver again?”

  “I don’t know,” said Lousa her hands twitched at the reigns of the horse. “I just don’t know. Hopefully we won’t have to find out but there is something in the way your sister talks that tells me this thing isn’t over yet.”

  “Do you think it’s that voice that she hears? That Shinamar person?” said Unerus and looked over to where Ariana sat on the shoulders of Humbort who, despite the several miles of travel showed no signs that he was tired, his step as bouncy and gangly as ever. The girl wore a calm expression on her face and the gleam in her eye was steady as she gazed forward towards their destination.

  “That voice, or that entity, of whatever it is, Shinamar, an imposter, the staff itself, whatever, has changed her,” said Lousa. “I never should have let her take it in the first place back in that cave. It was the first mistake of many.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” said Unerus but his tone wasn’t firm and the sentence hung in the air for a long moment.

  “Yes, it was my fault,” said Lousa. “But, as you go through life you’ll find that a lot of things are your fault and you can’t always do anything about it.”

  “I know,” said Unerus and again looked to his sister on Humbort’s shoulder. “But you can try.”

  “That’s true,” said Lousa. “You can always try. Look up there,” she said pointing to the sky and the sun that was low on the horizon. I don’t think we’re going to make it to that site. That means we’ll never catch them. Seymour will complete the ceremony either tonight or first thing tomorrow morning. Maybe we should just turn back.”

  “I don’t think my sister will go,” said Unerus. “If we make her she’ll just sneak off and head back by herself.”

  “Probably so,” said Lousa her long green hair suddenly caught in the breeze and a look of quiet sadness came to her face. “Even if there are no gods sometimes it seems like life is destined to follow a certain path no matter how much you try to avoid it. There,” continued the woman and pointed to an open plain where a narrow creek cut through the terrain. That’s a good place to camp. Hop off and I’ll ride up to Shamki.”

  The young urchin jumped off the horse with a bounce, landed on the grass with a single tumble, sprang back to his feet without injury, and started to trot to Humbort and Ariana. “We’re going to stop for the night by that creek!” he shouted to the two.

  Ariana frowned but said nothing and Humbort immediately began to stride towards the chosen site in sort of a gallop that bounced the girl up and down. She shrieked once with a huge smile on her face before she caught herself and settled back down to her previous look of determination.

  The sliver of moon that shone above in the clear sky gave Shamki plenty of light to see and he noticed the caravan before anyone else. It looked to be two or three wagons that moved at an easy pace over the grassy plain and the voices of revelers quickly came to him as the wind shifted. It only took a moment or two longer for Lousa to hear the sounds even though she half nodded in sleep. It looked like the travelers would pass a hundred or so yards to their right and, if the group remained silent, would pass by without notice.

  “Who is it?” whispered the beautiful woman her hair loose and wild and her cotton nightgown flapped around her ankles in the breeze.

  “Hobgoblins,” said Shamki. “Three wagons, not quiet.”

  “No, they aren’t,” said Lousa and moved her jaw back and forth to the left and right. “It’s like they’re coming back f
rom a party or something.”

  “New moon ceremony, maybe,” said Shamki. “Hobgobbies worship moon mostly.”

  “Could they have been at the White Marble? If this is just one group then there must have been a bunch there. Then Seymour couldn’t have…,” said Lousa her train of thought jumped quickly to the point.

  “They’re still there,” said Ariana as she suddenly appeared like a ghostly presence next to them. She wore a simple white shift that fluttered in the breeze giving her an even more spirit like appearance and her short was hair was loose and fluttered all around her head. “We can go now, travel the rest of the night, and catch them in the morning!”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” said Lousa. “The wagon … oh,” suddenly remembering that their speed was no longer inhibited to the slow wagon and the donkeys. “It’s dark, we could fall into a ravine,” she finally said although with the clear sky and the sliver of moon it was actually a fairly bright night.

  Ariana just looked at her and then dashed over to the sleeping Humbort and began to shake him awake. “C’mon Humbort, we’re going right now. We can catch them!”

  Lousa could see the gleam in the girl’s eye even from this distance. “Shamki, let’s talk to the hobgoblins and see if they are coming from the ruin and how far ahead it is.”

  The big half-orc nodded his head and walked forward towards the noisy caravan while he pulled out a small stone that instantly illuminated brightly, “Hail, travelers, hail,” he shouted loudly as Lousa walked along behind him.

  The caravan of wagons, there were actually three of them with a dozen hobgoblins on each, some of dressed with strange multicolored hats that flapped wildly in the breeze but likely pinned to their hair to keep them from flying off, stopped their own shouts and called out to the duo in a rough language that Lousa only partially understood. Shamki seemed to understand it well enough and shouted something back to them. Soon enough they stood around the wagon and spoke with a short hobgoblin with a particularly colorful hat that seemed almost as tall as the creature itself.

  “Where are you coming from so early in the morning,” she asked him and waited for Shamki to offer a translation. It was the longest sentence she ever heard from the stout warrior’s mouth and she could tell by the sour expression on his face that he loathed speaking so much. “I wonder what caused him to be such a quiet sort,” she wondered and not for the last time.

  “Small Crescent Moon,” ceremony said Shamki back to her a moment later although she did understand the word moon in the original reply.

  “Ask him how long a journey back to the site of the ceremony and if it’s the White Marble ruin,” she told Shamki.

  A few moments more of translation, reply, and retranslation ensued but it quickly became apparent that the ceremony completed a couple of hours ago and the White Marble ruin stood very close by indeed.

  By now the rest of the group stood next to Lousa and Ariana glared at the woman through narrowed eyes when they learned the nearness of the ruin.

  “There is no way we could have known how long it was going to take us to get there Ara,” she said in reply to the look. “We had to stop for the night and you know it so don’t give me that look,” she continued and raised her eyebrows to glare back at the girl.

  “Humph,” said Ariana. “Bend down Humbort horse,” she ordered to the man who complied immediately.

  “He’s not a horse,” said Lousa, “and you should walk part of the way yourself”.

  Ariana turned her head to look the other way and dug her heels into Humbort’s side.

  “Ow,” said Humbort and began to prance forward in an imitation of a horses canter.

  “Don’t get too far ahead Humbort,” called Lousa after them into the night. “We still have to saddle up the horses and Seymour can’t complete that ceremony until morning in any case.”

  With that she rushed back to their campsite and began to get her horse ready for the short journey.

  Two hours later the sun started rise on the eastern horizon and Oliver, sat with his knees folded and his back straight, and noted it without actually opening his eyes. Seymour was already up and gathered many of his religious accouterments around him in preparation for the morning’s ceremony. He glanced occasionally at Oliver but did not disturb the morning meditation the orc performed although the temptation to do so clearly manifested itself in his fingers as they tapped on his side and frequency of the glances.

  The sun rose another few degrees in the sky before Oliver opened his eyes, rose to his feet, and moved over to his horse.

  “All finished with your meditation?” asked Seymour in a voice that dripped of impatience as his fingers continued to beat out a drumbeat on his leg.

  Oliver nodded.

  “Those vile hobgoblins left last night and so we should have no problem completing the ceremony but we should hurry. Those foolish Dorians will probably spot the heathens leaving and head out first thing. We only have a couple of hours.”

  Oliver made a short motion with his head towards the apex of the hill where small figures worked to pull down tents and banners.

  “Damn,” said Seymour as he followed the gaze of the paladin. “How many of them?”

  “Ten, no more than that,” said Oliver his hand moved to the sword at his side.

  “We’ll have to kill them,” said Seymour. “They won’t leave us in peace to finish off the staff.” The Priest of Ras then reached down and pulled out the Icon of Ras from its place beneath his heavy robes. “Let’s do this as quickly and cleanly as possible. I don’t want to use power from the Icon of Ras. I need to save energy for the destruction of the staff. Can you take all of them yourself?”

  Oliver pursed his lips, “It’s difficult to say. If they are just workers cleaning up the site then it will be easy but if they have guards and magic using priests then it is not such a simple task.”

  “Perhaps you could find it in your heart to give me a straight answer just one time, can you do it without my help or can’t you?” said the Priest his eyes blazed although the fingers at his side continued their relentless drumming. “I must seek the guidance of Ras before I start the ceremony.”

  “I can manage,” said Oliver his eyes neutral and his face as impassive as ever.

  “Good,” said Seymour. “You go up the main trail and kill them all and I’ll come up the other side and start my preparations as soon as you make your attack.”

  Oliver began to brush the horse and put on its reigns but Seymour stopped him with an angry word, “Forget the damn horse,” he said. “I know you love that animal but I hope you value my patronage and my friendship more than a simple beast. Dovestar has a dozen brothers, sisters, nephews, and nieces at the Royal Stable and you can have your pick of them if anything happens to the horse. It is merely a gelding after all.”

  Oliver nodded his head and immediately stopped his work and headed towards the path that lead up the hill while Seymour walked at a quick pace around a group of bushes and disappeared into the morning light.

  It took the paladin of Ras about ten minutes to reach the bend in the hill where he saw half a dozen hobgoblins, tall creature with swarthy skin and thick facial hair, as they clambered along the crossbeam of a tent frame and pounded at it with hammers and other tools. He was able to walk up almost directly behind one of the workers who stood on the ground at the base of the structure and yelled instructions to those higher up. Oliver drew his sword and made a coughing sound. The hobgoblin on the ground turned, his eyes opened hugely wide in astonishment, and he dropped the parchment in his hand to the ground where it fluttered for a moment but then came to rest.

  Oliver made a motion with his head as if to dismiss the creature, which took only a moment to make a decision, and began to sprint down the steep slope of the hill away from the orc warrior. It took a few seconds more for the other workers to realize what just happened, drop or climb down from the heights, and likewise scatter. None of them carried any weapon
s and there were apparently no guards left at the site. Within thirty seconds of his appearance he was alone at the top of the monument.

  It took another five minutes for Seymour to arrive, slightly out of breath, and the High Priest of Tarlton looked around at the empty plateau for a moment as his head darted back and forth before he spoke, “You didn’t slay them?”

  “They had no warriors, just workers, they fled,” replied Oliver with a shrug of his shoulders and then pointed to an isolated platform of shining White Marble where a dais that seemed to glow in the morning light stood.

  “Excellent,” said Seymour and walked over to it while he pulled the satchel from his back and laid it on the dais with a casual motion. He then began to unpack other items with a great deal more care and place them carefully about the satchel.

  Oliver walked up to the apex of the hill, a rocky point to his left that overlooked the valley below and scanned the horizon to the east. The fleeing hobgoblins scrambled down the hillside in all directions and their shouts and cries made it back up to him as the little mouse scratches inside a wall might alert the cat who ruled the house.

  He saw the horses that approached at speed but overlooked them for a few minutes because his thoughts were on the wagon, but as they got closer it was clear that one of the horses carried itself with the carriage of a Royal Steed while the other was some common nag of the region. The dim light of the morning made things more difficult as well and it was long minutes more before he recognized Sutekha’s old steed now ridden by the green haired woman and possibly one of the children. Shamki and his horse led the way and last was a man who walked that turned out to be Humbort with another of the children on his shoulders. The closer they approached the more certain he was of their identity and he cast an occasional glance towards the White Marble Dais and Seymour busily at work around it. He waited for a few more long minutes as the horsemen and walker slowly approached but then climbed down from the peak and walked over to where Seymour continued his activity unabated.