The Staff of Naught (21 page)

“We won’t say anything about the staff, will we?” asked Tylan with a look up at his father.

“No, I think we best keep that to ourselves. Maybe the others will be back by now.”

Tylan’s eyes suddenly brightened and a huge smile came across his face. “I hope so!”

“Say, son,” said Tanner as the two headed back towards the inn. “Whatever happened to that hammer you took from the bugbear?”

“Oh that,” said Tylan with a shrug of his shoulders. “I just put it in the wagon. You can’t believe how light it is for how big it looks and it’s got this big splash of black right through the head. Didn’t you say something about Edorin and the Black Fire Forge?”

Tanner looked at Tylan for a moment and then nodded his head. “It was Radvor’s, there’s every chance it was forged by Edorin. That hammer might be more valuable that that little rock Amalg gave you.” As the two approached the Camel Sway a sudden shriek caused them to turn their heads towards a young girl who ran towards them with open arms.

“Ariana!” cried Tanner and Tylan together, and rushed over to greet her.

Tanner picked the girl up and spun her around twice before setting her on the ground where Tylan gave her a short hug. “Is everyone else here too?” asked Tylan.

“They’re inside,” said Ariana, “and we got the staff back!”

“That’s great,” said Tylan although Tanner remained silent for a moment.

“Was anyone hurt?” he finally asked.

“No, everyone is fine; Shamki and my brother got it from a darkling. She was taking it with her back underground but Shamki outsmarted her.”

“That sounds like quite a story, young lady,” said Tanner and took her by the hand. “Why don’t we go inside and hear all about it. I’m sure Shalalee and Almara will want to know every detail.”

Lilithia knelt on the ground in the massive chamber whose vaulted ceiling rose well over one hundred feet above the marble floor below her knees. Sitting on a bone throne carved apparently from the skull of a massive dragon was another woman whose silver hair and purple eyes were quite similar to Lilithia’s but whose face was creased with narrow age lines and whose lips were pursed. “I am sorry mother, I have failed,” said the darkling with her head bowed and her eyes closed. “I accept whatever punishment you think fit.”

The woman looked down upon her daughter and smiled. “It is good you admit to your failure Lilithia,” she said and I have heard of all the things that happened on the surface. I have also made consultation with She of the Eight Legs.”

Lilithia did not change her position in the slightest nor did she say anything to this pronouncement.

“Do you not wonder what the result was of that discussion,” said the woman as her tone softened in the slightest way.

“That is for you to tell me mother,” said Lilithia with her head still bowed but her body lost some rigidity. She knew that it was all too common to lull a victim into a false sense of security and only then unleash some horrible retribution so she did not smile or show any other outward sign of relief.

“Very good Lilithia, you were always one of my favorite daughters and even in failure I am willing to indulge you. The great Spider Goddess has explained to me that our needs for the Staff of Naught can be gained by using the surface dwellers, and that in fact, this might be the better path. If we take the thing that will alert the traitorous girl that pretends she is the ruler of the Abyss that we are scheming against her.”

“Thank you mother,” said Lilithia and looked up but her eyes remained narrow and darted both left and right for a moment before she allowed herself a narrow smile.

The woman on the throne nodded her head and smiled, “You are right to be cautious my daughter,” she said and stood up from the throne putting her hand on Lilithia’s head. “Hazhallahad’s Staff will bring our Mistress revenge against her loathsome step-sister and bring us closer to ultimate power within the realms. You are to return to the surface, we will provide you with more of the cloaking stones that allow you to travel in the vile sunlight.”

“What am I to do, mother?” asked Lilithia as she rose to her feet and the two women began to walk across the massive chamber their light footsteps barely audible on the marble floor. A pair of darkling men stood at a large bronze door, etched with the motif of a massive black spider, and opened it at their approach and bowed their heads and put their hands to slim steel scimitars strapped to their side.

“The humans must be made aware of the origins and power of the Hazhallahad’s Staff so that they can attempt to destroy it more readily,” said the woman as the two exited the chamber and came into a long hallway with vaulted arches that led past numerous side chambers. A group of strangely deformed dwarves with dark skin and shackles on their legs marched past with a large marble stone upon on their shoulders as a silvered haired woman with a long whip urged them about their task with great vigor.

“Destroy it?” asked Lilithia unable to keep her head from darting quickly to the older woman.

“Do you think now that I the Great Mother has spared you that you are suddenly given the privilege of putting my policies to question?” asked the woman and continued to walk forward at the same pace and did not bother to even look at Lilithia.

Lilithia bowed her head again and said no more.

Four horses stood at the small creek their heads bowed and drank up the cool water with abandon as the men who rode them spoke to one another under the shade of a large oak tree whose limbs spread out in a massive canopy.

“The journey is long yet,” said the man in the yellow robes who sleeves showed the symbol of a burning sun. “We must make haste before the spider worshippers do something foolish with the Staff of Naught.”

A tall human with dark skin and tightly curled black hair looked up from the piece of dried beef from which he just finished taking a bite. He chewed for a few moments and then looked at Seymour, “Mighty Seymour, the horses are our finest royal stock but they cannot be driven hard over such great distances. We must manage their strength for the long journey.”

“They are expendable, Levicus, you grow too attached to the horses,” said Seymour with his eyes directed at the man. “You love them and that is good but you were not with us back when we first encountered the staff. I must expose the thing to the Icon of Ras and destroy it as quickly as possible. If they spider worshippers are able to learn the secrets of its power they can do much damage.”

“If the horses die they are irreplaceable and our journey will be slowed tremendously,” replied Levicus and spread his hands. “My advice is aimed at getting us into the heathen lands as soon as possible.”

“Your advice is well considered my friend,” said Seymour with a nod of his head. “Oliver, Sutekha, do you have an opinion on this?”

The smallest man of the group whose light brown hair and golden eyes would have made him stand out in any case shrugged his shoulders, “The Golden Worm cares not for horses nor for Dorians,” he said his fingers rubbed a large ring on his left hand that, at first glance, seemed to be a coiled snake but was in reality an homage to the great sand worms that roamed below the surface of The Sands. “Although, great master I sometimes am confused by your reference to spider worshippers. It applies to both the Dorians and the darklings who, as I have explained, are also involved in this vendetta of yours. Perhaps it would be best to distinguish between the two to avoid miscommunication in the future.”

“They are all heathens,” said Seymour. “They will all fall to the might of Tarlton in the end, what does it matters how we refer to them Sutekha?”

The small man nodded his head and shrugged his shoulders, “It is as you wish Master of Ras, I merely offer advice as you request.”

“I asked about the horses,” said Seymour with a dismissive wave. “Oliver, what are your thoughts?”

“Our treatment of the lesser beasts is a reflection of our souls,” said the tall orc who wore a plain white jerkin, stained gray by the road, with no adornments on it. His boots were likewise of simple design although of quality work and even a simple loop of twine served as a scabbard for his long sword. “I will not ride them to their deaths although your actions are your own to decide.”

“Your devotion is admirable,” said Seymour with a nod of his head. “But I will never understand exactly what it is you are devoted to. You should join me in my prayers to Ras for you would be a most excellent servant of the God of the Sun.”

Oliver nodded his head, “I thank you for your generous offer High Priest.”

“So, it will take us longer to arrive amongst the Spider Worshipping heathens than I had hoped,” said Seymour. “This will give us time to discuss our plans against them.”

“What is to discuss High Priest?” said Sutekha with a shrug of his shoulders and an elaborate wave of his hands. “We will take the staff from their weak hands, bring it to the White Marble Mount, and expose it to the Icon of Ras. It seems relatively simple to me.”

“And what if these dark heathens become involved as you suggested Sutekha,” said Seymour. “Our own ruler, my foolish little brother, is smitten with one of them and I imagine has reported my departure, to him.”

“He is a renegade to his own people, and if the legends are to be believed, from so long ago in the past that he cannot have significant contact with them today. Besides, he is a male and it is well known they have a matriarchal society, I doubt he can hinder us in any significant way,” said the brown haired magician.

“Do you believe the legends Sutekha, you are of the nomadic people after all?” asked Seymour and looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“That our new warlord is actually the original Demon Rider reborn?” he said with a smile and a little wave of his hand. “Of course not. He is an imposter using the old legends in an attempt to unite the nomadic warriors of The Sands. It is a foolish attempt and doomed to failure. He will die soon enough and your brother will need to find a new warlord. Oliver, have you considered applying for the position?”

The tall orc did not smile nor did he bother to look at the smaller man with the golden eyes. “I have no desire for power, possessions, or titles. I leave that to those who are insecure with their current station in life.”

“Ho ho,” said Sutekha, “now I am insecure in my station of life?”

“Those who need possessions, the trappings of power, and the delights of rule are always insecure. The more insecure they are the higher they are driven to fly,” said Oliver and stared directly at the man his hand suddenly caressing the plain sword hilt at his side.

“What of master Seymour, certainly he has risen far in the ranks of the priests of Ras,” said the golden eyed man and turned to face Oliver directly and looked back at him in a battle of wills.

“If Master Seymour had wanted he would have been king, he would have ruled Tarlton, he would have united your meager tribes into a fighting force that would once again sweep the northern continent and conquer the world. Seymour has chosen the path of humility and humbleness as have I,” said Oliver his words strong but his tone of voice quiet and with little inflection. “That you do not comprehend this is a testament to the lust that has overwhelmed your intelligence. Like a gutter thief who sees the flashing leg of a whore you cannot control yourself, like a dog presented with a cut of beef you slather your intentions for the world to see, you have no self-control, you have no honor, you have no humility Sutekha, and one day I will see to you.”

“You will see to me?” asked Sutekha and rose up to his full height of five feet five inches which was still over a foot shorter than the mighty orc. “You will see to me?”

“Enough bickering,” said Seymour with a sad little shake of his head. “Our enemies are the Dorians, the vile creature that worship spiders and have long been the ancient foe of Tarlton. We will take this opportunity not only to destroy the Staff of Naught but also to damage their queen. The new warlord is certainly a fake but he is aggressive and, despite your assurances Sutekha, has gained the support of the Black Horsemen of the Sands. If he can continue to unite the nomads he will have a force capable of sallying out and destroying our desert enemies and eventually the City of Spiders itself.”

“When you say ‘our desert enemies’ I assume you do not refer to the Nomads of the Golden Worm,” said Sutekha and turned to glare at Seymour.

“You forget yourself wizard,” said Seymour. “You work for me; your loyalty is to me and me alone. Any former allegiance you swore is void. The Light of Ras is your only guidance and you will adhere to it or Oliver will see to it.”

“I forget myself High Priest,” said Sutekha and bowed down almost to the ground. “The vestiges of the training remain. I offer my humblest apologies for my behavior. How might I soothe your worries oh great Master of the Sun?”

“You can begin by affecting true obedience rather than slavering nonsense,” said Seymour looking down at his travel companion. “Secondly you can use your divining powers to try and find the staff and let us look in on the progress our foes have made in deciphering its intricacies. This is the only reason I brought you along and I have yet to see a single reward for my benevolence.”

“As I have explained Master of the Sun, High Priest of Ras, Golden Son of the Orb, my powers are limited when I know nothing about the subject to which I am applying myself. We do not know the exact position of the staff, I have never held nor even seen anything other than a representation of the thing, I do not know who is now in control of the staff, or even if it is being used. All of these present significant difficulties in my divining skills. Now, if I could be trusted with a better image of the device, if you might afford me some insight as to its exact location or the nature of these Dorians who now have it, then I might be able to provide you with better results. I explained all this back in Tarlton when you first advised me as to my inclusion upon this endeavor.”

“I grow weary of your excuses Sutekha,” said Seymour with a dismissive wave of his hand. “We do not know who has the staff, we do not know where they are currently residing, and we do not know anything. It is your job to find these things out for me.”