in the old days, you’ve never been to Doria, have ya?”
Sorus shook his head and said, “I hope someday.”
“The towers there, so high they’re in the clouds, and walkways between ‘em. It’s all magic, Old Empire magic from before men remember, from before Akiona I, before everything,” said Germanius and nodded his head as his voice slowly tailed off into silence.
“I heard that kings once ruled in Doria,” said Sorus, “is that true?”
Germanius shrugged his shoulders, “If so, it don’t much matter to you and me. It’s queens now and has been for as long as anyone remembers.”
“I guess,” said Sorus pulling out the last of the winter gear. He began to take off his clothes and put on the light wool underthings one layer at a time. “Gets cold quick, eh Germanius?” he said with a smile as he hopped into a pair of thick denim pants.
“It’ll be colder yet, but first it’ll be hot and bloody,” said Germanius as Sorus suddenly heard the call of the Ridgewayia Thrush and Jon Gray appeared around the corner, a narrow smile on his face.
“I found them,” he said, spotted the woolen clothes laid out on a rock and began to quickly change. “I thought we’d wait for a few hours until they’re mostly sleeping and then ambush.”
“How many are there and what’s their defenses?” said Germanius his hand on the hilt of his sword, “and was there any dragon sign?”
Jon shook his head. “I didn’t see a dragon but I saw a child of the dragons, big fella with wings and the rest of the dragon look, not a swamp reptile man by any stretch, or one of them little ones either. He was six foot at least and mostly green and white scales. They’re holed up in a cave about a mile from here. I watched them for a bit but there’s no telling how many are in there. I’d guess no more than a dozen judging by how many came out to piss while I was watching, but maybe they’ve got strong bladders.”
“A dozen?” said Sorus looking back and forth between Jon and Germanius. “That seems like a lot, we’re only three.”
“Surprise is the difference,” said Germanius. “Besides, you saw the goblin fellow run earlier, we hit ‘em hard and they’ll fold up sure enough, and then we find the dragon.”
“Don’t kill the dragon child,” said Jon. “I want to talk to him about the Staff of Sakatha, if any one knows it’ll be him.”
“I’ve don’t know much about them,” said Sorus, “does it really have wings?”
“We’ve got some south of us in the swamps,” said Jon. “Mostly they are just scaled folk with tails, not really much like a dragon, more like a lizard with two arms, two legs, and a head. The tough ones can have wings and sometimes they breathe fire or lightning so you gotta watch out. A bunch of them attacked Tanelorn a few years back when I was just a kid. I remember riding out with my dad and some of the gray druids but I didn’t do anything in the battle. Anyway, this one looked like he might be one of those tough ones with wings and lightning breath maybe.”
“A couple of years ago a snake looking one came through Black Dale but I was just five or six. I remember it had a forked tongue and a head like a snake but a body like a man except with scales,” said Sorus, his eyes half closed as he remembered the story.
“There are all kinds of children of the dragon,” said Germanius with a smile and shrug of his shoulder. “They die when you stick a sword in their belly just like everyone else.”
“Don’t kill him,” Jon repeated as he pulled on the last of his mountain clothes. “I want to talk to him about the staff.”
“You kin speak with the children of the dragon?” said Germanius and eyed the boy closely.
“My brother gave me this amulet,” said Jon, reaching beneath his woolen cloak and pulling out a small dragon shaped pendant. “If I wear this I can talk their lingo I guess,” he went on with a shrug of his shoulders. “If he knows where that staff is then I’ll have it out of him one way or the other.”
“Torture mostly don’t work,” said Germanius as he sat down on a nearby rock, pulled out a small knife, and began to whittle on a piece of wood.
“Works just fine from my memory,” said Jon as he paced back and forth and smacked his fist into his palm.
“Nope,” said Germanius, his old hands still skilled, as the stick slowly became a long, four legged, creature with a head full of teeth. “They just tell you what they think you want to hear, which is mostly just lies. After they tell you so much you pretty much don’t know what is a lie and what is true.”
Jon was silent for a while and Sorus looked at Germanius, “It sounds like you’ve seen something like that before?”
“When I was a kid, I wasn’t born in Elakargul,” said the old man. “I was a slave to the insect men; we worked the hives, us little ones with small hands were good for rooting out the bugs that got into the leaf farms. They’d whip us if we tried to eat any of the produce instead of the bugs. So, we’d mostly just lie but if the beating got too bad we’d say anything, say anyone was doing it whether they were or weren’t, it didn’t much matter, you just say anything to stop the pain.”
Jon and Sorus were silent as the old warrior continued to carve at the stick and it began to take the shape of a crocodile. “I won’t be part a no torture,” he said as he neared the end of his project.
Jon nodded his head, “I won’t torture anyone. Not now, not ever again. You’ve got my word as a gray knight on that Sir Germanius,” he said and looked at the old man with steady eyes.
Germanius said nothing but continued to whittle away until the thing looked just like a crocodile, “Show him this and see which way he looks,” said Germanius. “That’s one good way, another is to be nice, sometimes folks is glad to have a friend and they’ll say things.”
“How long before they’re asleep?” said Sorus and looked back and forth between Jon and Germanius.
“Hours,” said Germanius. “Sit down, do something, take your mind away, I like to whittle.”
“I like to make beer,” said Sorus with a smile on his face.
Germanius nodded, “I approve.”
Jon smiled as well, “I don’t think we’ve got the right ingredients or the equipment for that, too bad though. That’s a mighty fine brew you’ve got at the Smooth Stride. You didn’t bring a jug along by any chance?”
Sorus laughed, “Not a jug, no malt, no mash tun, not even a keg,” he said and held his arms out and shook his head. “Still, when this is all said and done I’ll brew us all up something tasty and we can drink it together.”
“Say a toast for me,” said Germanius. “I won’t be there, but I’ll be there.”
“We’ll do that,” said Jon and looked at the old warrior, “and we’ll find that dragon for you to fight as well. I can’t promise you anything too big but it’ll be a dragon at least.”
“Now, you boys,” said the old warrior pulling out a couple of more long sticks he had picked up along the day’s journey, “What’d ya know about whittling?”
Hours later they stood together outside a small cave a bit further up the hillside and watched the firelight from inside flicker in reds and oranges against the walls. A single creature, goblin, orc, or a mix between, stood at the cave entrance half asleep as he tried to keep his head up. He was so heavily bundled in woolens that he could barely move his arms, and Sorus had to keep from laughing as the beast tried to go to the bathroom without soiling itself. It was a near thing and they weren’t sure if he accomplished the mission or not.
Jon nodded to Sorus who fingered a long dagger as they watched, “Behind him and through the throat so he can’t cry out, just like Germanius showed you. Hold his head back so the blood has free flow.”
Sorus nodded his head and his hands were steady as he slowly moved down the rocky slope to where the creature stomped his feet for a moment, walked a few steps before it leaned back against the cave wall, and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Sorus came up to the sentinel quickly, slipped the blade under his neck, and slit his throat with a quick motion. From even the short distance away that Germanius and Jon stood, they couldn’t make out the flow of blood, and the creature’s legs immediately gave way as the young brewer lowered him silently to the floor. A few seconds later all three of them stood outside the cave together.
Jon drew the massive stone sword from its scabbard and nodded his head in approval to Sorus while Germanius drew his own steel blade and the three moved into the cave with quick steps although not quite at a run. A few screams rang out a moment later, there was a strange little tinkling sound as blade hit blade, but only seconds later it was over.
Four goblins lay dead on the cave floor as pools of blood grew into large puddles that accumulated an indentation and were soaked up by heavy straw mats, while five more sat against the far wall their hands raised
