darklings about and we’re in no condition to deal with them.”
“Just give me a second,” said Sorus and put his hands by his legs in an attempt to slowly rise, “I’ll be okay.”
Jon went back over to Proteus who had somehow managed to get shakily to his feet, and his color changed to a slighter redder hew although he still shivered uncontrollably. “I’ve never been hit with anything like that,” he said with a shaky voice. “Let’s get out into the sunshine. I don’t think I like it here in the darkling lands much.”
“Agreed,” said Jon with a nod of his head and he put his arm under Proteus’s and helped the warrior along. “Don’t forget your sword,” he reminded the knight as he pointed to where it lay on the floor.
“Right,” said Proteus, “I must be more addled than I realized,” he continued, “a knight never leaves his sword on the field of battle unless he’s dead.”
The two staggered over to the blade, Proteus picked it up, sheathed it, and then they walked slowly over to Sorus who was also barely on his feet. Jon slipped his other arm around the young knight and the three of them walked arm in arm back towards the entrance of the cave.
Chapter 21
The two figures, one immensely fat atop a draft horse that plodded along, and the other short and stout aboard a thickly muscled horse, arrived at the gates to the Black Horse temple as the sun set early in the shadows of the Mountains of the Orc. A livery boy, wearing a cloak with a simple Black Horse symbol emblazoned on it, dashed out from a long building and over to the men. “Hello,” he started to say and then saw the two men clearly and pulled up short, “First Rider, sir! Welcome to the Black Horse temple, can I take your horse, sir?”
Vipsanius dismounted quickly althought it took a bit longer for the rotund Odellius to swing his leg around and get off his own mount. A few seconds later the two strode off to a tall stone building in the center of the courtyard while the boy led the horses to the long structure not far away. As soon as the young livery boy got to the paddocks he shouted out to another boy who lazed nearby on a bale of hale, “It’s the First Rider and Sir Odellius!”
“What?” said the second boy jumping immediately to his feet. “What’s that you say?”
“The First Rider! He’s here, this is his horse, look!” said the first boy and pulled the steed over for examination. “And fat Odellius too,” he continued with a huge grin on his face. “Look at this draft horse he’s riding. It’s probably the only one big enough to carry him!”
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” said the second boy, his eyes wide as he looked around the barn, “my father said Odellius believes that a beating now and again does a boy good! Come on, get that saddle off, we have to get them rubbed down. The First Rider might want to leave in the middle of the night on an urgent mission and I’m not going to be the one to let him ride out on a scruffy horse!”
The two boys began to work on the horses with great dedication as the sun set and their lanterns provided light in the dim paddock.
“First Rider,” said the rather plain human wearing a heavy black robe that came down to the floor as he waved his hand to a thick wooden chair at the head of a large oak table. He had brown hair, marginally silver at the ends, and wore a small gold ring on his left hand ring finger but showed no other fine jewels on his person. To his right a young man, in an equally black robe, piled kindling into the fire and began to work at it with flint and steel. “We were told to expect you later in the week, you’ve made good time but your quarters are not yet ready.”
“I won’t stay long, Imprilius,” said the First Rider as he moved over to the large chair and sat down on a small cushion that propped him up a little higher than his normal stature. “Sir Odellius and I are here in regards to the unpleasantness in the Mountains of the Orc. There is important news that may change our interpretation of events.”
“Odellius,” said Imprilius with a nod to the fat man. “I thought you were in Black Dale this twelve month but, let me say, it is always a pleasure to see you. I’ll notify the cook immediately.”
“Sir Odellius,” said the First Rider and put his hands on the stone table just as the fire sprang to life under the administration of the acolyte. “I’ve revoked his twelve month for this situation.”
“I realize that magic from the Old Empire is a rare thing,” said the priest of the Black Horse as he motioned with his head to an older man who also wore the standard robes of the temple. “Tell the cook that we have an extra guest and that it is Sir Odellius.”
The man slid out of the room silently as his soft leather shoes seemed to glide over the floor and then he was gone. The boy who tended the fire got up, satisfied the blaze was well started, and also moved out of the room without a word.
“We’ve a visitor from far to the north,” said the First Rider, “An emissary of the Gray Lord of Tanelorn.”
The priest sat back in his chair and his brown eyes narrowed as he looked back and forth between Odellius and Vipsanius. “I’ve heard of Tanelorn,” he said and folded his hands on his laps as his fingers intertwined. “But what on earth could our two nations offer one another in an alliance? The distance is far too great for any sort of military aid.”
“Indeed,” said the First Rider with a nod of his head leaning forward in his seat. “It is about this relic from the Old Empire,” he continued. “The Gray Lord clearly knows about it and has known for some time. The journey from Tanelorn is many months, even years long at best.”
“Unless the Gray Lord has access to the portal system,” said the priest of the Black Horse and looked at the First Rider impassively.
The squat man paused for a moment, “I had not considered that,” he said. “Did this Jon Gray say anything to you about how he got here?” he asked Odellius.
The big man shrugged his shoulders, “No First Rider, we didn’t really discuss such things. He might have told Germanius or the boy Sorus but I have no knowledge; no wait, I do,” he suddenly said and snapped the fingers on his right hand.”
“Go on,” said the First Rider and leaned back in his chair.
“He had one of those two-tone trotters that they breed in Tarlton. I’m sure of it, the horse was a gelding, and those desert nomads never sell breeding stock to foreigners. He must have sailed south from Sea’cra to Tarlton and stopped there before continuing to Elkargul.”
“That does make sense, First Rider,” said the high priest of the Black Horse, his brown eyes reflective as he sat back in his chair. “I don’t remember where this Tanelorn is exactly, other than far to the north, but if they have access to portals he would’ve come straight to us, or at least as close as possible. If he purchased a horse in Tarlton it’s likely he didn’t sail around the peninsula, but instead stopped in Doria perhaps, or even Darag’dal, which might be explained by the nature of the relic.”
The First Rider nodded his head, “Yes, the staff is associated with the reptile creatures. The little force we just defeated proves our theory correct in that regard,” he said as he suddenly pounded his fist into the table. “They are here for the staff and so is this emissary. What was his name again, Odellius?”
“Jon Gray,” said the rotund man just as a group of boys and girls came into the room with plates, glasses, and silverware, which they began to set up industriously. It only took them a minute to prepare the entire table for all three men. As they finished another young boy in priestly robes entered then room, a decanter filled with a red liquid in his hands, which he poured into the glasses, careful to fill them to precisely the same depth. After this he left the three alone once again.
“Some relation to this Gray Lord,” said Imprilius with a look to Odellius, his head cocked at a slight angle.
“I assume so,” said Odellius, “but the subject never came up. He has the noble caste about him that’s certain. Seven feet tall if he’s an inch and powerful as an ox. He’s charmed all the Speeds in town and most of the boys worship him as a hero.”
“They say the Gray Lord is a giant of a man,” mused the First Rider with a nod of his head. “Perhaps a son?”
“If so,” said the high priest, pausing to guide a boy and girl acolyte as they returned with platters of food, “then this is of the gravest importance. If he sends his son all this way then the… old relic must be of tremendous value.”
The men paused in their conversation for a moment as the servers spread out several dishes that included a
