oppose you in Council,” he said. “We will send spies and we will prepare at least one ship for the journey but I do not like this turn of events. I do not trust the dreams of Chusarausea and in particular I do not trust the lich who promises to raise our former lord. The creature is dangerous and manipulates us. Mark my words, Melharras, this will not end well for our people. But, that being said, I will support you to the Council and if sent to Elekargul, as I suspect I am most suited for the job, I will perform my duties to the best of my ability.”
“You have chosen wisely, Usharra,” said Melharras eagerly fingering a long dragon shaped medallion on a chain around his neck. “I am not as concerned by Lord Whitebone as you. He is a foolish creature who hopes to use great Sakatha for his own ends but that, quite clearly, is not a problem. Once brought back to life the great one will not be subject to the orders of one such as Whitebone.”
“I hope you are right, Melharras,” said Usharra, shaking his head from side to side as he studied the motionless creature on the throne, “I hope you are right.”
Chapter 5
“Lord Whitebone,” said the shadowy creature who hovered both off the floor and on it at the same time. The skeletal creature he addressed sat at a stone desk covered with parchment as it scratched something out with a quill pen. The thing wore a heavy wool cloak of deep purple and a chain shirt over a leather jerkin, but its bone hands and skull were exposed in the room barely illuminated by a pair of reddish glow stones. It kept its head down as the shadowy thing waited patiently in the small room furnished with a shelf of books, a small table, and a dresser with four drawers. Long moments passed with the scratch of the quill the only sound. Finally, after some minutes the skeletal creature at the desk lifted his head, “What brings you to me, servant of the Abyss?”
“The mistress of the Abyss, she who has eternally ruled, wonders about your progress in the resurrection of the dragon child king,” said a low dark voice that emanated from the vaguely human shadowy form.
“I have contacted the children of the dragon that hold his bones, I have found the toxic dragon and ordered the manipulation of his dreams, I have sent minions to the lands of the freeriders where the Staff of Sakatha has reportedly surfaced, and I continue to gather information. Does your mistress ever leave her little den of pleasure and do something herself?” said Whitebone and turned the full focus of his gaze on the shadowy form. His eyes were not empty sockets but red embers that glowed and seemed to shoot forth a light that caused the dark form to waver. “Tenebrous, I grow weary of these disturbances. When Sakatha is raised, when I control him and his foolish followers, then I will alert the mistress of the Abyss. If you have nothing useful to report, stop wasting my valuable time.”
“Lord Whitebone,” said Tenebrous with a shadowy bow of sorts, “I was not aware if you knew of the Gray Lord’s involvement in the situation.”
“That meddlesome old fool is a trouble maker,” said Whitebone putting down his pen and crossing one leg over the other as a bony ankle flashed from beneath a pant leg. “But how could he be involved in this? Tanelorn and it cursed gray wall is too far away to influence matters in the south.”
“He sent his son to look into the situation. I believe he wants to collect the staff and put it in his vault away from anyone who might use it for their own ends. The same thing that he did with…,” here he looked around and his voice lowered. “The Black Sword and the Gray Horn,” said Tenebrous. “His commitment to neutrality is difficult to fully comprehend but it is most strong.”
“Valarius? The druid? That might well present a problem. He is a worthy foe. I must ponder this,” said the skeletal lord tapping his bony fingers on the stone desk.
“Not Valarius,” said Tenebrous. “The younger boy, Jon.”
Whitebone threw back his head and laughed, a strange sound that was more like the clack of hail stones on a rocky shore. “The hot headed one? Jon Gray? Really?”
Tenebrous’s form seemed to waver momentarily but he said nothing.
“You have something you want to say, dark servant?” said Whitebone.
“Yes, Lord Whitebone, about Jon Gray,” said Tenebrous.
“Go on nether spirit before I lose my patience and send you back to the Deathlands from whence you came,” said Whitebone.
“I think the boy is a greater danger than you might realize,” started Tenebrous but was interrupted by Whitebone who shook his head.
“I’m more afraid of his sister than of him,” said Whitebone. “He can easily be manipulated into doing whatever I choose. He is young and foolish. They do say he is capable enough with the sword but that is not a concern of mine. We will twist his reason so that he ends up helping us. This is good news indeed and a way to get back at that meddlesome lord of gray and his delusions of peace. Is there anything else, Tenebrous?”
“I suspect that the Gray Lord is being assisted by the Unbeliever,” said Tenebrous and chose his words with slow care.
Whitebone looked up sharply, “That is a matter more for your mistress than for you or me. I have no delusions about my own divinity and if Shinamar is able to disperse the power of the gods then so much the better for me.”
Tenebrous bowed as best a shadow might and offered one final piece of advice, “Shinamar, while not directly opposed to your interests is most powerful even in his current reduced condition. When he fled the vanished Das’von he took the magical tomes of Elucidor the Omnipotent, his former master. If he is aiding the Gray Lord and participated in the decision to send Jon Gray to Elakargul then this might be something of a concern for you.”
“It is not your business to tell me what is my concern and what is not my concern,” said Whitebone and stood, as the glare deep in his eye sockets glowed a deeper shade of red. “You have reported to me what you know. Now, get out of my site before I disperse you.”
Tenebrous’s shadowy form oozed out of the room and in a few moments Lord Whitebone sat by himself at his smallish stone desk. “Shinamar indeed… Jon Gray,” he said aloud and then threw back his head in laughter.
Chapter 6
Jon Gray sat in the small kitchen of the home of Sorus Brewer, sipped hot tea from a mug, and stared out the window at a small yellow bird that hopped along the ground and pecked at something with great vigor. “I wish I had something to do,” he said aloud just as a tall woman with long blonde hair emerged from another room and slipped on a light woolen jacket.
“I’d keep you quite busy again and again but I’ve got to get back to work or mother will have my hide,” she said with a smile and leaned down to give the boy a lingering kiss.
“You people are the most energetic bunch I’ve ever seen,” said Jon reaching around to grab the healthy young woman by the rear. She was taller than most girls, with a healthy tanned complexion that mixed well with her blonde hair.
“Weren’t you just complaining about being bored,” said the young woman and swatted away his hand. “Why don’t you go find Germanius, I’m sure he’ll have some scheme or another to get you killed.”
“That old kook,” said Jon with a laugh and tried to grab the girl around the waist but she proved too nimble, dodging away at the last moment and grabbing a biscuit from the pan on the stove as she turned to give him a wink and dashed out of the cottage.
“He’s not a kook,” shouted Titia her voice carried through the open window. “He’s just an old knight who wants to die in battle rather than in bed.”
There was silence for a moment and then her head popped into the window, “I’m serious, Jon. He’s a great hero from years ago. You could learn a lot from him. Go see him.”
“Fine, fine,” said Jon with a yawn and reached a hand out towards the biscuit pan on the stove but it was slightly out of his reach. He looked around the kitchen and spotted a broom. Using the chair opposite him he kicked it towards the broom which fell on the floor with a clatter. Then he grabbed another chair and used it to slowly scoot the broom towards him until it was within his reach. Then he used the broom as an extension of his arm,
