The Staff of Naught

by Tom Liberman

  None of the others presented any threat although the heathen witchy woman might know a disabling spell or two and it would be wise to make sure she didn’t slip any of her brews into their food.

  After this contemplation, which lasted but a brief moment, he turned his eyes to the High Priest of Ras and answered his initial question, “To find the staff we must trust they will lead us to it, but we must be wary, Sutekha seeks to gain an alliance with the green haired girl and might well betray us.”

  Seymour looked at the full bodied girl who helped the half-orc and noted Sutekha eyeing her with a leer on his face. “I think perhaps his interest in her is more puerile than conspiratorial,” he said. “She is a good looking woman for a Dorian. Perhaps we won’t kill her when this is all over. She would be a nice adornment to the palace with her green hair.”

  Oliver glanced at the woman with an eye towards her physical beauty for the first time and pursed his lips. He usually sized people up with their combat potential in mind but in this case he found himself in agreement with the assessment of the High Priest of Ras as he noted her full figure and striking features.

  Seymour watched the expression on his friend’s face and smiled for a brief moment. “Even Oliver Pio, Paladin of Ras, Champion of Tarlton, whose stoic nature is known throughout the kingdom, appreciates beauty of that high quality. If you want my friend,” he went on, “I will arrange it so that she is yours.”

  Oliver looked back at Seymour his face once again a blank impenetrable mask, “What will be, will be.”

  Seymour gave off a snort that caught the attention of everyone else gathered in the small graveyard.

  “What is it?” asked Ariana who suddenly stood next to the high priest her dark hair whipped in the morning breeze and her uneven teeth clenched as she stared at him her eyes having cleared more quickly than the others.

  “Nothing for a child to concern herself with,” said Seymour. “I can see that among the heathens children are not taught to respect their elders and I will have to allow for such behavior.”

  Ariana glared at the priest for a moment before she turned her back on him and made a strange little motion with her hand out of his vision. She then walked over to Humbort and pulled out a flask of water and began to apply it to his eyes.

  Sutekha watched the girl carefully for a moment and then sidled over to where Oliver and Seymour discussed their next move. “The girl recovers quickly,” he said in a soft voice.

  “What of it?” said Seymour with a brief glance at the wizard and then turned back to Oliver and pointed to the horizon. “They cannot have gotten far without magic,” said the priest of Ras. “Once the half-orc is able it should not be difficult to track down the minions of the goddess of death.

  “Where magic is involved things are not always as simple as they seem,” said Oliver and scanned the horizon for any sign of movement. “But I’m sure that Ras will guide us with his Eternal Light. The staff shall finally be destroyed after all these years. Then it will be a simple matter of find the traitor Khemer and send him to the Eternal Flame.”

  Unerus was nearby pretending to speak with Tylan but actually used his keen ears to listen in on the conversation and although he could not hear every word did manage to pick out the reference to Khemer. He thought about telling the desert warriors that the ghost was dead, or that the ghost was alive but then killed, or whatever it was that actually happened to the creature, but decided against it. He didn’t like the priest and the warrior frightened him. The strange little wizard with the pale skin seemed the most likable of the trio but he wanted to find out why they had four horses and only three riders before he trusted any of them. With this in mind he walked over to Sutekha and said in his most innocent, childlike voice, “Your skin is so pale, how come if you’re from the desert?”

  Sutekha turned to the young boy who he knew little about. His spying gave him information about the women because the staff was generally with the girl but he knew that a relationship existed between the boy and the gapped tooth girl and could see the resemblance in their facial features. “I’m a wizard of the Golden Worm,” he replied. “Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

  Unerus shook his head and tried to open his eyes widely as if in wonder, “No, what’s that?”

  “My people live in caves below The Sands deep in the desert,” said Sutekha.

  “What’s the sands?” asked Unerus his eyes wide and a blank look on his face.

  “You know nothing of Tarlton?” said Sutekha and looked down at the boy. “You are uneducated?”

  “I’m an orphan, I grew up on the streets of Iv’s Folly, I don’t even really know that much about Doria or the queen. It wasn’t until I met up with Lousa and the others that I ever left the city.”

  “I see,” said Sutekha. “Well, if you tell me about this Iv’s Folly and these other people with whom you travel I will gladly tell you all you want to know about Tarlton, The Sands, the Golden Worm Nomads, or anything else you desire.”

  Unerus’s face lost its blank expression and his eyes narrowed as he looked at the wizard, “You first.”

  Sutekha nodded his heads, “The orphans of The Sands are not much different than those of Doria,” he finally said his mouth in a wide smile. “They know what they need to survive and that is important knowledge. We shall trade if that meets with your approval,” he went on, “I will start,” concluded the wizard with a little bow. “But, I’m afraid it will not be long before you warrior friend clears his eyes and my companions will brook no delay in setting out upon their quest.”

  Unerus nodded his head and said nothing.

  “Tarlton is a great city built even before the Old Empire but abandoned during the years of plague that followed the destruction of the Old Empire. A warrior named Huroc the Might rebuilt it some six hundred years ago. Huroc was a nomad, as am I,” said Sutekha with a smile, “although our lives were very different. Huroc was a Black Horseman. They are the fiercest of the nomadic warriors of the great desert known as the Sands. The nomads all have a legend of the Black Horseman who served as a captain in the armies of the Emperor and led the nomadic cavalry in conquest all over the world. It was long said that the Black Horseman would return and only then could the nomads reoccupy the City in the Sand. Huroc dreamed that this day was coming and he should take his followers to Tarlton and rebuild it. My people are the Nomads of the Golden Worm and we are not skilled horsemen. Our territory is a mostly rocky land with large caverns and thus we live away from the sun.”

  “Now, Unerus is your name?”

  The boy nodded.

  “Tell me about her,” said the mage and looked at Lousa who still attended to Shamki. The half-orc warrior blinked his eyes and looked around apparently at least partially recovered.

  Unerus smiled, “Lousa is nice. She works for the mayor of Iv’s Folly but I don’t know much else. Her mother was a slave of orcs; I guess that’s why she likes Shamki so much.”

  “What is a mayor, some sort of government official,” said Sutekha.

  “Umm,” said Unerus. “Yes, he makes all the decision in town. I think the queen appoints him but I’m not sure. He is kind of fat but smart; you have to be careful around him.”

  “How did you all come to be traveling with the staff?” said Sutekha.

  “We’re even now,” said Unerus. “Maybe we can talk more later.” Then the boy suddenly stopped and looked up at the wizard. “How come we can all talk to each other? Did you cast a spell or something, how long does it last?”

  “Sutekha shrugged his shoulders, “It was nothing, an easy spell taught to almost any wizard. I’ll have to repeat it when we’re all together in the morning but it should last the full day otherwise. But, you are correct, the half-orc, Shamki was his name, right?”

  “That’s right, Shamki,” said Unerus.

  “He appears to be able to see again and I imagine Seymour will be most insistent that we begin immediately. He is most eager to retrieve the staff.”


  “Why is that,” said Unerus and grabbed the pale man by the sleeve.

  “We’ll talk later,” he replied with a sly smile and thought to himself that the boy would make an excellent ally against Seymour. He was clever and clearly in it for himself although partially enamored to the elf blooded beauty. Her charisma was such as to charm even preteen boys and that was something worth examining as well. He saw how Seymour looked at the woman although it was likely that Oliver was above such interest. Still, he thought to himself as he watched Seymour move over to the half-orc, it was something worth keeping an eye on. Indeed it was.

  “You are able to track?” said Seymour and stood eye to eye with the orc. “We must follow those who took the staff as quickly as possible.

  Shamki glanced back at the priest but most of his focus was on the warrior named Oliver and the plain cord that kept his sword around his waist. “Ready track,” he said with a snarl and started to walk towards the priest who did not move out of his way and the two suddenly bumped. The Priest of Ras slid back a step but refused to yield and Shamki thought about simply going right through him but one glance at Oliver, his hand on the hilt of his blade, convinced the half-orc warrior that now was not the time to start a fight and so he went around. He began to circle the small cemetery, sniffed loudly, and bent down to touch the grass now and again.

  “Death here,” he said pointing to the largest of the gravestones that stood ten feet tall but the earth underneath it was apparently undisturbed unlike most of the other graves.

  “I don’t see anything,” said Tanner who walked a circuitous route around the thing and carefully examined each part of it and even knocking on it with his hand several times.

  “Knock it over,” said Seymour to Oliver and the orc warrior walked over to the massive stone and gave it a preliminary shove from several sides.

  Then he put both hands to it on one side and began to exert force slowly. Before he could manage to budge the thing Shamki moved in beside him and added his weight as did Humbort who stick like arms seemed to possess a great deal of power.

  “Throw a rope over it,” said Lousa, and Tanner immediately went over to the wagon. By the time he got there Almara was ready with the rope and tossed it to him. “Tylan, wrap this around that other heavy stone while I make a slip-knot.” The boy did as ordered while Tanner quickly tied a knot and threw it over the stone. The three men pushing the massive rock stopped their exertion for a moment until the rope was in place. Tanner, Tylan, and Unerus walked to the other side of the smaller stone and grabbed the rope ready to heave.

  “One … two … three,” counted off the merchant and the three of them began to pull on the rope while the large men attempted to push over the stone. For a long moment it looked as if nothing was going to happen but then the earth shifted under the stone and suddenly the thing was moving.

  “Watch out!” shouted Almara and Lousa grabbed Shalalee by the arm and pulled her back and out of the way of the falling grave marker. It hit the ground with a dull thump that did not seem to do justice to the size of it but the ground was soft and still a little damp from the morning dew.

  “There’s a tunnel,” Humbort stared wide eyed at the hole in the ground and the ancient stone steps leading down.

  “How did they get to it?” said Almara.

  “Incorporeal creatures maybe,” said Tanner. “If they took the staff from the skeletons and then phased out they could have taken the staff with them, maybe.”

  “But how could the staff be incorporeal, wouldn’t they just leave that behind?” said Shalalee.

  Seymour looked at them for a moment before he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how it happened. It matters that the staff is down there,” he said and pointed to the steps leading into the ground. “Oliver, you and Sutekha come with me and we’ll put an end to this nonsense once and for all.” With that he pulled out the Icon of Ras whose bright light immediately illuminated the passage below.

  Shamki looked to Lousa who nodded her head, “You go with them while we wait here.”

  Ariana immediately darted towards the stairwell after Seymour and the other two Tarltonites ignoring the shout from Lousa. “Don’t you fuss now,” said Hazlebub who moved past Lousa. “I’ll make sure the girl is all right and she has every right to go. I don’t trust that Seymour fellow any further than I do a bear in the blueberry patch.”

  Lousa grabbed her by the arm. “Be careful Hazle; don’t trust anyone down there except Shamki.”

  Hazlebub looked at the woman for a moment, “Not even Ariana?”

  Lousa shook her head, “She wants to keep the staff, I see that now. I never should have let her carry it and now that voice in her head has given her ideas. Make sure that thing is destroyed one way or the other.”

  The witch nodded her head and darted down the passageway just behind Humbort who had dawdled at the entrance for some time before he convinced himself to follow after Shamki. This left Tanner, Almara, Unerus, Lousa, and Shalalee on the surface to wait.

  “Now, Shalalee,” said Lousa and turned to the gangly girl. “We have to talk.”

  Chapter 30

  The dark stairs led down eighty-six steps according to Shamki’s count and twisted around so that they faced south although the half-orc knew that this was merely an approximation and that a few more twists and turns and all sense of direction would be lost. They ended in a small square room with two stone doors on opposite sides and Oliver stood by one listening with his ear to it while Seymour and Sutekha watched from the middle of the room. A glance behind him assured the warrior that Ariana and Hazlebub were still there and he knew, from long adventures together, that Humbort lurked nearby.

  “Which way?” demanded Seymour looking at Shamki.

  The half-orc shrugged his shoulders. “Death smell all,” he said.

  “That one then,” said Seymour and pointed to the door that Oliver examined carefully.

  The big orc paladin pushed against it cautiously and it swung away to reveal a natural cavern perhaps twenty feet high and twice again as long. Inside sat dozens of stone sarcophagi laid out in a neat pattern on the floor.

  Seymour strode forward his Icon of Ras suddenly brilliant and the room went from gloom to apparent daylight in an instant. A mad scramble of motion on the ceiling alerted them to hundreds of bats fleeing through small holes on either side of the chamber. There was a similar scrabble of motion on the floor as rats scurried for cover. Oliver drew his sword as he moved into the room.

  Shamki moved in behind and they examined the stones for a few moments during which the noise slowly subsided into silence.

  “Open them,” said Seymour apparently unbothered by the taboo of grave robbing. Oliver flicked a quick glance at Shamki although the half-orc could garner no meaning from it and then walked over to the nearest stone and shoved against the top. It creaked for a moment as the orc’s muscles bulged but then slowly slid aside revealing the skeletal remains of a dignitary who ranked such a final resting place.

  In its skeletal grip was a leather scabbard rotted to a few pieces of string and an old iron sword badly rusted. The felt lining of the coffin had rotted away to nothing and the glint of coins or possibly gems glimmered for a moment as Seymour’s light hovered over the coffin.

  The high priest quickly turned to the next stone coffin as Oliver began to work its lid off.

  “They’ll be here for a while,” said Hazlebub as she moved next to Shamki and spoke in a low whisper.

  The half-orc nodded his head and backed out of the room towards the original entrance and the other door. “Ariana,” he whispered to the witch and she turned around and spotted the girl in the corner of the big room eyes glued to Seymour and Oliver. Hazlebub made a little motion with her hand and caught Ariana’s attention and she worked her way back towards them without making a sound.

  When Shamki returned to the first room he found Humbort and Sutekha still there. The two men examined the other door and apparent
ly did not see the half-orc come into the chamber. When Shamki walked between them and put his weight to the door both men gasped and stumbled aside although Humbort quickly moved back to the first door and kept lookout while Sutekha settled for watching Shamki, the witch, and the young girl who both joined them.

  The door slid open easily and Shamki reached back with a hand motion for a moment and the wizard tried to figure out for what the warrior meant to convey. He didn’t have to wait long as Humbort appeared and a put bright glow stone in the hand of the half-orc who immediately shined it into the chamber beyond the door.

  In this small chamber half a dozen small coffins, each vaguely shaped like a man, leaned up against the walls. Two of them had tightly closed lids while the others hung open to reveal empty interiors. Shamki moved into the room and took a hold of the first of the closed coffins and swung it open to reveal a mummified creature. The violent movement pushed the coffin just enough to unbalance the thing and it fell to the floor with a clatter.

  Shamki jumped back and Sutekha, at the doorway, reached into his robes looking for a small vial he knew would be useful in this situation.

  “Mummifying is the Tarltonite way,” said Hazlebub as she looked into the room while Shamki prodded the thing on the floor with a short kick. It did not seem to object to this indignity and simply lay there in silence.

  “The lettering on the tombs of unfamiliar to me,” said Sutekha. “Do hobgoblins bury their dead this way or perhaps it a relic of ancient times?”

  “I don’t know,” said Hazlebub. “I don’t trade with the hobgobbies often enough to know.”

  Meanwhile Shamki threw open the other closed lid and came face to face with a low passageway leading further into the darkness. He shined his light down the corridor, which stood only three feet tall and looked not even wide enough for him to pass through.