Jotus of Aanthora

by J. Wright

Jotus looked at the sword he had taken from Gringr. It was a beautiful and excellently crafted blade; long, sleek, and double-edged. It was made of thick, hardy steel and was razor sharp. A large emerald was set at the top of the hilt, where the blade met the handle, and on the pommel was another slightly smaller emerald. The sword was extremely valuable.

  Jotus went to Gringr's corpse and removed the belt and sheath. He also kept the bow, quiver of arrows, and water-skin he had taken from the fleeing bowman. Other than that, he found a small bag of coins on each Tatoran, as well as some bits of food on the slain bowman. He also found papers on Gringr, stating Jotus' name and the amount of the bounty offered for him. Amentus' signature was at the bottom right corner of the paper.

  When he had picked all the valuable and usable items from the corpses, Jotus left the area and set out on the plains. He was glad to have a weapon again, especially such an excellent one. He decided that he would pose as this Gringr in order to enter Amentus’ camp. Then, it was only a matter of time before he would come across Jotan.

  Jotus used his new sword to cut and trim his burly mane, in order to closer resemble Gringr. This, of course, would be no help against anyone who knew Gringr well, but it was a start. Then, he took some sap from a nearby tree and smeared it on his ears, covering the four notches in each. When the sap hardened, the notches would be hard to notice.

  It was hot, and Jotus had just finished the last of his water. Sweat dripped from his fur as he walked under the beating Tatoran sun. He knew he needed to stay hydrated or risk losing too much water and passing out. If he didn't find the camp soon, he knew he might parish in the heat.

  Jotus laughed to himself, almost a diabolical laugh, as if he'd gone insane. He was dehydrated, and becoming delirious. He'd been recalling his time as an officer in the Aanthoran army, under Tyrentus' command. This was years before Amentus was even of age to rule; when he was nothing but a whining, complacent adolescent.

  Jotus remembered the mission; a dangerous trek through the Hodarth Desert, chasing after a brigand of raiders who had looted a caravan en route from Aanthora to an old Dotaran outpost. The caravan had been a peace offering, with Tyrentus' daughter as the lead ambassador. Her name was Valadine.

  Jotus teared up as he thought her name. It had been love at first sight for Jotus and Valadine. She was Amentus' older sister, and Jotan's mother. Jotus remembered seeing her lifeless body the day the caravan was raided. His warriors had done their best to defend the caravan, but, unfortunately, the raiders had attacked her wagon first. She was an unlucky victim in the clash of arms that ensued, which Jotus had been a part of. He blamed himself for her death.

  "If only I'd been more vigilant, then she'd still be with me!" he thought.

  His mission in the desert, chasing after the raiders, had ended in ruin. Jotus, stricken with grief, had commanded his troops into a trap, and many lost their lives in the terrible onslaught. In the end, he and several of the remaining warriors under his command were able to defeat the raiders, but they had lost twice the number they'd killed. When Jotus returned to Aanthora, his people looked at him with disgust and contempt. It was then that he vowed to Jotan, while Jotan still slept in his crib, that his son would never know the shame and dishonor he felt. It was then that he transferred to the Harvesting District, to work in solitude.

  Jotus looked up. In the distance, he could see the dust rising from a group of rapts. They were headed toward him in a straight line. He had finally found the camp.

  It didn't take long for the riders to make it to Jotus. When they did, he was all but ready to drop. He handed the paper he'd taken from Gringr to one of the riders.

  "I am Gringr," said Jotus, "I have news on Jotus, the one Amentus seeks."

  "Excellent," said the rider, "Amentus will be pleased to hear it."

  "Do you have water?" asked Jotus, "I have been without it for some time now."

  "Of course," said the rider.

  With that, he tossed Jotus his water-skin.

  "Drink well," said the rider, "We have much more in the camp."

  "He looks like a vagabond," said one of the other riders, "Look how filthy and half-starved he looks."

  "He is a mercenary, a soldier of fortune" said the initial rider, "and there have not been many good wars lately, until now of course."

  "You are a skilled fighter no doubt?" asked the initial rider.

  "I know the ways of the warrior," replied Jotus.

  "Well Gringr," said the rider, "perhaps Amentus will offer you a position in the battalion."

  "If the price is right, then my sword is his," said Jotus.

  "Naturally," said the rider.

  The rider then turned to the rest of the group.

  "Okay men, back to camp!" he said, "Gringr, you will ride with me."

  The war camp was much larger than Jotus had surmised. He didn't think so many Aanthorans would have responded to Amentus' call for arms. He knew from what the bowman had said that the Arkinian nomads were also joining the fight. Jotus began to see the magnitude of the situation.

  No gate or wall surrounded the camp. The defense was almost non-existent, with few sentries scattered around the perimeter. He guessed that Amentus did not fear desertion, or the Dotarans learning of their gathering. Amentus sure was bold. He was still in the beginning phases of launching his campaign though, and the Dotarans weren‘t even aware yet that the Tatorans sought war.

  When they entered the camp, the rider dropped Jotus off and pointed in the direction of Amentus' tent.

  "If you decide to stay, my friend, find me by my tent this evening for a drink. It is near the smithies," said the rider, "You need a proper welcome."

  "What if I can't find you," asked Jotus.

  "Just ask around for me. My name is Pyrus."

  Then, he was off, following the other riders to another area in the camp.

  Jotus looked around the camp, memorizing the layout and main avenues of travel. He then headed in the direction of Amentus' tent, where he hoped to find Jotan.

  He found the tent in short time. It was easy enough to spot with the six guard detail posted around it. Jotus saw there was no way to enter or exit the tent unnoticed. He had no way to tell if Jotan was within the tent, other than waiting around and watching, but that would surely draw some attention. Jotus decided that, for now at least, he would bide his time, but if he couldn't make contact with Jotan before the Arkinians arrived, he would have a whole new set of problems to deal with.

  Jotus then walked toward one of the fires he'd seen about the camp. Soon after, he found some grogg. He decided he'd have a drink or two before heading over to Pyrus' tent, to loosen him up. He'd had a rough couple of months of sobriety.

  Jotus awoke the next morning inside one of the tents in the camp. He was the tent’s sole occupant. He had a splitting headache and no recollection of the previous night. Jotus had a mean hangover and couldn't remember anything after his walk towards Pyrus' tent.

  Suddenly, Pyrus burst through the tent flaps.

  "Finally, you’re awake!" he said, mighty cheerfully, "You slept straight through the morning!"

  Jotus' head echoed with pain from Pyrus’ volume.

  "What happened last night?" asked Jotus, with apprehension.

  Jotus got up and they exited the tent. Warriors sat about their tents, sharpening blades, eating food, and repairing armor.

  "We drank, we fought, and you brought honor to your family," said Pyrus, "though you are a bit of a weak drinker. No matter, you will learn to drink among my warriors. That is, if you are staying with us?" asked Pyrus.

  "Aye, I am staying. There is much gold and glory to be made," said Jotus.

  "Well, Gringr, welcome to my company, the Blade‘s Edge. You won't find a tougher company then mine. That is, of course, if you pass the test," said Pyrus.

  Some of the warriors meandering about shot mischievous glances at their comrades.

  "What is the test?" asked Jotus.

  "You
must defeat Flaminus in a simple duel," said Pyrus.

  The warriors about laughed at these words.

  "That is the only way?" asked Jotus.

  "Yes, if you have the courage," said Pyrus.

  "Where is this Flaminus?" asked Jotus.

  One of the Tatorans stood up. He was a massive specimen of physical excellence, with bulging muscles and the look of a deranged murderer.

  Jotus swallowed hard.

  They stepped into a dueling circle, bedded with sand. Flaminus looked at Jotus with a wide grin on his face. Jotus was handed his sword, which he took with his right hand, his good hand.

  "The fight is till first blood drawn from the torso. It is not a fight to the death," explained Pyrus.

  Jotus looked at the savage Flaminus, sizing him up.

  "Ready yourselves!" said Pyrus.

  Flaminus drew his sword. Jotus held his up awkwardly, still very hung-over.

  "Fight!" commanded Pyrus.

  Flaminus came in fast and strong, expecting to deal a quick defeat. Jotus, however, hung-over or not, was a veteran warrior. Though he could only use one of his hands to fight, his muscles reacted reflexively and his mind acted intuitively. Before anyone knew it, Jotus had pinned Flaminus on his back with his sword at his chest. Then, he made a small slice on Flaminus' torso.

  The spectators looked at Jotus in awe. Never before had they seen such grace and effectiveness in a swordsman.

  "Unbelievable!" shouted Pyrus with elation, "Flaminus is the best swordsman in my company, and one of the best in the camp! He was undefeated here!"

  "I thought you said I had to defeat him to join you?" asked Jotus.

  "It was only a joke, my friend, one that we play on all of our new recruits. No one expected you to be able to best him, and so quickly too! My, I've never seen such swordsmanship!" said Pyrus.

  Jotus cringed. He hadn’t wanted to gain any extra attention. His disguise was poor enough as it was.

  "Where did you acquire such skills?" asked Pyrus.

  "Years of mercenary work, among other things, have kept me sharp," said Jotus, “They do not call me Gringr the Fierce for no reason.”

  Jotus then walked back into the tent that he awoke in and went back to sleep. Pyrus, his new commanding officer, decided to let him. Tomorrow, however, Jotus would begin his camp duties.

  Chapter Three – An Officer’s Meeting