The Staff Of Naught Part 1

The Staff of Naught.

Tales of Corland.

Tom Liberman.

Prelude.

The full moon hung high and bright in the night sky and the sound of hoof beats quickly approached the hidden spot where the dark skinned orc lay in a small clump of bushes his young son's heavy breath audible to his right. A tall darkling, with purple hewed skin, rode a ma.s.sive black unicorn whose very breath was fire, while next to him, on a silver horse that easily kept pace, sat a beautiful golden-haired human woman in a regal riding dress decorated with the pattern of three towers interconnected by a walkway. She sat tall in the saddle and wore a silver crown upon her head. Her face glinted in the moonlight, its features perfect with high cheekbones and strange yellow eyes that glowed like a cat's in the night.

"What if he isn't dismounted," said the boy in the gra.s.s at the side of the orc. The dark skinned orc with a close-cropped beard looked down at his young son and noted the eyes wide with fear, his normally green skin almost ashen and white in color, and his lip aquiver. "They say he's the finest horseman in the world," continued the lad.

"He will be," he said as he clutched the end of a fine rope in this hand. The other side was tied to a tree across the path and he tightened his grip as the hoof beats approached.

"What if it doesn't fall off?" said the boy.

"It will, everything is arranged," he replied. "Now get ready."

"What do I do with it after?" said the boy.

The orc replied, (somehow it all seemed like a dream), "We've been over this, you know what to do. Take the Black Sphere to Three Eyed Dioly. He promised to hide the thing where no darkling will ever find it," he whispered his entire body suddenly tense and he realized he held his breath.

"What then?" said the boy.

"Then the Black Horseman, cursed be the name of the man who destroyed our people, shall no longer be able to travel in the daylight. His reign of terror shall end just as will the Emperor's, under the black sword of the Usurper."

The riders approached a pace and a dark glow emanating from the black spheroid that hung on a golden chain around his neck surrounded around the man. He was suddenly upon them and the orc pulled the end of the rope that sprang up under the legs of the horses. The woman's horse somehow managed to leap over it but the Black Horseman's steed stumbled for a moment. The horseman was of such skill that he maneuvered sideways and seemed ready to maintain his balance and ride on, when the girdle of the horse, insecurely fastened, slid around and down. The darkling tumbled to the ground as the strange bauble around his neck bounced once, twice, and a third time almost directly into the hands of the boy.

"Now," said the man and dashed across the road so that the horseman and the woman could see him. It only took a moment for the darkling to stand and recover his wits as he drew a slim silver scimitar. The boy darted off into the woods without making a sound.

"You dare ambush the Left Hand of the Emperor," the darkling spoke and his sword rose.

Chapter 1.

Tanner Wilmer moved under the thick sheepskin with a low grunt, flexed his left knee twice, and exposed it to the brisk morning air brought in by the prevailing coastal winds. A low but distinct crack reverberated throughout his body and he groaned loudly. An elbow in his side indicated that his wife, Almara, was at least partially awake as well. The sky was still dark but only a few stars dotted it as he opened his eyes and saw misty breath snake out of his mouth. "Cold one, Alma."

"Get the fire started and I'll put on coffee," muttered a woman's voice beneath the blankets.

Tanner carefully rolled out from under the covers, knocked a pair of thick leather boots together, held them upside down, and then slipped them onto his feet. He shambled over to the fire pit where ashes and a few burnt logs were all that remained of the previous night's blaze. A few yards away a small pile of kindling and larger wood lay at the ready and he rebuilt the fire with practiced and precise movements. Within five minutes, he coaxed the few embers that remained into an energetic little blaze. By the time he finished with his work the sky had noticeably lightened to a dark shade of blue and the songs of birds joined the sound of the waves as they lapped against rocks on the nearby beach. A little green and white jay hopped from branch to branch and called out to the morning.

With his face lightly dotted by gray and black whiskers, he looked up and around for the first time and noticed a young man with a leather pullover and oversized denim pants at the edge of the low cliff that looked out over the great sea. "Tylan, what are you doing up so early?"

"Look at that, dad," said the boy and pointed out to the bay toward the old s.h.i.+pwreck where only the top of the main mast was visible under the water. The waves that rolled over it gave the illusion that it swayed back and forth. Tanner brought the wagon up the Shadow Mountain Road at least two or three times a year and that old wreck was nothing new.

"I've seen it plenty of times, Tylan. Pull out some of those fish we caught and we'll fry them up for your mother and sister."

"No dad, look!"

Tanner grabbed the coffee pot and walked over to the edge to join his son. "What is it?"

"Can't you see?"

"It's too dark for my old eyes; I see a mast and some water. What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"There, dad. There goes another one!"

Tanner squinted, which helped a little; the light increased a bit as well, and he suddenly could make out motion along the sandbar a few hundred yards from where the wreck lay. "What is that?"

"People, dad, they're walking into the ocean, but they're getting smashed by the waves."

"People wouldn't do that," said Tanner and squinted again.

"Let's go see," shouted Tylan as the boy moved forward, jumped five feet off the cliff onto the ground below, and broke into a quick run.

"Wait Tylan," said Tanner, sitting on the ledge, and sliding down carefully although his knee buckled slightly when he hit the ground. "d.a.m.n."

"Hurry, dad!"

"Wait, Tylan," shouted Tanner as he looked up again and saw figures, they did look human, walk from the sh.o.r.e into the low waves and then disappear into the sea. "What the h.e.l.l?"

The boy rushed ahead at breakneck speed his spindly legs seeming to jut out at strange angles, his sharp elbows thras.h.i.+ng with apparently disconcerted movements, but he made good time until he reached a small gra.s.sy outcropping that stood a little bit above the rest of the land.

"Dad!"

"What is it, Tylan?"

"Dad!"

Now Tanner picked up his pace, his movements steady and strong, but somehow not as fast as the boy's. Within a few seconds he reached his son and put his hands on his knees as his breath came from his lungs in great cloudy bursts. "Too ... early ... to run," and he gave two hacking coughs.

"Dad, look!" said Tylan and pointed up the coast line while Tanner's eyes rose to take in the site. For as far as the man could see stretched a line of strangely thin human figures. Each moved with an awkward lurching sort of gait, and it was almost as if they were transparent, with the breaking waves visible through their bodies. "What in the h.e.l.l are they doing?"

"They're skeletons, dad, walking skeletons!"

Tanner closed his eyes and shook his head. Then he slowly opened them up and refocused and saw that it was skeletal figures that made their way bizarrely up the coast to the point where each of them in turn, like ants who marched to the edge of a precipice, simply walked into the water where they washed away or smashed into the rocks. "What the h.e.l.l?"

"What does it mean, dad?"

"I don't know son. We need to report this. Go wake up your sister and pack up the wagon."

"Ok, dad," said Tylan his eyes still gazing out at the endless line of skeletal figures as they walked jerkily into the ocean, apparently unconcerned by their doom.

"Get going!" snapped Tanner and smacked the boy lightly across the top of the head, "before I get out my strap."

Tylan even then waited a moment and stared towards the sea as sunlight began to filter over the horizon to his left. Then, with a jerk he looked at his father and sprinted off with those ungainly strides back to the campsite where a small wagon rested near a large sycamore tree.

Tanner watched his son go and then turned his gaze back to the long line of skeletons that worked their way towards the point. His eyes focused on the lone mast that stuck up and he tried to remember what s.h.i.+p it was and how long ago it had come to rest in the bay. "I don't get it. It's been there so long, what could they want?" Just then he noticed a change in the motion of the skeletal line as it began to backup. One of the creatures veered off course, dropped to its knees, and its hands sc.r.a.ped against the hard rock near the point.

"This is not good," said Tanner aloud but in a whisper. He turned back to his family and slowly made his way towards the wagon although he stopped and looked back to the point every few strides.

Chapter 2.

"It was crawling across the floor!" shrieked the woman with a broom in one hand, black frizzed hair around her head, and a mouthful of ill-aligned teeth as she stood in front of the straw and mud house on the outskirts of town. "The dead have risen!"

A group of young boys with sticks chasing after a wildly bouncing ball stopped their game and turned to the old woman, their mouths hanging open and their sticks held loosely.

"The dead are rising," screamed the woman as she shook her broom at the boys who scattered like dry leaves before a heavy wind. "The dead are coming back to life," she shouted a third time although only to the empty road.

A heavyset woman with a thick double chin peered out from the door and looked at the other woman with a shake of her head. "Your witchy skull fell off the mantle and rolled under the table, you mad woman. Now get back in here before the neighbors report you to the guard."

"You old fool," said the woman waving her broom in her general direction. "You didn't see it, I did!"

"Fine then," said the older woman and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

Not many blocks away another scene played out atop a small inn where a dozen travelers and locals worked their way through another morning in Iv's Folly.

"Shh," said a young boy in a tattered gray jerkin to a smaller girl in a like-fas.h.i.+oned single piece dress and a pair of thin sandals with a large rip in the left heel. She stifled a giggle as she put a dirty hand over an equally dirty mouth while the boy looped a knotted string over the wrist of a skeletal hand and began to lower it in between the gap in two loose floorboards.

Half a mile from these events, two men, one large with a thick wool s.h.i.+rt and the other quite tall and thin who wore a heavy jacket, walked past a large headstone so old that the scratches on it that told of the current resident were so faint as to be illegible. "Hey, Shamki," said the tall man as he stopped at the stone and brushed off some leaves, "Why do we gotta do this?"

The broader, but shorter, man turned and displayed a heavy brow and low-slung lower lip with sharp canine teeth which he made more prominent with a grimace that was followed shortly by a low growl, "No you worry," he said and, with a quick stride, stood next to the thin man and gave him a cuff in the shoulder. "Why you care?" he said and pointed to the grave.

The taller man staggered and gave off a low cry, "Why you gotta do that Shamki? I was just cleaning off the grave, who knows, that coulda been my dad."

"Who cares? Boss is your dad and that's all that matters," said Shamki and somehow seemed to glower down at the taller man. "Now come on, boss says we dig him up while everybody's afraid of skellies."

"Yeah, but I'm afraid of the skellies."

"They dead."

"No they're not," replied Humbort with a grimace, shying away from a pale white leaf that bore a striking resemblance to a hand. "I see them come alive and Tanner said they are all walking up at the point near that old s.h.i.+pwreck."

"Why you care what stupid Tanner say?" asked Shamki as he turned around again and scratched the side of his face. "Stupid trader, stupid kids, stupid wife. You do what boss say and get plenty to eat, right. Since we were kids it that way. Besides, you never seen no walking dead things, you just dream it."

"I did too see it," said Humbort defiantly looking down at the bigger man his jaw clenched. "You can't make me say I didn't see it *cause I did!"

"You dreamed, idiot. Now comes on, we need to dig up body. You bring shovel right?"

The thinner man looked around and shrugged his shoulders, "I thought you did."

Shamki simply shook his head from side to side, "No matter, we find one." Looking around he spotted a low slung shed to his right tucked in between a large tree and a group of small bushes that were turning red in the crisp fall air. "Check shed."

Humbort looked at the shed and then back at his companion with his lips turned down, "What if it's for taking a c.r.a.p?"

"No moon, dummy. Get shovel or I tell boss you forget it."

"You forgot to tell me to remember Shamki, it's not my fault."

"Go get!"

"Okay, okay. But you better not tell boss about it."

The big half-orc raised his hand as if to cuff the slight man who slowly jogged across to the shed. When he got there he grabbed the door k.n.o.b with one hand and pushed in but got no result. He paused for a moment and then pulled out with the same effect. "It's locked Shamki, whata we do?"

"Not locked," said Shamki and walked over with a half a dozen large strides. "No lock just jammed *cause of cold." The big fellow roughly pushed aside Humbort with a backhand sending the thin man stumbling backwards and onto the ground. Then the half-orc raised a thick leather boot grimy with dirt but not enough so that a heavy iron toe cap wasn't visible beneath and launched it forward against the door which burst in with a crack, swung against the wall, slammed shut again, only to swing back open a few inches. "Get shovel."

Humbort peered into the dark shed and then poked his head back around the corner, "I don't see one."

The big man looked at the little man and gave another shake of his head, "Get in there and look or I do it and that make mad."

"Okay, okay, I'll do it but if I get killed it'll be your fault," said Humbort, sticking his head back around the corner, and peering into the darkness. "It's dark, I can't see."

Shamki moved up quickly behind his companion without making any noise, put both hands on his back, and shoved him into the small shack. Humbort sprawled forward, lost his balance, and landed with a heavy thud which was followed by a clatter and then three crashes each separated only by a brief moment. "Owwww," said the voice from inside the shack and Shamki shook his head, once again, and sighed, "Humbort."

Meanwhile, at the center of the little hamlet of Iv's Folly, in a large building with an immaculately planted rose garden out front, a tiny, balding man wrung his hands together as he sat on a long, brightly burnished wooden bench. A heavy oak door sat at the end of the hallway to the man's right and he looked up to the door again and again. After a few seconds he stood up, walked to the door, paused in front of it for a moment, turned to face back down the hallway, and walked to his original location, and finally sat down with a thump. He looked at his feet and then back to the door and then back at his feet again before giving out a large sigh and once again wringing his hands together.

A creak from the door brought the little man to his feet with a lurch and he took two quick strides towards it before he stopped and straightened a finely tailored cotton s.h.i.+rt and pulled down the bottom edges of a wool jacket. At that moment a roundish man with a ma.s.sive head flanked by wide red tinged ears emerged from behind the door and glanced in the direction of the small man, "I hope I haven't kept you waiting long, Myris."

"No, no sir. Not long at all, it's just that these sightings are increasing and the people are ..." spat out the smaller one in one quick sentence not stopping to breath.

"Hold on there, Myris," said the heavy man and turned away from him back towards the room. "Come on into my office and tell me slowly." With that he disappeared behind the door and Myris darted after him with quick motions of his little legs. The office appeared to be quite tiny as a ma.s.sive redwood desk, a huge leather backed chair behind the desk, and a much smaller wooden chair with no arms in front of it took up a great deal of the total s.p.a.ce. Off to the side on the wall stood the mounted head of a ma.s.sive green scaled dragon next to several smaller heads of more mundane creatures like deer and bears. A shelf filled with parchment scrolls and old books dominated the wall opposite the trophies and a counter near the back of the room contained half a dozen gla.s.s bottles filled with liquids of various colors. The thick man stood by this last table, a gla.s.s in one hand and a bottle in the other, "What will it be, Myris?"

"Mayor Shumba, please! There is an emergency; I have to tell you immediately."

"You've always been a bit high strung Myris, if you don't object I'll have one," said the town mayor, who poured a generous amount of a greenish blue liquid into a tumbler, and brought it to his nose for a luxurious sniff. "The finest Halfling Tree Sap in the Five Counties," he said before taking a long swallow from the gla.s.s, "Ahhhh." Shumba then walked slowly behind the big desk and sat down in the chair that was so large it almost swallowed his considerable bulk. "I suppose this is about the skeletons rising and that fool Tanner spouting off in the town square yesterday afternoon."

"Mayor, oh mayor," said Myris and once again wrung his hands together, the fingers intertwined in an apparently intricate dance, "it's all true. The dead are rising; we have reports from six separate witnesses in different parts of town."

The mayor yawned widely and put down his gla.s.s with a halfhearted sigh, "Have you confirmed any of the sightings yourself, Myris?"