OBSIDIAN BLADE Part 2 of the Scorpion Saga - A Quest story by Larryn Cock skorpios@pirie.mtx.net.au Skorpios wormed his way through the crowd, chewing hungrily on a slab of bread he had filched from a baker's stall. He was ravenous after travelling nearly non-stop for two days to reach Sparnell before Sister Shadow. The crowd had gathered that morning in a field by the town to see a fight between a stranger and one of the best fighters of the district. It was the stranger that Skorpios had come to see and he finally caught a glimpse of him when he reached the front of the crowd. The warrior stood at the far side of a circle marked out with sawdust and he towered above the townspeople gathered behind him. His mixed blood was obvious with his ebony skin and the blunt tusks that protruded upwards from his lower jaw. His glowing green eyes suggested to Skorpios that at least part of his parentage was ogre. His great height was complemented by a muscular physique that was well displayed by a leather harness that supported the scabbard of a sword at his back and a short kilt made of overlapping strips of black leather. He was barefoot and his large feet bore viciously hooked toe-nails. Skorpios became aware of a disturbance to his left and craning his neck he saw a large man make his way into the circle. Obviously, this was the halfblood's challenger. He was nearly as tall with a stocky barrel of a body supported by thick legs. Skorpios saw a glint of chain-mail underneath the man's loose shirt and he held a huge pike in one hand, a seven-foot length of sturdy oak tipped with a steel blade with razor-sharp edges that glittered banefully in the sunlight. With his arrival the crowd quieted and Skorpios listened as a priest of Sundonak, who was overseeing the tournament, explained the rules of combat. Skorpios could hear muffled whispers behind him as townspeople made last-minute bets and he managed to make out the names of the fighters. The halfblood was called Obsidian Blade and the local challenger was Lorg the Blacksmith whose strength was legendary in the town. Skorpios's attention returned to the circle just as the priest called out the signal to start. The two combatants circled each other warily. Suddenly the pike seemed to lash out like a striking snake towards Obsidian Blade's throat. The large halfblood dodged easily, his body swaying out of the path of the deadly weapon, but then he seemed to stumble and was nearly caught as Lorg swung the pike viciously to the side, just managing to block the pike with his sword. Skorpios was puzzled at the clumsiness that the halfblood displayed after easily avoiding the blacksmith's first strike. He looked closely at Obsidian Blade's feet to see if he was slipping on damp grass but instead he saw that the blades of grass seemed to be moving, writhing underneath the halfblood's feet. An idea began to form in Skorpios's mind and he looked quickly at the crowd around him. Not far away he spied a slender man in a tattered robe with a rat-like face and stained fingers who seemed to be mumbling to himself. With a flash of insight Skorpios realized what was going on. During his studies at the Convent library he had read quite a lot about magic and the skinny man in the crowd was obviously a wizard. From what he had seen Skorpios thought the man was subtly using the Plant Control spell to disadvantage Obsidian Blade. As these fights were often to the death, there would be no-one around to complain afterwards. Skorpios was moving even before he realized what he was doing. He did not have any real plan, he just ran towards the wizard and knocked him to the ground. Then he stood up and called out that the wizard was interfering with the fight. With the spell broken Obsidian Blade was able to leap clear of his opponent and he turned towards the commotion in the crowd. He saw the pale youth calling to the priest to stop the fight and behind him the wizard scrambling to his feet and pulling a dagger from his robe. "Here, little one! Catch!" Obsidian Blade pulled one of his daggers from his belt and tossed it to the youth. Then he had to turn back to face Lorg who was charging towards him, the pike lowered like a lance. He avoided the attack easily, moving once again with cat-like grace. His sword flicked out like a silver flame and Lorg jerked backwards, blood dripping from a gash on his left arm. While Obsidian Blade was carving up the blacksmith Skorpios had easily caught the dagger tossed to him and with it in hand he was able to defend himself from the wizard's clumsy attack. With a flick of the wrist he deflected the blade and then he swung his boot up between the wizard's legs. The wizard gave a strangled squeak, dropped the dagger and curled up into a whimpering ball. Skorpios was roughly brushed aside as two burly acolytes rushed past him to grab the wizard and drag him before the priest. Skorpios turned towards the circle and saw Lorg kneeling before Obsidian Blade, bleeding from several wounds with the halfblood's sword resting against his throat. Obsidian Blade raised his sword up, paused, and then contemptuously kicked the blacksmith towards the priest and his waiting acolytes. For the first time Skorpios looked down at the dagger he held. It was a unique artifact. It seemed to be made from a single piece of black glass. He expected it to be cold but it was blood-warm. He suspected that it never left its owner's side long enough to cool and he realized the reason for the halfblood's unusual name. He stepped into the circle and offered the dagger to the huge halfblood hilt first. As he approached he became aware of a strange itching sensation on the back of his neck. The halfblood solemnly accepted his dagger, looking down at Skorpios with his glowing green eyes. But Skorpios's eyes were locked onto Obsidian Blade's chest. His harness had been knocked askew during the fight and Skorpios could see a complicated collection of fine, white scars directly above Obsidian Blade's heart. The scars were clearly visible against the black skin and even more obviously they were arranged in the form of a scorpion. "You save life. Life now yours. Himagarrh, Obsidian Blade." Skorpios was startled by the bass rumble that emanated from Obsidian Blade's broad chest. The words were guttural and their meaning escaped him until they were repeated. "You save life. Life now yours. Himagarrh, Obsidian Blade." It was the odd, growling word that finally penetrated Skorpios's confusion. Himagarrh was an ogre word, roughly translated it meant 'bloodvow'. Skorpios had read about it and he realized that Obsidian Blade had just pledged his life to serve Skorpios in any way, up to and including his own death. Skorpios was at a complete loss but Obsidian Blade's mute regard demanded an answer and Skorpios knew that to refuse was a deadly insult. "I-I'm honoured, my name is Skorpios. You helped me as well when you tossed me that dagger. In any case I came here looking for you. It seems we have something in common." A confused look crossed Obsidian Blade's face and Skorpios realized that he had not understood half of what had been said. He thought for a while and then reached out and clasped the halfblood's huge black hand with his slender white fingers and repeated his name to show he accepted the bloodvow. Then he reached forward to trace the scorpion scar with his other hand. Then he tipped his head forward and brushed his white hair to one side to reveal the scorpion mark on the back of his neck. He looked up to see Obsidian Blade nod his huge, hairless head slowly and he guessed that the message had got through. Just then the priest came forward with a small bag which he offered to Obsidian Blade. The priest looked up at the tall halfblood without fear as he spoke. "You fought well, warrior. Under the circumstances it has been decided to award you the prize in full." Obsidian Blade stood silently, making no move to take the money. "Skorpios, master." Obsidian Blade pointed towards Skorpios. The priest looked confused for a moment but one look at Obsidian Blade's bulk convinced him not to argue. "All right then." The priest turned towards Skorpios and handed him the money. "It seems you have made a new friend, young man. Might I make a small suggestion?" Skorpios nodded and the priest continued. "The blacksmith is quite a wealthy man in this town and gold buys many friends, some of them a lot more dangerous than that foolish wizard. It would not pay you to tarry long here in Sparnell." The priest nodded to them both and left, his two acolytes escorting the moaning Lorg and the terrified wizard. Sundonak's contempt for magic was well known and Skorpios knew that it would not go well for the wizard. It was quite likely that he would lose one of those spell-powder-stained hands to Sundonak's rough justice, making it impossible for him to practise magic in the future. However, as a respected townsman, Lorg would probably be released after being persuaded to pay a significant tithe at the nearest temple of Sundonak. Skorpios began to see the value of the priest's suggestion. There were more urgent things however, like learning more about his new companion, especially the scorpion marking he bore. He hefted the bag he held, listening to the pleasant jingle of coins and made a decision. He looked up at Obsidian Blade and said, "Well, big fellow. Now that we're in the money, what say you and me go and have a celebratory drink?" The smile of pleasure that Obsidian Blade produced convinced Skorpios that his new companion's limited vocabulary included the word 'drink' at least. ****** Skorpios sat at a table in the corner of the smoky common-room of the 'Burning Bed' tavern. It was the first time he had ever been in one as his age and mixed blood meant that he had never been allowed into one before. The inn-keeper had seemed about to object until the huge shape of Obsidian Blade had appeared in the doorway right behind him. They had been shown quickly to a table in a dark corner and now Obsidian Blade grunted the name of a drink that was unknown to Skorpios who just shook his head when the inn-keeper looked enquiringly at him. The inn-keeper returned shortly with a huge tankard filled with a dark, evil-looking liquid. Fumes from the drink wafted across the table and caused Skorpios to cough but Obsidian Blade emptied the tankard in one gulp with obvious enjoyment. As the day wore on he continued to drink as Skorpios slowly pieced together his story hindered by Obsidian Blade's broken Kharnish and Skorpios's purely literary knowledge of the ogreish tongues. Obsidian Blade's mother had been an ogress called Fire-Lips. This name referred to her extreme sexual appetite as well as a tongue that could scorch a male ogre to the bone. Naturally she had not fitted in well into the male-dominated ogre society and eventually she had been exiled from her tribe. She lived alone for several months until she captured a lone human traveller. She kept him captive for several years and her repeated sexual attacks on him finally drove him mad. His name had been Rolph and he had been a wandering mercenary. A year into Rolph's captivity, Obsidian Blade had been born. Fire-Lips's happiness had not lasted long. It was customary for ogre parents to make gifts for their children to be presented at their Naming ceremony when they officially became members of the tribe. Fire-Lips had just finished carving twin daggers from a block of obsidian when members of her former tribe discovered her and the evidence of her vile transgression. Ogre justice is quick and brutal and she was immediately killed. She did not die quietly however and in the confusion Rolph was able to escape with a bundle of furs that held his son - and the two daggers. Rolph fled far from the mountainous land of the ogres and built a primitive cabin deep in the forest. He lived off the land and raised Obsidian Blade by himself. There was no problem feeding the child as ogre babies are fed blood instead of milk and Rolph had watched Fire-Lips feed the baby many times. This situation lasted for several years. Ogre babies mature quickly and Obsidian Blade was no exception. At the age of four he was as tall has his father and by the next year he had reached his full height of just over seven feet. Rolph's insanity had mainly manifested itself as constantly talking to himself, both in Kharnish and the ogre- tongue which he had picked up from Fire-Lips. As a result, Obsidian Blade came to speak a strange mixture of the two languages. At the age of six an ogre child was deemed to be mature and in his madness Rolph held a Naming ceremony for his son where he presented him with the daggers that his mother had made for him. Unfortunately, the only thing he said during the ceremony was 'obsidian blade' over and over. Not long after that a strange, dark beast had entered their camp during the night. Obsidian Blade could not describe it clearly. He had only fragmentary memories of huge claws that had torn his father to pieces before his eyes. Of unbelievable strength that had casually slammed him to the ground, the icy sensation of the creature's talons piercing his chest, and then blackness. Obsidian Blade had awakened the next morning with only minor injuries. He had paid his respects to his father in the traditional ogreish fashion - by eating him - and then he had left the camp to hunt the monster down, armed only with the daggers of his mother's making and his father's thigh-bone, which he had fashioned into a crude club. He searched the forest for three days and nights with no food or rest without finding a trace of his attacker. Finally, he staggered into some hunters' camp and collapsed from exhaustion. Luckily, several of the hunters were halfbloods themselves so Obsidian Blade received better care than he might have otherwise. A fever raged through his body for nearly a week, but he finally recovered completely with nothing to show for his ordeal except the strange scorpion- scar on his chest and a nickname bestowed upon him by the hunters - Sid. After spending several weeks with the hunters Sid had taken to the road to continue the hunt for his father's murderer. He had been searching for two months with no success but now he was eager to find out what Skorpios's mark meant and whether it had any connection with his. Skorpios sat quietly, chilled to the core of his being as he realized that the creature that had savagely killed Rolph and scarred Sid was in all probability the same beast that had sired him. He realized that he could not reveal this to Sid so he told him the half-truth that the same monster had killed his mother. His mind raced as he tried to work out what to do next. His mother's encounter with the beast had happened years ago and Sid had been unable to find anything in his search. Finally Skorpios decided that there was nothing else to do but return to Rolph's camp and try anyway. He looked into the bag of coins and was shocked at how many of the coins had disappeared down Sid's capacious gullet. He was going to need more money to buy two seats on the stagecoach out of town. He remembered the jeweller's he had passed on the way to the tavern and an idea began to form in his mind. ****** Upstairs, in one of the guest-rooms, Sister Shadow sat on her bed staring into a piece of crystal. She had arrived yesterday after using some gold coins and more subtle forms of persuasion to procure a seat on a passing stage-coach. Within the crystal she could see the flickering images of Skorpios and Sid as they rose from their table and left the tavern. Just as she had hoped, Skorpios had been able to discover another piece of the puzzle of the scorpion and what he had found served to worry her even more. It was apparent to her that he had reached a dead end and that he would need the benefit of her knowledge and experience soon. She decided to catch up with him tomorrow, but first she wanted to avail herself of the glories of sleeping in a bed again after her uncomfortable night on the roadside. Replacing the crystal in a pouch which she placed beneath her pillow, Sister Shadow retired for the night.