Sorus suddenly blushed bright red and Jon gave out a great guffaw that seemed to release all the tension building since they left great underground complex. When the laughter finally died down, they pulled their horses up and Proteus Nightwalk wrote a short letter with a small feather quill and ink pot that came out of his saddlebag.
“How do you know to carry all that stuff?” said Jon with a shake of his head as a wry grin crossed his face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we ran across an enraged buffalo cow and you pulled out a calf to calm her down.”
“It’s a lifetime of military duty my young friends,” said Proteus with a smile and he came over to Jon and hugged the huge boy although his head barely reached Jon’s shoulder. He turned and did the same to Sorus and then mounted his horse. Before he rode off he undid a saddlebag and tossed it to Jon. “Maybe you’ll find something useful in there one of these days! Ride north to the monastery of the Black Horse. They live in the shadows of the Mountains of the Orc and if anyone can give you advice it’s the high priest, a man named Imprilius.” He then spurred his horse and headed home at a gallop.
“Thank you, Sir Proteus,” shouted Sorus to the knight and the young warrior waved his arm for a long time at the slowly receding figure.
After a bit Jon and Sorus turned to each other and smiled, “That’s a good man,” said Jon, a broad smile on his face. “We were most fortunate to run across his farm.”
Sorus nodded, “Lucky is the right word, Jon,” he said. “I think we can just keep heading north along the edge of the mountains and we’ll get to the temple soon enough. I’ve heard of it and I’ve heard people talk about Imprilius before.”
“They say good things, I assume,” said Jon.
Sorus stopped, “You know, I’m not really sure. I think so. Proteus wouldn’t steer us wrong in any case.” With that the two boys turned their horses north and headed forward in the shadow of the mountain.
The next two days went by quickly and the boys didn’t run into anyone, although they managed to replenish their water supply from a few small streams and caught some of the little multicolored trout to supplement their diet of the plentiful wild carrots, onions, and other vegetables that seemed to grow with great abundance along the mountain range. There were also numerous patches of mushrooms, and Sorus carefully schooled Jon as to which ones were safe to eat and which were not.
Late in the afternoon on the second day they spotted a pair of figures as they rode at the same slow pace, and within a few minutes Jon recognized the hugely fat man on the draft horse although he first took his companion for a young boy. It was only when they approached closely that Jon noted the heavy chain shirt of the small rider, the four horseshoe symbol on his shoulders, and the simple slash in the middle. Jon didn’t immediately recognize the symbol but suspected its meaning almost immediately; even before Sorus jumped forom his horse and saluted with a loud, “Hail First Rider!”
Odellius rode up with a broad smile across his face, “I’ll be a four-breasted gnoll whore,” he shouted and rode right up to Jon and gave him a solid smack on the shoulder that almost felled the gray knight.
“It’s good to see you as well, Odellius,” said Jon as he winced and he tried to keep his seat. “First Rider, I am Jon Gray and my father, the Gray Lord sent me to discuss an alliance with you and your people.”
The First Rider looked at Jon carefully, “Odellius did not lie about your size,” he said with a sage nod of his head. “I’ve heard you tried to wrestle the big fellow to the ground.”
Jon smiled broadly, “It seemed to be the only strategy that gave me any chance of victory in the yard. I wouldn’t mind another crack at the old man, this time on a ground of my choosing.”
Vipsanius nodded his head, “It is most fortuitous that we meet like this emissary, Gray,” he said. “Odellius and I are on a quest and I suspect that your father sent you here less to arrange an alliance between our people and more to obtain something from the region.”
Jon looked at the First Rider for a long moment, “I cannot deny that my mission is twofold but believe me when I say that my father strongly desires the friendship of your people.”
The First Rider nodded his head again, “Perhaps we should ride on a bit and look for a place to camp; have you passed any reasonable spots in the last hour or so?”
Sorus nodded his head, “Yes, First Rider, there is a small creek about an hour or so back, it’s up against a defensible cliff.”
“What is your name, young knight?” said the First Rider as he took his horse a few steps closer to the young boy who rode beside Jon.
“I… I am Sorus Nightwalk; Sir Germanius Brokenhand knighted me before a white dragon slew him, although he killed the beast as well.”
“Well, Sir Sorus,” said the First Rider. “The knights of Elekargul are lucky to have such a man as you among our number. Sir Odellius here told me you were just a brewer boy but I’m happy that you’ve joined us. There are responsibilities associated with knighthood that do not fall upon a brewer, I trust you appreciate them.”
“Yes, First Rider,” said Sorus and once again saluted as he sat up as tall as possible in the saddle. He was significantly taller than the First Rider but not nearly as broad as the thick little man.
“Lead the way to this campsite of yours so that Jon and I can discuss both the future of our nations and this secondary quest of his,” said Vipsanius with a wave of his hand towards the south.
An hour and a half later the four made up their camp at the edge of the cliff face where a small stream flowed. Vipsanius sat by the stream, a small pole in one hand, with four trout already caught and on a line in an eddy of the stream. Jon busied himself with the fire while Sorus gathered wood and Odellius got out pots, pans, and various seasonings for the meal to come.
“Boy,” he yelled loudly to no one in particularly but Sorus, fifty yards away, a bundle of limbs in his arms, knew immediately that he was the subject of the bellow, “find some of those bay boleta mushrooms if you can, good with trout they are.”
“What do they look like?” shouted back Sorus as he bent over to pick up a fallen limb of good width.
“Brown little things with white flesh, they turn blue if you cut them,” shouted back Odellius and looked to Jon with a shrug of his shoulders. “Kids today.”
“I wouldn’t have known,” said Jon with a smile as the fire roared to life and he piled on kindling. “My father is always telling me to learn as much as I can about any region where I’m staying. He says little things can save your life. Where an animal burrows, what sort of berries are good to eat, how a predator stalks, all those things.”
“True enough,” said Odellius with a nod of his head. “How many of those fish do you have, Vipsanius?” he bellowed out to the sky.
The First Rider looked over his shoulder, “A little respect, Sir Odellius, I am the First Rider after all,” he concluded with a wry smile and a shake of his head.
“Sorry about that,” shouted Odellius as he poured a little oil from a vial into one of his pans, put a wire grill over the fire, and the pan on it. “How many of those fish do you have, First Rider?”
“That’s more like it,” said Vipsanius with a broad smile. “I’ve got four on the line and another one just about ready to take the hook. That means I’ve about enough for you but half as many as we need for all four.”
“You see what I have to put up with,” said Odellius grinning broadly and shaking his head at Jon. “No respect at all and I’m the one cooking.”
Jon smiled, “You might have made the first disrespectful comment,” he said as he lowered his chin and raised his eyebrows. “He is the First Rider after all.”
Odellius gave off a long sigh, “I can see where this is headed. I’ll just start cooking while you stick your nose further up his rear end.”
“I’m not exactly certain I can bend over that far,” said Jon as he looked over Vipsanius and his five feet six inch height. “He is a little fellow.”