Sword of Might, Chapter 4

Chapter IV

Jerrod awoke with a start.   He peered out at the world through unfocused, bleary eyes.   The young mage found himself lying on the table upon which he vaguely remembered he and his mentor had stood.   As his bleary vision began to clear, strong, comely features filled with concern swam into view.   Bent over him was a redheaded woman in brown cleric's garb.

He heard Astall's voice rasp, "Is he alright, Brianna?  What's wrong with him?"

The redhead smiled at the contradictory questions.   "He will be if we give him some room and some time," she said in reply to Astall's first query.   "And in response to your other question, there is nothing wrong with him -- at least physically -- as far as I can tell."

Noticing the fluttering of Jerrod's eyelids, Brianna turned to him.   "Ah, I see you are returning from the world of dreams, young mage.   What happened?" said the shaman with concern.

"I'm not sure," Jerrod replied.   "It seemed as if I was suddenly in two places at once or as if I was seeing the world through someone else's eyes.   I was drawn to Astall like a marionette being drawn across a stage.   Then the world filled with a peculiar fog.   I got up on the table and greeted all of you, then you came toward me in a pack and then the world grew black...”  Jerrod broke off and blurted, “I'm not that young, and don't call me young mage!" 

Jerrod, his head still swimming, found himself almost babbling as he related his story to the monk.   Despite his less than complete mental equilibrium, however, he still found himself bothered by the fact that while his indisposition was being taken seriously, he didn't seem to be.

Brianna, as the cleric was known, chuckled and her xanthous hair swirled wildly within her hood.   "Well perhaps you aren't all that young, Jerrod.   But you are the youngest among us.   What we should call you besides your name – if anything – is something for us to decide at another time.   At present, I think we might be better served by determining exactly what befell you just now."

Brianna stood and Jerrod realized that she was the towering monk who had been sitting with the ranger.  She was well over two strides in height, yet she was slender, not thin, and, from what Jerrod could tell now that her backside wasn't the only part of her that he could see, she was well-proportioned.   She was pretty enough, with cool green eyes and a freckled complexion, but her height was the thing that was truly striking about her.   Jerrod had never seen a woman who  was even nearly as tall as Brianna.   When it came right down to it, there were few men that he had met who came close to matching her size.

Brianna's remarkable height had even distracted Jerrod for a moment from realizing that it was a woman who carried the enormous axe he had seen earlier.   His astonishment grew and his became wide as saucers as he realized how truly unique the woman who towered over him was.   Not only was she a comely cleric with carrot-colored hair and green eyes, but she was practically a giantess who apparently habitually carried an enormous axe which had as its obvious purpose bringing death to her foes.   Jerrod had never before seen a cleric with so manifest a weapon nor had he seen a woman besides Enki armed with more than a knife.   Without knowing any more about her, Jerrod could see that Brianna was clearly a woman who few would trifle with and just about as singular a person as Jerrod was likely to meet.

Well, it is said somewhere that one should expect the unexpected.   If Jerrod had done so, he would have been less astonished when he met the rest of his companions.   As those of you who are still awake and taking in this tale no doubt have surmised from their descriptions, each of Jerrod's comrades-to-be was in some way more singular than the others.

"I believe I may know what befell the lad," interjected the nondescript fellow who had been sitting at the bar and who, according to Astall, was an exceedingly powerful mage.   "He has been buffeted by psychic resonance which was induced by his acceptance of the wand.   It would seem that we -- or at least he, although I must admit I, too, felt something strange happen to me when the lad greeted us as friends -- are indeed as you surmised, Astall, present-day analogues to the heroes who neutralized Iskandar in days of yore and that the connections of old are making themselves known here in the here and now through the wand."

The others in the room admitted that they, too, had felt a strangeness in the room when Jerrod had addressed them as friends.   Their experiences ranged from feelings of compulsion to a deep and abiding affection for Jerrod that had not been there before the experience and was not there now.

Astall murmured, "Perhaps you are right, Ordolf.   It would explain the lad's collapse, and if you all felt something when I felt nothing then it seems that it must be something which relates only to you.   I wonder if perhaps you will find this happens each time you acquire one of the items.   Well, we won't know until you do and I shan't know then because I won't be there.   But, Ordolf, perhaps you could let me know...."

With that said, Astall turned back to Jerrod.   "Are you up to continuing, Jerrod?  If so I will introduce you to the rest of those present."

Jerrod nodded his assent.

"The cleric to whom you have been speaking is, as you no doubt surmised, named Brianna.   It is she who will be responsible for using the staff and severing Iskandar's connection with his godly supporters."

"Her husband is known as Wolf.   He is the stout fellow with whom she was sitting.   He knows the forest better than do even the wolves after whom he is called.   It is said he can track a bird in flight or hear a sparrow sing from a hundred miles away.   I misdoubt me that these tales are naught but the exaggerations that grow around the extraordinary, but mayhap they are true.   Even if they are but half-truths, he is the greatest woodsman of our age.   In addition, the amulet which breaks Iskandar's connection to the spirit world is keyed to him, for he is one with the spirits of nature.   His bond with them is such that none can break it and, amplified, it can cleave Iskandar's sorcerous abilities from him like a woodsman's axe cleaves kindling."

A rather short but incredibly massive bearded man clad in greens and browns stepped forward and bowed.  Jerrod realized that the fellow he had assumed was a giant who had been sitting with Brianna was in reality more than a head shorter than two strides.   He was no giant.   In fact, he looked more like a boulder than giantkin.   He was nearly as wide as he was tall, but he moved with the stealth and silence of a cat even in a hospitable locale like the taproom of the Horse Brass.


As Wolf watched Jerrod take in exactly who he was and saw the incredulity which filled the young mage's face as he realized which of the patrons of the Horse Brass was Wolf, the forester grinned and his eyes twinkled.  "Not quite what you expected, eh, Jerrod.   Well, take it from me we are all something more and something less than we seem, mayhap if one is careful one can make sure that the surprises are not fatal."