The Staff of Ramah

  Chapter 17

  It was a simple thing for a boy of Jerhard’s size and skill to slip quietly out his bedroom window without being seen. Logan had been keeping him very busy with his new duties, but that never had stopped him from getting out and roaming the city whenever he had the chance. Having a job was a good thing in one way, but the street kid missed the freedom that he used to have to go wherever, whenever he pleased. Jer was quite adept at avoiding the watchful eye of soldiers and merchants; in fact, Logan was the first person who had ever caught him in the act of stealing. A life of secrecy and crime was all he had known for so long and the choices before him now were making things difficult in his mind. Part of him wanted to believe that he could stay working for Logan as a squire and maybe even become a noble warrior some day, but the restrictions of that type of life were already starting to cramp his free and easy spirit. At any rate, he had slipped out today to check in with his first boss, Willy the Rogue. Willy was the man who had taught him everything he knew about avoiding detection, sleight of hand and general thievery and the old cutpurse would for sure be wondering where he had been this last week. For the last few years, Willy had been losing his sight, and was nearly totally blind now, so Jer felt a need to bring food and money to the old guy. There had been many opportunities for Jer to join some of the other crime gangs in the city, but Willy had been like more of a father to him than a mentor. The old crook would often beat him, but Jer usually deserved it, and the young boy was sure that most fathers must whip their kids anyways. The young thief made is way in and out of back alleys and in very little time he arrived at the dingy little basement room that Willy called home. As far as he could see, no one was watching him, so Jer carefully opened the door and entered his old hideout. Another thing that was weighing heavily on his mind was the rather persistent image of an alluring red-headed woman. He had grown up really fast while living on the streets of a big city, and he already knew much about the ways of men and women for such a young boy, but this was the first time that he had ever felt so weird around a woman. The minute he had laid eyes on Rose, thoughts of her had taken over his mind in a flurry. She was quite simply the most beautiful lady he had ever seen, and she was so kind to him too. To top it all off, now he had to deal with this nagging suspicion that there was a god out there who knew about him. Logan was always talking about Ya and how great he was. His simple life was getting way too confusing and he really hoped that ol’ Willy would know what to do about it.

  “Where have you been you rotten little weasel?”

  Jer was always real careful to not make any noise, but the sly old thief always seemed to be able to hear him. “Hey Willy, something has come up and I gotta talk to you about what I should do.”

  “Come closer boy and let me give you a hug,” Willy said in his scratchy voice. “I missed you.”

  Jer knew better than to trust that statement. Willy had never given him a hug ever and would be sure to give him a swift rap on the noggin with his cane if he got too close.

  “I put some food here on the table and a bit of cash if you need,” the little thief said as he carefully stayed just out of Willy’s reach. “I kinda found myself a new job and I want to know what you think.”

  “You already have a job boy, answer my question. Where have you been?”

  Jer took a few seconds to form his answer, not wanting to upset his old mentor further. “I really do appreciate all that you have done for me Willy, but now I have a chance at a different job. It’s a legit one too.”

  There was another short silence as the rogue considered what the boy had just said.

  “There is a knight that lives in the old cathedral in town, and he sorta hired me on as a squire.”

  “So, now that you have a real job you are just gonna leave the old man to starve? Is that it?” Willy did not seem very pleased, but Jer noticed a slight hint of sadness in his voice.

  “Well, you do have other new prospects working for you now, so I just figured that it may be a good time to move up in the world. I still was gonna bring you stuff once in a while. It ain’t like I’m gonna forget about where I came from.”

  “You want me to give you my blessing? Is that it boy?” There was an obvious crack in his elder’s voice this time and Jer stepped back a little more, just in case the hard cane could reach his head from where he was standing. “Answer me this Weasel. Are you gonna forget all the things that I taught you when you become a big shot? Was it all a big waste teaching you to pick a lock and move around without being seen?”

  Standing in the presence of his teacher still stirred up strong feelings in Jer, but those feelings stood in strong contrast to the way Logan had been treating him. Willy had always controlled him with the treat of a beating, while the knight had never once raised a hand to hurt him. It was in this very moment that Jer now made his decision to get off the streets and begin a new life with Logan.

  “I will always remember the things you have taught me Willy,” Jer said, bravely stepping closer to his former boss. “I guess I just wanted to come and say thank you. I didn’t want to leave without telling you what happened to me.”

  Willy nodded in resolution, as if realizing that this day would come eventually. Slowly, the aging bandit got to his feet and moved to open a cupboard at the far side of the room. He took out a small bundle from the top shelf and turned to place it on the table in front of him.

  “You are the best thief that I have ever trained boy. You have skills that almost match my own, so don’t forget how to use them.” Willy again sat down in his creaky rocking chair and a wrinkly frown grew on his pale face. “I want you to take these and carry them with you, so you don’t forget old Willy eh?” The sad man gestured to the bundle that he had just set on the table.

  Jer moved forward and carefully opened the bundle to reveal a bright silver dagger, small enough to fit in the top of a boot, and a steel lock pick set.

  “Thanks Willy, I know what this means to you.” No more words were said between the two because neither of them was very good at saying goodbye. Jer neatly slipped the dagger into the top of his boot, tucked his new lock picks into the hidden pocket on his left sleeve, and softly stepped out into the deserted street. In his heart, he hoped that he would see Willy the Rogue again someday, but he could not help but feel a sense of promise for better days to come. No sound could be heard as the lithe young thief crept from shadow to shadow, making his way back to the cathedral.

  While the Holy Cleric of Ya was praying in the once grand temple in Jeru, another man in the capital city was praying to an altogether different entity. Malak stood before a bloodstained altar muttering dark curses against the Creator Ya and all those who would follow him. Robed all in black and with a long sharp dagger raised high above his head, the priest of Belial never once looked down to the terrified young slave girl that lay bound before him. His network of spies had recently seen that his enemy arrived in Jeru and was staying at the cathedral with two strange women. One of the women in particular was robed all in white, so Malak was now preparing to spill the blood necessary for gaining an audience with the almighty Belial. Surely his master would know that the enemies were in the city, but he needed further instruction before taking action against them. He was aware taking a stand against the eternal man Gaost would be useless for one of his power, but he did not want to miss this chance to gain favour with the Dark One. Long being bereft of compassion, he finished his prayer of invitation and deftly dropped the blade into the waiting sacrifice. As the long cry of pain died out, the shimmering figure of the Fallen One rose up high before the now penitent priest and called out,

  “Speak Malak.”

  Knowing that he had very little time to speak with his master in this way, Malak kept his words short. “Master, Gaost has arrived in Jeru with two women, one who looks to be of special interest. What would you have me do?”

  “It is good that you calle
d out to me my priest. The special one that you speak of is the so-called chosen one of Ya. A power has awaked in her that works as a shield against my mind. Bane has twice failed to kill this white robed witch but she must be killed at any cost.”

  “I would kill her for you master. How would you have me do it?” Malak was all too eager to do his master’s bidding if it involved the taking of an innocent life.

  “Don’t be such a fool. She is no doubt guarded by the Cleric and that foolish knight who haunts the crumbling cathedral of my enemy.” Belial answered in a booming voice that shook the whole room. “I would have you spread rumours and lies about this woman and those who protect her. Set the people of Jeru against her using their superstitions and fears. When they leave the city, follow them wherever they go and do the same thing, understand?”

  “Yes master, I understand fully,” Malak said with an evil grin. “I will do what I can to disrupt them every step of their journey.”

  “That mindless Cleric hopes to recover the cursed staff of healing that I hid so many years ago. I am sure of it. Slow them down and allow Bane the time he needs to gather his small army.” The Dark One’s voice was already beginning to fade so Malak spoke his last words quickly. “It will be done as you wish master. All hail Belial!”

  As the innocent young girl on the altar drew her last breath, the presence of Belial finally faded away, leaving Malak alone, rubbing his hand together in eagerness. The forces of evil had long held sway in the land and the dark priest was not about to let Gaost turn the tide. He quickly washed up and set out to stir the hapless people of Jeru into an angry mob.

  Rose was still drying herself from the long luxurious bath when a soft knock on the door startled her. “Who is it?” she asked, absently rubbing the ugly scar on her left shoulder.

  “It’s me, dear,” spoke the voice of Jirah. “Can I come in?”

  Rose moved over to unlock the door, and continued to dry herself in front of the mirror. “You smell good Jirah. We were both beginning to smell too much like horses for my liking.”

  Jirah was once again wearing her tight leather hunting clothes and had her straight black hair tied back in a long ponytail. She had a very athletic build which served her well when hunting and tracking. She had never seen the pretty red head unclothed however, so Jirah was more than a little shocked to see the many scars that marked Rose’s frame.

  “Oh dear,” Jirah said in a sympathetic voice. “What have they done to you?” The caring widow moved over to the young girl and gently touched one of the large scars that stretched across her back.

  Rose shrugged and answered simply, “This is what happens to all the girls in my profession. Some men are not seeking simply the pleasure of a woman, but rather someone to have power over.”

  “Do they hurt?”

  “Just this one,” Rose said, again rubbing the deep scar on her left shoulder. “A particularly mean soldier stuck a dagger right into the bone here.”

  A small tear fell on Jirah’s cheek as she helped Rose get into some new traveling clothes they had found in her room. “You must remember dear, you are no longer in that profession. You are meant to be a healer.”

  “Old habits die hard I guess. I am so glad to have a good sister like you to remind me. For so long, these scars have been who I am.”

  “Who you are on the inside is what matters to the Creator,” Jirah affirmed. “I am glad for that, because then beauty can be found in an old gal like me too.”

  “Old gal?” Rose laughed. “Don’t sell yourself short sister. If I could get you into a pretty dress, I’m sure you could turn the head of any man.”

  Jirah shook her head and answered sheepishly, “I have worn a dress only one time in my life, and that was on my wedding day. Besides, Ya did not bless me with curves like he did with you. I will stick to wearing practical clothes for now.”

  “For now,” Rose responded with a mischievous grin. “I will get you into a dress again someday.” Both ladies laughed heartily as Rose finished buttoning up the white blouse that Jirah had picked for her. She really loved her white dress and would be sure to take it wherever they traveled, but she did not want to soil it either. With Jirah’s help, all the tangles were soon brushed out of Rose’s long wavy red hair and the two unlikely soul mates left the room, arm in arm.

  “It is about time for supper,” Jirah said. “How about we cook up something special for the boys tonight?”

  “That sounds like a great idea. Logan and Jer do well enough in the kitchen, but they are no match for the likes of us.”

  ***