Chapter 15
Rituals
by Daniel Olarnick
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The Omniscient Voice Reflects
The next morning, Karl Strange woke, weakened but without his fever. His wounds healing, his vigor restored.
Dora knocked on his door. “Captain Strange,” she said, as she brought in a breakfast tray. “I'm sure you must be hungry by now. You've been asleep for three days now. I’ve had this scribe praying for you. The dragon gods have answered all our prayers.”
*
(From the Diary of the Unnamed Scribe)
“The hours have moved into days, the days to weeks, and the weeks to months. The Scribal Priesthood has not claimed the accursed crystal skull. I feel myself succumbing to the constant entreaties of the Voice from deep within the skull. My body aches with pain. The skull's promises – I can resist them no longer – no longer shall they be resisted. I place my hands around the skull; a blinding light begins to glow from within. The light is brilliant, pure, healing…I am no more…I am evermore.”
*
Odan woke by the dawn's first light. There was a slight coolness in the air, a sign of the change in seasons. The crispness of the early morning caused a shudder to flow through his body, causing him to smile. How long had it been since he had a body to feel the coolness of the morning, and the warmth of life within him -- and beside him. Life, itself, was good.
His senses were not yet accustomed to the cold, but the longer he possessed this body, the more accustomed to this world he would become. He smiled at his thoughts, rejoicing in them, temporary as this possession might be.
The fetching chambermaid – Arita was her name – had been slightly amused when the scribe had approached her.
“You be asking me to dance, in the great room,” she said with astonishment, as she had heard that the scribe with no name had taken a vow of purity – he seemed to be a far different man than the quiet scribe who waited on tables to earn his keep.
They had danced and danced, wine flowed throughout the evening.
Somehow, she had ended up in his room, and in his arms, swept off her feet, and they had shared the pleasure of their bodies for the night.
Odan the Scribe whispered a suggestion to Arita. She gathered her clothes, dressed and left the scribe's room without a memory of what had happened during the night. It would seem to be a foolish dream to her, one she would share with the other chambermaids, of how the scribe with no name had tried to seduce her, how she had toyed with him, and led him astray, of how he had begged and pleaded for her to stay the night, but of course, she had refused.
She was, he thought, a fetching woman. She had shared his room during the night, but now she had to be gone before the transference – but why transfer now, the scribe could not possibly be fully healed yet. This body was young, weak, untrained. He owed it to the unnamed scribe to fully heal it, to make it strong for the quest ahead. Surely, there had to be a quest worthy of these times.
Perhaps, he thought, some morning rituals were necessary for this body's preservation. After all, female distractions were only part of the healing process.
However, before he would leave the Black Dragon Inn, he would be sure to leave the fetching handmaiden a gemstone, some token of his esteem.
He smiled at the thought of holding her in his arms again, just once more before he would return to his crystal sanctuary.
His staff emerged from within the Skull. It suspended itself in air, held in place by some mystical force.
Odan held out his arms out, instantaneously the shaft, made of ancient white Angelwood, dropped into his hands.
He descended the stairs leading to the main dining room, paused to smell the aroma of fresh baked bread.
Karl Strange, owner of the Black Dragon Inn, was already at work, unsealing the wards that surrounded the doors and windows to his inn. The scribe nodded to Karl, then twirled the staff before exiting the tavern.
Karl Strange was an observant man -- if one were to survive in these lands, it was extremely important to be very, very observant. The scribe seemed to be, somehow, different. Strange decided to go outside to observe the scribe -- who seemed so unlike the scribe that Dora had hired to wait on the tables – the one who had attended him during his sickness, he looked the same, but different. Perhaps the fever had played tricks on his imagination.
He followed the scribe out to the exercise yard where the young nobles would be practicing their arts of war, preparing for the upcoming battle that had sealed Talos Valley from the rest of the world.
He did not believe that the scribe would be participating in the morning's martial exercises, and yet, there was the scribe with no name, going thought a warrior's ritual, his movements seemed so natural, yet his body strained.
"Basics," thought Karl, "he's doing self-defense basics."
Odan began his ritual, starting with the basic staff grip, and then turning the staff into a reverse hold, followed by the double hold. On and on he went, faster and faster, his movements effortless and flawless. Karl Strange noted the ease in which the scribe moved into the five positions of feeling and awareness; into the seven positions for balance and coordination; then into the 12 positions of twirl, followed by figure eight exercises, the shoulder exercises, the hip exercises.
It was an exercise routine that Karl Strange knew of, but had very rarely seen performed with such grace, almost catlike in form, and yet the scribe's body seemed to resist the movements, as if trying to adapt to what appeared so natural to Karl. So strange.
Then came the striking exercises. "SO-BUR-YA,” exclaimed the scribe, as he struck at a group of imagined foes. Each blow delivered seemed to be a lethal blow, defensive but lethal.
"Very, very strange behavior for a scribe," thought Karl Strange, "Very strange, indeed."
The chambermaid, Arita, was standing nearby watching, and by the flush of her face – no, thought Karl, it was said that this scribe was a holy man with a vow of celibacy.
As the nameless scribe stripped off his clothes, having completed his morning ritual, he poured buckets of cold water over his body.
Karl heard the scribe state, "I will not submit to my weakness."
***
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