Staff of Shigmar: Chapter 11, Part 1

23 May 2026

Good day to all! We start a new week, a new month, with a new chapter from the second book in our epic tale, Staff of Shigmar, returning to Delgart and Marilee, on their way north from Holvar to attack the army surrounding Shigmar; the battle, however, begins long before they reach Shigmar. . . . (2 March 2015) We remind all readers that this book, Staff of Shigmar, as also the first book, is free for download from Smashwords! Glossary links: Book 2, Book 1

Chapter 11, Part 1

The best way to defeat an aperu is to avoid it, although this tactic is not always possible. . . . Never attack an aperu with less than an entire company, deployed to surround the beast and attack from all sides at once, with maghem and kailum ready to protect against its breath; even with this approach, casualties will be high. Pray to the One that one of its fellows does not come to its rescue, for if one does, the aperum will triumph. . . .

from the seklesi Manual of Enemies, origin unknown

The army of seklesem jogged through the night, stopping at sunrise to rest for a few hours before climbing into the Mountains of the Fallen Star on its way to rescue Shigmar. At sunrise, it crossed the Krystal River at the ford of Reema, making a temporary camp in the narrow valley between the river and the mountains. A scouting party left as soon as the army stopped, going north to check the narrow pass that would lead them to the besieged city of the kailum. Marilee, once she had established a camp for her squad, led Delgart back to the ford.

“Why is it called the Crossing of Reema?” Delgart asked as they walked among the camps toward the ford.

“I keep forgetting that you spent the last ten years a slave to pirates,” Marilee noted before answering his question. “There is much we need to teach you, so that your knowledge of the land is as great as your skill with the sword.”

“I am amazed that you learned so much, as a slave,” Grelsor put in. Grelsor was the son of Ghelvon, who was the Master of Fighting Arts on the council of Shigmar; he was almost an exact duplicate of his father, bulky and strong, short black hair sticking like wire out of his round head with cherub-like face. He was a kailu attached to Marilee’s squad. “How did you learn to wield a sword while a slave?”

“I was first a galley slave,” Delgart replied to Grelsor, “and the pirate cook was lazy, and he would beat his slaves if they failed to prepare meals that pleased the captain and crew. I saw at once that something needed to be done, so I organized the galley slaves, in order to avoid punishment. The cook saw immediately my value and put me in charge of his slaves; he had to do little work and got all the credit from the captain. After a year, he bragged to the captain about how good I was; the captain was suspicious of the cook, so he came and observed our preparations, watching me, I later learned. He was so impressed by the way I directed the galley slaves that he took me from the cook for his own. The captain trained me in all operations of the ship, then placed me in charge of all the slaves, used me to create duty schedules and manage most of the ship’s operations. He was not a cruel man, but a rigorous and demanding master, so I learned much from him, including weapons and fighting. For many years I was in this position, but there were members of the crew who were not happy with his choices, and who grumbled that a slave was telling them what to do. I warned him several times of this, but he felt secure in his position and did not heed my warnings.” Delgart paused, his face becoming bleak.

“What happened?” Marilee asked.

“They killed him,” Grelsor put in, “didn’t they?”

Delgart nodded. “They put me in the hold, manning the oars, and in the bilges, manning the pumps, on short rations. I nearly died, but in my moment of extremity, I thought I saw my father. He came to me in this vision, told me I had to hold on a little longer, and that I would rise to a level of greatness beyond my wildest dreams. I protested that I could not, would not, survive. He replied that, although a slave, I was in control of my destiny. I was so angered by his words that my anger forced me to go on, enabling me to survive. His words often came back to me, but several months passed before I finally understood what he meant: I could not choose how I was treated, but I could choose my response to it, my attitude, and in my misery, I smiled. My captors sensed this change in me, and, fearing that I might incite a rebellion, took me off the benches and locked me in the bilges, manning the pumps to isolate me from the other slaves; they only brought me out one time, during the storm that wrecked the ship, and put me back on the benches. I was the only one who survived the wreck–I survived in spite of all they did.” He stopped speaking and shook his head. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

They were standing next to the ford. Marilee looked horrified by his story, but recovered quickly.

“Your tale put your question out of my mind,” Marilee said, apologetically.

“That is my fault,” Grelsor noted. “I am still amazed at how well you wield weapons, and that you would be sent into the field immediately following testing. There is normally a time of training with the uwonti before seklesem are sent into the field.”

Delgart exchanged a quick look with Marilee before Marilee replied. “I was told that his age and his abilities made the decision to send him into the field, rather than keep him in Holvar for training,” Marilee replied, only glancing at Grelsor once as she spoke.

Delgart raised an eyebrow, but did not mention his own suspicions, thinking that their superiors had good reasons for withholding the whole story. Both kept their faces covered, hiding their disfiguring scars. Taking a cue from her, he did not mention what had happened to them both.

“I’m sure there were other reasons,” Marilee went on, “but they did not share any of them with me.”

Grelsor nodded. He pointed across the ford to the other side. “That mound is the burial site for those who died in the battle here, two-and-a-half millennia in the past. And on this side,” he pointed to a spot to the north of the ford, “is the place where the purem and ghelem who died here were burned.”

Marilee nodded and took up the story. “The ford was named after the merchant who discovered it, in the fourth century of the first millennium, atno 456, Reema. She wanted to trade with the kailum of Shigmar, so she came north from Rykelle and discovered the ford and a narrow mountain pass that led into the valley surrounding Shigmar. In the beginning of the second millennium, atno 1007 as I recall, the path, only wide enough for a single rider or pack animal, was widened to a wagon road, making it easier to trade with the kailum and the others living in their valley. In atno 1013, after the road was completed, several legions of Gar’s forces floated down river from the Iorn Gate, on their way to attack the city now named Holvar, taking the city by surprise and forcing the seklesem to flee north toward Shigmar. At Reema, the kailum army arrived just in time to stop the purem and ghelem’s northward march. The battle raged at Reema for many days until Sheldu, Headmaster of Shigmar, challenged the ponkolu leader of Gar’s forces, Ragi, to a duel. They stood on the waters of the ford, wielding teka forces that shook the ground, until Sheldu’s staff was broken, killing him. While Ragi was momentarily stunned by the forces released from the breaking of Sheldu’s staff, an awemi, hiding in the rocks at the edge of the ford, darted forward and leapt upon Ragi’s back, slitting the ponkolu’s throat. Ragi’s blood covered the awemi, incinerating both. The fall of their leader in their moment of victory disheartened Gar’s hoards, and they were driven back and slaughtered; only a few escaped to bring tidings to Gar. The Krystal River ran black for months, because of the blood spilled during the battle.” Marilee sighed and looked into the distance.

“The ford was renamed,” Grelsor went on, “to honor the many who had fallen in battle. But that is not the whole story: a group of purem and ghelem left the main group before the attack on Holvar and took the city of Komfleu, northwest in the Medyoake River valley. In the midst of raising the cairn over those who had fallen here, a messenger, who had been sent to Komfleu, returned to report. The people of Komfleu would not believe that the purem and ghelem were attacking, so refused to send any aid to the Fereghen. The messenger was driven from Komfleu, and had to travel far to the north to avoid Gar’s forces sent against Komfleu. He knew that the city had fallen, being unprepared for the attack. The survivors held a council, and many argued that the people of Komfleu should be left to their fate for refusing to send aid. Wulfrik, the Fereghen, although wounded, rose from his bed; all in the tent fell silent. He gave an immortal speech of liberty, asserting that as Komfleu was part of his realm, he would free them from the oppression of Gar, in spite of their refusal to send aid. All assembled in the tent were moved by the simple eloquence of Wulfrik’s speech, and they agreed to gather what forces remained and were healthy to go to the aid of Komfleu. The city was easily retaken, and the leaders were tried for willful rebellion against the Fereghen. New leaders were appointed by the people, and all in the city reaffirmed their loyalty to the Fereghen. However, as soon as the liberating forces were out of sight, the people and their leaders returned to their previous attitude, which still holds sway down to this day.”

“How do you know?” Delgart asked.

“Because my family was driven from Komfleu,” Grelsor replied, smiling wryly, “when I was very young.”

Marilee nodded. “My family also lived in Komfleu, for a time,” she added, “but my father moved us when he could see that the people were content with what they had and were: average non-achievers.”

“We get the word, ‘mediocre,’ from there,” Grelsor said, “from the name of the river, ‘Medyoake,’ which means ‘in the middle of the oaks,’ a description of the valley where the two rivers meet at Komfleu, which is ‘confluence,’ and the people are content to be ‘lost in the middle of the oaks.’”

Delgart shook his head slowly. “It is very sad,” he noted, “that people could be so blinded . . . ,” but what he thought was lost in an alarm bell that suddenly rang out. All their heads turned north in the direction of the bell, and the moment of silence immediately following the bell was rent by a roaring sound, coming from the same direction.

Come back Tuesday to learn what the alarm bell, and the roaring sound, mean for our army of seklesem! For those who wish to read on, get a full ebook copy from Smashwords for free! If you prefer print, purchase your copy from the link provided. Good reading!