It took several days of back breaking labor to get things sorted out within the fortress; what with the large numbers of corpses which had to be dealt with and disposed of. But first the people of Al Fahd saw to the last rites for their own fallen friends and loved ones.
In the evening of the fifth day after the battle, a number of very large pyres having been constructed, the dead heros of Al Fahd were properly consigned to the flames. This time Xena lent her own voice to the lamentations.
As the consuming flames licked ever higher she sang a warrior's dirge honoring those who had so willingly and nobly sacrificed their lives to defeat the great evil which had overtaken them all. Only a few of them, she knew, had ever experienced the sting of war before and they, having had their fill of it, had attempted to live out the rest of their lives, earning their livelihood and raising their families, peaceable, on the land.
As for all the others: They had, most of them, been quite young. Oh ye gods, Xena thought to herself, most of them had been little more than children. Before the Sorcerer they'd had no knowledge, no taste of war, whatever. Truly they had been innocent and it was this which made the tears she now shed so freely all the more bitter.
It had become her lot to teach these young men and women the dark and terrible arts of war. The fact that this had been necessary was beyond questioning: As was the fact that by doing so, and doing it as well as she had, a great many more still lived.
A realist, Xena knew war was as much a part of the human condition as anything else. But this latest carnage had sickened her far more than usual.
War. Oh how she hated it!
Xena and Gabrielle had stayed on for a few weeks after the battle. Their exertions over the past couple of months had taken something of a toll on them. They needed some rest but they still leant a hand in helping Gander and the others as they continued the task of cleaning up and rebuilding their community.
In the meantime Gander had begun to quietly extend his power in a very special sort of way. Over time Both Xena and Gabrielle had mentioned the name of a, ... rather unique, ... young fellow with whom they had been acquainted for some time.
From what he'd heard this fellow was often at lose ends, with a lot of time on his hands but, usually, very few coins in his purse. In any event Gander had decided he wanted to meet this interesting gentleman and he wasn't above using magic, just a tad mind you, to accomplish this end.
A couple of days before Xena and Gabrielle were due to take their leave Gander had availed himself of the use of a small cart and pony and driven off, by himself, heading in the direction of the pass through the mountains. Both Gabrielle and Xena were happy to see him once again getting out for some sunshine and fresh air. But they still had a feeling there was something curious about this little jaunt of his.
As he finally trudged over the summit of the pass and saw the track was mostly down hill from that point the tall and lanky young man breathed a sigh. The going would be easier from now on; the gods be thanked.
He'd been on the road, walking, no that wasn't quite right, he'd done more than a little running as well, for many days. He still found the situation to be amazing: Why an inn keeper should get so bent out of shape over a few lousy coins. He'd promised the guy he'd return and pay for the nights lodging and food as soon as he was able.
But did that satisfy him? Would he take the word of a famous warrior? Noo! Instead the uncharitable miser had raised the hue and cry.
Half the people in that village had taken off after him wielding clubs, pitch forks, even scythes. In fact one of the louts had been carrying a length of thick rope with a particularly ugly noose tied in one end. Yes in deed. Money truly was the root of all evil; especially when you didn't have any.
They chased him up hill and down dale the whole day long. Had it not been for his friend, Xena, teaching him a trick or two about hiding, ... he didn't like to dwell on that thought.
Anyway he'd managed to escape the mob. But now he had only his sword, dagger, and the clothes he stood up in. He was foot sore, hot, dirty, tired, hungry and thirsty.
The only food he'd had, since running for his life, had been some berries. Having no container in which to carry water he'd had to drink his fill as he came to the occasional brook or stream.
Though he'd slept on the ground many times before, without so much as a scrap of a blanket, he hadn't been able to sleep well at all. But in spite of all this he did try to remain optimistic. After all of this ill fortune his luck had to change. It just had to. Things just couldn't get any worse ... he hoped.
He still wasn't even sure of why he'd been traveling in this direction for the past ten days. The gods only knew there were much better places he might have traveled to. Places with people who respected and valued stout hearted men such as himself. But here he was, on this dusty track, in the middle of no where. So yes, he thought. There must be something, hopefully good, awaiting him at the end of this road.
An hour or so later he'd come upon an enormous pile of broken, chard, skeletal remains. Under other circumstances such a macabre sight would have made him, not a little, uneasy. As it was though his long empty stomach was growling continuously. If I don't get something to eat soon, he told himself, it won't be long before I look just like them.
He'd continued on for a little more than an hour when, rounding a slight bend in the track, he came upon a totally unexpected sight. Just off to the side of the path he saw a cart with a pony hitched to it, standing under the shade of a tree, nibbling contentedly at some tall grass.
Close by a fairly large tent, with an awning extending out from its entrance, had been erected. In the shade of this awning was a table and this table appeared to be piled high with ... food!
Beside this table, piled high with ... food ... were two comfortable looking chairs; one of which was occupied by a scruffy looking old man. His hair, what there was of it, was on the shaggy side. His beard ranged in color from white at the chin to a dull grey at the ears and his mustache was a mixture of brown and gray with the ends trained upward.
He was wearing a hooded robe, off white in color and a sleeveless gray cloak with a number of commodious pockets and a small, neat, patch just under the right shoulder. Laying on the ground at his side were two heavy looking staffs.
Coming to a halt, there on the path, about ten cubits from where the old man sat, the young fellow just stood there and stared dumfounded.
"You look a bit tuckered youngster," Gander said amiably. "Why don't you come on over here and sit a spell."
While the old fellow seemed a bit strange he looked harmless enough. Leaving the path the young man walked over and settled himself into the free chair with a weary sigh.
"My friends know me as Gander," the Wizard said. "Others refer to me as Two Staffs; and, unless I'm badly mistaken, you are Joxer."
"Joxer the Mighty," Joxer corrected, passionately. Then he froze in place; his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Wait a minute," Joxer said, suspicion oozing from every pore. "I know we have never met. So how is it you know who I am?" he demanded.
"You're right, of course," Gander said with a chuckle. "Until now we've never laid eyes on one another. But, over time, Wizards do come to know a great many things about many people."
"Wizards?" Joxer said with a dry gulp.
"There was nothing very magical, though, in the way I came to hear about you. Your friends have spoken of you on a number of occasions and rather highly I might add: Gabrielle in particular."
Joxer was out of the chair in a flash. Though he'd fumbled a bit he'd drawn his sword quickly enough and now stood in front of Gander, the point of his sword at the Wizard's throat.
"Xena. Gabrielle. Where are they? What have you done to them? If you've harmed so much as a hair on their heads I'll kill you! I swear I will!"
Gander, as was usual, had only been having a bit of fun with the young man but the situation was quickly becoming more than a little unpleasant.
"For pity's sake, Joxer, settle down," Gander said pleasantly. "Nothing's happened to Xena or Gabrielle that should concern you. They're fine."
"What makes you think I'd believe you?" Joxer demanded. "I'm not as dumb as some people think I look. Now talk fast. Where are they?"
"Joxer," Gander said with a sigh, "Xena and Gabrielle are just a little ways down this track; at the fortress of Al Fahd. As for being dumb, you're right, you're not dumb at all. But, at the moment, you are doing something which is more than a little foolish."
"Oh? .. And just what might that be?" Joxer said with a sneer.
"Well, for instance, most sensible folks would think long and hard about putting something long, pointy, and metallic to a Wizard's throat."
"Why is that?" Joxer asked with an even greater sneer.
"Because," Gander said, "putting long, pointy, metal things to a Wizard's throat has never been a particularly healthy pass-time."
"And just what do you think you're going to do about it?" Joxer demanded.
This situation was beginning to get on Gander's nerves.
"Oh nothing, ... much," Gander said, amicably.
The jolt of energy which passed down the blade of Joxer's sword was puny, indeed it was miniscule, but it was enough. Two things happened simultaneously: Joxer dropped the sword and landed on his rump, on the grass.
Slowly reaching down Gander took hold of the weapon, at the point, and picked it up. Then, holding it by the point and the hilt, he casually examined it.
"Not too shabby," Gander said. "While it's none too fancy it is a good, sound, working man's model."
Laying the weapon aside, on the edge of the table, close enough to where Joxer could grab it, if he was so inclined, Gander returned his attention to him.
Picking up his wine skin Gander filled two wooden mugs. After taking a sip from his own he handed the other to Joxer.
"You don't look any too comfortable down there, my young friend. Come on. Get yourself up from there, take your seat, and wash down some of that dust you've been eating."
Still a little stunned Joxer got slowly to his feet and returned to his chair. The urge to pick up his sword was strong but he thought better of it and left it where it was.
The effects of the wine had been immediate and had accomplished precisely what Gander had expected. By the time Joxer had consumed half of his second mug he'd mellowed out quite a bit.
By the time he'd finished off a joint of roasted pork, and a considerable quantity of bread, cheese, and fruit, Joxter had become down-right sociable. As Gander explained in some detail how he had met up with Xena and Gabrielle, and what had transpired over the past few months, Joxer's suspicions were laid to rest.
When Gander judged the moment was right he reached inside his cloak and pulled out a small scroll.
"How well can you read, Joxer?" he asked.
Joxer shook his head slowly.
"Not well I'm afraid."
"How would you like to be able to?"
"I've thought about it, from time to time," Joxer replied. "But I'm not all that smart. Besides, I'm a warrior. I don't really need to read and write all that much."
"Joxer," Gander said, "from what I have heard you're a lot smarter than you like to let on. So, if I could make it possible for you to read, and understand what you have read, would you be interested?"
"Well I don't know," he said hesitantly.
"Do you see this scroll in my hand?" Gander asked.
"Yes," Joxer answered, unsure of where all this was going.
"The writing it contains concerns you, and just about every great dream you have ever dreamt; every hope you have ever dared to have for your own future. Wouldn't you like to be able to read it?"
"Yes, Joxer said. "But why talk about it?
"If you will allow me to do a little something to help you out, you will be able to read, and write," Gander said in all seriousness.
Joxer thought it over for a long moment. This Wizard, probably, could have killed him dead as a door nail, he thought to himself. Instead he's given me rest, food, and wine. Now he's talking about helping me to realize my dreams...
"OK," Joxer said. "Why not?"
Picking up one of his staffs Gander got slowly to his feet. He was stiff. Sitting for long periods of time did that to him. Walking slowly around the table Gander came to stand over the young man.
"Why don't you take off that helmet, Joxer," Gander said with a grin. "There's no one around to whack you up side the head with an axe and it will just get in the way."
Removing his helmet Joxer placed it on the ground beside him. Then he thought of something.
"This isn't going to hurt is it?"
Still grinning Gander shook his head.
"No, Joxer," he said. "You shouldn't feel a thing or, if you do, it will likely feel nice and relaxing. Now all I need you to do is close your eyes and relax.
First Gander touched the young man's eyelids with his finger tips; holding them there for a minute or so. Then he covered both of Joxter's ears with the palms of his hands, again holding them there for about a minute.
Finally he gently placed his hands on top of Joxer's head. Once more he held them where they were for a minute or two. Then, removing his hands, Gander returned to his chair.
Joxer opened his eyes.
"Is that all there is to it?" he asked.
"Yep," Gander said with a broad smile and a twinkle in his eyes.
"That's all there is to it. Now there's only thing left to do. Let's see how well it took."
Picking up the small scroll Gander reached across the table and handed it to Joxer. Then, as Joxer opened the document, Gander sat back in his chair and, folding his hands over his chest, waited to see what would happen next.
When Joxer looked down at the writing on the parchment, at first, his eyes grew wide as platters. Then he looked up at Gander; then back down at the scroll.
"I don't believe this," Joxer whispered to himself. "This can't be happening. Not to me. It's to wonderful."
"Joxer," Gander said softly, "you had better believe it because it has happened to you and while you may find it wonderful it is certainly no more than you have ever deserved. So go ahead. Read what is written there, ... out loud, if you please."
At first Joxer spoke in a tentative manner, a little uncertain of his pronunciation. But with each word he read his voice became more confident. The scroll read:
"To all to whom these presence may come. Greetings. Be it known, based on the recommendation of the Wizard, Gander, his being a special friend of this court and one in whom we place special faith and confidence, the following decision has been reached and is here-by promulgated.
The warrior, Joxer, is hereby appointed to a total of three, highly responsible, positions within this court. These positions are as follows:
Librarian'. As such the warrior, Joxer, shall be responsible for the organization, maintenance, and safe-keeping of the papers, scrolls, and books, once the property of the late, un-lamented, Sorcerer known as Kuhlamann which are forfeited and are now the possession of this court.
'Teacher'. As soon as may be practicable the warrior, Joxer, shall establish a school and provide instruction in reading, writing, and such other subjects as may be decided upon in consultation with this court.
'Special Counsel'. As often as he may be called upon for this purpose, and applying the knowledge he acquires in the course of his other duties, as previously described, the warrior, Joxer, shall endeavor to give assistance and advice on various and sundry matters which may come to be of interest to this court.
In return for services honorably and faithfully rendered the following is agreed to.
First: The warrior, Joxer, having long sought an honorable title, shall be known from this time on as Joxer, "The Educator." This title is irrevocable and hereditary; to be passed, in due course, to the first born of his line.
Second: So long as he may chose to remain so employed by this court Joxer, The Educator, shall receive quarters, clothing, food and drink, appropriate to his position.
Third: Additionally, in return for services rendered, Joxer, The Educator, shall receive a stipend of fifteen silver coins per month or one hundred and eighty per year.
Fourth: While he will be required to attend to his duties here, within the fortress and town of Al Fahd, five months out of each year, he shall be free for the other seven months, from early Spring through early Fall, to take vacation and travel wherever and with whomever he may wish; on the understanding that he will submit written reports of anything he may have experienced or learned which he may believe to be of interest to this court.
The signature was that of Maadrik, Chief Minister and Regent, acting by the authority and in the name of the Lord and Lady Riphanay of Al Fahd and the scroll bore the Great Seal of the House of Riphanay.