Knight Eternal (A Novel of Epic Fantasy) (Harbinger of Doom Volume 3) (12 page)

That last line is new.
Can’t argue with it, though.

“
Those that enter or even
skirt its borders are besought with all manner of misfortunes,
great and small. From accidents, to illness, from rotting food to
rancid water, where hours before there was freshness. That place is
decay, ancient and unforgiving. A slimy putrescence, a decrepit
miasma likened to the grave. Such are the Dead Fens.”

Gets better with each
telling. He should write it down, preserve it for
posterity.

Gravemare stormed into the room. “My Lord,
there’s trouble on our guests’ ship.”

***

The ship was in chaos; men ran to and fro.
Captain Slaayde and his officers shouted orders to bring all pumps
to the forward hold. Two burly sailors dragged a third man, limp,
lifeless, and drenched in water from below deck. Seran Harringgold
followed on their heels.

“
What happened?” asked
Claradon as he and Ob walked toward Seran.

“
I caught this one
drilling a hole in the hull,” said Seran as he pointed to the
drenched man on the deck. Seran bent down and turned the man onto
his back. A dagger was buried in his chest. “I cornered him and
when he saw there was no escape, he stabbed himself. What kind of
man would do that?”

“
Is the stinking bugger
one of Slaayde’s crew?” asked Ob.

“
I’ve seen him aboard,”
said Seran.

Ob bent down and examined the corpse.

“
How bad is the damage to
the ship?” asked Claradon.

“
There’s lots of water
down there. He must’ve drilled at least a couple of holes before I
discovered him.”

“
He’s a Leaguer,” said Ob
after exposing a tattoo on the dead man’s shoulder. “He’s got the
mark of Mortach.”

Hours later, long after
they had planned to leave, Slaayde’s crew had finished patching the
holes in the hull and pumping the water from the hold. Much of the
ship’s supplies were ruined.

“
You now face the same
problem that you did yesterday,” said Malvegil. “You will not make
it past the Fens before dark. Can I convince you to remain another
night?”

“
I appreciate your
concern, Uncle, but we can remain here no longer,” said Claradon.
“Too much depends on our speed.”

Glimador and a dozen Malvegil soldiers
carrying bows marched up to the two Dor Lords as they stood on the
pier.

“
These are some of my most
skilled bowman,” said Malvegil. “Please accept their service on
your quest, nephew.”

“
I’ll make good use of
them, Uncle. Thank you.”

“
May Odin’s favor shine on
you, my boy. Come back safe and Jude with you.”

Lord Malvegil and his Lady
watched
The Black Falcon
depart from the eastern terrace.

“
I forbade Glim to go,”
said Landolyn, tears welling in her eyes; eyes not accustomed to
tears.

Malvegil spun toward her,
jaw clenched. “What? You forbade him? You had no business doing
that. We agreed that it was his decision to make.”

“
You agreed, husband. I
just gave up arguing.”

“
You shouldn’t have
interfered.”

“
Interfered? He’s my only
son—our only son. The only one we’ll ever have, and I will not lose
him to some madman’s quest.”

“
Glimador’s not a boy
anymore; he’s a man—a fine strong man. More than that, he’s a
knight, and pledged to serve the Eotrus. Where his Lord goes, he
goes. Duty and honor, Landolyn; it’s what makes a man a
man.”

“
This mission and that man
will be the death of him, I know it.”

“
What? Don’t say that.
Claradon loves Glimador like a brother.”

“
Not Claradon.
Theta!”

“
The
foreigner?”

“
Torbin, you’re an old
fool.”

Malvegil stood there for a
time, looking at her, open-mouthed and disbelieving. Then he turned
back toward the river and watched
The
Black Falcon
sail away to meet its
fate.

“
Ten years ago—no—five,
and I would’ve went with them. Claradon is too young to lead them
in this.

Landolyn shook her head. “Dead gods, you’re
blind.”

“
What? What’s come over
you?”

“
Your nephew leads
nothing. He follows.”

Malvegil’s shocked expression followed her
as she stormed off.

VII

EINHERIAR

“
To sate my hunger, I will burn thy

body and devour thy soul.”

—
Einheriar

Theta stood alone at the
rail of the sturdy vessel, gazing into the darkness from whence
they came, while
The Black Falcon
sailed down the grand Hudsar River. A storm was
gathering and it grew dark early. Soon, a mist formed, cloaking the
surface of the water.

Claradon stepped up to the
rail beside Theta. “Dor Malvegil is the farthest south I’ve ever
been before today.”

Theta made no reply; he
didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

“
It’s a big world, I
suppose it’s time that I see more of it. I just wish the reasons
were better.” Claradon breathed deep the clean, crisp air of the
river lands and listened to the flow of the water about the ship.
“I would’ve marked you a man to stand at the prow looking at what
lies ahead, rather than looking back.”

“
We’re being followed and
not by friendly sail.”

“
What?” Claradon raised
his brows. “A ship? The lookout reports nothing.”

“
I see better than
most.”

“
He’s atop the mast; he
has a far better view.”

“
Perhaps he has his own
agenda or perhaps the captain chooses to keep secrets. Or maybe he
just doesn’t see very well.”

Claradon looked hard into
the growing darkness. “I can’t see anything but the
mist.”

“
It comes into view every
hour or so. It flies a black sail. A large ship.”

“
The
Raven
out of Southeast flies a black sail
and a red and black flag,” said Ob as he skulked out of the
shadows. “So does
The Grey Talon,
and both their reputations are as black as their
sails. It could be one of them two ships, or else it could be a
ship from Dyver’s—a bunch of them fly the black. There is also an
order of Church Knights, don’t remember which one, what flies black
sail too.”

“
Should we advise the
captain to speed up?” said Claradon. “Maybe we can lose her. We’ve
enough trouble ahead of us; we don’t more from behind.”

“
If we
were out to sea, I would try it,” said Ob, “but on the river, it’s
futile. Close as she is, if she’s a fast ship and has a mind to,
she’ll catch us. Besides, the way this fog is thickening, if we
speed up, we’d risk running aground. We can’t chance that. If this
ship gets disabled, we’ll never catch
The
Rose
.”

“
We must keep our guard up
and meet those that trail us at a time of our choosing,” said
Theta.

“
The Fens, dead ahead,”
called the lookout from the crow’s nest.

Ob turned toward the east. “I only see dark
waters and mist. Stinking mist.”

In mere moments, the air
grew chill and strangely pungent. A light rain began to fall.
Flashes of lightning appeared in the sky followed by angry peals of
thunder.

“
What’s that smell?” said
Claradon.

Ob wrinkled his prodigious
nose, and rubbed his right forearm with his left hand, as if it
were sore. “I’ve been down this river more than a few times and
there is always a stink from the Fens, rotting plants and such, but
this is different. It’s too strong and came on too sudden.
Something is not right.”

Captain Slaayde stood at
the forward end of the bridge deck beside his first mate. N’Paag’s
hands gripped the ship’s wheel like vises; sweat dripped down his
cheeks. “Captain, we should drop anchor before we run aground. I
can barely see; the current may run us into the rocks.”

Slaayde peered into the
mist for some moments. “No, stay on course as best you can. I have
a bad feeling about this storm and this stench. You’ve heard the
stories about the Fens. I will not have
The Falcon
be her next victim. We
keep moving.”

Slaayde yelled up at the lookout, ordering
him to help keep the ship well away from the banks and clear of any
rocks.

Pain flared in Ob’s
arm—centered around the scar from the wound he suffered in the
Vermion Forest. He clutched at it and winced.

The river went silent, the air went still
but for the rain that continued to fall.

Theta drew his sword, spun around, and
scanned all about them.

“
What is it?” said
Claradon, moving his hand to his sword hilt.

“
Your amulet,” said Ob,
fumbling to pull his axe from his belt. “It’s glowing. There’s
danger afoot.”

The air grew more chill.
Steam rose from Ob’s breath.

Strange bubbling and plopping sounds came
from the water. Ob leaned between the rail posts and looked
straight down. “That’s not good.”

“
What?” said
Claradon.

“
The river,” said Ob,
wide-eyed. “It’s boiling, and it’s red. Red like blood.” Ob bounced
up and turned back toward the deck. “Did you hear that?

Theta raised his hand for
silence. No one moved or spoke for some moments. “Somethingis
happening,” he said, his hand now gripping the ankh that hung about
his neck.

A horrid scream erupted from somewhere down
on the main deck, lost in the mist. It lasted but a moment before
it abruptly cut off. Men yelled in the darkness, their words
muffled. Then came another scream.

Claradon dashed toward the ladder that led
down to the main deck, Ob at his heels.

“
Claradon,” boomed Theta.
He stopped in his tracks.

“
Don’t move until we know
what’s happening. Gnome—keep a lookout behind us and to the sky, we
know not yet what we face.”

“
To the sky? Look for
what? Pigeons? There’s nothing to see but mist.”

“
Just look and listen,”
said Theta. Theta moved to the head of the ladder and peered below
into the mist that clung to the deck.

A crewman ran toward the bridge deck,
shouting. “Captain, some thing came out of the mist. We can’t stop
it.”

“
What thing?” yelled
Slaayde as he moved up beside Theta. “What is it?”

The crewman scrambled up the ladder. Theta
stepped aside and the sailor collapsed to the deck, panting. “I
couldn’t see it clearly, Captain. Some kind of creature. A
monster.”

“
What?” said Slaayde. “Are
you drunk?”

More crewmen and soldiers
came into sight, racing across the main deck. A strange luminescent
figure stalked their heels. Shaped much as a man, but it was
shimmering, translucent, and indistinct. The creature moved at a
slow walk, with knees deeply bent, plodding as if it bore a great
weight. A scent of brimstone and burning wood polluted the air at
its approach. Steam sputtered and rose from its feet with each step
it took, as if the water on the wet deck boiled away at its very
touch.

Men poured onto the main deck from the lower
levels, weapons at the ready. They surrounded the creature but gave
it wide berth, reluctant to attack the unnatural thing.

“
Stand aside,” said
Slaayde, pushing past Theta. Slaayde leaped from the top of the
ladder and plunged to the main deck. He landed lightly on his feet
despite his bulk. N’Paag remained at the wheel.

Slaayde pushed past the
crewmen and soldiers, charged forward, and swung his sword—a
two-handed overhand strike, aimed for the monster’s neck. The
vicious blow passed clear through the creature, but met no
resistance, no impact at all.

Overbalanced, Slaayde stumbled to his knees
directly before the thing.

The creature’s claws raked down.

The captain ducked,
evading the blow that would have killed him instantly. The
creature’s claws no more than brushed across the blonde hair atop
Slaayde’s head. Such was the thing’s unholy power that this merest
touch did damage enough. Slaayde’s head rolled to the side; his
limbs went limp, his eyes closed.

The creature stepped forward to finish him
off. A massive figure appeared behind Slaayde, grabbed him about
the collar, and flung him clear just as the creature’s claws raked
down again. “Take it down,” shouted Tug.

A crewman swung down from
the mast on a rope and crashed feet first into the creature from
behind while Tug dragged Slaayde clear of the battle. Just as
Slaayde’s sword, the man sailed clear through the thing, as if it
were completely insubstantial, some mere apparition or shadow of
what once was. The crewman howled when he passed through the thing
and let go the rope. When he hit the deck, his body exploded into a
cloud of dust and rotted clothing.