The Black Keep (The Chronicles of Llars) (26 page)

C H A P T E R

8

The Shadow Hunters.

The Black Keep.

“The Black Baron...” the knight’s voice trailed off, his voice suddenly dry. “I have heard of him. I thought it was just a myth.”

“No myth at all, Sir. As any from these parts could tell you, so they could.”

Ederick exhaled deeply. “It makes sense. Our pursuers are no ordinary oroks. Considering their elusive nature and the way they seem to appear and disappear, I’d say they are a company of ghosts.”

That revelation didn’t do much to lighten the mood of the companions.

“We weren’t much of a match for sixty living oroks. We will be even less of a match for sixty oroks that are already dead,” said Kharrihan.

Tensions were mounting among the companions. The continual presence of the elusive oroks, always just out of range and never close enough to see, was beginning to cause paranoia and fear. Fortunately, with the elusive oroks still absent from their pursuit, the disturbing emotional turmoil had ceased. But not for Carym. The pull of the black stone was stronger then ever, like a constant buzzing in his ear even when he did not touch it.

After a quick discussion, the group decided to set up a small camp and rest for the night a few dozen yards inside the tree line from the road. They dropped their packs to rest with Bart volunteering to stand watch at the edge of the road.

The mood in the camp was somber, tense even; something that the growing shadows of dusk and the settling fog did nothing to alleviate. After the halt was called each person found a comfortable place to rest and cleared the snow from the ground. Zach found a large flat rock in the path and cleared the snow away from it, apparently interested in lighting a fire. Carym found no harm in it, considering that no attack seemed imminent and did not comment to his surly friend. Instead he took comfort in the presence of Gennevera, seating himself beside her, sharing the warmth of each other’s bodies.

“What’s going to happen, Carym?” she asked, watching Zach struggle to light the damp leaves and twigs. “Where do we go from here? I am beginning to fear what comes when we reach the castle.”

“Well, aside from being stalked by nearly sixty very elusive and well-disciplined oroks, what could you possibly be afraid of?” his attempt at levity garnered only a slight smile from the woman.

“Grymm has been silent.”

“What do you mean?”

“He has not answered any of my prayers, has not renewed my powers. I have only the spells that are left in a few enchanted items that I possess. When those are depleted....” she let her voice trail off.

Carym nodded, understanding her sense of weakness. Spell casters often felt defenseless without their magic as the study of the arcane arts leaves very little time for martial practice. Even more so is the case with those whose powers are granted by the gods, for they must spend inordinate amounts of time in meditation and prayer to receive such divine favor.

“Could it be that you have not had time to meditate properly?”

“No,” she said simply. “I am no novice to the Order. I can clearly sense when his favor is with me; and it is not.” The woman was quiet for a few moments, then looked into Carym’s eyes and smiled. “It is a burden that has been lifted from my heart, Carym.”

He looked at her in surprise, wondering what she meant by that. Most god-favored spell casters were extraordinarily proud of their divine relationships and the favor they possessed. “It is more of a blessing than you could ever know, beloved,” she said very quietly and leaned in to kiss him. Carym let his defenses down. The kiss ended and the two held each other tightly, each silently fearing there may not be another embrace.

“What makes you say it is a blessing?”

“I have lost faith. I have come to learn in my heart that some choices I have made were wrong, terribly wrong. Whatever happens from here Carym, I want you to know that I truly love you. I have never met a soul so compassionate and warm and honest. You are a true leader and you are everything a champion for the cause of goodness should be. I am ashamed of my own life. What have I done with it?” she said with emotion. “What have I done?”

“Don’t be hard on yourself. I have come to love you too. It wasn’t easy for me to see that, with what I have been through and what lies in my past.” He placed his hand on her cheek and looked into her eyes. “I have done horrible things also. Too horrible to repeat, all in the name of vengeance. The memories still haunt me, plague me, make me doubt myself at every turn. I will not burden you with those tales, and I do not expect you to share your tales with me if you are not ready. Know that I have come to love you as well. I will protect you.”

“Will you teach me the way of the Sigils?” she asked in a whisper. “I have no magic left. I have no favor with my god. I know little of swordplay or other forms of combat and I fear I am not suited for either.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” he said, wondering. “I’ve been so absorbed with learning that I had given no thought to teaching. Perhaps.”

She nodded. “I was hoping that learning the Sigils, learning to harness a power for the good of the living could help me combat my own self-doubt. To fight against my own demons when they come for me.”

Carym said nothing as the woman sighed and settled into his shoulder once more. Whatever her demons were, they must be powerful indeed. The thought of sharing the Sigils with this woman was exciting. Still not wishing to use Fyrendi’s Home for fear of its effects on the Tides, he decided to pray about his dilemma. He was beginning to find that silently praying in quiet moments on the march helped him focus his mind. It helped him think about his problems logically. It calmed him and helped him find perspective, which often helped him find solutions or positive ideas.

The sudden clang of steel cause Carym to sit upright, shoving Gennevera free of him. Then he spied the source of the sound and relaxed, grinning his apology to Gennevera and nodding at Zach. The man had become so frustrated with lighting a fire that he began to slam the point of this dagger into the kindling. Genn smiled too.

Suddenly a blaze leaped up from the stone and engulfed the soggy wood filling the campsite with damp smoke. Zach held his dagger in his hand in wonder, then quickly shoved the blade inside his jacket. He looked around to see if anyone had been watching; everyone had. He grumbled and sauntered off to get more firewood.

Zach returned a short while later and dropped his wood unceremoniously on the fire. He stood there staring at the flames for a moment, then turned to Carym, his face a mask of resolve.

“We cannot go to the castle, Carym.” Zach was troubled, but had apparently come to a conclusion about what he must do. “We
must
flee!”

“Did you find another way out?”

“Back the way we came, if we backtrack maybe we can find another shift of the borders. We can follow Yag and Gefar. We can-”

“Get lost, and harried, and tired, and arrive at the castle anyway,” interrupted Kharrihan wearily.

Zach ignored the interruption as though it were beneath him. “What will we do when we get to the castle, Carym?” demanded Zach. “Let the Black Baron impale us all?” Zach looked around wildly, a dangerous light in his eyes, daring anyone to challenge him. “I’ll not stand for it!”

“Zach we have no choice! If we split up, we will surely end up dead out here. At least going to the castle may surprise whoever - or whatever - lives there, giving
us
an advantage.”

“Whatever is at the castle will not be surprised,” said Bart. “We are being herded to the castle. Of that there can be no doubt.”

“Aye. Otherwise the oroks could have attacked us at any moment,” agreed the elf. “But, they haven’t. None who have ever lived to tell tales of Castle Tyrannus have ever reported a merciful showing on the behalf of the Black Baron. Something is amiss and it seems the Baron wants us to see it for ourselves.”

“All the more reason
not
to go there!” asserted Zach. “It’s madness!”

“Perhaps,” said the bard. “Perhaps not. I have been with you all for a very short time indeed. However, I am perceptive enough to know that you are being hunted, so I am. Perceptive enough to know that whatever is hunting you, is trying outwit you, so it is. And what better way to outwit you than to heard you to the castle of the Black Baron?”

“How is that anything
but
madness, bard?”

“You may not feel it wise to discuss your plans with me yet, but we are in this together now, so we are. Telling me what you can might help me make better sense of the situation, so it might.”

Carym stared at the bard, hard. Then he glanced at the knight who said nothing, his face a mask of indifference. Clearly he would not try to push Carym into revealing anything before he was ready. Zach shook his head, indicating he didn’t think it wise.

Carym sighed. “Very well,” he said with an apologetic look at his friend. He felt a responsibility to the knight and the bard, they needed to know what they were involved in. “I will keep this brief. Our journey has been long and eventful. When there is more time we may fill you in on the rest. What you must know is that I have been gifted with the power of the Sigils.”

“How
did
you end up in charge anyway, Carym?” Zach asked tersely as he strode past his friend, shouldering him in anger. The venom in Zach’s voice was not lost on Carym. He watched his friend gather his belongings as if to leave.

The Bard whistled and grinned at Carym, silently urging him to go on. Ederick looked pensive, serious, and very interested. Zach scowled, he was not happy Carym was about to give away the farm. “As you know that power has been gone from Llars for many centuries. Umber has found a way to circumvent Zuhr’s decree banning the use of the Sigils. Umber knows of me, and has sent his hunters against me and to find the Tomb of the Dark Paladin.”

“What does he want there?” asked the bard in wonder.

Zach cursed as he slung his pack, expressing his dissent. Carym would not reveal Zach’s personal stake in the quest. That much he owed his friend.

“Aside from the presence of the Everpool, it is rumored that the Tome of Sigils is stored within the Tomb. The Shadow Sigil is but one of six Sigil magics that were banned by Zuhr. I am told that the Tome of Sigils may bear the knowledge we need to bring the rest of the Sigils to prominence and stop Shalthazar before it’s too late.”

“Well, that is something. I think, perhaps it is best if this Tome does
not
fall into Shalthazar’s hands, so I do. So, as Zach says, the longer we delay, more is the chance that the Shadow will reach the Tomb first. Yet, from what I know of this wood we stand almost no chance of escape without the assistance of the Black Baron. And it certainly seems something is amiss in his ugly world!”

Zach was fuming; and ready to leave. “Well bard, thank you for clearing that up!” growled Zach. “But, ‘almost’ having a chance to escape is certainly better than
no
chance of escape; which is exactly what you have if you make it to the Black Keep. I am leaving. Now.”

“Zach, what are you doing? You can’t go out there alone! There are too many-”

“What?!” he demanded. “What could you possibly say to convince me to go
to
the Black Baron’s Keep? I’m going my own way!”

“Zach, please we need you here.”

“You don’t
need
me, Carym; you have your precious
elves
to protect you. You never needed me,” he growled.

“That isn’t true, Zach. We’re friends.”

“Friends?!” he shouted, “Friends don’t keep secrets Carym! You knew about the Everpool and intended to go there before the Spiders
forced
us to!” Carym was hurt, and guilty. Zach was right, he had been keeping secrets.

When it appeared that Carym would say more, Zach gave him a disgusted look and shook his head. “Spare me. You have made your choices, now I make mine. And I-do-not-need-you.”

With that said, Zach stormed out of the wood and onto the ancient road, the shining moon rising high. Carym felt his stomach twisting into knots as his friend left. Gennevera gripped his hand warmly, comforting him. Carym let out a great sigh. Part of him wanted to go after his old friend, and he was deeply torn by that. He had a duty to his new companions, to lead them onward. But he knew he would miss his friend greatly, he was bitter about the man’s decision to leave.