The Black Keep (The Chronicles of Llars) (34 page)

“No, I don’t think it was chance that any of us met, Carym,” she heard the knight say as she approached. “You and Zach began this quest. Now you are here with five others and Zach is gone. How else could the six of us here have been drawn together to attain this goal? We were meant to travel this dark road together.”

“So it would seem,” said Carym, all the more certain that his path had thus far been no mistake. What would Zuhr think of him touching the dark magic of the Shadow stone?

“The sword belonging to the Dark Paladin, which he had ultimately used to fight the God of Death, had actually been given to him as a gift from Zuhr Himself when he rose to our order’s highest rank, First Paladin. He served many years with honor and distinction before he turned to darkness, some of his deeds are still revered today.” Ederick looked off into the distance. Letting the crackling flames take his mind back in time.

“As you have probably heard, the holy city of Al Zochar has been under a great siege. The sword and shield of the Dark Paladin, entombed with his corpse, could very well turn the tide in the battle to our favor; the conquest of Al Zochar could be at hand. This
must
be the reason Zuhr put me in your company. I cannot imagine what would happen to the will of our forces, should the enemy reach the Tomb first.” Ederick looked wistfully at the sky.

Carym knew the knight had spoken truly, thinking about how his life had changed so drastically in so little time. He went from being a fugitive of the Arnathian Crown to walking with the likes of Sir Ederick Shieldsmoore, a Commander of the Zuharim. Once Carym’s drunken delusions and wistful desperation clouded what was right in his mind. But the terrible events of the last few days served as a wakeup call for him. These events brought him back to reality, forced him to see that even in the darkest hour there is always hope.

Would he throw it all away by foolishly touching the edges of the power of the Shadow again? He swore he would not allow that seductive power to tempt him again. But wouldn’t that power be helpful in their journey? Surely, the Great Zuhr, the Creator of All, could not object to turning the dark power against itself? Then he remembered how he had failed to do just that.

“I believe you should train to become a knight.”

Carym looked at the knight in surprise, the fire was now blazing nicely and Gennevera was huddled next to him. Kharrihan and Bart, seeing the fire now burning comfortably, helped Princess Hala from her position in the lean-to and closer to the warming flames.

“There were many Fyrbold
in the ranks of the Zuharim before the time of the Dark Paladin.”

Carym could not reply right away and gazed again into the flames. He knew in his heart that Zuhr wanted him to join His legion, to fight against the forces of darkness. But, hadn’t some of the Zuharim embraced the evil power of necromancy? Carym couldn’t be sure he wanted to serve Zuhr at all, though he knew that for now his own path and that of the knight’s were entwined.

“I don’t know in my heart if I am worthy. I must consider this carefully,” he said with a far-off look. Though he intended his answer as an evasion, there was truth in what he said.

“Zuhr’s wisdom will guide your choice, you will know in your heart when He has given you his answer.”

Dawn broke and the sky remained overcast, hinting to the inhabitants of the world below that it might just decide to dump another load of snow on them in the coming hours. Ederick had been on watch at sunrise and roused the rest of the group. Hala seemed remarkably better and was moving around on her own, graceful as a cat. Carym couldn’t help but take in the woman’s natural beauty. Her body was supple and lithe and her skin dark. Her eyes were large and brown and seemed to miss nothing, they were framed in her face by her honey-colored hair. She carried herself with pride and dignity and there was an air of confidence around her, inspiring and radiant. When he felt Gennevera’s gaze upon him, he found it difficult to tear his gaze from the mysterious woman.

“Good morning, Carym,” she said draping her arm around his shoulders and kissing him on the cheek. The pair embraced for a moment, but quickly separated with a few grumblings and even an, “ahem,” from the others. With a sigh, the man saw that Ederick had been busy during his watch and most of the signs of the camp’s existence had already been erased with some help from another inch of snow that fell during the night.

The sight of the forest was enchanting to Carym, having seen very little snow in his life. “Isn’t this amazing, Gennevera? I have never seen such beauty!” he was awed by the majesty of snow covered forest.

“Really?” she asked, casting an inconspicuous glance at Hala. She was unsure what to make of the new princess in their group. Her jealous bone had been bruised slightly, but she knew that those were irrational thoughts. The woman deserved to be rescued and reunited with her people...didn’t she?

“No. Snow falls rarely where I come from. And when it does, it rarely amounts to much. Even when I served in the Arnathian Navy, I spent all of my time in the warmer climes.”

“Then you truly have not seen beauty until you set your eyes upon the lands you will soon enter, Cklathman!” said Princess Hala with pride. “The mountains of my homeland are lush with vegetation and teeming with life. In autumn the leaves on the trees are sprayed with all the colors of the rainbow, tugging at the heart with their beauty. Winter blankets the land in pure white snow and silvery ice, while spring flowers fill the air with soft scents. And in our mild mountain summers, the lush greenery is teeming with herds of deer and fat turkeys.”

“Then I am eager to see your lands, Highness,” said Carym as the group finished breaking.

Gennevera had finally decided; she didn’t like Hala one bit. “Perhaps we will be fortunate enough to find our way to your lands in the spring, and witness some of this legendary natural beauty.”

“When we reach the Port of Powyss, we can secure passage to Myrnwell easily enough,” said the knight, anxious to continue the march. Then he turned to the princess. “From there, how long will it take to reach your country?”

“I do not know. From what I have learned, it seems that Shalthazar plans to winter in the lands at the base of the Ogrewall Mountains. His country has grown considerably and he will only grow stronger through the winter as supplies arrive from beyond the seas. He is desperate to find the Tomb, however. The chances are great that we will encounter his soldiers before we reach the safety of my lands.”

Carym nodded, expecting such an answer. The men had discussed the next steps to take on their journey northward and to the mainland. Bart felt as though continuing to the port city of Powyss was their best bet. Kharrihan spoke of rumors of several new orders of monks, priests, and soldiers who were dedicated to Zuhr and were springing up in the free lands, some even in Myrnwell. It seemed to the companions that if the Ogrewall Mountains proved impassable, Myrnwell would be as good a place as any to spend the rest of winter.

The companions moved on through the snow covered wood toward their goal of Powyss, under the foreboding steel gray sky. Hala, back to full strength, managed to blend in with the companions and complimented their impressive array of battle skills. Her own scouting talents were formidable, Hala dropped out of sight from time to time and assisted Kharrihan with the peripheral scouting responsibilities. The woods were too quiet Carym had noticed. It was winter, and the southerner was not used to weather like this, but still he felt as though the forest were holding back its full majesty. As though it possessed a sentience of its own and knew something of the comings and goings of the mortals who trod among its boles and boughs even now and wanted to protect what it could of itself.

Several uneventful hours of hiking brought the group closer to the port city of Powyss and Bart called the group to a halt as a shrill whistling broke the eerie silence. It was a danger signal from Kharrihan and the group pivoted to face the rear where the man had been scouting. Instinctively the group fanned out, each finding something that would offer concealment and protection. Everyone tensed and readied for a fight, though little could be heard above their own hard breathing. They watched as the small form of the Silver Mountain Elf appeared in the trees, running toward the safety of the group.

Gennevera brandished the cudgel she had acquired during the battle at the Black Keep. Hala nocked an arrow into a bow given her by Carym; Bart quietly separated his rapiers from within his staff and Ederick wielded his sword and shield. Carym readied himself for a fight too, focusing his mind on the channeling power of the Sigil Stones in his coat pocket.

But which stone should he use? What form should he make the Tides take? The pull of the Shadow stone was even more seductive now that he understood that it wielded tremendous power and that he had already used it once. He fought the urge to tap the Shadow Tides immediately, but found that he could not make himself promise to forgo use of the dark power altogether. He wondered how he could have felt so contrite after his first successful use of the Shadow Tides when the results were so potent, so deadly. He was feeling heady now, just thinking about it. What a fool he had been to disavow use of the Shadow stone. No, he was ready to fight and would use any tool at his disposal for the good of the group.

Kharrihan was being pursued by a trio of mounted foes in the black and red garb of Hessan’s men. Carym cursed under his breath. That demon would not rest until Carym had been made to pay for what he did to the powerful and vengeful, undead minion of Umber. These men were riding no ordinary mounts. These were
werotes, g
iant coyote-like dogs, which stood nearly as tall as a horse. Carym looked around at his companions. Each was concealed well so that the approaching foes did not know they were being lured into an ambush.

The twang of bowstrings cracked the still air. Arrow shafts found their mark in the tough hides of the
werotes,
slowing them down and angering them, but little else. More arrows reached the mounted enemies, shrieking angrily as they charged. It was then their enemies saw that they had been lead into a bigger fight than they cared for. Yet these men were not known for cowardice and did not flee, even as more arrows found their marks. The tough
werotes,
fletches protruding from their hides, did not fall.

One of the three turned back and Carym assumed was going for reinforcements.

A gust of wind gathered from among the companions and Carym felt a tingling from the stones. A spear of pure light propelled by a burst of air flashed across the wood and slammed into the rider attempting to leave. The rider fell to the ground, a gaping hole in his back trailing smoke into the air above his silent corpse. Now masterless, the
werote
fled into wood.

A quick glance at Gennevera was answered with a confused shake of her head; she didn’t know who made that attack either. Could it have been Princess Hala? He pushed the thought from his mind. “We must strike now, before more of them arrive.”

Seeing their fallen comrade, the remaining fighters charged their mounts to the origin of the ambush. A few more arrows sailed at the enemy but were largely ignored. The fighters were armed with an assortment of weapons and armored with skillfully crafted leather and mail. One of them held a long whip while the other was twirling a sling over his head. They would not be easy to kill.

Another spear of light passed by Carym and impacted with the bole of a tree, shattering the wood into deadly smoking splinters. Closing his eyes he forced his mind to shift to his enhanced
sight.
The Tides surged angrily, flaring brightly then dimming, the Tidal flows raging all around him. The Tides seemed to be focusing on a point nearby, but he forced himself to reject the urge to find it. He had to concentrate and sought out the Tidal flows of the Earth Sigil and the Flame Sigil. They were strong, but not nearly as strong as the Tide of Shadows which roiled around his feet, coiling like a snake.

He opened his center and allowed the power of the Tides to fill him. Fire, Earth, and Shadow coursed through his body.
The Shadow? What was he doing?
With the Earth Tides flowing so strongly through him, a sense of corruption on the ground some distance away prickled his thoughts. His
sight a
llowed him to send his mind’s eye along the currents of a particular Tide, and now he was seeing the approach of more of the
werotes.