The Kinshield Legacy (52 page)

With Brodas having fled and Risan rescued, Daia was as eager to get to the cave as Gavin was to avoid it, but in the end, she and the others agreed to bury Domach and start out the following morning. After a thorough soak in a hot tub at an inn owned by Edan’s uncle, and a long night’s sleep, Gavin arose at dawn and dressed. He slipped out of the inn before everyone else awoke.

The Institute for Scholarly Studies was locked up tight when he arrived, but he pounded relentlessly on the door. “Open up,” he yelled. “Open the door.”

Down the street, a window flew open and a man stuck his head out. “Shut up! People’s tryin’ to sleep.”

Gavin continued to beat the door with his fist. “Scholars, open the door.”

At last, a light came on in one of the windows and floated from one to the next, until it hovered behind the curtain of the window closest to the door. The curtains parted and an eye peered out at him.

“Who is there?” a voice called behind the glass.

“Gavin Kinshield. I got somethin’ you want, and you got somethin’ I want.”

“What is it?” the man yelled.

“Calewen’s Pendant.”

The eye disappeared and the curtain fell back to hang straight. Gavin heard a bolt slide across, and the door creaked opened a hand’s width. The eye appeared once again and measured him with a glance.

“You have Queen Calewen’s Pendant?” the scholar asked.

“I do,” Gavin said. “Laemyr Surraent in Ambryce hired me to retrieve it from a thief. He said you have Ronor Kinshield’s letter. I’m here to make a trade.”

The door opened wide enough to admit him. Gavin stepped into the dimly lit great hall.

The scholar shut the door, stepped back, and held the lamp up. “My! Big fellow, aren’t you?” he asked. Beneath a sparse tuft of gray hair, a single eyebrow stretched across his wrinkled forehead. A pair of spectacles slid from the end of his narrow nose to the bridge as he peered up at Gavin. “You’re a warrant knight, no doubt. I’m Sage Wikham Marckys,” he said. “You look familiar. Have you been here before?”

Gavin shook his head. The name sounded familiar, but he didn’t recognize the face. “Do you have Kinshield’s letter or not?”

“We have what appears to be a copy of Ronor Kinshield’s letter to the Lordover Tern, if that’s what you mean,” Sage Marckys said. “But I can’t give it to you. It’s a piece of history and must be studied. Validated.”

“Then make a copy of it,” Gavin said. “I only need to know what it says.”

The scholar studied him for a moment, then beckoned him. “Come with me.” Gavin followed him down a narrow hallway to a modest dining room. “Please, sit. I will bring tea.” Sage Marckys set the lamp on the table and waddled from the room.

Gavin didn’t have time to socialize. He stood behind a chair and waited. When Sage Marckys returned carrying a pair of tea cups, Gavin said, “Look, I don’t want to be rude, but I’m in a hurry. I need the letter. If you’ll copy it for me, I’ll give you the pendant and be on my way.”

Sage Marckys peered up at him, squinting through his spectacles. “Let me explain,” he said as he set the cups down. “The letter Ronor Kinshield wrote was intended for the lordovers, not for the public. It contains disturbing information about King Arek’s death. If this information were to... get out,“ he said with a wave of his hand, ”it would cause our citizens undue distress. It would be best if the letter stayed lost.”

Gavin hated what he was about to do, but it seemed the only way. “I understand,” he said, “but there’s somethin’ you should know.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the blue moonstone, keeping it hidden in his fist. “You said I look familiar. Maybe you have seen me before.” He opened his palm, revealing the gem, and watched the scholar’s face.

Sage Marckys’s eyebrows shot up. “Remarkable. This looks like the fourth...” He raised his eyes to Gavin’s, his mouth dropping open.

Gavin pulled the scabbard off his back and tilted the hilt of his sword toward the scholar to show him the three gems embedded there.

Sage Marckys stumbled and gripped a chair back. “Oh glory be to the seven realms,” he breathed. “I believe I understand now, my liege.” He went to one knee and bowed his head.

Gavin felt the blood rush to his face. What man was so ignoble to genuflect to a warrant knight? He touched the scholar’s shoulder. “Please don’t do that.”

When Sage Marckys raised his eyes to Gavin’s, he stammered an apology as he rose. “I should have recognized you from the cave the day the first rune was solved. Forgive me, my liege.”

“Never mind that,” Gavin said. Having people socially superior to him suddenly treat him with reverence disturbed him. He removed the black velvet pouch from his pocket and pulled apart the drawstring top. Careful not to touch the diamond, he withdrew Calewen’s Pendant and let it dangle from its chain in front of Sage Marckys’s face.

The scholar gasped. His eyes followed the diamond’s gentle swing until Gavin laid the pendant on the table.

“The letter?” Gavin asked.

“Of course, my liege. Our regular scribe’s away, but if you don’t mind waiting, I’ll copy it myself.”

Daia paced the length of the dining room, her stomach knotted, her hands flexing and unflexing. Brawna sat quietly, and Edan babbled some nonsense about Gavin’s ability to fend for himself. Daia barely heard him. Gavin could be dead, lying in an alley somewhere, or unconscious and bound, being whisked away to Ravenkind’s hideaway to be tortured. When the door opened and Gavin walked in, she let out a cry of relief. “Where the hell have you been? You can’t just sneak out while everyone’s asleep.”

Gavin’s brow dipped. “You’re hollering at me for sneaking out, after the stunt you pulled with Cirang’s knife?”

“My life isn’t as valuable as yours is. All it takes-- wait. How did you know about that?”

Gavin grinned. “That connection you made with me? On the stairs? Went both ways.”

Daia felt her cheeks tingle. What else had he gleaned from poking around in her mind? “Gavin, all it takes is one hot-handed brigand with a death wish to do you in, and there goes another two hundred years of our history.” She paced around the table. “We’ve waited a long time for this. The people deserve a king. I’m not about to let you go wandering off unescorted into Yrys-knows-what dangers without a defender at your back. You owe it to Thendylath to exercise caution.”

She expected an angry retort, but he sat down quietly at the table with a smile on his face and reached for a piece of bread.

“I want to go with you,” she continued, “no matter how benign the situation appears to be. Brodas Ravenkind’s still at large. If I can’t accompany you for whatever reason, take Edan or Brawna.”

Gavin chuckled.

His humor ignited her fury. He obviously didn’t take the situation -- or her concern -- seriously. “What do you find so amusing, Kinshield?” she hollered. “The fact that you worried us all with your inexplicable disappearance, or that you could’ve been killed?”

“No. I’m just trying to imagine the scholars at the institute trying to slay me with their mighty quills.” He reached into his tunic and withdrew a scroll. Edan, Daia and Brawna watched him silently as he unrolled it. He handed it to Daia. “Read this.”

Daia took it, holding Gavin’s gaze. Was this what she thought it was? She scanned it, reading silently. It was. The letter to the Lordover Tern from Ronor Kinshield -- a copy, judging from the clean parchment and fresh smell of ink. Had he read it yet? Could he read?

“Out loud,” Gavin said.

Risan walked in. “Dwaeth is still asleep.” He looked around the table. “I am interrupting?”

“Risan, take a seat,” Gavin said. “You should hear this too.”

Casting her eyes back down at the page, Daia began to read the letter aloud.

To Portulus Celònd, Lordover Tern

From Ronor Kinshield, Champion to King Arek of Thendylath

This fifteenth day of Nevebria in the second year, fourth decade, fifteenth century of the Sacrifice

It is with a heavy heart and head hanged in shame that I take pen in hand to give an accounting of the events that transpired at the palace on a day that shall forever be mourned as one of ultimate defeat. I ask you to please relay the information to the other lordovers of Thendylath. On the matter of how widely to distribute this knowledge, I leave to your better judgment.

The wizard Crigoth Sevae, in his foul attempt to usurp the throne, has unleashed upon the world a monster horrific in appearance and so vastly powerful that three thousand of the king’s men-at-arms joined in a single force could not defeat it. This monster is called Ritol and it feeds on the life force of the dying. Not only has it acquired an insatiable lust for the human spirit, but it acquires the spirit-bound attributes of those it consumes. It has thusly gained immense magical powers in the few days since it crossed into this realm. It was at the claws of this wretched beast that the queen has perished.

My most solemn vow was to protect King Arek, with my own life if need be. I left his side in order to ensure the safety of the queen and the unborn heir, and in doing so, I failed that vow. Had I known she was already deceased with the heir lying still within her womb, I would have disobeyed King Arek’s final command and delivered him safely from the palace at all costs.

Yet, on the brink of King Arek’s death, even as I was about to surrender him to the monster Ritol, I made another vow. I swore that in the event of Queen Calewen’s death and that of their child, I would not leave the kingdom without a ruler. King Arek entreated me to speak the names of the five runes he’d carved into the tablet, claim the gems they protected and his magic contained therein, and rule Thendylath. With this new vow fresh upon my lips, I abandoned our king to a torturous death at the claws of the demon Ritol. King Arek’s demise, and the manner of it, sits heavily upon my shoulders.

Alas, I cannot fulfill my vow. I have neither the strength of will nor the clarity of conscience to do so.

Responsibility for the king’s death is mine. I fully expect that my punishment for disobedience and regicide will be death, and I would welcome it as a reprieve from the shame in which I now live. My greatest fear is that I will live on in the Afterlife to face my king and be required to answer for my failed vows. My only salvation would be by the grace of an enlightened man who would meditate upon the runes and learn their names, thus claiming the throne in my stead. Yet, it is not within my right to tutor such a man in order to relieve me of my burden, and so I live on, ever hopeful that my savior will present himself.

To him I would offer this counsel: beware Ritol. Find a way to vanquish the demon imprisoned within the palace. On passing through the gate with all five gems in your possession, you will open the demon’s prison and make vulnerable to its horrors every man, woman and child of Thendylath and, verily, the world. It is now up to you to seal the rift and end the onslaught of beyonders from the underworld, but save yourself at all costs, lest the power of Wayfarer become Ritol’s.

Finally, should you miraculously survive this challenge, I implore you to find King Arek’s bones entombed within the palace and give him the burial he deserves.

Yours,

Ronor Kinshield

Chapter 62