Knight Eternal (A Novel of Epic Fantasy) (Harbinger of Doom Volume 3) (26 page)

One of the gnomes stepped
forward, still winded and sweating from the run, though Artol had
carried him most of the way. Old and stooped, his glasses had but
one lens, his shirt torn, his lip bloody. “I am Snor Slipnet of the
Clan Rumbottle out of the Good Hills. Those with me are my
kinsmen.” He bowed low before du Maris. “I thank you and your men
for rescuing me and mine, except for Bindel and Brodle who were
shot dead by those scum. Good lads were they. We are in your
debt.”

“
You’re welcome, Master
Slipnet,” said du Maris.

“
If I may ask, why did you
risk yourselves to help us?”

Du Maris straightened and lifted his chin.
“Because all people have the right to live free, and should be
judged by their actions, not the shape of their ears or the shade
of their skin. Simple concepts, but beyond the Thothians.”

“
Tell me,” said du Maris,
“Why did you come to Tragoss?”

“
We sailed on a caravel
out of Kern,” said Slipnet, “foolishly seeking adventure, though
I’m afraid we found far more than we bargained for. At my age I
should’ve known better,” said the gnome, staring at his feet. “I
hesitate to ask, but—”

“
We’ll get you passage on
a ship up the Hudsar. It may take a few days, but we will see you
safely on your way home.”

“
I can’t thank you enough.
My clan will remember your service to us, du Maris of Tragoss
Mor.”

Du Maris ordered rooms prepared for the
gnomes. Slipnet and Ob shook hands and wished each other well
before one of the guardsmen escorted the Rumbottles out.

Looking to Theta, du Maris said, “And who
are you?”

Ob firmly pushed Claradon on the back.

Claradon began to speak.
“I am—”

“
I am called Sinch,” said
Tanch stepping forward. “A spice merchant out of Lomion, and these
hulking brutes are my bodyguards.”

“
A spice merchant?” said
du Maris. “It’s not many a spice merchant that would risk his life
to take on a couple score Thothian monks.” Du Maris eyed some
crates piled nearby him. He opened one, rummaged about for a moment
and then pulled out a small cloth bag. He tossed it to Tanch. “Open
it.”

Tanch did so, and pulled forth a handful of
something that looked like small dried berries.

“
Name them,” said du
Maris.

Tanch studied the berries. He knew them
not.

“
Any spice merchant out of
Lomion City would know,” said du Maris,” a hand on his sword
hilt.

“
Show us your armor,” said
Claradon, as he removed his traveling cloak, revealing his gleaming
plate and chain armor beneath. “Come now, you don’t think us so
deaf not to have heard your armor clanking as we ran through the
streets.”

Du Maris stared at the crest etched on
Claradon’s breastplate. “You’re from Dor Eotrus?”

“
We are.”

Du Maris removed his cloak, revealing armor
similar to Claradon’s. His men did the same.

“
Church knights,” said
Ob.

“
Sundarians,” replied
Claradon, the elf woman by his side, her face sad, but
proud.

Du Maris nodded. “I am Sir Hithron du Maris,
of the Sundarians, as you have surmised.”

Claradon put a hand to Tanch’s shoulder and
moved past him. “I know your family. A du Maris sits on the Council
of Lords of Lomion.”

“
My uncle,” said du
Maris.

“
I am Brother Claradon
Eotrus, Lord of Dor Eotrus, and Caradonian Knight. These others are
with me, save for this young woman whom we rescued in the
square.”

Du Maris studied Claradon. “A Dor Lord in
Tragoss? That’s a rare thing. Show me your signet and your
shield.”

Claradon held out his right hand. A golden
ring with the Eotrus family crest dominated his ring finger.

Du Maris approached, studied the ring for a
time, and nodded.

Claradon pulled up his right sleeve to
reveal a silver bracer embossed with an image of a small shield
within which was inscribed the insignia of the order of Caradonian
Knights.

Du Maris studied it, and then pulled a
golden chain from beneath his tunic. From it hung a golden
medallion in the shape of a small shield inscribed with runes. He
displayed it before Claradon.

“
I’m honored to meet you,
Lord Eotrus.”

“
And I, you, Sir
Hithron.”

They shook hands.

“
I’m from Dor Caladrill
originally, so I know well the Eotrus name. Your noble family has
safeguarded Lomion’s northern border with honor and courage for
many generations. Be at ease, you and yours are welcome here. Tell
me please, what business brings you to Tragoss Mor?”

Claradon stared at du
Maris for some moments before responding. “We’re following a ship
called
The White Rose
. She is a day out of port at least. My brother is aboard, a
prisoner.”

“
Who holds
him?”

“
The Shadow League, we
believe.”

Du Maris nodded. “Long
have black rumors swirled about that name.”

“
What is this place?” said
Claradon, looking about the Spartan room. “A safehouse?”

“
More than that. To
outsiders, it’s but the warehouse of a middling merchant. In truth,
it’s a Sundarian Chapterhouse, the southernmost chapterhouse in all
Midgaard, and rather secret, of course. I am its
preceptor.”

Du Maris’s voice took on a
grave tone. “Were you not who you are, or someone else I could
trust, you would not leave this place now that you know what and
where it is.”

Claradon nodded. “I understand your caution;
I’ve heard the Thothians arrest Churchmen on sight.”

“
That they do. Your men
can be trusted, of course?” said du Maris, with a hint of a
smile.

“
Have no fear there. I
expect the Thothians would enjoy arresting us as much as
you.”

“
I doubt that,” said du
Maris. “We’ve many enemies here, amongst the monks, if not the
common folk.

Du Maris looked to the elf. “Young lady,
what are you called?”

“
I am Kayla. Kayla
Kazeran.”

“
And how did you come to
be a prisoner of the monks?”

“
They attacked our ship.
My brother and I were sailing down the Hudsar from the Linden
Forest to sell our silks at Dover. A longship commanded by some
monks attacked us.” She looked down at the floor; tears welled in
her eyes.

“
The monks attack ships,
now?” said Ob.

“
They said we had no right
on the river—that it’s for volsungs only. They demanded we pay them
a toll—a hundred pieces of silver. The captain wouldn’t pay and
they put an arrow through his chest. Before we could pull away,
they swarmed aboard, killing everyone without cause or mercy. Now
only I am left.”

“
They’ve done much the
same at least twice in the last month,” said du Maris. “They grow
bolder now that they’ve fully taken over Tragoss. My condolences
for your losses, Miss. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, but
it’s over now. You’re safe here and we will see you safely home.
The Linden isn’t far from the Good Hills. You can travel with
Slipnet and his clansmen. I will send some of my men along to
assure that have no more trouble.”

“
Thanks, but no. There is
nothing in Lindenwood for me to return to now.”

“
You can’t remain in
Tragoss Mor. As an elf, it’s just not safe.”

“
I’m only one-sixth elf,
or so the Lindonaire often remind me.”

“
That matters little to
the monks. If you’ve any elven looks, they mark you an elf and
that’s that.”

“
Believe me, I’ve no wish
to be in this accursed city one moment more than I have to. These
monks are the worst of men. Their kind is why my people live apart
from you volsungs.”

“
Then what do you propose
to do?” said Claradon.

She considered for a
moment and turned to Claradon. “I know how to sail a bit, and to
hunt with a bow, and I can wield a sword as good as most men. I
will join your crew, if you’ll have me.”

Claradon’s eyebrows rose.
“I—well—I don’t know—but—maybe—”

“
That means, yes, in
dumbass,” said Ob. “About time there was a woman on this
adventure.”

“
What about Bertha
Smallbutt?” said Dolan.

“
She doesn’t count,” said
Ob.

“
Why not?”

“
Just because.”

“
Getting you back to your
ship won’t be so easy,” said du Maris. “At the first sounding of
the whistles, the watchmen will have closed the gates between the
Harbor District and the inner city. Passing the gates is no small
task. Solid iron, fifteen feet high, with a dozen guards defending
it, and more but a whistle away.”

“
So if we hadn’t stopped
in the square to help free the captives, our butts would’ve been
trapped on this side anyhow?” said Ob.

“
More than likely, yes,”
said du Maris.

“
So, how do we get
through?”

Du Maris and his knights led the group
through a narrow tunnel, dark and dank, deep beneath the streets of
Tragoss Mor, torches held high to light their way. The tunnels went
on and on.

“
What are these tunnels?”
said Claradon. “This is no basement or sewer.”

“
Tragoss Mor is an ancient
place,” said du Maris. “City upon city has been built on this
ground, one atop the other. These tunnels are from olden days. They
lead to most parts of the city. I can’t take you all the way to the
docks, as that branch of the tunnel has collapsed, but I will get
you close.”

“
How did you find them?”
said Claradon.

“
We built
them.”

“
The
Sundarians?”

“
Yes. My order has served
here for long years. We use these passages to travel unseen. The
citadel that the Thothians defile and call their temple was once
our stronghold. Now we hide behind spice sacks, but the landscape
will change again with the passing years. It always does. We will
outlast them.”

After a time, they came
upon a side passage, barred off and posted with a sign that read,
“No entry—beware the beast.”

“
What is that about, du
Maris?” said Ob, after tipping his flask.

“
There is a creature
somewhere down that way. A demon. Something left over from the old
world. No man goes that way and lives.”

“
Old friend of yours,
Theta?” said Ob.

Theta ignored him.

“
Guess we’ll have to come
back, eventually,” said Dolan.

They traveled a goodly distance, and then
turned down a side passage that ended at a rusty metal ladder
bolted to the stone wall. Du Maris proceeded up and lifted a large
flat stone banded with iron that covered the opening atop the
tunnel. The group ascended and found themselves in a musty
basement, unused and unkempt.

“
I can take you no
farther,” said the Sundarian. “Above is an old warehouse, now
abandoned. The western docks are about ten blocks due
south.”

XIII

NOT LONG FOR
VALHALLA

“
Don’t forget these words or

the Duelist with be the death of you.”

—
Pipkorn

“
Lord Theta, Mr. Seran is
coming,” said Dolan. “Up ahead.”

“
Dolan, you’ve got the
eyes of a hawk,” said Artol squinting.

Seran and two of his men approached, still
several blocks away. They looked from side to side, searching, as
they made their way down the avenue, which was only lightly crowded
with pedestrians, carts, and the ever present street hawkers
cajoling passersby into entering the shops that lined both sides of
the street.

“
There must be trouble,”
said Ob. “Everyone was supposed to stay with the ship.”

Seran looked relieved when he caught sight
of the group some moments later and dashed the rest of the way
toward them, waving them toward the mouth of a narrow alley that
put them out of sight of most prying eyes along the avenue.

“
Lord
Eotrus, Glimador sent us to find you.
The
Grey Talon
berthed not two piers away
from
The Falcon
.
Her marines are crawling the docks, bristling for a fight. Somehow
they know you’re not aboard and they’ve sent patrols to scour the
city for you.”

“
Is the ship secure?” said
Theta.

“
For now,” said Seran.
“But they aim to move on us, I’m sure. There are a lot of them and
they have Kalathen Knights with them—more than a few.”

“
Dolan, see if anyone
followed Seran,” said Theta. Dolan pulled down the cap that covered
his ears a bit farther, nodded, and slipped away, silent as a
panther.

“
Some followed,” said
Seran. “We lost them in the crowd back in the dock ward. We thought
it worth the risk to warn you.”

“
You did well,” said
Claradon.

“
It’s the Alders behind
this,” said Ob. “Let’s cut the buggers down. Darn it boy, you
should’ve killed that old fart Barusa when you had the
chance.”