Love And War (16 page)

By their slowed movements, he knew that scouts had found the remains of more than one of
the fires. He had been careful to scatter a few fragments around each fire, junk he had
gathered on his way here. Just enough to lend truth to the thoughts of the enemy - that
the Queen's foes awaited her army in this forest.

Garrick heard the hiss of an indrawn breath. A leathery, misshapen foot moved into sight.

The knight's sword was a blur. It was into and out of the draconian's neck before the
creature had a chance to die. The body solidified to stone and tumbled forward. Garrick
glanced around the tree and then darted swiftly away.

He did not stop until he was some distance from the area where he had killed the reptilian
warrior. Again, he pushed himself tightly against the tree and waited. This time, the wait
was not long. His eyes were already getting blurry; soon he would be unable to see.

These scouts were men. His first blow took out the closest of the two. The scout had time
to gasp and no more. Even as he fell, Garrick was already working on his companion. This
man had time to ready his weapon, but his skill was far inferior to the training a Knight
of Solamnia received. Garrick disarmed him first and then stunned him with a blow to the
shoulder. When the man attempted to crawl away, Garrick knocked him out. Sheathing his
sword, he dragged his senseless opponent behind a tree. He forced himself to concentrate
on necessary actions. There were some things that had to be done.

He stayed as long as he felt was safe and then moved off to what would be his third, and
probably final, position. He dared not take any longer. His head was already pounding.

Falling against a tree, he sought desperately to catch his breath. They were ready for him
now. The bodies of their fallen comrades had alerted them to the immediate threat. No
longer did they attempt to sneak through the brush. Garrick estimated at least five
adversaries, two of whom were almost within striking distance. He steadied his hands as
best he could and blinked several times in a futile attempt to clear his vision. He could
hear the hiss of the draconians as clearly as if they were breathing in his ears.

The first to pass him made the mistake of looking the wrong way as it passed. Garrick nearly sheared its head off. Unfortunately, his speed had
slowed considerably. The draconian petrified and fell, pulling the great sword from the
knight's weakened grasp even as it dropped.

Weaponless, Garrick's luck nevertheless remained with him. The second draconian had been
momentarily stunned by the sudden attack. Before it could react properly, Garrick was
already on it. They struggled fiercely, the draconian's awkward build proving a
disadvantage in hand-to-hand combat on the ground. Only the knight's exhaustion evened the
contest.

There were shouts from all around, both human and draconian. A patrol had arrived. Garrick
was torn away from his adversary, who remained on the ground, gasping for breath. He was
able to strike one human in the stomach, sending the recipient of the blow back a good
four or five steps. Then, his arms were pinned behind his back and he was forced down. A
draconian slapped him hard on the face. There was the sound of steel being drawn, but
someone muttered something Garrick was unable to understand. The muttering was followed by
the sound of the weapon being sheathed once more. As he had surmised, they had been
ordered to take him prisoner.

Two of the draconians, their wings fluttering in anger, held him tight while one of the
humans bound his hands together behind him. Someone produced chains. Garrick's feet were
hooked together so that he stumbled when he tried to take normal steps. His helm was torn
from his head and a leather collar with a leash attached to it wrapped around his neck,
nearly choking him. He stumbled then and fell to his knees. Determination more than
anything else made him stand once more. He could barely feel the blows of his captors
anymore.

A human who must have been in charge led the entire group back to camp. They were
obviously convinced that a large band of knights was lurking somewhere in the woods.
Having faced one knight who, despite his appearance, was readily capable of taking on a
good half dozen opponents, they were in no hurry to meet up with a larger force. The
various members of the patrol took turns pulling him. Had they not been convinced that he
must have information of some sort, they would have gladly killed him in order to speed up
their retreat even more.

At some point during the trek, Garrick could hold out no longer. His head felt like it was
bursting. The woods became unbearably hot. He was no longer able to coordinate his movements, nor could he even tell what was happening around him.

Mercifully, the entire world chose to go black.

Cold reality struck him in the face and dripped down his neck. Garrick shivered and tried
to focus his eyes. The light of midday burned into his very mind, forcing him to close his
eyes once more. He tried to stand, but found himself bound tight to some sort of chair.
Someone stirred.

“Shall I throw another bucket in his face, General?”

The voice was as cold as it was commanding. “I think not. If our knight is anything of a
man, he will open his eyes and face us. Still, if he is a coward, perhaps another bucket
of water would be . . .”

Garrick gritted his teeth and forced himself to look into the light, despite the agony it
caused him each moment. After seeing nothing but glare for the first few seconds, he was
eventually able to make out two figures. One had the slightly stooped look of a draconian.
The other was human - so to speak. All Garrick could tell at first was that the human
stood a good seven feet in height. Both the knight and his captors were in a large tent.
Tables and chairs stood to one side. Numerous piles of armor and equipment lay scattered
elsewhere. There seemed to be no one purpose for the tent. For now, it served as his
prison.

The giant chuckled softly. “Very good. I see the Knights of Solamnia deserve something of
their reputation after all. I was beginning to think it was all myth.”

“Untie me.” The words escaped the knight's lips as little more than a croak, but the giant
caught them nonetheless.

“Oh, I couldn't risk that. You might overwhelm us and crawl to safety - given six or seven
hours head start.”

The draconian hissed its amusement. Garrick studied the two as they became clearer. The
reptilian aide was much like its brethren, save that it was motley-colored compared to
those the knight had seen earlier. There was, however, a vicious look in its eyes, one
that said that this draconian would readily pull Gar-rick's fingers from his hands and his
arms from his shoulders if given the chance. By all practical consideration, this was the
general's torturer.

The general himself was most definitely a giant among his fellow men, and not just in
height. He easily outweighed Garrick by almost one-third again his own weight, and none of
it could be called fat. Strength alone, though, was not sufficient to coordinate a major
army with great success. The knight did not doubt for one minute that the massive frame was matched by an equally impressive mind. “I am General Krynos of Culthairai, a
land I'm sure you've never heard of and which does not deserve any notice whatsoever. When I learned of
the Queen's return and the armies being raised, I seized the chance to join and prove my
skills. Up until now, though, I've lacked a sufficient challenge.”

In truth, even the Knights of Solamnia had been awed by some of the accounts they had
heard about Krynos. The armies he had crushed would have turned back a number of Dragon
Highlords, much less their various generals. It was even said that the next opening in the
ranks of the Highlords would see the addition of Krynos.

Only a garrison stood in his way. A tiny army. A tiny army and Garrick.

Krynos stroked his rich, black beard. He was a handsome, proud man. Proud and stubborn.

“What is your name, Knight of Solamnia?” “Garrick.” “That's it? Just Garrick? Not Garrick
the Great? The Champion? The Draconian Slayer?” The wings of the torturer spread in anticipation. The draconian bore a huge reptilian smile that told of deadly delights to come when Garrick
was its to play with. The knight pointedly ignored the creature.

“Just Garrick.”

“Well then, 'Just Garrick,' how many of your comrades lie in wait in the forest? The
scouts and patrols count at least three dozen fires. The Knights of Solamnia, whatever
their faults, do not run away. Even against impossible odds.”

“I am the only one. You can search all you like. You will find no others. I came on my
own.”

Krynos laughed, and the draconian hissed. The sharp claws of the latter slapped Garrick
hard across the mouth. He could feel the blood flowing from his lip. The general put a
hand out to halt another blow by the torturer.

“Not yet - and not the mouth. We want to be able to understand him when he talks. And you
will talk, Knight. Ssaras is very good at this job, especially with humans. You would do
well to give up on such a stupid tale and tell us where your comrades have hidden
themselves. I can afford to wait them out for a few days. Nothing lies beyond them that
can stop me. Only an already-battered land and a tiny, insignificant garrison. The nearest
force of substantial strength is two weeks away and much too busy with problems of its own to bother worrying about me.” It did not surprise Garrick that the
general was so well-

informed about the region. That was perhaps one thing that had helped the knight. Used to
the thoroughness of his information network, Krynos could not accept the solitary presence
of Garrick. The fires might be real; they might be fakes. If one knight could wait in
hiding, could not others? Everyone knew that the Knights of Solamnia were skilled in all
aspects of warfare. Who knew what sort of tricks they might pull? Krynos could not afford
a mistake at this time. Even a minor one would cause him a loss of face.

Garrick remained silent. Krynos frowned and then, nodded to Ssaras. The draconian waddled
eagerly to a table upon which a number of devices, recognizable and unrecognizable, had
been placed. The creature selected one and showed it eagerly to its master. The general
eyed it with almost clinical interest before shaking his head. Disappointed, the draconian
put down the instrument and waited for further orders. Krynos turned his attention back to
his prisoner.

“Where are your companions, Garrick? How do they plan to meet us? In one massive charge on
the field? Sounds foolish, but I know your Order. I wanted to become of your kind before I
came to my senses and turned to the Queen.”

Earlier, such a statement might have stung Garrick. Now, though, he was well beyond such
petty things. It was difficult enough just to remain conscious, much less be bothered by
meaningless slurs from the tongue of his foe.

The general snapped his fingers. Ssaras scurried over to a pile of odds and ends and
picked something up. Garrick gradually identified it as his own shield. The general took
it from the draconian and looked at it with some amusement.

“Perhaps I am overestimating the noble Knights of Solamnia. Perhaps they are indeed
skulking around in the woods, hiding out of sight, fighting like elves or gully dwarves -
with no honor - coming from behind their opponents.” He dropped the shield and spat on the
front. One heavy boot came down on the wet spot. With little effort, Krynos had put a
great dent in the shield.

Garrick's growing madness threatened to burst then, but the warmth around his chest
checked it. It occurred to him then that they had removed his armor but not his medallion.
He could see no way that they could have possibly missed it in their search.

Ssaras looked hopefully at the general. Krynos was calculating his possibilities.

“Get Thaygan.”

The torturer hissed. “Thaygan is a fraud. All clerics are frauds, General.”

“Would you like to tell that to the Queen herself, Ssaras? She might beg to differ.”

The draconian quieted immediately. Without further ado, it scurried away to seek the
cleric. Garrick muttered a prayer to Paladine. Should Thaygan be a strong enough cleric,
the knight would have little chance of defending his mind from the psychic onslaught.
Unlike many of his brethren, he had a strong respect for the power of clerics.

A strong, gauntleted hand pulled his head up by the hair. Krynos moved close to him, so
close that Garrick was able to feel the other's hot breath on his face. “Tell me what I
want to know now, and I'll spare you the tender touch of Thaygan. In his own way, he
leaves a prisoner much worse off than Ssaras does.”

“There is only me.” The general's eyes flared. “Do you swear to that?” Garrick avoided the
binding trap by repeating his statement once more. As he hoped, his refusal to swear only convinced Krynos even more
that there were other knights lurking around somewhere near or in the forest ahead.

The general let Garrick's head drop. He paced the width of the tent several times before
the sudden presence of the dark cleric brought him to a startled halt. The cleric stared
at the general and then at the prisoner, who was struggling feebly with the bonds. Nothing
of the cleric was visible save his hands.

“You have need of my services, General Krynos?”

“Regretfully so. I need information from this man, and you know how stubborn Knights of
Solamnia can be.”

“A Solamnic Knight? Here?”

“Are your ears still stuffed with the chants and incantations of your order? A Knight of
Solamnia, found in the woods - and where there's one, there's more. I want the truth from
him. Beware, though. He is not in the best of condition. I fear my men must have mussed
him up a little bit too hard.”

The cleric drew back his hood. Garrick had the brief notion that he was being visited by
Death itself. The cleric was emaciated beyond normal tolerances. To the prisoner, it
seemed as if Thaygan's face should crack in pieces each time the old man spoke.