The Black Keep (The Chronicles of Llars) (25 page)

“A good question, friend from Silver Mountain,” said the knight diplomatically. “I have but yesterday returned to the Isles from the war in Al Zocar. The war has been costly in lives and in money and I must gather reinforcements for my liege, the Paladin Regent.” The noble looking man had a far-off look in his eye as he spoke, his features hardening as he looked back to the elf.

“Who fights in Al Zocar?” asked Gennevera.

Ederick seemed surprised at her ignorance, but was astute enough to gather her question was sincere and was gracious enough to explain.

“Al Zocar is the seat of the Great Lord, Zuhr, and His church. It is on a beautiful island halfway between our continent and that of the Karbander nation. Al Zocar is said to be the birthplace of all life on Llars, the place where Zuhr rested among his first children in a wondrous garden after creating the world.”

“Alas, it is also sacred to the likes of Qra’z and Umber. Two foul creatures spawned from the depths of Hades! Although the Umberites have not bothered with Al Zocar in nearly a millennium, we Zuharim have repulsed the Qra’zian pigs over and over throughout the centuries as they seek to defile our sacred land.”

“Why cannot this place be shared?” she asked, sincerely.

Ederick was not pleased with that question, smacking of blasphemy. “Because, the Umberites and Qra’zians are demon worshiping animals! They are unfit to walk on the sacred and holy ground where Zuhr Himself has walked!”

Gennevera sensed that she had perhaps overstepped and simply nodded as though the knight’s explanation were perfectly sound.

“I don’t trust him, Carym. You saw with your own eyes what the Zuharim have become!” Kharrihan was angry. Had he not been a mere four and a half feet tall, he would have been very intimidating.

The knight looked at the short elf, perplexed and angry. “What is this about?”

“As if you don’t know!” snorted the elf.

Ederick looked as though he were ready to kill the elf on the spot, and probably could have done so with little difficulty were it not for the rest of the companions there. Carym decided he had better intervene.

“In the Underllars, your brethren have been committing heinous acts of evil. Sadly, I have seen this for myself; how do you explain that, sir?”

“You have come from the Underllars? You saw my brethren there?” asked the knight intently.

“Ha! You see, Carym? He knows! He knows and yet he still plays the role of gallant knight come to save us all!”

“Easy, Kharr. This man has done us no harm. And, we must admit, we know very little about this other than what we saw in the Underllars. He will be given the opportunity to explain the damage his brethren have done to your people.”

The elf was not pleased, but would not argue with Carym. Instead, he stood there with his hands on his hips, his eyes demanding that the knight get on with it.

“I’m afraid I simply do not know what this is all about. There is a division of the Zuharim, called the Lupherians after Knight Commander Lupherius, whose purpose is the study of ancient lore and to herald the Return of the First Paladin, an ancient prophecy. I have been serving under the Knight Commander-General, the Paladin Regent of the Zuharim for these past years and know little of what transpires here in these peaceful lands. What I do know is that the Lupherians have been dispatched to the corners of Llars to find what they may about the Return. Alas, I know little else.”

“Do they wear robes of white and blue?” asked Carym.

“Indeed, they are sometimes called the ‘robed ones’ and are comprised of many knights whose sharpest weapon is their mind. Very smart, but not very skilled in martial battle skills. Many of them are men who could not survive the trials of the Knights of the Line.”

“While in the Underllars we encountered a lone Zuharim in white and blue robes, bearing the emblem of your Order, and leading a group of rambling skeletons,” Carym paused to watch the man’s reaction. His face had hardened, however, and now he wore a mask of stone, revealing nothing. “Hideous creatures whose very existence is anathema to what we all know your Order stands for, or once stood for.” Carym had trouble keeping the edge from his voice. The very thought of the Order he once thought to join, partaking in the grisly practice of necromancy, angered him deeply.

“This cannot be,” whispered the knight, his face pale, jaws clenching.

Zach scowled, muttering under his breath about trusting knights, but Ederick did not seem to hear. Carym was very interested in the man’s reaction. He was definitely thinking this through. Finally, the big man nodded, let out a great sigh, and leaned against a large tree.

“Reports have begun filtering in through our intelligence network that the Lupherians had hired necromancers, practitioners of death magic, in hopes of communicating with the spirit of the First Paladin. The reports were mostly anonymous, with little to substantiate the claims. The Lupherians who where fighting with us in Al Zocar vehemently denied the allegations as preposterous lies. We believed the Lupherians.”

“So it seems the traitorous infidels have been making mischief of the good name of Zuhr while the rest of us fought, and died, in Al Zocar,” the man’s voice was low and bore a dangerous edge. “It seems Zuhr has chosen me to play a role in the destruction of these vile blasphemers.”

Kharrihan wasn’t convinced. “Send him on his way, Carym. How can we believe him?”

“I believe him,” said Carym. “He has given us no reason not to. I will not condemn this man for the actions of others who, for all we know, may be acting independently as renegades. Sir Ederick, we travel to Port of Powyss and then on to Port of Obyn on Myrnwell.”

“Myrnwell is where I am headed too, the bastard Tywys Rhi turned down my request for aid and threatened to banish me for good,” the knight was scandalized. “Now I must seek an audience with the Rhi of Myrnwell.”

Kharrihan unhappily returned to his position in formation, but respected Carym’s authority in the matter. Carym resolved to talk to his scout more later. He hoped that the knight would have proven himself by them.

“Then come with us to Myrnwell, at least. Once we get to Obyn we plan to assess the situation in the rest of the Isles, and determine what our next step will be.”

The knight nodded.

Then the hissing sound and the rustling of branches came again from behind the party. For a moment no one moved, each prepared to fight or run. No matter which way they looked, orok sized shadows danced between trees with alarming speed and finesse. But none strayed close enough to attack them or for the companions to shoot with their bows. The hissing and crackling laughter rose and fell and was getting so loud that the companions found they must raise their voices to be heard.

The pull of the Shadow stone surged, so strong that Carym found his hand slipping into the pouch and gripping the black stone before he realized what was happening. The stone called to him, resonated within him. He felt its power coursing up his arm and into his chest and thoughts of lashing out at the wood with tongues of black fire laying waste to acres at a time, crossed his mind. Quickly he forced his hand to let go, but the longing for that power remained.

“We must be moving!” shouted Carym, trying to be heard among the din. He signaled for Kharrihan to run ahead and scout the way for them as the group moved out, following what appeared to be a footpath, accepting the risk for the speed it offered. All were relieved to hear the buzzing sound of the oroks dissipate.

The companions traveled the well-worn trail for hours. They were all relieved that there had been no attacks and that it seemed the oroks were not interested in engaging them at all, rather they seemed to be merely following. Each time they stopped, the hubbub of voices and guttural noises would slowly increase the longer they remained still. And each time they marched on, the buzzing died away.

“We are being herded!” said Carym with anger. He didn’t like the idea that he and his friends could be walking into a trap made by three score oroks. The thought would have been comical any other time, for any trap prepared by oroks was as likely as not to backfire on the stupid creatures. But not today. Today Carym witnessed a fearsome hurkin leading a disciplined band of oroks and he feared the real menace had yet to be revealed.

Kharrihan returned to the group and reported the presence of a road ahead. A well-traveled, wide, cobblestone road. They moved to the road and stopped, not sensing pursuit for the moment. Carym silently nodded to Kharr and Bart, each scouting the road in a separate direction. They returned later as the sun began to set, their expressions grim. They reported their findings to Carym.

“The road to the left is flanked by thick woods on both sides. It leads to a stone archway where the woods end and the road travels over low, flat land toward a keep atop a large hill which overlooks the area. A black keep, I’m afraid.” Kharrihan looked crestfallen for he understood the dire portent of his words. Bart, too, seemed to shake his head in consternation as Kharrihan finished his report.

“What say you, Bart?” asked Carym.

“The very same, so it is. The very same.”

Carym wasn’t sure he heard the bard right. “How can that be?” The two scouts looked at each other with complete understanding while the rest of the group was perplexed.

“Tis the Curse of the Black Baron, so it is.”

“The what?” asked Ederick. “What curse?” The knight’s face paled, and he looked about apprehensively. The bard spoke first.

“I’m something of an expert on local history, good sir. And sadly, we have already passed a wandering knight, so we did. ‘Tis one of the first signs of a border shift, the Curse of Baron Tyrannus. As you saw on the road behind us, the filthy remains of a foul Battle Ghoul, constructed of who knows how many corpses, fouling up the air. ’Tis no coincidence, sir. The borders have shifted and they’ve taken you with us, so they have!”

The pack settled into a base of operations in the port town of Gryfu, on the southern coast of Ckaymru. There Alyksandra assumed they would find news of the person whom they sought. To their surprise, no news could be found. The spies operating on behalf of the Society in Caelambra and Amberlou, the only other possible port destinations, reported nothing also. As those two locations had been recently invaded by the Nashians and the Sargannish, respectively, Alyksandra decided to continue their search from Gryfu.

After weeks of scouting the isle and the surrounding islands, Aura reported back. “I’ve got the scent!”

Alyksandra was relieved. Morghal had not been pleased with their lack of progress, yet he had seemed to understand something more of the situation than she did and had been patient.

“Where?” she asked, as her Second smiled.

“North. One day at wolf speed.”

Alyksandra nodded. “Where does that lead us?”

“The mountains between here and Powyss. Powyss is a large port city. I’ll bet they are working their way there to obtain passage north.”

“Probably so,” she was quiet a moment. Then, “Our supplies are in place?”

“Yes, pack leader.” Calepo had been tasked with finding supply staging points for the group in the surrounding countryside and even nearby islands. They had no idea where they would be headed when they picked up their prey, but they would have to be ready. And, considering Cal’s penchant for going on bloody rampages, the chore would keep him out of her hair and out of trouble.

“What of the traitorous little informant you’ve arranged for us? Are we receiving accurate information?”

“The informant was provided by the Society, Pack Leader,” answered Karl, it was dangerous to take credit for someone else’s work in the Society. Alyksandra nodded, understanding. “While the network through which this informant works is convoluted, the information we’ve received seems reliable. They are in fact heading for Myrnwell, and beyond to the Everpool.”

“Good. Someone go drag Cal from whatever whore he’s rutting with. We leave for Powyss!”