The Ransom Knight (2 page)

Chapter 3: Haggling

White ruins covered the slope of the hill. 

Whatever the ruins had been, there wasn’t much left. A cluster of slender white columns here, a crumbling white wall there. Once, Mazael suspected, a city had covered the slope. Certainly the hill looked as if it had been terraced long ago. Yet time and weather had done their damage, and only a few stone blocks remained of the white ruins.

Yet the ruins were identifiable nonetheless.

“Dark Elderborn,” said Mulger, his hand never straying far from his sword hilt.

“Aye,” said Tollard. “Lots of Dark Elderborn ruins in the Stormvales.” He spat. “Cursed places, all of them. Those spirits were likely lurking within.” 

“Probably not,” said Trocend. He glanced back at Gerald. “A knight must also know the history of the realm, squire. What do you know of the Dark Elderborn?” 

Gerald looked at Mazael, and he nodded at the boy.

“The Imperium of the Dark Elderborn once ruled all the lands between the two oceans,” said Gerald, sounding as if he was reciting a lesson. “They were cruel lords and powerful sorcerers, but in their pride they constantly warred against each other. The western lands of the Imperium collapsed into squabbling princedoms, and the Rolands of Knightcastle and the others lords destroyed their realms one by one. Now the Dark Elderborn are extinct, and only their ruins remain.” 

“Is that what this is, then?” said Mazael. “Sir Traeger found some relic of the Dark Elderborn, and now we have to fix his mess?”

“Perhaps,” said Trocend. “We shall see.”

“Someday you’re going to give a straight answer to a question,” said Mazael, “and you’ll die of surprise a few moments later.”

Tollard snickered. Trocend gave him a blank look, and the young armsman fell silent.

A moment later they reached the top of the hill, and Mazael looked upon Castle Highstone for the first time.

A broad, rocky valley stretched before them, mantled in green pine trees. A massive fist of rock rose from the valley, and atop that fist of stone stood a small castle. A gray curtain wall encircled the top of the crag, and within the wall rose a single delicate tower of white stone. A narrow wooden bridge stretched from the edge of the valley to the top of the crag. The castle was a strong place, and a small number of men could hold it against a much larger force.

The white tower held the entirety of Mazael’s attention. 

“The castle’s built around a Dark Elderborn ruin?” said Mazael.

“You see, then,” said Trocend, “why I was concerned?”

“Strong place,” grunted Mulger. “Be a devil to siege.”

“You’d need the entire host of Knightreach to take it by storm,” said Mazael. “If you tried to starve it out, the castle can be held with so few men that any besiegers would run out of food long before the castle did.” 

“It might take only a few men to hold the place,” said Tollard, shielding his eyes as he looked at the curtain wall, “but I don’t see any men upon the ramparts.”

“Nor do I,” said Mulger. 

“It is possible,” said Trocend, “that Sir Traeger has employed guardians of a more…spectral nature, shall we say.” 

“Splendid,” said Mazael. “It’s time to make up our minds, Brother Trocend.” The wizard raised his thin eyebrows. “Are we here to ransom Sir Edmund, or are we here to kill Sir Traeger?”

“We are here to ransom Sir Edmund,” said Trocend, “and to determine if Sir Traeger is a threat to Lord Malden’s lands.” 

“Fine,” said Mazael. “Wait here. I’ll head onto the bridge and demand Sir Traeger send forth a herald. We can negotiate terms, make the exchange, and get the hell out of here before Traeger or whoever else is in that castle summons up an army of spirits to kill us all.” 

“I should accompany you, Sir Mazael,” said Gerald.

“No, stay with the others,” said Mazael. “If they take a shot at me, I don’t want you catching an arrow in the throat.” Gerald frowned, but nodded and planted himself next to Mulger. 

Mazael took a deep breath, adjusted his shield, and headed for the bridge. He watched the battlements of the curtain wall as he drew closer. No one stirred on the walls or upon the tower, yet Mazael could not shake the feeling of unseen eyes. Perhaps those phantom warriors would spring out of nothingness and attack when he approached the gate. He strode upon the narrow bridge, the planks thumping beneath his boots, and stopped halfway between the hill and the curtain wall of Castle Highstone. 

“I am Sir Mazael Cravenlock!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Knight to Malden Roland, Lord of Knightcastle and liege lord of Knightreach! In his name I have come forth to negotiate for the release of Sir Edmund Redmane, a vassal of Lord Malden. I charge Sir Traeger Highstone to dispatch an emissary that we might negotiate!” 

No answer came, so Mazael repeated his challenge again, and then for a third time. Still no guards appeared on the walls, and Mazael suspected that the castle was deserted. He considered simply walking up to the gate and climbing over the wall when a postern door swung open and a cloaked figure stepped out.

Mazael blinked in surprise. 

The emissary was a woman.

She looked about thirty, and wore a peculiar mixture of clothing - a leather vest laced tight over a white shirt, leggings, heavy boots, and a dusty brown cloak. A variety of pouches hung from her belt, and she wore a baldric similar to Trocend’s. She had close-cropped black hair. Mazael had never liked short hair on women, but her face was pretty enough to pull it off, and the vest and the leggings fit her well. 

The woman stopped a few paces away and stared at Mazael, arms crossed over her chest, her face suspicious. 

He waited for her to speak first. 

“So,” said the woman at last. She spoke with the accent of Knightreach. “You have come for the fat old knight, yes?”

“That I have,” said Mazael.

“What are your terms?” said the woman.

Mazael cleared his throat and started to shout. “I am Sir Mazael Cravenlock, knight to Malden Roland, Lord of Knightcastle and…”

“Yes, yes,” said the woman with an irritated swipe of her hand. “I heard all that the first time, thank you. As I said, what are your terms?”

“That depends,” said Mazael. “Who are you?”

“My name is Atalia,” said the woman. “Lord Traeger has appointed me to act as his emissary in this matter.”

“Lord Traeger?” said Mazael. “He’s a lord now? I thought it was just Sir Traeger.” He gestured at the valley below. “The lord of rocks and pine trees, is that it? Little wonder he needs to take hostages. I cannot imagine rocks and pine trees pay much in the way of rents.”

Atalia blinked, and then let out a little laugh, as if against her will. “I suppose not.” She stared at him for a moment, her right hand opening and closing. The woman looked…strained, and after a moment Mazael realized that she was terrified. She was putting up a brave front, but he saw a muscle twitching near her eye. “So. Lord Malden sent you to deliver Sir Edmund’s ransom?” 

“He did,” said Mazael. 

“You came alone?” said Atalia, craning her neck to look at the hilltop behind them.

“I came with an appropriate escort,” said Mazael. “The hills of the Stormvales are a dangerous place to travel alone.”

“This is true,” said Atalia. 

“Especially of late,” said Mazael.

“Yes,” said Atalia, meeting his gaze without blinking. 

“What with the murderous phantom warriors and all,” said Mazael. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” 

The muscle near her eye started twitching harder. “One hears rumors.”

“One does, I imagine,” said Mazael. “One rumor says that Sir Traeger was digging around in Castle Highstone, and found something…unpleasant. Something that might call up phantoms?” 

“What sort of phantoms?” said Atalia. “Ghost stories are common.”

“The sort of phantoms,” said Mazael, “that are actually creatures summoned from the spirit world.”

“How did you know that?” said Atalia. 

“Perhaps I’m well-read,” said Mazael.

“A lord’s household knight?” said Atalia. “If you can spell your own name, I shall be amazed.” 

“I’m a surprising sort of fellow,” said Mazael. An idea occurred to him. “You, though, are utterly predictable.”

She scowled at him. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“His lordship Traeger Highstone is a brigand,” said Mazael. “Which would make you…what, his concubine? His whore?” He snapped his fingers. “A local village girl, is that it? Thought you would seduce the great Lord Traeger and ride him to fame and fortune? Instead he’s sending you out to talk to armed men because he’s too cowardly to do it himself…”

“Enough!” said Atalia, her black eyes blazing with fury. “Do you think I would take a wretch like Traeger into my bed? I am no whore, as you shall learn!” She lifted her right hand, the fingers spread, and the air began to ripple and blur around it.

“No,” said Mazael. “But you are a wizard, aren’t you?”

She blinked and looked at her hand with chagrin. 

“No, not quite,” said Mazael. “You’re an apprentice wizard.” Something else occurred to him. “A failed apprentice.”

“Shut up,” said Atalia. 

“A failed apprentice of one Brother Trocend Castleson,” said Mazael. 

Atalia flinched. “How did you know that?” 

“I don’t know,” said Mazael. “I’m just an unlettered rustic knight, ignorant and rough...”

“Oh, shut up,” said Atalia. She blinked several times. “Trocend is with you, isn’t he?”

Mazael grinned. He had knocked her off balance, but she had recovered quickly. A clever woman, and one with magical skills. That made her dangerous. 

“He is,” said Mazael.

“Damn it,” said Atalia. “I was hoping Malden would send someone else.” She took a deep breath. “Well, let’s get this over with, Sir Mazael.”

“Very well,” said Mazael, offering her his arm. 

She blinked at his arm and laughed. “Seriously?”

“Well,” said Mazael, “even rustic, unlettered knights can display courtesy from time to time.”

“As you say, Sir Mazael,” said Atalia, threading her arm through his. “I suppose this also allows you to know the instant I cast a spell?”

“Such a suspicious mind you have,” said Mazael, and she laughed again. 

He led her from the bridge, keeping an eye out for more spirit warriors, part of his attention focused upon Atalia. The woman did nothing suspicious, but he felt her tense as they reached the hillside. He suspected that she was not looking forward to seeing Trocend Castleson, and she pulled her arm away as they reached the hilltop. 

Mulger and Tollard stood on guard, Trocend pacing back and forth behind them. Gerald watched Mazael with an exasperated expression on his face, and Mazael realized that the boy had seen him with Atalia on his arm. No doubt Gerald would later make his usual speech about how a pious knight lay only with his wife. Trocend stopped his pacing and stared at Atalia, and she folded her arms and stared right back. 

“Well,” said Mazael, “it seems like you know each other already, so introductions are unnecessary, but I shall make them anyway. This is Atalia, and it seems Sir Traeger has appointed her to serve as his emissary.”

“I should have known,” said Trocend, shaking his head. “I thought you might be behind this, and I was right.” 

Atalia scoffed. “Suspicious and fearful as ever, old man. And, as ever, ready to blame me for the slightest thing that happens to go wrong.”

“You…know her, Brother Trocend?” said Gerald. 

“She is a thief from Knightport,” said Trocend, his disdain clear, “the daughter of a whore, and much trouble would have been averted had she gone into that profession herself. Instead she exhibited magical ability, and went to train at the wizards’ college in Alborg. The Brotherhood expelled her for various misdeeds, and she came to study under me, since I thought she might make a useful tool for Lord Malden’s service. Instead she proved unmanageable, and…”

“Unmanageable?” snapped Atalia. “I followed your every command, old man. It is not my fault we botched the business with Lord Randerly’s heir. I followed your plan!”

“You were supposed to be thinking on your feet,” said Trocend. “Had you adapted to the new developments, we…”

“Which, I should point out, is what I am doing here,” said Atalia, her dark eyes flashing with rage. “But you are too blind to see it.”

“Indeed?” said Trocend. “One of Lord Malden’s knights is taken prisoner, phantoms wander through the Stormvales, and you expect me to believe that you are not at fault? I…”

Both Trocend and Atalia kept shouting. Mazael watched them for a moment, and suddenly his remaining patience evaporated.

“Shut up!” he roared at the top of his lungs. 

Both Trocend and Atalia gaped at him.

“I don’t give a damn for how much you hate each other,” said Mazael, “and if you want to gripe at each other, I don’t give a damn about that either. Once we have Sir Edmund, you can argue to your heart’s content.” He pointed at Atalia. “Tell me what is going on here, now.”

“This is ridiculous,” said Trocend. “She is likely the cause of it all. I…”

“Shut up,” said Mazael. He pointed at Atalia again. “You. Answers. Now.” 

Something almost like gratitude flickered over Atalia’s face. “It’s is not my fault. I admit I came to Castle Highstone looking for magic, yes. I thought it was still abandoned. I had not expected that thug Traeger to have…”

Suddenly a cold wind sprang up, and a wall of gray mist rolled out of the forest.

“Sir Mazael!” said Tollard. “It’s happening again!”

“Defend yourselves!” said Mazael, yanking his sword from its scabbard. Tollard, Mulger, and Gerald drew their weapons, while Trocend and Atalia lifted their hands, blue sparks blazing around their fingers. 

Dozens of figures appeared in the mists, armored warriors and mailed swordsmen. This time Mazael saw strange creatures among the warriors, wolves with manes of barbed tentacles, lions with the wings of bats and the tails of scorpions, and other, more grotesque things.

“Focus upon the warriors!” shouted Trocend. “I shall deal with the more powerful creatures.”