“Then by the heartfelt confession of your lips,” announced Kaliam as he gently tapped Antoinette’s shoulders with the blade called Thil Galel, “I dub thee Lady Antoinette, Swordmaiden of Alleble and servant of King Eliam the Everlasting!”
After the deafening cheers died down, the celebration began. It carried on long after the twelve had left to prepare for their journey.
18
ON RAVEN’S WINGS
A ntoinette lay on her bed in her chambers with Brindle curled up beside her. She stared out the window at the distant realm bathed in silver light from the waxing crescent moon. She held the photograph of Robby. “Where are you?” she whispered.
Her eyes drifted to the distant west and the jagged black peaks of The Prince’s Crown. Antoinette shivered at the possibility that Robby was there.
Antoinette fell into a fitful sleep, not sure of what the morning would bring.
Antoinette could see a long pile of rocks heaped as a cairn. A raven stirred upon a sword hilt that had been driven into the frozen ground.
The black bird croaked harshly and then took to the air. Soaring into the cloud-smothered night sky, it floated above a wasteland of endless gray stone draped by miserable scabs of crusty snow.
The broken land rose into black ridges and severe mountains. Two peaks, taller and more jagged than the rest, pierced the lowest clouds like fangs. At the foot of these, as if thrust up through the world’s stony armor, was a dark fortress.
Bastions, turrets, keeps, and strongholds-all irregular and rigid-fitted together diabolically like the gears of a torturing device.
Rising above all was a high tower, wreathed in sharp points of stone like a vine of thorns.
Into the topmost chamber of this tower, the raven flew. It landed on the sill of an open window. Inside was a tall warrior clad in black armor, except for a red inverted crown emblazoned upon his breastplate. The knight was ghostly pale and wore his long, dark hair swept back from his face and tied behind his head. His coal-black eyes flashed red for an instant as he stared down at an object in his hands.
Carefully, as if a father was laying his child to rest, the warrior placed the object into a sturdy chest of black marble. He looked up at the raven and smiled.
The raven jerked free of the window sill, into the night, and dove downward to an iron door ajar at the base of a keep.
It entered through a narrow opening and flew down a winding, torchlit passage. Finally, the raven emerged from the tunnel and perched on a wide chandelier in the midst of a vast chamber hall. Far below, teeming like a pit of black snakes, were ranks of soldiers. Rank upon rank of soldiers in dark armor. They filled the hall till it seemed there was nothing else. They were endless. Armed with spear, axe, blade, and bow, like a great thicket of brambles.
Arrows pierced the air, clanged off the chandelier. The raven flew again, swooshing back up the passage and through the narrow opening of the iron door. Between darkened dwellings, it careened through side streets and raced toward the enormous castle keep at the base of the tower of thorns. The black bird glided over a balcony high on its wall.
There was a feast within, a gathering, at a long, dark table with eleven chairs. The same warrior from the tower was at the head of the table. He raised a silver goblet. Ten other pale knights, grim and doughty, stood and raised their drinks. Their eyes flashed red as they all drank. But when they were finished drinking, their eyes flashed blue.
Antoinette gasped for breath, and started to fall…
19
FINDING A PATH IN THE DARK
L ady Antoinette!” called a voice. “Lady Antoinette!” There was a sharp knock on the chamber door. “It is Lady Merewen.”
Antoinette struggled to wake up. She rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up in bed.
“Lady Antoinette,” Lady Merewen called. “We leave within the hour! May I come in?”
“It was a dream,” Antoinette said, relieved as she went to open the door.
“Lady Merewen, is it morning already?”
“No, the other knights have been restless and could not sleep. We are preparing to leave. I have been sent to help you with your armor, and Aelic is packing your steed. You must hurry.”
“Okay, hold your horses,” Antoinette said sleepily.
There was a silence, and then Lady Merewen explained, “We are not riding horses, Lady Antoinette. Our unicorns are more fleet-footed!”
Lady Merewen helped Antoinette quickly dress. They threw a few personal belongings into a satchel. Then, Antoinette patted the sleeping Brindle lightly on the head. “You’ll be much safer here,” she said.
In only moments, Lady Merewen was hurrying down the stairway to the main gatehouse. “Hurry, Lady Antoinette. Kaliam grows anxious about the situation in Yewland, and he is ready to leave.”
“Has something changed?” Antoinette asked.
“Not long ago, a message arrived from Queen Illaria. It was ripe with veiled threats about dissolving our alliance. That would be a terrible loss to The Realm, to say nothing of the blow it would deal to Alleble’s armies-Yewland’s archers are unsurpassed.”
“And this is all because someone pretending to be an ambassador from Alleble is ruining things over there?”
“An imposter, yes,” Lady Merewen replied. “He has somehow convinced the Queen that Alleble requires tribute in gold-and Blackwood weaponry. The latter is more dear to them and most painfully would that be paid. It is Yewland’s custom to gather timber only from limbs and trees that have fallen-and given the strength of those towering trees, that does not happen that often. Every bow, shaft, or staff made from the Blackwood is coveted throughout The Realm. Now it seems that the first messenger we sent to Yewland to warn them of the imposter has not returned, and Kaliam fears he is in the hands of our enemy. We must go now before the situation worsens beyond repair.”
“How can Paragor get away with this?” Antoinette asked, following Lady Merewen. “Wouldn’t the Queen be able to tell if this ambassador is really from Alleble? I mean, the eyes would give him away, right?”
“That has been so in the past,” Lady Merewen replied. “But there was one other among the Prince’s legions, whose eyes showed blue for a time though all the while his heart was red.”
“Acsriot?”
“You know of his deeds then?” Lady Merewen asked.
Antoinette nodded solemnly. Aidan had told her a little about Acsriot’s betrayal.
“To this day,” Lady Merewen explained, “no one knows how he was able to mask his eyes. But one thing is certain… we cannot afford to be fooled again.”
Antoinette wondered about the knights in her dream. Their eyes had changed color after they drank from the goblets. But remembering her promise to Kaliam, she did not speak of her dream.
“If he flees…,” Tobias said as he hunched over a map in the gatehouse. The other eleven knights gathered round. “If the imposter flees Yewland, he will no doubt take the main road out and head northwest, skirting the Endurel River. So I propose we take the trade route ourselves and then strike east just before Zin Lake.”
“You seem so certain,” said Kaliam.
“It is an elementary matter,” Tobias replied. He straightened and gestured as if drawing a picture in the air. Antoinette thought he liked having an audience. “It is very possible that we will snare the imposter while he is still in Yewland. But if he is from Paragory as we suspect, then the western road will be his only escape.”
“What of the Blackwood?” Mallik asked. “Could he not strike a straighter path by cutting across the Blackwood?”
No one answered. A cold wind whipped through the gate, and the torches flickered. The hair on Antoinette’s arms stood up.
Finally, Nock spoke up. “If the imposter is foolish enough to venture into the Blackwood, then we will lose any opportunity to question him. He will not return.”
“What do you mean?” Mallik laughed nervously. “It is merely a patch of woods.”
“
Nay, my hammer-wielding friend,” said Nock, clapping Mallik on the shoulder. “That is no simple grove of trees. The Blackwood is the oldest forest in The Realm. It is said that before the first scroll of Alleble was written, King Eliam buried seven powerful ancient enemies there-the Seven Sleepers they were called. It is only the great dark roots of the blackwood trees that keep them from returning.”
“Seven Sleepers?” Mallik scoffed. “You have been listening to too many harvest tales! Next you’ll be spouting off about the Wyrm Lord!”
“Laugh if you wish, Mallik,” Nock said. “But as for me, I would rather wrestle a dragon than go into the Blackwood-especially at night.”
“Seven Sleepers or not,” Kaliam said, “there are other foul things in the Blackwood, that is to be sure. Sir Tobias is right. If our imposter flees, he will strike the main road and run full into our snare. We will travel that way. Your steeds are saddled, ample provisions for the journey to Yewland are packed, and you have your weapons. Let us ride hard now. If we reach the ruins of Torin’s Vale by daybreak, we will rest there for a short while. Then southwest following the road until it turns east before Zin Lake. May King Eliam’s power fill us on this bold venture, for The Realm grows a more dangerous place with each passing day.”
20
MIDNIGHT RIDE
T he rush of the falling water filled the night with its steady hypnotic song. A light mist from six of the seven fountains fell upon the twelve as they rode past. Torchbearing guards saluted and raised the first and second gates. Led by Kaliam, the travelers passed beyond the safety of Alleble’s grand walls and into the silent, waiting night.
Antoinette’s thoughts lingered on the cold, dry stone of the seventh fountain. The vision she’d had there would not soon leave her thoughts. The fountain still seemed to call to her from the shadows.
“Will it always remain dry?” Antoinette asked Aelic, who rode beside her.
“Perhaps. Only King Eliam can say,” Aelic replied. He glanced back at the barren fountain. “Our craftsmen have found no defect in its design which would hinder the flow of water from the springs below. But ever since the night of the Betrayal, the fountain has remained empty.”
The unicorns seemed restless outside the walls of the city. Kaliam rode just ahead and turned. “Do you feel the tension in your steeds?” he called out. “They are spoiling to ride! I say let us give them their wish.”
With a cheer of camaraderie Kaliam raised his broadsword high. The air filled with blades. Fury and the Daughter of Light were among them.
“To Yewland, we ride!” Kaliam roared. “For King and Kingdom!”
“Hurrah!!” his team responded.
Kaliam’s unicorn needed no other prompt or spur. It bore Kaliam away as if by a sudden wind. The other knights thundered after him.
“Try to keep up,” Aelic said to Antoinette. He winked and was gone.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Antoinette called after him. “Rael, go!” And the unicorn surged forward.
Aelic’s steed was no slowcoach. Antoinette could see the beast’s white flanks far ahead. But Rael would not be left behind. With Antoinette urging Rael on, she overtook Aelic and grinned as she passed. “It must be that I am lighter in the saddle!” she called out to him. Aelic pretended to glower for a moment, but then began to laugh.
The spirit of adventure swelling in each of them, the twelve raced on through the early morning darkness. Their steeds did not tire, and The Realm passed by in a shadowy blur. About an hour before sunup, they swooped into a misty valley littered with ruins. It was known as Torin’s Vale.
The twelve slowed to a trot on the remnants of a cobblestone road, now overgrown with patches of tall grass. They passed under a pale stone arch, and before them lay the skeleton of a large ancient city. Wisps of gray mist enveloped the broken foundations of long-empty dwellings. Roofless cottages, empty manors, and fallen towers loomed in the shadows. Dark windows stared out at the riders as they passed.
Antoinette shuddered. “This place gives me the creeps,” she whispered.
“It was once a great city,” Nock said, “but it has long been abandoned. Nothing survives here now.”
As she looked about Antoinette felt watched, as if something or someone was behind the darkened windows. She tried to shake off the feeling, but then she noticed Nock seemed exceptionally watchful and had his bow and arrow at the ready.
21
TORIN’S VALE
M oved by a chilling breeze, the mist reached for the ankles of their steeds, and all sounds were muted. Even the clip-clop of their unicorns sounded muffled and distant.
“I feel like I’m being watched,” Antoinette whispered to Aelic.
“I feel it also. It is like the memories of the fallen watch us from the shadows.”
“It must be the dark windows,” she replied. “Or maybe it’s those twisted clusters of trees-there must be a thousand places here where someone could hide!”
“That is precisely why our Sentinel led us here. Come morning, we will be forced to ride in the open, but we should remain hidden while we may.”
“Still, this place gives me the creeps!” she said.
The twelve continued through the valley in silence until they came to a large stone wall. In the center was a huge arched gateway.
“This is Torin’s Keep,” Kaliam announced as he halted the team. “There were once magnificent tall doors of rich mahogany here-doors that opened to welcome the weary and bid them rest in the golden firelight of Torin’s hospitality. These same doors closed to shut out the night, and no evil could pass them by force, or so the tales tell.”
Antoinette imagined reclining in a great golden hall while dark stealthy creatures scratched at the powerful doors but could not get in.
“Nonetheless, even Torin’s Gate could not stay the passing of time,” Kaliam continued. “Still, we will rest here until the sun rises. We have made excellent time, my good knights, better even than I had hoped. Unburden your steeds, and let us kindle some small golden light to take the chill from the air. Torin’s Keep will be glad once more.”
The unicorns grazed in the tall grasses outside the keep. They seemed the least affected by the eerie surroundings of Torin’s Vale. Farix volunteered for the first watch, and he patrolled the shadows around the perimeter of the camp. But inside Torin’s Keep there was indeed cheery golden light rekindled. Eleven of the twelve knights gathered around a small but happy fire. They feasted on roasted beef and wedges from an aged wheel of cheese. Spirits were high, and they forgot for a time the dangerous nature of their mission.
“Do you remember that time, Kaliam,” Mallik called across the fire, “when we camped near the Cold River? Sir Aidan woke us all with the fear that the enemy had found us!”
Kaliam smiled, and the firelight flickered in his dark eyes.
“Aye, no one could forget,” said Nock, slapping Mallik on the back and sitting beside his burly friend. “Aidan saw the lantern spiders and took them for torches!”
“Lantern spiders?” Antoinette thought aloud, remembering the message Aidan had asked her to deliver to Kaliam.
“Yes, m’lady,” Nock replied. “They spin great domes of-”
“Oh, do not tell that story again,” pleaded Aelic. “You forget it was not me!”
Kaliam laughed. “It seems, Aelic, that you are always quick to point out Aidan’s foibles were not you, but not so fast to deny his talents.”
Aelic grinned. “Would it not be foolish of me to do otherwise?”
Everyone laughed in agreement.
“What of the lantern spiders?” Antoinette asked.
“I would not want Sir Aidan thinking ill of me. You will have to find that story out from him. It is you who told me he asked us not to tell of that event,” Kaliam said. “You won’t hear it from me.”
“Yes, I can understand why a young knight would not want a lady to hear that story,” Nock said.
“Nor an old knight for that matter,” said O
swyn with a sly look toward Sir Gabriel. Sir Gabriel didn’t even look up from the scrolls.
“I know!” Mallik announced. “What about the time when we surprised Sir Aidan as he refreshed the dragon pens?”
“Oh, no,” Aelic muttered.
“Did Aidan request we not tell this story?” Kaliam asked Antoinette.
“Say yes!” Aelic whispered urgently to her.
Antoinette smiled gleefully at Aelic, then turned to Kaliam. “Oh, no. He only mentioned the lantern spiders.”
Kaliam laughed. “Then I think we should.”
“So there he was,” Mallik began, “the Twelfth Knight-to-be, wearing a brand-new tunic and clean armor.”
Nock laughed. “You can always tell a beginner in the pens! Ha!”
“Indeed,” answered Mallik, and he turned to Antoinette. “For the dragon pens are fouled beyond words. Those who have had the misfortune of cleaning those pens know better than to wear anything clean!”
Beginning to imagine the events that followed, Antoinette put a hand to her lips.
“Oh, how Sir Aidan’s armor gleamed, a crisp tunic, new breeches-”
“Oh, do go on,” said Sir Tobias rather abruptly as he rubbed the tip of a long finger along the bridge of his nose. “You have already told us this part.”
“Give him time. One must have patience for a story well told,” Sir Oswyn said.
Antoinette felt uncomfortable, and for a moment she thought Sir Tobias would grow angry. But the aloof expression on his narrow face suddenly cracked into a grin and he laughed. “Well-met, herb-meister,” he said. “Forgive my rudeness, Sir Mallik. It is just that I have not heard this tale, and I am dying to know what could be more embarrassing than mistaking lantern spiders for soldiers’ torches.”
Mallik smiled. “Aidan was supposed to be working. But Sir Aidan was anything but working. Daydreaming, I would say.”
The Rise of the Wrym Lord tdw-2 Page 11
