Lord Soth w-6

by Edo Van Belkom

  Knight of Solamnia, a Knight of the Rose, performing the duties of a common clerk.

  For a brief moment he admired his father's ability to oversee Knightlund so capably, and so happily, for so many years.

  He rose from his throne, wondering what unremarkable task would require his attention that afternoon when suddenly- "Milord, milord!" The voice was that of the squire stationed as a lookout on the top level of the keep.

  Soth remained standing, waiting almost impatiently for the squire to appear. At last he ran into the room, out of breath and obviously excited.

  "A rider," he said, taking a breath. "A lone rider approaches from the south, at full gallop."

  Soth felt the hair on his arms bristle with anticipation.

  Clearly the rider was on a mission of great urgency.

  "Is he flying any colors?"

  "Red."

  "Prepare to lower the bridge!" he bellowed, his words echoing throughout the keep. Soth followed the squire out of the room and made his way outside, where the rider was bringing his horse to a stop in the center of the entrance area just inside the keep's gatehouse. A small crowd of knights, squires and others had gathered about, all curious to learn what was afoot. The rider had entered slowly, his horse appearing to be on the brink of exhaustion.

  Even now that his ride had come to an end, the rider seemed no better off and looked rather ragged and sore after what was obviously a long, hard ride. He was helped from his mount slowly, his movements suggesting each movement of his arms or legs was painful to make.

  When he finally had both feet on the ground, footmen took hold of his shoulders and helped him over to where Lord Soth waited.

  After letting himself down onto one knee, the rider looked up at the lord of the keep and grimaced to fight off a fresh stab of pain.

  "Ogres," he managed to say, still slightly out of breath.

  Soth stepped closer to the rider, noticing for the first time that there were bruises on one side of his face and down along his neck to the shoulder, wounds likely made by an ogre's vine bola or duster ball.

  "Where?"

  The rider had managed to catch some of his breath and was now composed enough to manage something resembling coherent speech. "I've come from the village of Halton. The ogres have moved north upon us from Throtyl, commandeering our stores and laying siege to the village. Several villagers have been killed, some others have been wounded. I only managed to get away by acting as if my wounds were fatal, then stealing a horse at nightfall."

  Soth nodded. Halton was a small but vital agricultural center south of

  Dargaard Keep on the western foot of the Dargaard Mountains. It served as the initial trade center for much of the annual fall harvests in the region and was often called "Harvest Home" by people all across the plains and throughout southern Solamnia.

  Throtyl, on the other hand, was a pocket of lawlessness in the southern tip of the Dargaard Mountains. It was situated in a small forest which opened upon a broad marshy plain called Throttle. To the east of the plain lay a passageway through the Dargaard Mountains called the Throtyl

  Gap. The gap was a place infested with marauding bands of outlaws, barbarians and ogres who made their living smuggling goods through the gap, charging heavy tolls for safe passage, or simply by preying upon unsuspecting travelers. For years Soth had been satisfied to look the other way because the ogres were relatively few in numbers and generally kept to themselves, and because most travelers of Ansalon knew to keep well clear of the gap. Finally, he tolerated them because they were so well entrenched in the forest that any expedition he might mount would likely cost the lives of too many knights and gain far too little in return to make it worth the effort.

  This however, was another matter entirely. People of Knightlund had been killed and wounded. His people.

  And still, many others remained in danger and would be without food through the winter if nothing were done to vanquish the ogres.

  "You've done well," Soth told the rider. "Get some food in you, and a change of dean clothing. Then we'll meet in the Knights' Chambers to discuss our battle plans."

  He turned to address the rest of those present, perhaps even the entire keep. "Begin preparations," he barked, sending squires and footmen scurrying. "We shall be leaving as soon as possible."

  Soth placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. It felt good in his hand, and it would feel even better being swung against an opponent in battle.

  Whenever they might be leaving the keep, it wouldn't be soon enough.

  Soth found Lady Korinne alone in their bedchamber.

  She was sitting by the window reading one of the thirtyseven volumes written by Vinas Solamnus which outlined the Measure of the Knights of

  Solamnia. She had begun reading the volumes that were housed in the keep's library shortly after their wedding and had dedicated most of her waking hours to reading every word in every volume so that she might better understand the laws of conduct to which her husband was bound.

  Curious about his wife's progress, Soth checked the number of the volume-twenty-six. Soon she would be as familiar with the Measure as any knight, perhaps even more so. It was a generous gesture, one which endeared his wife to Soth-if it were in fact possible for him to love her any more than he already did.

  "There is trouble to the south," said Soth, kneeling by his wife's side and placing his hands in hers.

  "I've heard as much."

  "It pains me to leave you here, but the people of Halton need me.

  Several have died, and more will certainly perish if we don't make haste."

  Lady Korinne smiled lovingly and shook her head.

  "Dear Loren, how sweet that you feel you must tell me lies to protect my feelings."

  Soth was somewhat taken aback by his wife's assertion.

  "I am certainly not telling you lies."

  "Oh yes you are," she said, her voice still soft and loving.

  "You said you can't bear to leave the keep, but I know there's nothing your heart yearns for more than to be traveling Solamnia with your knights at your side, battling Evil."

  Soth returned her smile. "You know me too well, then."

  "Oh, I doubt that," she said. "I just know that for you, or any Knight of Solamnia, there is no choice between the drudgery of keep life and an all-out battle against Evil."

  Soth smiled, "In that you are correct," he said, realizing his wife dearly understood what was needed most from the wife of a Knight of

  Solamnia-understanding.

  She placed a hand on his shoulder. "But please, promise me one thing."

  "Of course, anything."

  "When you leave the keep, think not of me, but solely of the task ahead of you. I don't want your battle instincts dulled by any sentimental thoughts of me."

  "You are as unselfish as you are beautiful, my love."

  "Perhaps, but I can think of no other way to ensure that you will return to me quickly and unharmed."

  Soth nodded. "As you wish." He leaned forward, took her in his arms and kissed her deeply.

  "It was hard to know exactly how many ogres there were in total since they were so spread out over the entire village," said the rider from

  Halton as he sketched a rough map of his home village on a sheet of pale leather laid over a table in the knights' chambers.

  "If you had to guess?" asked Caradoc, standing to the left of the rider.

  The rider was silent, deep in thought. "I really can't say." The rider shook his head, apparently frustrated.

  "We're a village of peaceful farmers. We've relied so much on the protection of the Knights of Solamnia that few of us even have weapons with which to defend ourselves."

  "A guess?" Caradoc prodded, a little forcefully.

  The rider shook his head. "Perhaps there were no more than ten or fifteen of them."

  A ripple of nervous laughter coursed through the knights who stood around the table. That many ogres wouldn't be too hard to handle, es
pecially for such a seasoned warrior as Lord Soth and his company of thirteen loyal knights. No, the problem with liberating the village wasn't so much with the ogres who had besieged it, as with the villagers and trying to keep them out of harm's way during the battle to free them.

  "Do you know where most of the ogres are located within the village?" asked Soth, standing to the rider's right and carefully looking over the sketch of the village.

  "I can't be sure," said the rider. "But perhaps I could sneak back into the village when we get there and find out."

  "Yes, that would help. The more we know about the village and the ogres the better it will be for us," said Soth.

  "But, we can do nothing until we arrive in Halton." He began rolling up the length of leather. "We leave within the hour."

  Soth adjusted his breastplate so that it rested comfortably across his chest. The breastplate, bearing the symbol of the rose, was still unmarred by battle. It gleamed brightly against the light shining through the open entrance to the keep and did justice to the pride Soth felt in wearing it. When the plate was set into position, he checked the armor plates over his shoulders, and on his thighs and shins, making sure they were all properly placed and secured.

  Like most of the knights on this expedition, Soth had opted for medium-weight armor with steel plates covering the vital areas like the head and chest, while the extremities were left to the protection of chain mail. The combination of the two types of armor would allow him more freedom of movement, which was vitally important when fighting the much stronger, but slower-moving ogres.

  Satisfied with his armor, Soth held out his hand for his sword. The two footmen who had been busy sharpening its blade carried it toward him wrapped in a heavy cloth.

  They presented it to him hilt first. Although the sword was designed for two-handed use, Soth was a big man, easily strong enough to wield the weapon with only his right hand.

  The footmen remained where they stood, waiting for Soth's appraisal of the weapon and his verdict on its suitability.

  Soth cut a swath through the air with the sword to check its balance, then raised it up to take a closer look at the cutting edges of the blade. That the footmen had spent all of their time since the arrival of the rider honing the weapon was obvious. Both its edges were as sharp as knives and the tip of its point was needle-thin. He looked at the footmen and nodded appreciatively.

  The two footmen smiled at each other proudly, then the taller one said,

  "Slay one of them foul beasts for us, milord."

  "Consider it done," said Soth, placing the sword neatly into its heavy leather sheath.

  Next, he took hold of his helm. It was made of bare silver-gray metal with only certain parts of it adorned with decorative roses. The visor was up and the horse's tail that sprouted out from the top center of the helm was as long and black as Soth's own flowing mane. Like the rest of his armor, the helm was of medium weight. Some of the knights had opted for their heaviest helms, but Soth had decided that not even the strongest helm could protect him against a direct blow from an ogre's club or long sword. To Soth, it was far better to die bravely in battle than to be seriously injured and unable to continue his life as a knight.

  He balanced the helm between his hands and prepared to place it over his head when he heard a voice calling him.

  "Milord! Milord!" It was a woman's voice. He turned around and saw Lady

  Korinne approaching. While she usually called him Loren, they had decided on using the more formal address in the presence of others.

  "Milady," said Soth, nodding his head graciously.

  "I wanted to give you one last kiss before you go."

  Soth bent forward and the two kissed deeply.

  "And to tell you this…"

  Soth's eyebrows arched expectantly.

  "Fight for the cause of Good, and when you're done, hurry home.

  Hopefully upon your return I will be able to reward you with the news that I am with child."

  Soth's mouth fell open and remained that way for a moment. While he was glad to hear the words, he was somewhat confused by them. A short time ago she'd played the part of a knight's wife to perfection, instructing him not to think of her while on the journey. But now she was speaking more like a young bride, teasing him with words of a child in order to ensure that his thoughts were never far from home-no matter where he might be.

  A child, he thought, perhaps even a son. Soth's heart raced at the possibility. "That would make my return to Dargaard Keep a truly triumphant one," he said.

  He moved to kiss her again, but she stepped away from him and shook her head, once again playing the role of the steadfast lady of the keep.

  "Go," she said. "Your people need you."

  Soth looked at his wife a moment, his heart full of love and pride, then gently slipped his helm over his head. He turned and mounted his horse, a huge animal, char-black from head to hoof, which despite Soth's size and weight, did not seem to be burdened by its new load.

  He took one final look around, saw that his knights were ready, and drew his sword. Then he raised it over his head and shouted, "Est Sularus oth Mithas."

  A cheer rose up.

  Soth's mount surged forward.

  And the knights followed him out of the keep.

  Chapter 5

  After the exhilarating charge out of the keep, the thirteen Solamnic

  Knights loyal to Lord Soth settled down to a somewhat more relaxed pace which would allow them to travel the maximum amount of distance in what was left of the day.

  After night had fallen, they continued on in the darkness for several hours and would have ridden through the night had Soth asked it of them.

  But of course, he would never think to do such a thing. For although it was imperative they get to Halton as quickly as possible, Soth refused to compromise his knights' fighting ability by bringing them to the point of exhaustion before they'd even arrived at the battle. When they passed the halfway point between Dargaard Keep and Halton, the decision to stop for the night was made easy for Soth when the passage through that part of the mountains proved too treacherous to complete under the cover of darkness.

  He stopped the procession and the knights dutifully, if not gratefully, dismounted and stretched their limbs. Soon after, Caradoc had arranged a watch rotation and the knights set about eating what little provisions they had taken with them. In a day or so the squires would catch up to the group and there would be plenty of time to feast, but for now they had to travel as lightly and as quickly as possible.

  A chill wind blew down from the mountains, but fires were obviously out of the question. And so, they ate cold food in the dark, and after they'd staved off their pangs of hunger, at least temporarily, the knights silently made themselves comfortable wherever they could.

  Finally, they closed their eyes for a few hours' rest… And dreamed of the battle ahead.

  Soth looked up and saw the rocks tumbling down the mountainside. He ducked beneath an overhang and watched the stones and boulders roll past, then crash heavily into the soft valley floor below.

  He waited another few seconds, listening to the flap of the dragon's wings as it flew over the mountain's peak and prepared for yet another pass.

  "Father!"

  It was a thin, weak voice, yet somehow familiar.

  Another moment passed and he realized it was the voice of his son.

  He was still alive.

  Soth ran out from under the overhang and quickly looked left and right.

  "Father!" came the call again.

  He ran to the left, over the loose rocks that had been dislodged by the dragon's pass. After cresting a slight rise, he saw his son standing in the middle of a clearing. He was looking around, his steps tentative and cautious.

  He was a young and handsome man, with all the size and strength of his father. He was dressed in shining plate armor, dented and scratched in spots in evidence of the fierceness of battles past. He held his swor
d stiffly before him like a pathfinder, lighting his way in the dark.

  Soth ran toward his son, but stopped when he noticed the boy's eyes.

  They were two large white spheres absolutely without color. The young man was blind, wandering aimlessly over the mountainside, in search of

  … "Father, are you there?"

  "Yes!" cried Soth, moving toward the boy.

  But the dragon was back, plunging down toward them, so close now that

  Soth could feel the rush of hot wind against his body as it approached.

  He drew his sword to face the beast. It was a red dragon, its head and snout crowned by great spiny horns and its body covered with large red diamond-shaped scales.

  Such a powerful and evil enemy, even Soth felt a shiver of fear run through him.

  "Father, help me!"

  The dragon swooped closely overhead, then rose up in a slow, wide arc in preparation for another pass.

  Soth turned toward his son, but a rock rolled in front of him and he was forced to jump back… Directly into the path of another, larger rock.

  The great stone slammed into him, knocking him down and pinning him to the ground. Desperately he tried to move, but both his legs had been crushed, and the rock-more like a boulder-was far too heavy to move.

  "Father? Are you there?"

  Soth tried to speak, but the words would not come to his parched throat.

  The red dragon had circled back once more, this time coming in to land on the side of the mountain no more than fifty paces from the boy.

  "Is that you?" The younger Soth turned his head toward the dragon, listening to the sounds of movement around him.

  The dragon moved closer, a wide villainous smile forming on its hideous snout. It began to inhale, gathering its breath. Then, slowly it opened its mouth wide.

  Soth felt the blood drain from his face. His heart fell into the pit of his stomach. He opened his mouth to scream, but could not make a sound.

  The red dragon exhaled a cone of white-hot flames.