Lord Soth w-6

by Edo Van Belkom

  The breath came out of the ogre's body in a whoosh, and then all was silent.

  All except for… Soth listened closely for the faint sound.

  There was a low moan coming from somewhere nearby.

  He looked at the elf-maid the dark-haired ogre had laid upon the ground, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  More than likely she had run from the scene as soon as she was able.

  Who, or what then, was making the sound?

  Something caught Soth's attention, a slight movement in the left corner of his field of vision. There seemed to be another maiden, this one fair-haired, lying on the other side of the large fallen log.

  Soth pulled his sword from the ground and turned to investigate.

  At first he feared the woman dead.

  Her face was pressed hard against the forest floor and all he could see was the dirty blond hair that covered the back of her head and shoulders. Her body appeared to be still and without breath. For a moment, Soth cursed the ogres for their deeds, but then came the familiar moan.

  Quickly, Soth leaped over the log and rolled the elfmaiden gently onto her side. Then he removed his leather gauntlet from his right hand and wiped the dirt and humus from the maiden's face with the tips of his fingers.

  Even through the dirt and grime that remained on her visage, Soth could see that she was utterly beautiful.

  Anger at the ogres flared within him once more as he thought about what the ugly brutes had done to this lovely, innocent flower and her companions.

  He removed the gauntlet from his left hand and eased her body off the ground, sitting her upright against the log. Her body was thin and limp beneath her flowing pale green and brown robes. Still, despite the fact that she was barely heavier than a handful of down, Soth had the feeling she was a very strong woman.

  When she was finally sitting comfortably Soth brushed more of her face clean, marveling at the prominence of her high cheekbones, the delicate points of her ears, and the softness of her goose-white skin, skin that had unfortunately been marred in spots by bruises and scrapes.

  She was breathing easier now, yet still unconscious. Soth reached down around his waist and opened up a small pouch. Inside was a mixture of sharp and pungent herbs that Soth had used many times to awaken knights who had been knocked unconscious by a blow to the head.

  He took a pinch of the mixture and held it under the maiden's nose. When she did not stir, he rubbed the herbs between his fingers, releasing a sharp new aroma into the air.

  Finally she jerked her head away. Slowly, her eyelids began to rise.

  After several false starts, her eyes finally fluttered open. They were hazel in color, indicating to Soth that-considering the color of her hair and complexion of her skin-the party of elf-maidens on its way to

  Palanthas had probably originated in Silvanesti.

  She turned her head to look at him… And Soth felt his heart begin to pound beneath his breastplate like that of a squire sneaking a peek through the window of a lady's bedchamber.

  She was strikingly attractive, her beauty perhaps even rivaling that of

  Lady Korinne. But more than simple beauty was the air of nobility and grace she exuded, a quality that refused to be dulled, even by coming into contact with the rough and jagged edges of the ogres.

  "Are you all right?" Soth asked softly, a little surprised to find his mouth dry as dust.

  "Yes," she said, the word sounding slightly melodic, as if it had been plucked from the middle of a verse. "I think so. Who… who are you?"

  Soth eased one knee onto the ground and placed his arms on the other. He slipped off his helm and said, "I'm Lord Loren Soth of Dargaard Keep,

  Knight of the Rose."

  She smiled at him and said, "You saved my life."

  Soth opened his mouth to speak, but words would not come.

  He gently helped the elf-maiden to her feet and began to lead her through the forest toward the clearing where he expected to find both the knights and maidens gathered.

  After a few steps it became apparent that the elf-maid had twisted her ankle during her struggle with the ogre. It was at least sprained, perhaps even broken.

  "Allow me," offered Soth, scooping the woman up in his arms and carrying her the rest of the way.

  "Oh," the elf-maid said as she was lifted off the ground.

  "It's easier this way," said Soth, trying to make light of the close contact which might or might not have been necessary.

  If she had been an ugly old maid, would he have offered to carry her?

  Probably, but he would have done so a lot less enthusiastically.

  "Perhaps I should introduce myself," said the maiden, her voice sounding to his ears like that of a songbird.

  "I was curious as to your name."

  "It's Isolde," she said, putting her arms around his neck to steady herself as he stepped over a fallen tree. "Isolde Denissa."

  "A lovely name," said Soth. "For a lovely elf."

  She smiled at that. "So you're charming as well as brave, strong and handsome." She rested her head against his shoulder.

  Soth felt warm all over and found himself firming up his grip even though there was no danger of dropping the lithe young elf.

  As he stepped into the clearing however, the feeling of warmth vanished as he came under the scrutiny of his fellow knights and the elderly elf-woman.

  Did she look too comfortable in his arms? Could his sudden-he tried to think of the right word-affection for her be so easily discerned from the look on his face?

  "Is she all right?" asked the elf-woman, who had undoubtedly been charged with the care of the maidens.

  The question jarred Soth's train of thought. Of course, with her eyes closed and her head resting upon his shoulder, she appeared to be near death in their eyes. "She's been injured, but"-he paused for a moment as a wild thought leaped forward in his mind, quelling all other thoughts-"it's nothing the healer won't be able to mend." He put her down on the ground to reunite her with her fellow travelers.

  "The healer?" asked Colm Farold, looking the elf-maiden over. "She doesn't look to be in need of Istvan."

  "On the outside no, but she appears to have suffered"- he hesitated slightly-"internal injuries which might be best left to the healer to remedy. She may very well heal on her own, but it's always best to be sure."

  Farold gave Soth a curious look, but dared not contradict his lord twice. "Very well, milord. We can always attend the Knights' Meeting next year."

  Soth raised his hand dramatically. "No," he said. "These elf-maidens were on a holy pilgrimage to Palanthas. It is your duty as a Knight of

  Solamnia to see they arrive there without further harm." "Our duty?" asked Farold. "You say that as if you won't be coming with us."

  "I won't," said Soth. "I will be escorting the injured elf maid back to

  Dargaard Keep while you and the others continue on to Palanthas. Deliver them safely so that they may pledge themselves to Paladine, father of all that is good. Then, attend the Knights' Meeting as heroes worthy of the title Knights of Solamnia."

  Farold smiled with pride and gratitude. Arriving in Palanthas escorting a group of maidens they'd rescued from ogre bandits would make the knights the talk of the entire meeting, a rare opportunity for the knights to be regarded with the highest esteem by their peers. "Thank you, milord."

  Soth shrugged his shoulders. "After she is in the care of the healer,

  I'll once again set out for Palanthas and join you there. You must extend my apologies to the grand master, and conduct yourselves with the utmost honor and decorum in my absence." "I will, milord," said Farold.

  "We will."

  Soth nodded, then turned to inform the maidens of their plans.

  "My knights will be escorting you the rest of the way to Palanthas," he told the elderly elf-woman. "Meanwhile, I will be taking Isolde Denissa back to Dargaard Keep where she can receive proper aid at the hands of the keep's healer."

&nb
sp; The elf-woman tilted her head back and looked at Soth down the length of her nose. "I've looked her over and her injuries seem to be minor.

  I think she's healthy enough to continue on with us to Palanthas, but thank you very much for your most generous offer."

  The elf-woman was probably several hundred years old and had likely seen a great many things in her lifetime.

  She had acquired great wisdom through her years of experience and for that reason alone deserved Soth's respect. Nevertheless, he couldn't allow her to meddle with his plan.

  "It's not an offer," he said plainly.

  She looked at him with narrowing eyes. "You mentioned Dargaard Keep before. Who are you exactly?"

  Soth realized that their first meeting had been somewhat rushed and they'd never properly introduced themselves.

  "I… am Lord Loren Soth of Dargaard Keep, Knight of the Rose."

  A mixture of shock, surprise and embarrassment traversed the old woman's face at the mention of his name.

  Apparently she had heard of Soth at some point in her long life.

  "Excuse me, milord," she said, using the word even though she was not required to do so. "I was dubious of your intentions, but now that I know who you are I have no doubt that Isolde will be safe in your care."

  She finished her words by lowering her head slightly, an unmistakable sign of respect.

  "You have my word as a Knight of Solamnia," said Soth.

  "No harm will come to her."

  The ride back to Dargaard Keep was taken at a slow pace as the bump and jostle of a hard ride might further injure the young elf-maid.

  For much of the time, Soth trailed Isolde by a horse length to the left.

  As they rode slowly across the plains he watched her ride, her long thin legs draped over the horse and sometimes made bare by a sudden gust of wind. The wind also played through her hair, making her dirty blond locks dance like flames in the light of the sun.

  And even though Soth had never imagined that he'd be so enamored by an elf-in fact he'd never been particularly fond of the race to begin with-he somehow found himself becoming attracted to the maiden. Perhaps it was her mix of youthful innocence and womanly beauty, or perhaps it was the look of awe in her eyes when she spoke and looked at him.

  Whatever it was, he was enchanted by her. Of that, there could be no doubt.

  "I'm becoming weary," said Isolde. "Can we stop for a little while?"

  Soth scanned the surrounding landscape. It was barren and flat and the sun beat down on them mercilessly. He would have liked to have stopped by a stand of trees or a rock formation, but he wasn't about to suggest that Isolde continue on if she didn't feel up to it.

  "All right, we can stop here. But not for long."

  "Thank you, milord."

  "You may call me Loren."

  "Very well… Loren."

  They stopped on the trail and Isolde waited until Soth had dismounted and could assist her from her mount. He reached up, put his hands about her waist and eased her off the horse. Before her feet touched the ground Isolde put her arms around Soth's neck and held him close.

  "I wanted to thank you for all you've done."

  Soth was surprised by how tightly Isolde held onto him, or perhaps surprised that she was so at ease when there were only inches between them.

  "It was nothing, really," said Soth, holding Isolde aloft because she didn't seem in any hurry to get her feet onto the ground. "I did nothing that any Knight of Solamnia wouldn't have done in a similar circumstance."

  "Perhaps, but it wasn't just any Knight of Solamnia who saved me, it was you."

  "But-"

  His words were cut off by a kiss.

  A deep soulful kiss, more passionate than mere thanks would require.

  Soth hesitated at first, but quickly felt himself giving in to the moment until he returned the kiss with as much urgency as it was given.

  It was a long time before Isolde's feet touched the ground.

  When Dargaard Keep was well within their sights and he knew he would be seen from the highest of the keep's towers, Soth felt the warm summer's breeze touch the back of his neck like a cold, cold hand.

  It had been so easy to kiss Isolde.

  It had felt so natural. It was natural, too, that they ride together on his horse, leaving hers to trail riderless behind them.

  But now with the red rose of Dargaard Keep blooming on the horizon, his thoughts turned to Lady Korinne and he felt a churning in the pit of his stomach, almost as if he were going to be sick.

  Did his attraction to Isolde mean that his love for Lady Korinne was waning? After all. Lady Korinne was herself an attractive woman whose beauty was known throughout Ansalon. Then why had he so easily forgotten about her upon seeing Isolde? What was it about the elf-maid that would prompt him to forget his lovely, loyal and most-cherished wife? What did Isolde possess that Korinne did not?

  He couldn't think of anything.

  He'd merely been attracted by her appearance. And while she was stunningly attractive, her looks were no reason for him to lose his head and start acting like a lovesick young boy. But while there wasn't anything wrong with lusting after beautiful young women, elf or otherwise, (he was married, not dead, after all) it was another matter entirely if he chose to act upon his emotions.

  The kiss had been an aberration, he thought, vowing to have Isolde's injuries taken care of, then send her off to Palanthas with an escort so that she could rejoin her fellow maidens.

  "Almost there," he said.

  Isolde craned her neck to see the top of the keep over Soth's shoulder.

  "Where are your chambers?" she asked.

  "The second window from the top on the left side of the tower," he said.

  "And that's where you sleep?"

  Soth considered telling her that it was the room where both he and Lady

  Korinne slept, but for some reason he did not. Instead, he merely said,

  "Yes."

  "Lord Soth returns!"

  "Milord approaches!"

  The loud shouts echoed down from the tower's two top observation posts almost at the same time.

  Immediately upon hearing the words. Lady Korinne felt her heart drop like a stone into the pit of her stomach.

  Something had to be wrong.

  The Knights' Meeting was to have lasted seven days and her husband was not to have returned for at least ten, or perhaps for even two weeks, yet here he was returning just two days after leaving. He hadn't even reached Palanthas.

  A lump of worry gathered in Korinne's throat as she hurried to the window of her bedchamber. The room was high up in the keep with a view that stretched all the way to the Vingaard River. If the sky was clear, she'd likely be able to see her husband's approach.

  She scanned the horizon and picked out two horses far off in the distance making their way toward the keep.

  There appeared to be two riders, but she couldn't be sure.

  One was obviously Lord Soth, his size, shape and the deep rose-red color of his leather armor unmistakable even at this distance. The other traveler was much harder to identify.

  Clearly the rider was not a knight, being too small and slender to belong to any of the orders.

  At one point, the two horses turned slightly to one side.

  At once, Korinne saw that the trailing horse was riderless, while the second rider sat directly behind Lord Soth.

  She shifted her gaze back onto her husband. From the way he was riding, it was obvious that he was unharmed.

  She was relieved but the lump of worry was still knotted in her throat.

  In fact, it seemed to have grown larger.

  If he hadn't been injured, then why was he returning so early, and in the company of a woman? A woman who rode with her arms wrapped tightly around the waist of Korinne's husband.

  BOOK TWO

  Knight's Fall

  Chapter 11

  By the time Soth reached Dargaard Keep, dozens of people had g
athered just inside the gate to receive him. There was a buzz traveling through the crowd and speculation ran rampant with theories ranging from an ambush and slaughter on the trail, to the discovery of a lost lone traveler brought back to the keep for her own safety.

  When Soth and Isolde entered the keep, something of a stunned silence came over those gathered as they recognized the maiden's beauty to be quite extraordinary.

  Soth stopped his horse and dismounted. "Where is Istvan?" he shouted, his voice tinged with just a hint of urgency.

  "Here I am, milord!" said the elderly healer. In his prime Istvan had been a short man of stocky build with a full head of thick brown hair.

  Now, after more than twenty years of service as healer, first for all of Knightlund and now within Dargaard Keep, his dark brown mane had turned white and flowed down over his shoulders like tattered white threads. He was also thinner and scraggier- some might even say emaciated-than he'd been in his youth, yet despite his lack of bulk, he was still quite nimble, especially considering his age.

  But nimblest of all was his mind, not only in areas of healing, in which he had no rival, but also in areas of keep politics. No one understood the internal machinations of the keep and the knighthood better than he.

  For that reason he had managed to offend no one in all his years of service and had maintained his position for decades despite changes in rule and shifts in allegiance.

  Soth helped Isolde down from her pillion. When her feet touched the ground, much of her weight was placed on her injured ankle causing her to stumble. Soth made an overly dramatic gesture to help steady her and turned to Istvan with a look of grave concern.

  "She was injured in an ogre raid on her traveling party.

  She's in desperate need of your attention."

  Isolde grimaced at the pain in her ankle.

  Istvan looked the elf-maid over, quickly inspecting her wounds and using what he saw to make a general assessment of the injuries he could not see.