Lord Soth w-6

by Edo Van Belkom

  "Soth, the unwise," said the redhead.

  "Did it never strike you as odd that Isolde was the one to receive the vision which sent you on your quest?" "I prayed to Paladine," Soth said between clenched teeth. "He showed me the destruction that would be brought on by the Cataclysm. Isolde prayed to Mishakal.

  The goddess showed her how it could be prevented." "So gullible," said the dark elf.

  "Soth, the naive," said the redhead.

  "And did you not think it suspicious that Isolde, a woman who swore her love to you, and supposedly bore your child, would so readily be willing to send you off on a journey that could only end with your death?"

  Soth had wondered about this, but was able to dismiss his concerns because of the strength of Isolde's faith. Now, suddenly, he wasn't so sure anymore.

  "While you and your knights have been riding clear across Ansalon on a fool's quest, Isolde has been bedding all the knights and squires you've left behind. She's even been intimate with a few of the footmen, as well as a few others you might not want to know about." The elf maid's eyes grew wide as she took obvious delight in striking a blow deep into

  Soth's heart. "But perhaps it's best this way," the maid continued. "At least now Isolde will be reunited with the father of her child-whomever he might be."

  "Silence!" Soth cried.

  He wanted to shut the words from his mind but he could not. The elf-maids had known so much about him, known the truth about Lady

  Korinne's death, known the truth about the murders of his half-siblings.

  If they knew the truth about those matters, then why wouldn't what they said about Isolde also be true?

  That meant that… Peradur was not his child, but a bastard.

  And Isolde was not a loving wife and devoted mother, but a harlot seductress who cared not whom she slept with.

  The more Soth thought about it, the more sense it made.

  Isolde had been so forward with him, seducing him while he'd still been wed to Korinne, even while Korinne was in pain and heavy with child. She was an ambitious social climber willing to bed her way into the position of lady of the keep.

  If she'd been capable of that, what was to stop her from being unfaithful to Soth while he was away? What was to stop her from simply finding another knight in a position of power now that Soth was an outlaw? And finally, what better way was there to bed whomever she pleased than to send him away on a quest from which he would never return?

  The more sense it made, the more he raged.

  The elf-maids continued to babble on, but Soth could no longer hear their individual words. It just seemed to be a wall of black noise designed to drive him mad.

  "Silence!" he cried.

  The elf-maids continued.

  "She sees every man as her lover… "Enough!" he shouted.

  "And she loves every man she sees…"

  "Si-lence!" he screamed.

  The elf-maids would not stop.

  Soth drew his broadsword.

  "Milord, no," gasped Farold.

  But it was far too little, too late.

  Soth's blood ran hot, heated by flames of jealousy and betrayal, even hatred. Rage clouded his thoughts, took control of his mind and body, governing his actions. He dismounted his horse in seconds.

  The elf-maids were still speaking, almost in chants of torment now, not caring that Soth was fast approaching them with his sword raised high above his head.

  "Her desire burns hot…"

  Soth was upon them.

  "Her bed is alight with flames of passion…"

  With a single, swift motion Soth struck down the lovely dark-haired elf, cutting her in two from her left shoulder to her right hip. The pieces of her fell to the ground, but her large dark eyes still watched him and her mouth still moved, her words could still be heard.

  "With you out of the way…"

  Soth struck her again.

  "She will be free to indulge herself…"

  Again and again he struck her, until the maid was silenced.

  Breathing hard, he moved on to the elf-maid with red hair, swinging his sword from left to right in a powerful arc that cut her down like a small sapling.

  "When she's done with the men of the keep…"

  Soth raised his sword, hilt high, point to the ground.

  "More will come from miles around…"

  And brought it down through the maid's throat, choking off her next word, replacing it with a muted gurgle.

  That left just the blonde.

  Soth lunged forward and ran his sword through her.

  She seemed to laugh as the blade pierced her body. And when she spoke it sounded as if she felt no pain at all.

  "Lord Loren Soth," she cackled. "Lord Cuckold of Dargaard Keep."

  Soth pulled the sword from the maiden and began hacking with powerful two-handed blows. The maid fell to the ground, dead, but Soth still would not stop. He just kept striking the body until it was little more than a spot of gore strewn across the rocky ground.

  And still he would not stop. He continued to hack and stab at the maids like a madman.

  "Milord!" cried Farold.

  The knights moved forward, grabbing at his arms to make him stop. Soth finally let the tip of his sword rest against the ground as he stopped to look at the carnage.

  Then, as they watched, the remains of the three elf maids slowly began to fade into the rocky slope of the mountainside.

  "Phantoms," gasped Kern.

  "Sent by the Kingpriest to stop us from reaching Istar," added Farold.

  Soth, however, remained silent.

  To him, it mattered not what the messengers had been.

  Flesh and blood or phantom, their message had still been true.

  "Now we can continue on our way," said Caradoc, pausing a moment so that

  Soth could agree.

  But Soth said nothing.

  Instead he turned for his horse, mounted it and began riding west in the direction from which they had come.

  Farold, Caradoc and Kern watched Soth ride away.

  "Where in the name of Paladine is he going?" asked Kern.

  "Dargaard Keep, most likely," said Caradoc. "And what of us?" asked Farold.

  "Do we have a choice?" asked Caradoc.

  "We could continue on to Istar," said Farold. "We could confront the

  Kingpriest ourselves."

  "Which would accomplish nothing," said Caradoc.

  "Soth had the knowledge that he would continue to rise from the dead until the Kingpriest was vanquished.

  We have no such guarantee. We would simply die and the Kingpriest would carry on." He looked at Farold, then at Kern. "I, for one, refuse to give up my life so foolishly." "Agreed," said Farold.

  Kern simply nodded. "If Soth is headed back to the keep," he asked, "what will he do when he gets there?"

  The three knights were silent as they considered the question. They looked at the barren ground where the elf maids had died and subsequently vanished.

  Finally, Farold raised his head and looked with a stricken expression at his fellow knights.

  "For the love of Paladine," whispered Kern, "no!"

  Caradoc didn't bother to respond. Instead, he turned for his horse and mounted it. Then he kicked at its ribs, sending the beast surging forward.

  Farold and Kern followed.

  Traitorous, cheating, conniving, lying, evil, wicked elf wench.

  Soth continued to ride west, his mind locked in a continuous and destructive cycle of anger, hate and rage.

  She sent me in search of my death.

  He was pushing himself and his mount to the limits of endurance. He should have fallen to exhaustion long ago, but both he and his horse seemed to scarcely feel the strain.

  Now it is her death toward which I ride.

  He kicked at his horse, forcing it to run faster and it responded with a longer stride.

  Deceptive, scheming, corrupt, deceitful, disloyal, wanton trollop.

&n
bsp; Caradoc's horse staggered after catching its hoof on a rock. The beast snorted and righted itself, but after a few steps it began to stagger.

  The knights had been riding for what seemed like days.

  But for all their efforts they had been unable to make up any distance.

  Soth and his horse seemed to be creatures possessed of an otherworldly sort of power that would not forsake them until they reached their destination.

  Suddenly, Caradoc's horse faltered, this time plowing into the ground with all its weight.

  Dead weight.

  Caradoc gathered himself up.

  Kern and Farold noticed Caradoc had fallen behind and circled back toward him.

  "Ride with me," offered Farold, patting his horse's sweat-soaked haunches.

  Caradoc shook his head. "Thank you, but"-his voice broke as he struggled to catch his breath-"even if I had a fresh horse, it would matter not. We are pursuing a demon we will never catch. Soth is utterly possessed by a jealous rage. Even if we could catch him, I seriously doubt we could ever stop him."

  Farold's horse snorted, as if in agreement.

  "I believe you are correct," said Farold, his voice followed by a long sigh of defeat.

  "This is a matter that is out of our hands," agreed Kern.

  The two knights dismounted, took their horses by the reins and, along with Caradoc, took up the chase again, this time on foot.

  Night was falling, but Soth continued to ride.

  As Farold, Caradoc and Kern struggled to make their way through the Khalkist Mountains, they could just make him out in the distance-a faint silhouette against the pale red and white light of the moons.

  Chapter 31

  The tremors shook the ground for hours.

  All through the city of Istar, screams could be heard.

  Men, women and children cried out in agony and terror as cracks opened beneath their feet, swallowing them where they stood.

  No one was safe.

  Nowhere was safe.

  The land itself was opening up, devouring entire families, entire homes, whole rows of houses, like some angry maw that was as insatiable as it was terrifying.

  The sky had gone from blue to black, and was now tinged with red as it rained fire and destruction onto what was left of one of the greatest cities on the face of Krynn.

  In the temple, the Kingpriest refused to concede defeat, refused to admit that his own righteous pride had brought on the wrath of the gods.

  Like a madman, he still held out hope that the gods would come to their senses and plead for him to ascend to the heavens and take his rightful place alongside them.

  "Is this the sign?" he shouted over the noise and rumble of the absolute chaos going on around him. "Is this the prelude to my ascension?"

  He had hardly finished uttering the words when a ball of flame as big as a mountain streaked across the sky.

  Chapter 32

  The keep's guards had been warned of Soth's approach long in advance of his arrival. When he rode over the drawbridge, the portcullis was raised and waiting for him to enter.

  Soth looked around, surprised at the expressions on the faces of those who had come to greet him. They all looked as if they were seeing a ghost.

  Of course, such a reaction was understandable because Soth was to have never returned from his quest, but he saw it somewhat differently.

  To his mind, they were all looking at him in this way because he had come back early and caught Isolde in the middle of an infidelity. The thought renewed the anger within him, making his blood run even hotter.

  Soth dismounted. The people around him said nothing.

  The inside of the keep was filled only with the sound of his horse, which was snorting harshly while doing its best to remain standing after the long, hard ride. Soth walked among the people gathered in the entrance area, his boots and armor clanking with each step.

  "Where is my wife?" he bellowed.

  "Sh-she is in her chambers, milord," said Parry Roslin, captain of the guards.

  "With whom?" he said, placing a strong right hand around Roslin's throat.

  "She is with your son, I believe."

  Soth pushed Roslin roughly aside. Some of the guards moved hesitantly to Roslin's aid.

  "Here I am, here I am," came a voice from somewhere on the upper levels of the keep.

  Soth heard that voice and the madness swirling within his mind intensified twofold.

  "My lord, what brings you back so soon?" she said, coming into the entrance area with Peradur in her arms.

  "Glad that I have returned, I see," Soth said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Isolde seemed confused by this. "Of course I am glad to see you, but what of the quest?"

  "The quest," he smiled. "You mean, what of my death?"

  "I do not understand," she said, shaking her head.

  "Of course you don't. You don't understand how I've come to see the light- But now I know how you've been unfaithful to me… since the beginning."

  "What are you talking about?" Isolde's voice was broken and disjointed with fear. Her eyes were glassy, on the verge of tears.

  "Oh, how well you play the innocent," Soth said mockingly, his voice sounding hollow and chilling, as if it had already been touched by death. "Even now as I confront your unfaithfulness."

  "What?" she said, truly surprised. "I've never been unfaithful to you."

  Soth said nothing, his mind too clouded by rage to hear anything other than the taunting words of the elf-maids that had been echoing in his ears ever since he had returned to the keep:

  She sees every man as her lover… And she loves every man she sees…

  Lord Loren Soth, Knight of the Rose, Lord Cuckold of Dargaard Keep.

  "I've never been unfaithful to you," Isolde repeated, her voice begging him to believe her. She began to move away from him, stepping backward into one of the keep's larger halls.

  Soth rushed forward. "Liar!" he cried, placing a hand on her shoulder and pushing her heavily to the floor.

  Isolde fell backward, clutching Peradur close to her breast. When she came to a stop, she looked up at Soth with wide eyes that were filled with terror and disbelief.

  A loud roar could be heard outside the keep, shaking it roughly as it thundered past. In seconds the tremendous sound faded, replaced by the pungent smell of burnt wood and leaves, and other things that could not be named. The sky dimmed as the light from the sun was blocked by a layer of smoke.

  Soth and Isolde paid little attention to the event as they were too involved in what was happening within the keep to care.

  "What is the matter with you?" she asked, her voice edged with as much anger as terror. "I am your wife! I bore you a son!"

  "A son, you say. Not my son! How are you so sure the child is mine?" asked Soth, towering over the fallen woman, forcing her to crawl awkwardly backward with a single hand just to keep her distance.

  Soth's words struck her heart like a dagger. The tears she had been holding back streamed from the corners of her eyes. "How dare you accuse me," she said. "I loved you always. You saved my life. How could I ever do anything to hurt you?"

  "You lay with me while I was still wed to Korinne. If you ignored one oath of matrimony, why should I believe you would honor the one you swore to me?"

  "After Korinne was with child I wanted to leave the keep. But you, you were the one who wanted me to remain. You asked me to stay here so that you could be unfaithful to Korinne."

  Peradur had begun to cry, wailing loudly after listening to his parents argue for so long. The child's cry reverberated through the keep, which had quickly emptied after the extent of Soth's anger had become apparent. It was possible that there still might be people in the hall peeking around corners, but if they were there, they were keeping themselves well hidden.

  "So, you accuse me," said Soth, "when it is you who make a mockery of our marriage, bedding any man you please."

  "By the hand of Mishakal," Isolde whisp
ered. "What demon possesses you?"

  "Do you even know who the child's father is?"

  "You are his father," Isolde said softly between sobs. "You are."

  "Treacherous, deceitful, lying witch!"

  Isolde said nothing.

  Instinctively she crouched onto the floor to protect her child, and wept.

  Soth stepped forward, drew his sword.

  Isolde looked up.

  "In the name of Paladine," she whispered. "No, please-"

  At that moment the keep was rocked by the shock waves created by the impact of the fiery mountain-sized ball as it slammed into the unsuspecting city of Istar.

  Like everywhere else on Krynn, Solamnia heaved from the impact. The keep began to crumble. Jagged cracks began to appear along mortar lines between the bloodstones.

  Items throughout the keep toppled from their places. The keep was filled with the sounds of clattering steel, smashing pots and the cries of people caught by falling debris.

  The floor of the hall in which they stood began to split apart. The shaking of the ground caused Isolde to stumble backward onto the floor with the baby cradled in her arms.

  "Help me," she cried, trying to rise up.

  Soth shook his head. "Help you who have betrayed me so completely?"

  She raised a hand toward him, but instead of assisting her, he turned his back on her.

  The ground rumbled once more, shaking the keep to its very foundations.

  Isolde screamed.

  Soth turned around just in time to see the great chandelier hanging above the hall come loose from its mount. As if in another dimension, or shrouded in some spell, the chandelier fell slowly, seeming to fall inches at a time, taking forever to reach the floor.

  Instinctively, Soth was compelled to do something to save her. He began moving toward Isolde, but like the chandelier itself, he could hardly move fast enough.

  In the end Soth was left helpless and could only watch as the chandelier's ornate silver and gold swords, crowns and roses, impaled

  Isolde, nailing her to the jagged floor of the hall, unable to move.

  In an instant, all Soth's maddening rage was gone.

  He looked at his wife, saw the blood flowing freely from her wounds and open mouth, and could only think of how he had failed her utterly.