Soul of Skulls (Book 6)

by Moeller, Jonathan

  “You’re sure,” said Rhea, “that there are only two men on guard?”

  Her voice had a slight lisp from the split lip Malden had given her.

  “Three, actually,” said Aidan. “One more will keep watch over the prisoners inside, even though the prisoners will be chained.” He gestured at the curtain wall. “And even if they break free, what of it? No one can outrun the runedead.”

  “Then there is nothing to do,” said Rhea, “but wait.”

  So they waited in the shadows of a tower, unnoticed by the guards. The sergeants' expressions grew increasingly bored. Perhaps they had feared a desperate attempt to rescue the prisoners, armed men storming the barracks to fight both the Justiciars and the runedead.

  Rachel doubted they had foreseen two noblewomen, two maids, and a loaf of bread.

  As if her thought had summoned them, two kitchen maids approached the barracks, carrying a tray of food. They stopped before the sergeants and began to speak. The maids were too far away for Rachel to overhear, but from the smiles that spread across the sergeants’ faces, Rachel could tell they were flirting.

  Soon after that, the sergeants invited the girls to share the meal.

  A little while later the sergeants toppled unconscious to the ground, drugged by the elixir the maids had mixed into the bread.

  The maids hurried to the shadow of the tower and performed a curtsy.

  “We did as you commanded, my lady,” said the younger of the two. “We mixed the draught into the bread. Will you take us with you? We don't want to stay, not when the castle is filled with dead things.”

  “Well done,” said Rhea. “And you will certainly come with us. If Caldarus and his vile wizard learn what you have done, your lives will be forfeit. Come!”

  They hurried across the courtyard, Sir Commander Aidan in the lead. Rachel followed Rhea, Belifane cradled in her arms, and Elsie walked at her side, carrying Aldane. Both boys still slept, thank the gods. Rhea had provided Rachel with a tiny pinch of that sleeping draught, just enough to keep the children unconscious through their escape.

  Aidan pulled open the barracks door and strode inside, the women following.

  He came to an abrupt stop.

  The barracks were deserted, save for two Justiciar sergeants playing dice at a wooden table. Both sergeants rose, staring at them with hard eyes.

  “Sir Commander,” said the man on the left.

  “I require the keys to the cells,” said Aidan.

  “Why?” said the sergeant.

  Aidan scowled. “You question the lawful orders of a commander of the Justiciar Knights?”

  Both sergeants said nothing.

  “Grand Master Caldarus, in his great wisdom,” said Aidan at last, “has shown clemency, and permitted these noblewomen,” he gestured at Rachel and Rhea, “to see their husband and sons one last time before they are executed. Now. I command you to give me the keys at once.”

  The sergeants grinned and reached for their swords.

  “The Grand Master said no one is to have the keys,” said the first sergeant. “And the Grand Master said that if anyone, even a preceptor or a commander, asks for the keys, we’re to kill them on sight.”

  “Never killed a commander before,” said the second sergeant.

  Both men charged, and Aidan yanked his sword from its scabbard.

  The blades clashed and clanged, the maids shrieked, and one of the sergeants fell dead. The remaining man drove Aidan back with a flurry of brilliant swordplay, Aidan’s face tight as he struggled to block. His back slammed into the wall, and the sergeant drew back his sword for the kill.

  Lady Rhea seized a pitcher of water from the table and hammered it onto the back of the sergeant’s head. The man staggered with a gasp of pain, and Aidan’s sword came down.

  The sergeant joined his fellow on the floor, their blood spreading over the cool stone.

  “Your assistance, my lady,” said Aidan, snatching the keys from the dead man’s belt, “was most timely.”

  “You are welcome,” said Rhea.

  Aidan sighed. “Now I have spilled the blood of my fellow Justiciars. I have become a traitor and violated my oaths.”

  “Oh, rubbish,” said Rhea. “Caldarus betrayed you first when he started listening to the likes of Lucan Mandragon. And I am about to betray my husband, something I thought I would never do. Come along, everyone. We haven’t the time to spend gawking at dead men.”

  Aidan led them down a flight of stone steps. The stairs ended in a narrow corridor lined with iron-barred cells on either side. Rachel glimpsed shadowy forms in the cells and heard the clink of chains.

  “Who is there?” bellowed Tobias Roland. “Show yourself, you craven dogs!”

  “Son,” said Rhea, “you must comport yourself with more lordly dignity.”

  A stunned silence answered her.

  “Mother?” said Tobias. “What are you doing here?”

  “Rescuing you,” said Rhea. She looked at Aidan. “Get the doors open, and give the keys to the maids.” Her cool eyes turned to the serving women. “Once the commander has the doors open, unchain the men.”

  No one ever refused Lady Rhea, and in a matter of moments, the prisoners had been freed.

  Rachel hurried through the press and found Gerald. He looked tired and grim, but otherwise unhurt, thank the gods, and she threw herself into his arms, Belifane pressed between them.

  “I don’t understand,” said Gerald. “How…”

  “Your wife showed admirable initiative,” said Rhea. “She came to me with this plan, and I arranged to make it so.” She sniffed. “Even if my husband has become a fool, the Lady of Knightcastle still has a certain degree of influence.”

  “I thank you for my freedom, Lady Rhea,” said old Lord Agravain, rubbing his wrists, “but what shall we do next?”

  “We cannot fight our way out of the castle,” said Adalar Greatheart. “Not with all those runedead upon the walls.”

  “We will do nothing of the sort,” said Rhea. “We can enter the Trysting Ways from here, and use them to leave the castle. I have horses waiting outside, and we can make our escape.”

  “To where?” said Gerald. “Shall we abandon our lands and our people to Lucan Mandragon and his runedead? You see what he has done to Father and the Justiciars. Shall we spend the rest of our lives wandering in exile?”

  “No,” said Rachel. “We will go to the Grim Marches and ask Mazael for help.”

  Silence answered her, and Adalar nodded.

  “Yes,” he said. “Yes. If anyone can fight Lucan Mandragon and his host of corpses, it is your brother, my lady.”

  “And Lord Mazael must be warned,” said Lord Nicholas, his thin face smudged with blood. “Lucan has convinced Lord Malden to lead the runedead on a mad war against the entire world.”

  “Lord Mazael is one of the greatest commanders of our time,” said Lord Tancred, sweating despite the chill of the underground passage. “He will be able to help us.”

  “I am pleased that we are in agreement,” said Rhea. “But I suggest we depart at once. Pardon, my lords.”

  She pushed through the nobles and walked to the blank stone wall at the end of the corridor. She squinted at it for a moment, nodded, and then knocked on one of the stones five times in quick succession. Rachel heard a loud click, and then a low grinding noise as the wall swung aside to reveal a hidden doorway. A man in a black coat stepped through the doorway, torchlight glimmering on his pale hair.

  "My lady," said Circan, bowing to Rhea. "I am pleased to see that you made it."

  "I am glad you are here, Circan," said Rhea. "The horses are ready?"

  "Yes, my lady," said Circan. "They await outside the curtain wall. I suggest we make haste."

  "I appreciate a man with sense," said Rhea. "The rest of your, gather your arms and armor, and we shall leave."

  ###

  The gloomy tunnels of the Trysting Ways closed around Rachel like icy fingers.

  She kn
ew the history of the Ways, how Knightcastle had been built up over the centuries, how the various kings and lords had added secret passage after secret passage until they finally congealed into a vast labyrinth running through the castle and into the surrounding hills. Yet the name suggested a pleasant meadow, a place where lords and their lovers could carry on secret trysts.

  Instead the Trysting Ways felt like a catacomb. Stone arches rose into the darkness, the walls stained with moisture. The tunnels were silent as a tomb, save for the tap of their footfalls and the rasp of their breathing. Rachel huddled close to Gerald, her eyes darting back to make sure Elsie kept pace with Aldane. Her arms ached from carrying Belifane, but she would not let him go.

  She would have carried both children, if she had been strong enough.

  The stone tunnel widened into a large hall that looked as if it might have been a church once. Bits of dusty wood littered the floor, and a score of stone sarcophagi lined both walls. Their lids had been smashed, the broken chunks lying among the wood. The corpses within had risen as runedead, Rachel realized, when the green fire of the Great Rising filled the sky.

  She shivered again, worse than before.

  "There," said Circan, pointing at the far end of the hall. A narrow stone doorway waited there, and beyond Rachel saw a set of ascending stairs. "Those open up at the base of the outer wall."

  "Good," said Rhea. "We..."

  A flicker of green light caught Rachel's eye.

  She looked up and saw a dozen pools of green mist swirling on the hall's vaulted ceiling. Rachel blinked, thinking that the dim torchlight had played tricks on her eyes. But the light brightened, and a dozen forms fashioned of green light and smoke descended from the ceiling.

  Lucan had found them.

  "Runedead!" said Rachel. "My lords, runedead!"

  Shouts rang out as the lords drew their swords.

  "A circle!" said Tobias. "The women and children in the center, now!"

  "Oil!" said Circan. "My lords, wizard's oil, quickly!"

  Circan sprinted around the circle, sprinkling wizard's oil on the bared blades, and one by one they caught fire with ghostly white flame.

  And then the runedead hardened into solid form and attacked.

  Bloody chaos reigned around Rachel. A lord fell to the ground with a clatter of armor, blood gushing from his throat. Lord Nicholas wheeled, his burning sword taking the head from a runedead. Gerald struck right and left, taking one of the undead with every blow. Yet more and more green light flared overhead, flooding the hall with a ghostly radiance.

  "The stairs!" said Circan, gesturing. A blast of invisible force slammed a runedead into the wall. "The wards on the outer wall will keep the runedead from becoming immaterial, and I can block the passage!"

  "Go!" roared Tobias, his blade splitting an undead skull. Already the white flames on the lords' swords dimmed and sputtered. "On my mark, run for..."

  A runedead turned ghostly and stepped through the men, hardening into flesh behind them. Rachel shouted, backing away, but the runedead reached past her and lunged at Rhea.

  Lord Malden's wife and Gerald's mother died with a look of indignant surprise on her face.

  "Mother!" screamed Tobias, wheeling and cutting down the runedead that had slain Rhea.

  And as he did, he turned his back on the other runedead.

  "Tobias!" said Gerald. "Look..."

  A runedead reached out, seized Tobias's neck, and twisted.

  The crackling noise of shattered bone seemed deafening, and Tobias fell besides Rhea. Gerald stared at his brother, shock on his face. Then he looked at Rachel, and his expression hardened into grim resolution.

  "Run!" he roared. "All of you, run for the stairs! Now! Now!"

  The maids and Elsie dashed for the stairs, and Rachel followed suit as the men distracted the runedead. A moment later the surviving lords and Circan sprinted for the stairs. Rachel scrambled up the slippery steps, her heart pounding, Belifane a warm bundle in her arms. The lords raced after them with a clatter of armor. Rachel looked back, saw Circan standing at the base of the stairs, a copper tube gleaming in his hand.

  An instant later of a billowing gout of yellow-orange flames erupted from the tube, tearing into the hall. Rachel saw a dozen charging runedead go up in flames, the fire devouring the necromancy animating their undead flesh.

  The fire reflected off the tears on her husband's face.

  "Go!" yelled Circan, hurrying up the stairs. "It won't last for long. Go!"

  ###

  They galloped to the east, away from Knightcastle, and as they did, Gerald took one last look back.

  All his life, Knightcastle had been his home, a place of beauty, a place he had struggled to defend. In the dim moonlight, it still looked beautiful. Yet he saw hundreds of points of green light upon its walls and in its towers, as if ghostly bonfires blazed within the castle.

  The runedead, standing guard over Knightcastle.

  Knightcastle had become a place of death and horror...and Lucan Mandragon had wrought it.

  For the sake of his murdered brother and mother, for the sake of his children, Gerald swore that he would return.

  "Gerald!" said Rachel.

  He turned his head, saw his wife staring at him. He had fallen behind the others.

  Gerald put spurs to his horse. He would return and drive out the evil that had infested Knightcastle.

  But first, he had to see Rachel and his sons to safety.

  They rode to the east as fast as they dared.

  Chapter 38 - Regeneration

  The roads in the Stormvales had grown more crowded.

  Riothamus had expected to see peasants fleeing the Aegonar, of course. If the choice was between submitting to the serpent-worshipping Aegonar and running, a sensible man would run.

  Yet they also saw peasants fleeing from Knightreach and Mastaria.

  Riothamus spoke to a few of them and heard their tales. A great horde of runedead had descended upon Knightreach, they said, and had conquered Knightcastle and put the nobles to death. Others claimed that the Justiciars had gone on murderous rampages, riding through villages and killing dozens of peasants with peculiar black daggers wreathed in green flame.

  That reminded Riothamus of the Glamdaigyr and the Great Rising. At least the Glamdaigyr had been destroyed with the collapse of the Great Rising, and could work no further horrors.

  Still other peasants told tales of a dark wizard in a steel mask who enslaved Lord Malden and the Justiciar Grand Master, summoned up a horde of runedead, and commanded the Lord of Knightcastle and Caldarus to conquer the world in his name.

  “What is happening in Knightcastle?” said Riothamus after they passed another group of weary travelers.

  Molly shrugged. “I’ve never been to Knightreach. You know more about it than I do, Father.”

  Mazael stared at the road ahead. “Runedead, most likely. Maybe some opportunistic wizard took control of a few thousand runedead decided to carve out a little kingdom for himself. But why does Skalatan want Knightcastle?”

  Riothamus did not know.

  Mazael shook his head. “Later. We will find out what is happening later. Right now I have something more important to do.”

  His hand strayed to the bag holding the vial of blood.

  ###

  Mazael expected to find chaos on his return to the Grim Marches. He had hoped Lord Robert and Earnachar and the others could cooperate, but he had not been entirely certain. Hopefully they would have stopped short of an open civil war.

  But as he rode through the plains and spoke with villagers and travelers, he received no ill news. Certainly, there had been attacks from runedead, and more refugees settling in the Grim Marches, but the Malrags and the runedead had left many empty lands to spare. The lords and the headmen bickered constantly, but lords always bickered, and they dared not make war upon each other. Otherwise Lord Mazael would return in wrath and punish them.

  Mazael grinned at the thought.r />
  Word of his return spread, and by the time they reached the gates of Cravenlock Town, the castle looming overhead on its rocky hill like a dark wizard’s fortress from a child’s tale, the lords and headmen awaited him.

  “My lord,” said Sir Hagen Bridgebane, grim behind his black beard, “it is good you have returned.”

  “Aye,” said Lord Robert Highgate, whose chain mail made him look a bit like a steel pear. “We kept the peace, though with no help from these stiff-necked Tervingi.”

  “Nonsense!” said Earnachar, stepping forward. “Let it be known that Earnachar son of Balnachar was faithful to his oaths, just as mighty Tervingar himself honored his oaths in war!”

  “Good,” said Mazael. “You honored my trust in you.” His mind burned with impatience, and he wanted to gallop to Castle Cravenlock’s courtyard. “Bid your thains and knights and armsmen to prepare for war. We face…”

  “Golden knight!”

  A thin peasant stood behind the nobles. The man looked familiar, though Mazael could not place him. Then he remembered Ryker, the former bailiff of Bluepeak Village, his home destroyed by the runedead.

  “It is good to see you safe, sir knight,” said Ryker. “Was your business successful?”

  “Yes,” said Mazael, “though it was a close thing.”

  “Thank you again for your aid against the bandits,” said Ryker, “and for sending us here. Sir Hagen indeed found us lands, as you said he would.”

  Hagen frowned. “I settled Ryker and his folk near Stone Tower, my lord. But you’ve met Lord Mazael already?”

  Ryker blinked…and then his eyes grew wide. It heartened Mazael. Perhaps it was not all in vain. Perhaps once Skalatan was defeated and the runedead subdued, his people could live in peace and quiet.

  Mazael grinned. “Come, my lords. We have work before us…but there is something I must first do.”

  ###

  An hour later Mazael stood before the tree Riothamus had grown in the courtyard of Castle Cravenlock. Romaria looked utterly unchanged, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling as she breathed, the countless tiny roots threading into her skin like wooden veins.