The Dark Monolith: Heroes of Ravenford Book 3

by F. P. Spirit

  Lloyd barely heard him. He still might have a chance. There was a spiritblade technique he hadn’t quite mastered yet—it invoked a state of body that did not require movement like most other skills. It was indeed a long shot, but if he could get it to work, he might still have a fighting chance. Lloyd stilled his mind. Some corner of it noted that Fafnar had turned back to face him. The knight was still gloating.

  “What’s the matter? No retorts? Nothing to say, man of Penwick?”

  Time slowed at those last few words. Lloyd felt that spark of spirit again and knew he had connected with his innermost being. Drawing on that power, he pulled it forth and pushed it outward from his body in all directions. It was a huge strain, and he felt himself sweating from the effort.

  Fafnar’s voice rang out. “Whatever are you doing? You’re stuck. You can’t...”

  The ice surrounding his body began to crack.

  Fafnar’s voice rose in pitch. “That’s... impossible!”

  Straining with every fiber of his being, Lloyd pushed outward one last time. The icy prison that held him broke apart. Lloyd’s eyes snapped open. Chunks of ice and snow flew in all directions. Fafnar jumped back out of the way as a huge piece of ice went flying past him. Lloyd seized the opportunity—he began to concentrate, the world slowing around him once more. He swiftly reached the point where body, mind, and spirit were all one, then the world flashed past him, and he was suddenly behind Sir Fafnar.

  The knight was taken completely off-guard. Lloyd reached out and grappled him with one arm. Fafnar tried to break free, but then froze in place as the tip of Lloyd’s sword pressed up against his back. Around him, the audience began to cheer wildly. There were cries of “Way to go, lad!” “That’ll show him!” and “Who’s stuck now?”

  Lloyd kept his eyes firmly fixed on his opponent, holding him firmly in place. “Do you give up?”

  Fafnar stiffened. Even from behind, he could tell the knight was livid. Lloyd remained wary, carefully watching for signs of spiritblade moves. None came. The Dunwynn noble remained firmly in his grip, still seething at having the tables so effectively turned on him.

  “I do not!” Fafnar spat from between clenched teeth.

  The audience died down, but there was still underlying chatter in the stands. Fafnar tried to thrash around, but Lloyd tightened his grip. He held him fast, the tip of his blade digging into the knight’s back. Fafnar finally ceased his struggling.

  “Do you give up?” Lloyd repeated, his tone as calm as ice.

  Fafnar would not answer. He remained firmly stuck in Lloyd’s grip, refusing to yield. The two of them stood locked in that position for perhaps another half minute when a voice rang out across the arena.

  “The match is over!”

  Lloyd peered in the direction of the voice and saw the Baron standing in the royal box. He waved his hands out in front of him, signifying the end of any further actions.

  “And the winner is... Lloyd Stealle!” Gryswold declared emphatically.

  A huge roar went up around them, the entire audience standing up and cheering as one. Mixed chants his own name and “Heroes!” erupted from both sides of the arena. Lloyd slowly released Sir Fafnar and stepped away from him.

  Fafnar turned around to face him, his expression boiling with anger. “You were lucky, knave. That move would not work a second time.”

  Lloyd glared at the arrogant noble. “It doesn’t matter. I’d beat you again, even without it.”

  Fafnar glowered at him, his face a mask of rage. He began to retort, but was interrupted as another loud voice rang out across the arena.

  “Sir Fafnar! We are done here!”

  Lloyd glanced in the direction of that voice. It was the Duke of Dunwynn. He too now stood, his eyes fixed on his recalcitrant knight. Fafnar spun toward his liege, his anger quickly dissipating. Crestfallen, he bowed to the Duke. “At once, Lord Kelvick.”

  Fafnar spun around again and hissed under his breath, “A fortnight from now, here in Ravenford.”

  Lloyd nodded. “Agreed.”

  Fafnar stormed off back toward the tents, the crowd cheering his exit. Lloyd watched as the noble retreated, then sheathed his swords and crossed the field toward the royal box. The Duke had disappeared, but Gryswold, Gracelynn, Andrella, and the knights from Penwick all stood and clapped for him. His eyes were focused, though, on the young lady whose scarf he wore. Andrella then surprised him. Despite her fine gown, the young lady vaulted down onto the field. She met him in front of the royal box, pulled him down, and kissed him firmly on the lips. Another round of cheers went up through the crowd as the two young nobles locked lips. When Andrella finally let go, Lloyd found himself breathless.

  “That was some battle!” she cried.

  “Indeed it was!” Gryswold agreed over the din of the crowd.

  “Well done.” Sir Brennon commended him.

  The Baron raised his hands and hushed the audience into silence. His voice boomed across the arena. “As this was not only a match but a matter of honor, I now declare all charges against these fine gentlemen dropped!”

  Cheers exploded around the arena, but this time Gryswold did not stop them.

  Pearls

  You mean the Cape Marlin Lighthouse? I heard reports that it burnt down

  Stay still,” Aksel admonished. The little cleric stood over Lloyd, pouring healing light into the young man’s wounds. Lloyd assured Aksel that he was fine, embarrassed at being scolded for fidgeting again. He sat on the edge of a large four-poster bed in one of the castle’s guestrooms, a spacious, well-furnished chamber on the fourth floor of the keep.

  Light streamed in through a pair of tall windows inset into the outer wall, brightening up the area with the midday sun. Andrella had insisted on bringing Lloyd up here to heal his wounds and rest after the intense battle. It was probably just as well, for the spot where Fafnar had sliced through his armor went far deeper than he originally thought. It was, in fact, lucky that it had been iced over since it actually slowed the bleeding. Once he had peeled his armor off, it began to bleed profusely. Lloyd also had a mild case of frostbite, most likely from being encased in ice, and a few bruises here and there. Fafnar must have hit him far harder than he thought. Even so, Lloyd still felt they were making a much bigger deal out of it than was necessary.

  Andrella hovered over his other side as Aksel continued to work. “Stop arguing with the healer. You’re being a baby. Now sit still like he asked you to.”

  Lloyd turned his head and stared at the young lady, his face reddening even further. “Really? Not you, too?”

  “Let me guess, I sound like your mother,” Andrella teased.

  “No, more like my sister. If it was my mother, she wouldn’t say a word. She’d just cast a spell of holding on me.”

  The sound of snickering came from the other side of the room. Lloyd turned his head and saw Seth, perched on a comfortable chair, a wicked grin on his face. “Sounds like my kind of wizard!”

  “Oh, so suddenly you like the ‘shoot now, ask questions later’ type?” Glo interjected. The elven wizard sat on a small couch across from Seth.

  “Never said I didn’t,” Seth shot back. “Your work at the lighthouse was dazzling...”

  If looks could kill, Glo would have bored two holes through Seth’s skull. Before he could retort, Andrella interrupted them. “Lighthouse? You mean the Cape Marlin Lighthouse? I heard reports that it burnt down.”

  There was a huge thump back by the sitting area. Seth had fallen off his chair and was rolling on the floor, laughing hysterically.

  “What’s with him?” Elladan nodded at the chortling halfling. He and Donnie had been wandering around the room, admiring the plush décor.

  Glo, appearing quite chagrinned, turned to face Andrella. “With everything that’s gone on since we got ba
ck, there was never a good time to tell anyone...”

  The elven wizard paused a moment, then launched into the story of their encounter at the lighthouse. He went into great detail about the lost ships, the apparently vacant lighthouse, and the fake “light” up the coast that had led those ships astray. He then described the goblin party and the demon they had faced, and how that confrontation led to the destruction of the lighthouse. He finished with the recovery of the ship’s cargo and the attack of the goblin army on the shore. Lloyd noted that Glo left out any mention of Ves, Ruka or Maya. The others interjected from time to time, especially Donnie and Elladan, who had not traveled with them to the cape. The Lady Andrella stood there quietly throughout the entire tale, listening patiently until Glo was done. Silence pervaded the room afterwards until Andrella finally spoke.

  “It seems to me that you were just defending yourselves, and there was no loss of life, so I would say you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Glo let out a huge sigh, his shoulders visibly relaxing until Andrella continued. “However, the lighthouse will need to be rebuilt, and that will require funding...”

  “Say no more,” Aksel swiftly interjected. He had just finished with Lloyd. “We will be more than happy to make a substantial donation into that fund.”

  “Thank you, Cleric Aksel,” Andrella said with a gracious nod. “I will explain the entire matter to my parents. Consider it closed.”

  Lloyd looked at Andrella with renewed respect. She had handled that quite well. She would make a fine ruler one day. The young lady sat down on the bed next to him, leaned over and whispered in his ear. “How was that?”

  “Perfect,” he whispered back. “Just like you.”

  Andrella’s eyes misted over. She threw her arms around him and kissed him.

  “Get a room, you two!” Donnie quipped.

  Lloyd and Andrella both stopped and turned to stare at the slight elf.

  “Oh... wait...”

  Donnie spun around, his eyes sweeping their surroundings, a mischievous grin on his face. The couple burst out laughing at his comical antics. The door to the guestroom suddenly opened, and the Baron and Baroness stood in the entryway. Gryswold was in good spirits, practically grinning from ear to ear as he strode into the room. “How’s our boy doing?”

  “All healed up,” Aksel reported.

  “That’s excellent news! I was hoping to see him win the rest of the tournament.”

  Lloyd reached back and grabbed his armor, currently strewn across the bed, then vaulted to the floor below, eager to get ready for his next match.

  Aksel cleared his throat. “Ahem, about that...”

  Lloyd stopped in his tracks. All eyes turned toward the little cleric.

  “I hate to do this to you, Lloyd, but as your healer I would be remiss if I did not.”

  Lloyd sighed heavily. He had lived with a healer in the house most of his life. He knew what was coming. “Let me guess. You don’t want me to finish the tournament.”

  Aksel’s expression was one of keen sympathy. “I am truly sorry, but between the injuries you sustained from the battle with those serpents, and now your bout with Fafnar, your body really needs to rest—especially if we are headed out on a mission first thing in the morning.”

  Lloyd sighed once more. He knew Aksel was right, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed. Abruptly, he felt a light touch on his shoulder. He turned to see Andrella standing next to him, an empathetic look on her face. “You’ve already won in my eyes.”

  Lloyd reached down and took her slim hand in his own, the two of them standing there gazing at each other. The room grew awkwardly silent until Glo changed the subject. “Excuse me, your lordship. I was just wondering, what will become of Sir Fafnar?”

  All present turned to face the wizard. Gracelynn was the first to reply. “You don’t have to worry about my brother or any of his people. They have withdrawn to their rooms and are leaving for home later this afternoon.”

  “All things considered, I doubt we will be seeing much of them, if at all, between now and then,” Gryswold added.

  “Thank you, your lord and ladyship,” Glo said. “I am sorry for all the trouble this has caused.”

  Gracelynn’s expression filled with compassion as she gazed upon the wizard. “Do not be sorry. My brother can be—difficult at best.”

  Gryswold, however, turned red in the face at the mention of the Dunwynn noble. “Personally, if I had my way, Fafnar would get more than a slap on the wrist. Refusing to yield like that was very unknightly.”

  “Do not worry,” Gracelynn said to Gryswold. “If I know my brother, Sir Fafnar will be properly chastised for his behavior. The Duke does not take inappropriate behavior lightly.”

  “Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” Donnie commented.

  “I must confess, I will not be shedding any tears over his misfortune,” Elladan said with a half-smile.

  Gryswold let out a huge sigh. “Very well then—it is best you make your repairs and any preparations for tomorrow’s journey. We will be occupied with the tournament for the rest of the day, but I am opening the armory up to you.”

  “Thank you, your lordship.” There was a note of surprise in Aksel’s voice.

  Gryswold continued. “Furthermore, I will provide you with a note for the town merchants. You may stock up on whatever supplies you require at our expense.”

  Elladan responded this time. “That’s very generous of you, your lordship. I can promise you that anything we purchase will be at a fair price.”

  A thin smile spread across Gryswold’s lips. “Of that I have no doubt. Let’s just say this will expedite things with certain merchants.”

  A half-smile crossed Elladan’s lips. “Ah, yes. Like our good friend Haltan.”

  Donnie eyed the bard curiously. “Sounds like I missed an interesting time.”

  “Why don’t you join us when we go back to visit him?” Elladan winked.

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” Donnie grinned.

  “Very good then,” Gryswold said. “I will send Lieutenant Relkin shortly to assist you. We will meet back here at the keep first thing in the morning.”

  The companions and the first family of Ravenford parted ways, the Lady Andrella rather reluctantly joining her parents as they headed back to the tournament. Aksel, Glo, Lloyd, Seth, Elladan, and Donnie went downstairs to meet Lieutenant Relkin for their trip to the armory.

  A short while later, the Lieutenant let the companions into the Ravenford armory. The armory was actually broken into two rooms, one for weaponry and the second for armor and shields. They spent a good hour exploring those rooms. Seth managed to restock his throwing knives, and Donnie found a particularly nice rapier and short sword to replace the ones he had nicked up on the tough skin of those serpents in yesterday’s battle. Yet they were truly surprised to find three mithral chain shirts.

  The silvery metal was extremely lightweight, yet sturdy. Forged into chain mail, a mithral shirt was just as strong as regular chain, but half the weight. It would make the perfect armor for someone like Lloyd or Donnie, who tended to move around a lot in battle. The two of them ended up taking a mithral shirt each, although Lloyd did have one complaint.

  Lloyd dubiously eyed one of the silvery shirts. “It’s not red.”

  “Seriously?” Seth stared at the young man as if he were crazy.

  “You can just wear your Penwick tabard over it for now,” Glo said. His expression was quite serious, but his eyes were alight with amusement.

  “If you really want, I can paint it red for you,” Donnie offered.

  Lloyd’s face suddenly lit up. “Could you really do that?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Donnie took the chain shirt from Lloyd and examined the links. “I will need to come up with a fairly resistant stai
n, though,” he mused under his breath.

  The last shirt went to Elladan, since neither Seth, Aksel, nor Glo wore armor. When they were finished with the armory, the companions split up, promising to meet again for dinner that evening. Elladan and Donnie took the note the Baron had promised them, and headed off to shop for supplies. Lloyd reluctantly went back to the inn to rest. Aksel proceeded to the temple since they were leaving early the next morning. Glo had a pre-arranged meeting with Ves, and Seth went to watch the rest of the tourney.

  Glo found Ves waiting for him in the Druid’s glade on the outskirts of town. She sat all alone on a large flat gray rock in the center of the quiet glade, surrounded by thick grass. The clearing was dotted here and there with vibrant green bushes and brightly colored pink and yellow flowers. Ves gave him a reserved smile as he strode up to join her.

  “Where is Almax?” Glo asked. Almax was the old Druid who had accompanied the three sisters to Andrella’s party. Glo had expected to see him here since the glade was his charge.

  “He is out in the woods, gathering herbs and attending to the plants and animals in the area.” Ves acted quite strangely, having a hard time looking him in the eye.

  “And your sisters?” He swept the glade with his eyes, but saw no sign of the two younger girls.

  Ves did not turn to look at him, but instead stared out at the grove of trees that surrounded the glade. Her shoulders were taut, and she appeared rather pensive. “Maya went with Almax. She loves running around in the woods. As for Ruka, she is competing in the tournament.”

  “Ruka?” Glo was surprised that the girl would have entered the tournament. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Trust me, she can handle herself,” Ves replied, her tone defensive. It was the first sign of emotion she had shown since he had entered the glade.

  Glo responded in a soft voice. “Of that I have little doubt. I just thought you would be more concerned that her powers might get away from her...”

  Her shoulders tensed up even more, if that were possible, her blue-green eyes practically boring into him.