“I sought to kill no one,” said Carandis, her voice imperious. “This stone-blind fool,” she jerked her head at Hildebrand, “charged ahead, brandishing his sword and howling for blood.” Hildebrand growled. “I merely rode after. I must commend your restraint, my lord First, for not shooting him dead.”
“Or for killing an Adept on sight?” said Ulrich.
Carandis bowed from the saddle.
“Enough of this!” said Hildebrand, gesturing with his blade. “This…man, this demonborn fiend, murdered Sir Oliver Calabrant, another Knight of my order. We have come for him.”
“What?” said Raelum, stunned. “I did not kill him! Marsile killed him, not I.”
“He claims to be a Silver Knight,” said Ulrich.
Hildebrand laughed. “And you believe anything spoken by a demonborn man? This wretch murdered Oliver Calabrant, I say. Is that not Sir Oliver’s sword you have in hand, demonborn? Is that not his mail shirt you wear? No doubt you looted his corpse after doing the foul deed.”
“I did not!” said Raelum, surprise dissolving into rage. “He gave them to me before he died from Marsile’s poison. I swore the oaths of a Silver Knight on the hilt, even as he lay dying. I swore to avenge him! I…”
“Be silent!” said Hildebrand. “I will not have your demon’s tongue profane the memory of a good man!”
“I loved Sir Oliver,” said Raelum. “He was the best man that ever lived. I would never have killed him.”
Hildebrand spat. “So now you accuse him of sodomy, dog?”
Such red fury took Raelum that he stepped forward, wanting nothing more than to take Hildebrand’s head.
Ulrich stepped before him. “I said no blood shall be spilled here!”
“Lord First, this posturing is meaningless,” said Carandis. “The Paladins and I were both north by our respective orders in pursuit of Marsile of Araspan, formerly an Adept of the Conclave. The Conclave expelled him for murder and blood sorcery, and I have been dispatched to bring him to justice. The Silver Order sent Hildebrand and Lionel to bring Marsile to account for his murders in Chyrsos. We met on the road, and have agreed to set aside our differences to accomplish our common mission.”
“This Marsile,” said Ulrich. “Raelum claimed to have come for the same reason, to kill this Marsile.”
“I have sworn to avenge Sir Oliver’s death,” said Raelum.
“Then fall on your sword,” said Hildebrand.
“Be silent, lest you do more harm than you have already,” said Carandis. Hildebrand bristled. “Lord First, I believe Marsile is coming here, to St. Tarill’s, and he may be here already.”
“Why would he flee here?” said Ulrich, frowning. “A house of holiness would make no refuge for an Adept.”
“Marsile is not fleeing,” said Carandis, “much as these Knights refuse to admit it. He fears us not at all. Rather, he has come here seeking something. I believe he is searching for books of demonic lore left from the Old Empire.”
“I told you, lord First,” said Raelum. “He took the Book of Summoned Dead from St. Arik’s, and now he’s coming here for the Book of Stolen Blood.”
“And how would you know this unless you were in league with him?” said Hildebrand.
Raelum glared at the older Knight.
“Wait,” said Ulrich, lifting a hand. “St. Arik’s. The monks. Are they…”
“Dead,” said Carandis. “All of them. I saw it on my journey north.”
“Aye,” said Hildebrand, “I saw Marsile’s villainy with my own eyes. No doubt this demonborn rat aided him.”
Ulrich went gray in the face. “And Karrent?”
“Burned,” said Carandis. “Marsile kidnapped a number of children. Later a ship of Northmen attacked, though the villagers repulsed them.”
“By the Divine,” said Ulrich, shaking his head. “By the Divine. I must send Brothers south, at once, to aid the village folk, and to properly bury the dead of St. Arik’s. They will have risen as ghouls by now…”
“No need,” said Raelum. “I found the Brothers when I came to the monastery. I beheaded all the corpses I found. The demons will not claim their flesh.”
Carandis frowned. “I wondered who had done that. Marsile, certainly, would not have bothered.”
“Then we shall set watch for this vile Marsile,” said Ulrich. “He hasn’t come yet. The books are sealed in a vault of cunning design, and I bear the only key. When he comes, by the Divine, we shall be ready for him.”
“He may have come already,” said Carandis.
“What do you mean?” said Ulrich.
“Marsile knows more magic than blood sorcery,” said Carandis. “He can weave powerful illusions. Have any other visitors come to the monastery recently?”
“One has,” said Ulrich. “Brother Torgrim of the Liberian Order. He had come to inventory our library. He bore a proper and sealed letter.” Ulrich’s frown deepened. “And he did ask about our forbidden books.”
“Take us to him,” said Raelum. “Let us see if he is Marsile in disguise.”
“You are going nowhere,” said Hildebrand.
“I did not kill Sir Oliver!” said Raelum.
“I swear on the hilt of my sword and my honor as a Silver Knight that this man killed Sir Oliver,” said Hildebrand.
“I know not,” said Carandis, “and I care not. It hardly seems relevant, anyway.”
“What of you?” said Ulrich to Lionel, who had sat silent during the entire argument. “What do you say?”
Hildebrand leveled a fierce glare at the younger Knight.
“Aye,” said Lionel. “Aye, I would swear that Raelum murdered him.”
“I did not!” said Raelum.
“We will sort this out later,” said Ulrich, glancing to the side. “We have more pressing problems.”
Raelum opened his mouth to protest and something hard exploded into the back of his neck. He reeled, toppled to the ground, and knew no more.
###
Marsile backed away from the window.
How had his enemies caught up to him so quickly? He had assumed they were hundreds of miles behind. First he had underestimated Raelum, and then he had underestimated his pursuers.
Another such mistake and he might very well perish.
Raelum toppled to the ground as a Brother struck him from behind. Had Silver Knights blamed the boy for Oliver Calabrant’s death? For a moment Marsile mulled staying in the monastery, maintaining his disguise, feigning ignorance.
He looked again at the woman in crimson robes and scowled. He remembered Carandis Marken, though he thought she had perished during their fight at the Ring’s library. Marsile had taken her measure, and knew that he could crush her with ease. Yet she would sense Marsile’s illusions. And Carandis had the aid of two Silver Knights and a monastery filled with angry and skilled Brothers. Marsile could kill Carandis, the Silver Knights, and most of the Brothers, but he might fall in the end.
The Silver Knights, Carandis, Ulrich, and the Brothers entered the monastery, a few men remaining behind to bind Raelum. If Ulrich had told them about Brother Torgrim…
Marsile had to get out now.
He raced from the library, heedless of his groaning joints. Marsile dashed for his room, brown robes swirling around him. He slipped through the door and barred it behind him.
The room held only a bed, a small fireplace, and a wooden table. A small window, with a crisscrossing framework of lead strips to hold the glass diamonds in place, presented a view of the woods below the monastery.
Marsile took two steps back, lifted his hands and muttered a chant. Silver light flared around him as he focused upon the distant woods, and he cast the astraljump spell. The world vanished, and he reappeared below the monastery’s hill, the icy winter air washing over him.
Marsile summoned more power and cast another astraljump spell. This time he reappeared in the trees themselves, shielded from any watchers atop the monastery’s wall. With luck, no one had noticed t
he silver flash from his astraljump spells.
An ignominious retreat, to be sure. But Marsile would be back.
Tonight.
He strode into the woods, making for his servants.
###
“Brother Torgrim will most likely be in the library,” said Ulrich, climbing the broad stairs, flanked by a half-dozen Brothers bearing crossbows. Lionel walked behind the abbot, sword in hand, as did Hildebrand. “He is probably what he claims to be.”
“But just in case,” said Carandis, “we shall be ready.”
They entered the library. Lionel had expected the monastery to have perhaps a few dozen tomes. But hundreds stood on the shelves lining the room. Some books and a stack of loose paper sat on a table near the window.
“He’s not here,” said Hildebrand.
“This window overlooks the courtyard,” said Carandis.
“So?” said Hildebrand.
“So he would have seen us coming,” said Carandis. “Lord First! Which way to this Brother Torgrim’s room?”
“This way,” said Ulrich, leading them into the hall. A few turns later they came to a stone corridor lined with narrow wooden doors. “The guest chambers. Though we do not often have guests.” He stopped at a door and knocked. “Brother Torgrim? Are you there?”
No one answered. Ulrich reached for the door’s handle and frowned. “It’s barred from within. Brother Thomas! Brother William!” Two Brothers sprang forward, bearing axes, and set to work. A few moments’ effort reduced it to firewood, and Ulrich kicked aside the wreckage and stormed into the room.
“By the Divine,” said the abbot. Hildebrand, Carandis, and the Brothers all tried to force themselves through the door at once. Lionel waited until everyone had squeezed into the room and followed.
The room beyond was empty.
“Where did he go?” said Ulrich. “The door was barred!”
“No doubt he saw us enter the courtyard,” said Carandis, “and decided to flee.” She paused. “I think it is clear that Brother Torgrim was in truth Marsile of Araspan.”
“But the ground is forty feet below!” said Ulrich. “Surely he didn’t climb down the wall?”
“He used a spell to travel to the woods. Adepts can astraljump over short distances using magic,” said Carandis. She shrugged. “This is not so remarkable, my lord First. I know spells that would permit me to do the same thing.”
“Then let us take to the woods and purse him at once!” said Hildebrand. “He shall not have gotten far!”
“No!” said Carandis. “That would be unwise.”
Hildebrand sneered. “You may be a coward, Adept, but a Silver Knight fears not the darkness.”
“Very well, then,” said Carandis. “Let us blunder about in the woods, in winter, at night. We could wander all night without finding him. And you forget that Marsile’s servant demons are out there. He could pick us off one by one. So go ahead, my lord knight. Chase Marsile. But your blood will not be on my hands.”
“Craven coward,” said Hildebrand. “I shall pursue Marsile, and bring the wretch to…”
“But,” said Carandis, “Marsile will have to come back here sooner or later.”
“What?” said Hildebrand.
“Think, if a Silver Knight is capable of it,” said Carandis. “Why did Marsile come here? He wishes to obtain this…Book of Stolen Blood, I believed Raelum called it. He hasn’t yet claimed it. He will have to return for it. We can wait here and trap him at our leisure.”
“What if he gives up?” said Lionel.
“He will not,” said Carandis. “He’s crossed half the world to come here. And as I said before, he does not fear us. He will wait and take the best opportunity.”
“Villainy never turns from its course,” said Hildebrand. “The wretch shall come, I am sure of it.”
“If an Adept and a Paladin agree, then you must speak truth,” said Ulrich. “Very well. We shall set a guard around the vaults holding the book, double the watch at the gate, and have groups of Brothers patrolling the hallways at night.”
“With your permission, lord First,” said Carandis, “I can lay wards over the vault that will alert us when Marsile enters.”
Ulrich’s scowled. “I dislike the idea of magic practiced in my cloister.”
Carandis shrugged. “Marsile has already practiced magic in your cloister. And it is the best weapon against him.”
“Very well,” said Ulrich. “Then it appears I must welcome you as guests. Rooms shall be prepared for you, and I invite you to join us at the evening meal, once your preparations are complete.”
“I accept your gracious hospitality, lord First,” said Carandis, bowing.
“I would rather bring Marsile to bay in the woods,” said Hildebrand, “for unlike the Adept, I doubt not my own strength. But if you are determined on this course, First Brother Ulrich, then I will not gainsay it. I will deal with Raelum now.”
He turned to leave.
“Hold,” said Ulrich. “I will not have him killed in my cloister.”
Hildebrand gritted his teeth. “Then I will kill him outside.”
“He claims he is innocent,” said Ulrich.
“He is a demonborn fiend!” said Hildebrand. “How can you believe anything from that lying mouth? I had thought a First Brother of the Temple would possess greater wisdom…”
“Guard your tongue, Paladin!” said Ulrich. “You may be a Silver Knight, but I am a First Brother of the Temple, as you so graciously reminded me, and you are in my cloister.”
“It is my sworn word that he is guilty,” said Hildebrand.
“Sir Hildebrand,” said Carandis. “By chance, did you happen to see Raelum kill Sir Oliver?”
Hildebrand growled.
“Well?” said Carandis. “Aye or nay? Did you see Raelum stab Sir Oliver, or push him out a window, or put poison in his wine?”
“Nay,” said Hildebrand. “But the boy is demonborn, a creature of evil, the spawn of a woman possessed by a demon. A man may show kindness to a rabid dog, but it will turn on him at the end. So it was with Sir Oliver and Raelum, I deem.”
“And you, Sir Lionel,” said Carandis. “Did you see Raelum kill Oliver Calabrant?”
“No,” said Lionel. Hildebrand had to be right. Raelum must have murdered Sir Oliver. Yet Lionel had never seen any proof, and the thought of killing the man, demonborn or not, made him uneasy.
“There you have it,” said Carandis.
“This discussion is meaningless,” said Ulrich, “for we have far larger worries. I will have Raelum imprisoned until Marsile is slain. We can then decide what to do with him.”
“As you wish,” said Carandis. “I had best get started on the warding spells.”
“Come, Lionel,” said Hildebrand, glaring. “Let us see to our horses. I will not be present when this Adept works her foul arts.”
Hildebrand stalked from the room, armor clanking. Lionel offered Carandis a shrug and followed the older Paladin. As he did, his gaze swept over the window. For an instant he felt as if something watched him from the forest.
Lionel stopped and stared out, squinting.
He saw nothing, of course.
###
Raelum awoke with a raging headache.
He lay on his side in the monastery’s courtyard. His sword, dagger, cloak, chain mail, and boots were gone. Someone had bound his wrists and his ankles and stuffed a gag in his mouth.
Raelum tried to sit up.
Someone planted a boot in his chest and shoved him down.
“Stay there, demonborn,” said a brown-robed Brother holding a crossbow. Raelum bit into the gag, trying not to panic. Somewhere, Marsile was preparing to descend on the monastery. Raelum had to warn them. Yet the two Paladins and the Adept had accused him of Sir Oliver’s murder. They would not listen to anything he said.
A knot of robed men emerged from the monastery and headed towards them. First Brother Ulrich walked at their head, scowling. Besides him strode Hildeb
rand of Oldenburg, snarling and gesturing.
“By the Divine, lord First!” said Hildebrand, face red with fury, “how can you countenance this? This man is a murderer! Put him to death at once!”
“I thought,” said Ulrich, “that you had to attend to your horses.”
“Do not throw trifles in my face!” said Hildebrand. His hand strayed to his sword. “I demand that Raelum be killed! If you lack either the piety or the justice to do so, than I shall kill him myself…”
Ulrich whirled. “Do not presume to command me in my own abbey, Silver Knight! As the Adept has pointed out, you have no proof that Raelum murdered Sir Oliver. Another word from you, sir, another word that irritates me, and I’ll have you expelled. You can fend for yourself well enough one night. Am I understood?”
Hildebrand snarled, shaking with rage. He cast a murderous glare over Raelum and stalked away.
“A most haughty man, father,” said the Brother guarding Raelum.
“Aye,” said Ulrich. “The woman might be a sorcerer of the Conclave, but at least she can speak with courtesy. And with better sense than this Silver Knight. Well, no matter. This renegade Adept will prove a dire foe, and we need aid to stop him.” He looked at Raelum. “You two take his arms and follow me. You, take his gear.”
Two of the Brothers seized Raelum’s arms and dragged him, his heels scraping the ground. Another Brother scooped up Raelum’s weapons, armor, and cloak. Ulrich led them into the keep, through the great hall, into a corridor, and down a wide, spiraling staircase.
“Father,” said another Brother. “Surely we are not…”
“Aye, my sons,” said Ulrich. “We are going to the vaults. It is a safe enough place to keep him. He will not break out, nor will Hildebrand be able to reach him. I myself shall bring him food and drink once a day, until we have time to deal with him properly.”
The stairwell went deeper, and Ulrich produced a torch and paused to light it. Raelum supposed they must be beneath the level of the riverbed. The stairwell ended in an enormous, iron-bound door of ancient oak, the planks stiffened to the hardness of granite. Ulrich removed a key from around his neck, undid the door’s three locks, and put his shoulder to the door. With a slow groan, the door swung open.
The Third Soul Omnibus Two Page 17
