“We mean you no ill,” said Raelum, lifting his hands.
The man scoffed. “If you did, you were going about it incompetently. I heard you coming half a mile off. Those two bicker like old women. And even were I blind and deaf, I could still smell you.”
“You must be Arthuras,” said Raelum.
“I am known as such,” said the man, “and you may call me that. Name yourselves.”
“Carandis Marken, an Adept of the Conclave.”
“Lionel of Tarrenheim, a knight of the Silver Order.”
“Raelum, a knight of the same order.”
“Indeed?” scoffed Arthuras. “You think to fool me with such inept lies? A demonborn Paladin?”
“I am,” said Raelum, turning his blade to display the rose-and-sword sigil. “This sword was given to me by Sir Oliver Calabrant, and I took the vows of a Silver Knight on its hilt.”
“The Light is in you,” said Arthuras. He sounded bemused. “Who would have thought it possible?” With surprising agility, he climbed from the ledge and walked towards them, pushing back his hood. He had a lean, bony face, with ghostly blue eyes and a greasy mane of gray-streaked black hair. His skin had spent much time beneath the sun and rain. His leather clothes looked just as worn, and a sword dangled from his belt. Arthuras looked like a weathered woodsman, but something about his strange eyes troubled Raelum.
Raelum sheathed his sword, plucked the arrow from the ground, and handed it to Arthuras. “You’ll want this back, I expect.”
“Aye,” said Arthuras, tucking the arrow into his quiver. “Three chattering children wandering the woods? I haven’t seen something so strange since…well, it is uncommon.”
“And one lone madman living in the woods?” snapped Lionel. “Is that not strange enough?”
“Quite strange,” said Arthuras. “But you have come to my home. Tell me your tale first, and perhaps I’ll tell you mine.”
“We’ve stopped here to find you,” said Raelum.
“Indeed?”
“We need you to guide us across the Alderine,” said Raelum.
“Nay,” said Arthuras. “Nay, I do not cross the Alderine River. What folly drives you hither? Thinking to plunder the ruins of the Old Empire? Or the ruins of Arvandil, perhaps? Do that and you shall never return. Demons reign in those ruins.”
“We have not come for wealth,” said Raelum, “but for vengeance. We are pursuing a renegade Adept named Marsile.”
Arthuras was silent for a moment. “Why?”
“He murdered Sir Oliver Calabrant,” said Raelum. “Carandis and Lionel were sent by their orders to bring him to justice. On his journey here, he slaughtered the Brothers of St. Arik’s, killed many villagers of Karrent, and slew many Brothers of St. Tarill’s.”
“This Adept,” said Arthuras, “this Marsile. I may have seen him.”
“When?” said Raelum, hand twitching to his sword hilt.
“Two days past,” said Arthuras. “I saw a large band of men traveling up the road, clad in the robes of Brothers. As I drew closer, I smelled that they were demons. They carried a man in crimson robes, sleeping upon a litter. I thought I would have to fight, but the demons passed, and I have not seen them since.”
“That was Marsile,” said Raelum. “He travels with a large group of demons under his control.”
“A strange business,” said Arthuras, “and this Marsile villain no doubt deserves death. Yet if he crosses the Alderine River, he shall find it. The lands beyond are not fit for mortal men.”
“Guide us,” said Raelum. “You know the land, you say? Show us the way.”
“No,” said Arthuras. “Not for any price.”
“This is a waste of time,” said Lionel. “The rustic knows nothing of the lands beyond his cave. Let us be on our way.”
“Rustic?” said Arthuras. “I have traveled far, boy. Farther than you, I wager.” His odd eyes glinted. “I have been to the realms of the west, Callia and Araspan, Saranor and Orlanon and the New Empire. And in my youth, aye, I traveled to the east, far into the wreck of the Old Empire.” He looked away. “But I will not go there again. There are horrors beyond the Silvercrown Mountains, and they are creeping west of the mountains. If you journey past the Alderine River, I wish you good fortune, but you shall never return.”
“Master Arthuras,” said Carandis. “Revenge is not our only concern. At least it is not my only concern. I fear what Marsile will do in the lands beyond.”
“What do you mean?” said Arthuras.
“Do you know of a place, somewhere between the Alderine River and the Silvercrown Mountains, where a Hierarch of the Old Empire may be buried?” said Carandis.
A shadow passed over Arthuras’s face. “There is such a place. A fortress in the mountains. If you believe the tales, the followers of the Hierarch Baligant fled there with their master’s corpse after he fell in battle. That place was once a stronghold of the Elder People, but the mage-lords of the Old Empire twisted it and used it as a locus for binding demons. The men of Arvandil named it Moragannon in the tongue of the Elder People, the Black Tower.” Arthuras fingered his bow. “I traveled there once, years ago. The foolish act of a prideful young man who sought to test himself against terrible danger. I scarce escaped with my life, and have no wish to go there again. If you are wise, you will never go to Moragannon.”
“Marsile is going to Moragannon,” said Carandis. “I believe he plans to summon and enslave the high demon Baligant once commanded.”
Arthuras looked incredulous. “The fool! Is this Marsile a demon-worshipper?”
“No,” said Carandis. “Marsile only serves himself. I think he desires to claim Baligant’s high demon for himself.”
“The wretched fool,” breathed Arthuras, eyes flashing. “Does he really think himself strong enough to command a high demon? Fool, fool. He will loose a high demon upon the world.”
“That is what I fear,” said Carandis, “and that is why we must stop him.”
“Come inside,” said Arthuras, “and we shall speak more. And eat. No reason to ponder dark matters on an empty stomach.”
“Sensible,” said Carandis.
They tied their horses and followed Arthuras into the cottage. Herbs hung from the rafters, coloring the room with the smell of garlic. A wooden table and benches filled most of the space. Raelum, Carandis, and Lionel sat down, and Arthuras served them sausage, goat cheese, and wine, and questioned them about Marsile.
“This began, then,” said Arthuras, “when Marsile stole books from the library of the Conclave?”
“Aye,” said Carandis. “He launched an attack upon the Ring, and killed dozens of slaves and Swords, along with two Adepts. I was dispatched to bring Marsile to justice.”
“By yourself?” said Arthuras. “I suspect Marsile is far stronger than you. Why did they send you alone?”
Carandis sighed. “To…prove my innocence.” She rolled the black staff between her palms.
“Innocence?” said Raelum. “Innocence from what?”
“When Marsile attacked the Ring,” said Carandis, “he took control of me. Apparently he has found a spell that allows him to project his spirit and take control of another body. He took control of mine, and used me to enter the Ring’s library.” She sighed. “He killed one of my friends while he was in control of my body. Some of the Magisters thought…well, some of them thought I was in league with Marsile.” She lifted the black staff. “This is a badge of office. To prove my innocence, I was sent to kill Marsile. Success would be proof of my innocence…and failure proof of my guilt.”
“You said nothing of this,” said Raelum.
“No one asked,” said Carandis. “And I thought you would think me a servant of Marsile.”
“No,” said Raelum. “I know what it is to be unjustly feared and accused.”
Carandis blinked, and then smiled at him. It did make her look pretty.
Arthuras made an impatient noise. “So Marsile attacked the Conclave. Wh
at did he take from the library?”
“Books of lore and history, discussing the Old Empire and the Hierarchs,” said Carandis.
“So then he went to Chrysos,” said Arthuras, looking at Lionel. “Where he killed more men there, and took more books. What books did he take?”
“Just one,” said Lionel. “A tome listing the books the Temple has banned. The book was not so important. Sir Hildebrand and I were sent to avenge the murders he committed in the motherhouse of the Liberist Order.” He rubbed his bandaged wrist.
“And then Marsile fled to High Morgon, where you and Sir Oliver Calabrant awaited him,” said Arthuras.
“Aye,” said Raelum. He remembered the crumbling ruins of the city, its grim, skulking inhabitants, the camps of Jurgur refugees lurking outside the walls. “Sir Oliver had fought Marsile at some point in the past. He never said when, exactly. Somehow he learned of Marsile’s plans, and hoped to ambush him at High Morgon.”
“What did Marsile steal there?” said Arthuras.
“He stole nothing,” said Raelum, the words bitter. “We lodged at the house of Lucas Parwaith, a local domn. Now, I realize, he was a worshipper of Baligant. Marsile wanted a map in Parwaith’s library. Parwaith was only too happy to give it, and too happy to put poison in Sir Oliver’s wine. I would have killed Parwaith, but he fled.”
“This map,” said Arthuras, “what did it show?”
Raelum thought about it. “I think it showed the lands between Coldbrook Keep and St. Tarill’s.”
“So,” said Arthuras. “I think it is plain what has happened. Marsile learned of the forbidden books in the histories he stole from the Conclave. He learned that he would need the Book of Summoned Dead and the Book of Stolen Blood from the tome in Chrysos’s library. With the map from High Morgon, he knew where to find the books. And now that he has the dark books, he has the spells to raise Baligant’s high demon.”
“That is what I believe,” said Carandis, “though we don’t know for sure. Perhaps we’ll get the chance to ask Marsile himself.”
“No,” said Arthuras. “You are right. By the Divine!” He smacked his fist against the table. “I saw the bundles slung over the shoulders of his servants. Children, they must have been the children he stole from Karrent. I should have put an arrow in that devil’s heart when I had the chance.”
“If you had,” said Carandis, “your corpse might well be marching with him now.”
“Perhaps,” said Arthuras.
“So you’ll guide us?” said Raelum.
“Aye,” said Arthuras. “I shall guide you. Marsile must be stopped.”
“Let us go at once,” said Raelum, rising.
“Wait a moment,” said Arthuras.
“What?” said Raelum.
“Sit down. You do not understand,” said Arthuras. “None of you understand. I doubt even Marsile understands. The lands you traveled through to get here were dangerous, aye? Filled with demons and perils?”
“They were,” said Carandis.
“They are nothing compared to what lies on the far side of the river,” said Arthuras. “Understand. These lands were not always empty. A great kingdom once stretched from here to the Silvercrown Mountains. Arvandil, founded by survivors of the Old Empire and the Elder People. Now it is gone. The monasteries and villages south of here are its last remnants, and I doubt they even remember the kingdom’s name.”
“They do,” said Carandis. “First Brother Ulrich spoke of Arvandil, though he said it had collapsed.”
“It collapsed,” said Arthuras, “because its people fell into evil, worshipping the Hierarchs. Now they are dead…but not gone. Do you understand?”
“You mean to say,” said Lionel, blinking, “there’s an entire kingdom of demons on the far side of the river?”
“Aye,” said Arthuras. “There are demons in the woods that make ghouls seem like gnats. And perhaps you passed ruins filled with demons on your way here?” Raelum nodded. “There are entire cities in Arvandil filled with demons. The streets teem with ghouls. And worse things sleep in the vaults beneath the ruins.”
“We knew the journey would be perilous,” said Raelum. “Why tell us this?”
“If we are to cross the Alderine River, enter into Arvandil, and survive, we must be prepared,” said Arthuras. He smiled without humor. “If we are even to live long enough to face Marsile, we must be ready. Carandis’s spells can find Marsile, perhaps. But suppose the trail leads us through the haunted ruins and the nameless city? No, we must first prepare and equip ourselves. Then we will go.”
“How long?” said Raelum.
“The rest of today,” said Arthuras. “We shall leave on the morrow.”
“An entire day and night?” said Raelum. “Marsile will gain another twenty miles.”
“He will not,” said Arthuras. “The roads are overgrown. And Marsile will find more than bad roads hampering his path. If I am to be your guide, Sir Raelum, then you’d best heed my advice, if you want to live long enough to face your foe.”
“Very well,” said Raelum. “Let’s get started.”
“As you wish,” said Arthuras.
###
Under Arthuras’s direction, they prepared.
Arthuras had vast store of sausage, goat cheese, bread, and dried vegetables hidden in his caves. They loaded ample supplies of food onto their pack animals.
“What about your goats and sheep?” said Lionel. “Won’t they starve?”
“Nay,” said Arthuras. “They have ample pasture. And if we perish, well, the sheep will do me no good.”
Arthuras also possessed an extensive armory. He equipped himself with his composite bow and longsword, along with numerous daggers, a short sword, and several quivers of arrows. For armor he took a steel-studded leather jerkin, steel bracers, and leather gauntlets.
He gave each of them a silver-plated dagger.
“Certain kinds of demons cannot abide silver,” said Arthuras, “so these may prove useful.”
“You forged them yourself?” said Raelum, admiring the weapon. The balance felt perfect, the edge razor-keen.
Arthuras snorted. “Do you think I would trust another man to prepare my weapons?”
He also gave them armor. To Raelum he gave a helmet, shoulder-plates, gauntlets, and bracers, all forged with the same skill as the daggers, and to Lionel he gave a kite shield of steel-banded oak.
“This is most generous,” said Raelum, donning the new armor. “I thank you.”
“Practical, not generous,” said Arthuras. “You’ll be of no use to anyone dead.”
That night they bedded down inside one of Arthuras’s caves. It felt good to sleep in a shelter, even a cave. Carandis and Lionel fell asleep at once.
But Raelum lay awake, thinking.
Where had Arthuras come from? The man had the skills of a master blacksmith and a skilled archer. He had lived alone, in these dangerous lands, for at least thirty years, maybe longer.
Yet despite his battered, weathered appearance, Raelum would have guessed Arthuras no older than forty, forty-five at the most. Where had he learned smithwork? And, for that matter, where had he learned his ancient lore?
And he had known that Baligant lay buried in Moragannon.
Perhaps he had made everything up, stolen the daggers and armor, spun his lore out of a lie.
But Raelum didn’t think so.
What had Ulrich said? He had called Arthuras uncanny. Raelum understood what the First Brother had meant. Was Arthuras an exiled Adept, or perhaps a blood sorcerer? Raelum reached under his blankets, feeling the sheathed dagger at his side.
Raelum didn’t know. Yet he would watch and wait. If Arthuras could lead them to Marsile, then Raelum could take the risk.
He fell asleep, his hand still wrapped about the dagger’s hilt.
###
The next day they arose and continued their journey on the northeastern road, Arthuras leading the way.
Chapter 4 - Abbotsford
/> “We will reach the bridge soon,” said Arthuras. He walked at a ground-eating pace, mottled cloak swirling around him.
“Splendid,” said Carandis. “I look forwarding to seeing what the other side of the Alderine River looks like. More trees and snow, I expect.”
“And demons,” said Lionel, staring across the river. Raelum said nothing, shaking his head.
He walked in the rear, behind Lionel. A demonborn man, a draugvir-bitten Paladin, an Adept under suspicion of treason, and a mad hermit. Raelum supposed they would have made a bizarre sight, had any living eyes laid sight on them. He had volunteered to walk in the back, to keep watch, but he also wanted to keep an eye on Arthuras and Lionel. Raelum had so far seen Lionel do nothing suspicious, but the older Paladin kept moaning and sobbing in his sleep.
Arthuras’s head turned back and forth, scanning the trees and the river.
“There,” he said, pointing. “Past those trees.”
The bridge came into sight.
It rose over the Alderine in a high arc, the water flowing beneath it. The worn gray stones looked ancient beyond reckoning, yet the bridge seemed in no danger of falling. It looked old, older than the ruins of High Morgon, older than anything Raelum had ever seen.
“That,” said Carandis, “was not built by the hands of mortal men.”
“Indeed not,” said Arthuras. “The Elder People built it here, long before the Old Empire ever arose in the east, and I suspect it will stand long after mortal men have perished from the earth.”
A pair of statues stood at the edge of the bank like grim, silent guards. Each figure had a slender sword and a star-shaped shield, alien armor, and an angular face with pointed ears.
“Warriors of the Elder People,” said Carandis. “There’s something written on their shields, in their tongue…”
“Ware, traveler, for beyond lies the realm of the Hierarchs of the Empire of Men, who taint the land,” said Arthuras.
Carandis looked stunned. “You know the tongue of the Elder People?”
“Aye,” said Arthuras. “The Adepts of the Conclave are not the only ones who concern themselves with ancient matters.”
The Third Soul Omnibus Two Page 28
