The Black Keep (The Chronicles of Llars)

by Tom Bielawski

  He would watch the bard closely.

  Once they had traveled a safe distance from the castle and there was little fear of being followed by the ghostly minions of Baron Tyrannus, the group stopped to rest once more. They found a small clearing just large enough for them to shelter amongst several large boulders and huddle for warmth. Carym and Ederick quickly assembled a lean-to from fallen tree limbs they found nearby while Bart and Kharrihan scouted for food and Gennevera prepared a sleeping space for the Jaguar woman.

  “You were very brave, going back for her, Carym.” Gennevera smiled at him as she cleared a place under the shelter for the younger woman to lie on. Ederick had gathered the limbs of some spindly pine trees and placed them across the top of the shelter, then covered that over with pieces of bark and more pine limbs. The heavily needled limbs of the pine trees packed tightly together helped create a small barrier to retain heat. Once complete, the lean-to was cozy and surprisingly quiet.

  Carym looked at Gennevera thoughtfully. “I wish I could say that it was a sense of greater good that drove me to do it Gennevera, but it wasn’t.” He paused for a moment. “Truthfully, I almost didn’t but for a nagging feeling that I should not leave her behind.”

  Gennevera smiled at Carym and said, “From what I know of Zuhr’s chosen warriors, they were all noble and honorable men. Zuhr would not have called them into His service if they did not already possess a noble and true spirit and a desire for goodness. That feeling you had Carym, was your own. Zuhr may have helped you face those terrible enemies, but you would not have done it if you were not a courageous person.”

  Carym said nothing, wondering how this woman who barely knew him could have so much confidence in him. Thoughts of the seductive dark magic and the Shadow stone touched his mind, at once tempting and revolting to him. How could he have succumbed to such evil power? How could this woman stand his presence if she only knew what he had done?

  “There is more Carym. Back in the dungeon, I saw another spirit. It was the spirit of a warrior dressed in plain leather armor holding a long sword at his side. I sensed great power in him, great kindness and wisdom.”

  The knight who, having heard the conversation thus far, dropped the log he was holding and looked at the woman. “A spirit dressed in plain leather armor, you say?”

  Gennevera nodded.

  “A peaceful spirit? Not one of the Black Baron’s devils?”

  “Yes.”

  “His long sword, was it plain steel with no decor?”

  “Who was it?” Carym asked, thankful for the opportunity to think about something other than his own pitiful weaknesses.

  The knight was silent for a moment, staring hard at Gennevera. “That was the spirit of Col Colain, the founder of the Zuharim, keeper of the hosts of Zuhr. Legends say Col Colain was a son of Zuhr Himself. It is said that ever since his death, his spirit has closely followed the state of our order bestowing his father’s blessings upon worthy knights.” The knight spoke with great reverence. “You are truly blessed to have seen him, Gennevera.”

  “He was watching over you, Sir Knight,” she said pointedly.

  The knight silently pondered this. Then he turned to the tribeswoman lying under their lean-to shelter and he knelt beside her. The woman opened her eyes and looked past the knight to Carym, recognizing her savior and smiled at him. Carym was taken by her eyes, they were beautiful brown and shone from a round face with sharp features framed by jet black hair.

  “Kultek, tekana al cahoosee,” she said hoarsely as she tried to sit up.

  Carym looked at Sir Ederick who shook his head indicating he did not understand her language. “I am sorry, I do not understand you,” he said in the Common Cklath language, assuming that if she was native to the region she might speak the language of his Cklath kinsmen. The woman nodded as though she understood and spoke again.

  “I should have known by your bravery that you are a Cklathman,” she said, struggling to hold herself up. “I am called Hala, Princess of the Jaguar Nation.”

  “I am Carym of Hybrand,” he said bowing low to her. As he stood back up he introduced the rest of his companions. “I am glad you appear to be feeling better. These are my friends; Sir Ederick Shieldsmoore, Lord Knight of the Zuharim; Gennevera al Louerra of the Keneerie people; Bart O’Donnel, of the Bard Alliance; Kharrihan of the Clan Silver Mountain.” Gennevera was relieved that Carym did not mark her as a Sister of Grymm.

  “I am pleased to meet you all. I am truly grateful to you for rescuing me, and my nation owes you its gratitude.” Hala allowed the knight to help her into a sitting position. “I know what it is that you seek. During my imprisonment, Hessan’s men spoke many times of a place called ‘the Everpool,’ and a dark tomb. I know of this place for it is holy to my people as well.”

  All eyes in the camp looked at her intently, none speaking, they waited for her to go on. “It lies in a place that is sacred to my people, sacred to our great gods Tuatha and Fey,” she bowed her head as she spoke the names. “My father will surely wish to reward you for your kindness and bravery,” said the woman.

  “Your Highness, it is not riches and wealth that we seek. We seek only to earn our god’s favor and to oppose the forces of darkness,” said Ederick.

  “And I will ask my father to grant you passage to your Everpool.”

  “My Lady, if your king will grant us the privilege to tread on your holy ground, you may be sure that Zuhr will be grateful. For such a gift may be the advantage we need to repel the invaders who threaten the existence of all on this great continent.”

  The princess nodded. “I learned something of the Prophet-General’s plans. Hessan was sent to claim Castle Tyrannus on behalf of this Prophet-General. It is located strategically in relation to Shalthazar’s plans for conquest over the rest of the Cklathlands and even my own kingdom, though that phase of their expansion is not due to begin until the snows melt. Hessan was supposed to keep a garrison of troops in this castle and send them on patrols to look for the Everpool and the tomb. Thus far, I have learned that Shalthazar was less than pleased at Hessan’s lack of progress.”

  “I noticed that Hessan commanded troops of strange men; where did those men come from?” inquired Ederick.

  “They came with the Prophet-General from a land across the sea they refer to as Nashia; a great empire it is said.” The princess finished without further comment.

  Gennevera approached the princess and sat down next to her when it seemed the men had finished talking. “My lady, how is it that you can, you know...shape-shift?” she asked nervously. “Are all your people able to perform this feat?”

  “The ability to shape-shift falls only to those of royal blood. Those of us who are blessed with this gift must serve as the watchers and protectors of our lands. We use our powers to patrol our borders and repel invaders and we protect those who cannot use this power.”

  “So it only falls to the royalty to perform this task?”

  “It is an honor and a privilege to serve as a watcher. Occasionally a shape-shifter is born to the common classes. When they are identified they too must serve. They and their family are given noble status and become part of the ruling body of our country.”

  “What an interesting culture you have,” she commented respectfully.

  “I love my country and my people. But I am afraid that we may not be strong enough to fight off the massive army commanded by the Prophet-General. We have never before faced such a threat. Our only hope lies in joining forces with all of the Cklathish peoples, including your elven kin from Alfheym.”

  Gennevera let out small sigh. “Alas, my lady. They no more consider me one of their people than they do you. To them I am merely a Keneerie, a Low Elf. They consider my people to be one step removed from humans, and sometimes we are treated as little better than slaves in their societies,” she finished bitterly.

  “I see,” Hala nodded in understanding. “Some of your people were slaves in the court of that dark knight
, Hessan. However, I did notice that the armies of men from Nashia were not comprised only of humans.”

  The Keneerie woman looked at the warrior princess, waiting for her to go on.

  “From what I have seen, Keneerie are considered equals among the peoples of Nashia. Some hold noble titles, they serve in the army, some hold commissions as officers while others are soldiers. This was a bitter point for the slaves of Hessan, slavery was outlawed by the Nashians long ago and all races are believed to be free. Hessan serves Nashian and he must keep his hatred of elves hidden from the Prophet-General, he cannot risk a revolt among the troops belonging to his master.”

  “You say Keneerie are equals among men?” Gennevera asked, astounded. Although elves considered her kind to be more human than elf, her kind believed themselves to be more elf than human. What could her life have been like among those who considered her kind to be equals?

  The princess nodded her head and continued. “When I was captured over a month ago I was dragged before Hessan for questioning,” a shadow passed over her face as she recalled the scene she alone could now see. “I will not bother you with that account. However, while I was before that cursed beast, a captain of the Nashian Army reported to him bearing a message from Lord Shalthazar. The captain was a Keneerie, like you. One of Hessan’s Keneerie slaves entered the room and the captain became enraged at the sight, threatening to tell Lord Shalthazar about the matter.”

  “What happened?” asked Gennevera, afraid she already knew the answer.

  “Hessan killed the messenger and the slave both, and threatened everyone in the room with the same fate if another word was ever said about it. The captain was reported missing in action.” Gennevera sat quietly for a time beside Hala, watching as Carym succeeded in getting a fire started.

  “You should rest, your highness.” Gennevera got up and left the princess for the comfort of Carym’s company. She was bitter and angry. How had that vermin Hessan escaped? Could the companions have defeated the deathly creature in any event? Not likely. Sir Ederick was squatting near the fire, feeding small pieces of dry wood to the flames and coaxing it to grow. She forced herself to smile at the knight and wear a pretty face, though she detested him. So full of himself and righteous. Who did he think he was, really? The great savior of all-kind?

  “No, I don’t think it was chance that any of us met, Carym,” she heard the knight say as she approached. “You and Zach began this quest. Now you are here with five others and Zach is gone. How else could the six of us here have been drawn together to attain this goal? We were meant to travel this dark road together.”

  “So it would seem,” said Carym, all the more certain that his path had thus far been no mistake. What would Zuhr think of him touching the dark magic of the Shadow stone?

  “The sword belonging to the Dark Paladin, which he had ultimately used to fight the God of Death, had actually been given to him as a gift from Zuhr Himself when he rose to our order’s highest rank, First Paladin. He served many years with honor and distinction before he turned to darkness, some of his deeds are still revered today.” Ederick looked off into the distance. Letting the crackling flames take his mind back in time.

  “As you have probably heard, the holy city of Al Zochar has been under a great siege. The sword and shield of the Dark Paladin, entombed with his corpse, could very well turn the tide in the battle to our favor; the conquest of Al Zochar could be at hand. This must be the reason Zuhr put me in your company. I cannot imagine what would happen to the will of our forces, should the enemy reach the Tomb first.” Ederick looked wistfully at the sky.

  Carym knew the knight had spoken truly, thinking about how his life had changed so drastically in so little time. He went from being a fugitive of the Arnathian Crown to walking with the likes of Sir Ederick Shieldsmoore, a Commander of the Zuharim. Once Carym’s drunken delusions and wistful desperation clouded what was right in his mind. But the terrible events of the last few days served as a wakeup call for him. These events brought him back to reality, forced him to see that even in the darkest hour there is always hope.

  Would he throw it all away by foolishly touching the edges of the power of the Shadow again? He swore he would not allow that seductive power to tempt him again. But wouldn’t that power be helpful in their journey? Surely, the Great Zuhr, the Creator of All, could not object to turning the dark power against itself? Then he remembered how he had failed to do just that.

  “I believe you should train to become a knight.”

  Carym looked at the knight in surprise, the fire was now blazing nicely and Gennevera was huddled next to him. Kharrihan and Bart, seeing the fire now burning comfortably, helped Princess Hala from her position in the lean-to and closer to the warming flames.

  “There were many Fyrbold in the ranks of the Zuharim before the time of the Dark Paladin.”

  Carym could not reply right away and gazed again into the flames. He knew in his heart that Zuhr wanted him to join His legion, to fight against the forces of darkness. But, hadn’t some of the Zuharim embraced the evil power of necromancy? Carym couldn’t be sure he wanted to serve Zuhr at all, though he knew that for now his own path and that of the knight’s were entwined.

  “I don’t know in my heart if I am worthy. I must consider this carefully,” he said with a far-off look. Though he intended his answer as an evasion, there was truth in what he said.

  “Zuhr’s wisdom will guide your choice, you will know in your heart when He has given you his answer.”

  Dawn broke and the sky remained overcast, hinting to the inhabitants of the world below that it might just decide to dump another load of snow on them in the coming hours. Ederick had been on watch at sunrise and roused the rest of the group. Hala seemed remarkably better and was moving around on her own, graceful as a cat. Carym couldn’t help but take in the woman’s natural beauty. Her body was supple and lithe and her skin dark. Her eyes were large and brown and seemed to miss nothing, they were framed in her face by her honey-colored hair. She carried herself with pride and dignity and there was an air of confidence around her, inspiring and radiant. When he felt Gennevera’s gaze upon him, he found it difficult to tear his gaze from the mysterious woman.

  “Good morning, Carym,” she said draping her arm around his shoulders and kissing him on the cheek. The pair embraced for a moment, but quickly separated with a few grumblings and even an, “ahem,” from the others. With a sigh, the man saw that Ederick had been busy during his watch and most of the signs of the camp’s existence had already been erased with some help from another inch of snow that fell during the night.

  The sight of the forest was enchanting to Carym, having seen very little snow in his life. “Isn’t this amazing, Gennevera? I have never seen such beauty!” he was awed by the majesty of snow covered forest.

  “Really?” she asked, casting an inconspicuous glance at Hala. She was unsure what to make of the new princess in their group. Her jealous bone had been bruised slightly, but she knew that those were irrational thoughts. The woman deserved to be rescued and reunited with her people...didn’t she?

  “No. Snow falls rarely where I come from. And when it does, it rarely amounts to much. Even when I served in the Arnathian Navy, I spent all of my time in the warmer climes.”

  “Then you truly have not seen beauty until you set your eyes upon the lands you will soon enter, Cklathman!” said Princess Hala with pride. “The mountains of my homeland are lush with vegetation and teeming with life. In autumn the leaves on the trees are sprayed with all the colors of the rainbow, tugging at the heart with their beauty. Winter blankets the land in pure white snow and silvery ice, while spring flowers fill the air with soft scents. And in our mild mountain summers, the lush greenery is teeming with herds of deer and fat turkeys.”

  “Then I am eager to see your lands, Highness,” said Carym as the group finished breaking.

  Gennevera had finally decided; she didn’t like Hala one bit. “Perhaps we will be fortun
ate enough to find our way to your lands in the spring, and witness some of this legendary natural beauty.”

  “When we reach the Port of Powyss, we can secure passage to Myrnwell easily enough,” said the knight, anxious to continue the march. Then he turned to the princess. “From there, how long will it take to reach your country?”

  “I do not know. From what I have learned, it seems that Shalthazar plans to winter in the lands at the base of the Ogrewall Mountains. His country has grown considerably and he will only grow stronger through the winter as supplies arrive from beyond the seas. He is desperate to find the Tomb, however. The chances are great that we will encounter his soldiers before we reach the safety of my lands.”

  Carym nodded, expecting such an answer. The men had discussed the next steps to take on their journey northward and to the mainland. Bart felt as though continuing to the port city of Powyss was their best bet. Kharrihan spoke of rumors of several new orders of monks, priests, and soldiers who were dedicated to Zuhr and were springing up in the free lands, some even in Myrnwell. It seemed to the companions that if the Ogrewall Mountains proved impassable, Myrnwell would be as good a place as any to spend the rest of winter.

  The companions moved on through the snow covered wood toward their goal of Powyss, under the foreboding steel gray sky. Hala, back to full strength, managed to blend in with the companions and complimented their impressive array of battle skills. Her own scouting talents were formidable, Hala dropped out of sight from time to time and assisted Kharrihan with the peripheral scouting responsibilities. The woods were too quiet Carym had noticed. It was winter, and the southerner was not used to weather like this, but still he felt as though the forest were holding back its full majesty. As though it possessed a sentience of its own and knew something of the comings and goings of the mortals who trod among its boles and boughs even now and wanted to protect what it could of itself.