The damsel glanced in her direction, and the lady sat back dow n abruptly.
'The lady Anara,' said chamberlain Folcard, with not a little disdain in his voice.
'Your... your daughter?' asked Calisse.
'I have no daughter,' rasped Castellan Lutheure.
Anara regarded them coldly, no flicker of emotion showing on her face. She had severed her connection with her blood family long ago. Such w as the way of the damsels of the Lady.
Lutheure sw ayed suddenly and one of his legs buckled beneath him. The sword of Garamont clattered as it struck the floor, and both the chamberlain and the Lady Calisse jerked into motion to catch the lord of Garamont, though both w ere too slow.
Anara stepped forw ard quickly and caught the castellan before he could fall. Though he tow ered over her, he was frail and she supported him easily in her arms.
Up close, his face a hair's breadth from her ow n, she could see how sallow and transparent his skin was. She saw the burst blood vessels splashed across his nose and cheeks, and the dark liver spots that marked his flesh. She looked into his yellow ed eyes and saw how close he w as to death.
There was something else in his face, too, some taint. There was a black sickness w ithin him, eating aw ay at him, that no physician would have recognised. Only one such as she w ould have been able to perceive it for what it truly was, for it was necrotic in nature, based on the foul tenets of those schooled in the black arts.
Even as she came to this conclusion, her eyes snapped tow ards the small table at the castellan's side, locking on the goblet upon its smooth surface. Lutheure w as gently low ered back into his throne by his wife and chamberlain, while the Lady Elisabet hovered nervously nearby. Anara lifted the goblet to her nose, sniffing. She recoiled from the noxious, underlying taint within the liquid and cast the goblet aw ay from her. It clattered to the floor, spilling its vile contents upon the stone.
'Who gave him that?' she asked. No one was paying her any mind, intent on the w ellbeing of the castellan.
'What's going on?' asked Calard, coming up behind her. The unearthly silence beyond the doors to the audience chamber still held, as if the enemy had suddenly dissipated into thin air. Anara knew better. She could feel the foul presence of the Gave beyond the portals, gathering its strength.
'Who gave him that brew ?' she asked again, this time imparting a fraction of her pow er into the words.
Lady Calisse stuttered as she w as compelled to answ er.
'It is... it is my husband's remedy,' she said, 'for his illness. His physician-'
'It is poison,' said Anara acidly.
Stunned silence greeted her proclamation. Elisabet paled. The chamberlain's face lit up in alarm. She saw Calard's eyes go cold, boring into the Lady Calisse.
'You bitch,' he said, staring venomously at his stepmother. She looked back at him w ithout comprehension. 'Attempts on my life... Poisoning my father... And for what?
So that Bertelis w ould become the ruler of Garamont?'
Calisse's mouth opened and closed soundlessly, and Anara probed into her mind w ith the powers vested in her by the Lady of the Lake, skimming her thoughts for any sign of guilt.
'I should cut you dow n here and now, you murderous viper!' said Calard. Covered in blood and w ith his sword in his hand, his eyes blazing with fury, he stepped towards the lady of Garamont. She cow ered before him.
'No,' said Anara, 'it w as not her.'
THE WORDS CUT through Calard's rage, and he stared down at his tw in in confusion. What w as she saying? It all made sense!
He looked back at his step-mother. She stared at him w ith murderous eyes.
Surely she w as behind it all?
Wasn't she?
'Who, then?' he asked. He wanted to strike out at someone, anyone, and desperately w anted a target for his w rath. 'Who has been poisoning my father?' he asked again, more forcefully.
Anara's eyes misted over, and then settled on Elisabet. Calard's heart skipped a beat.
'No,' he w hispered.
Elisabet came to Calard's side, pale and draw n, and clung to him like a child.
'Why is she looking at me like that, my love?' she asked, her voice scared.
Calard w as shaking his head.
'Her,' said Anara, staring accusingly at Elisabet.
This was insane! Why in the Lady's name w ould his love w ish to kill his father? No, Anara w as w rong.
'You are mistaken, sister,' said Calard desperately.
'I am not,' she replied, her eyes glinting feyly. 'Ask her, if you w ish.'
Elisabet w as crying, tears running down her face, and she clung tightly to Calard, uncaring of the blood and gore splattered over his breastplate and arms.
'You cannot believe her!' Elisabet said frantically, her eyes wild. She stared up at him w ith imploring, desperate eyes. Her expression would haunt him forever. 'You cannot believe her!'
Calard looked deep into the eyes of the w oman he loved, and saw the ugly truth that lay behind her beauty.
'Why?' he w hispered in horror.
'You cannot believe her!' Elisabet cried again, but Calard stumbled aw ay from her, tears w elling in his eyes.
'Why?' he asked again.
'I did it for us!' w ailed Elisabet finally, moving into him, tears running down her face.
He backed further aw ay, as if she were a plague victim, though it broke his heart to see the hurt in her eyes.
'She w ould have seen you disowned,' cried Elisabet, pointing an accusing finger at Lady Calisse. The smell of her perfume w as intoxicating, confusing and he stepped further aw ay from her. 'She w ould have convinced your father to disown you. You know I speak the truth! He has eyes only for Bertelis! You would have been left a pauper, w ith nothing! We would have been left with nothing!'
Calard shook his head in horror at w hat he was hearing.
'It w as for us', implored Elisabet.
Calard stumbled aw ay blindly, tears running freely down his cheeks.
'Calard,' w ailed Elisabet. She went to follow him, but Folcard grabbed her by the arm.
'Haven't you done enough, girl!' the fierce chamberlain hissed.
'Calard!' she cried. 'I love you! Calard! Please forgive me. I did only what I thought best for us, for our future together! Calard!'
His w orld collapsing around him, Calard stumbled dow n to the bottom of the dais stairs and fell to his knees, his sword dropping from his limp grasp. He ripped the silk token of Elisabet's affection from his arm and let it fall to the floor. He dimly heard a hard slap, and the Lady Calisse screeching like a w ildcat as she threw herself at Elisabet.
'Stop it!' he heard Anara snap, her voice tinged with power. 'The beast comes.'
THERE WAS STILL no sound from the hallway beyond the double doors, but as Anara spoke they heard a new noise. It w as a groaning, creaking sigh, like a house settling in the cool of evening or the sound a ship made as it rolled from side to side in a heavy sw ell. The hairs on Calard's body stood up, as if the air w as charged with static, and he felt an acid tingle on his tongue.
'The door,' muttered Maloric, and Calard looked up through his grief.
The grand w ooden doors were swelling and bulging with sudden, unnatural growth.
Woody tendrils were sprouting from their surfaces, waving like blind tentacles.
Thorns weeping sap pushed out, and the knots on the surface of the doors began to seep w ith more of the sticky fluid, running like blood dow n to the floor.
Branches burst from the w ood as if it w as gifted with sudden, corrupt life. They coiled upw ards, straining against the lintel and cracking stone. Black, foul-smelling buds unfurled, releasing bloated flies that launched into the air. Leaves the colour of rotting vegetation sprouted, only to w aste away and fall to the floor an instant after their had appeared. Roots erupted from the base of the doors, creeping out across the stone slabs of the floor, probing betw een cracks and digging deep into the mortar.
Burrow ing
beneath the stonework, they began to push the flagstones up, and spreading cracks ran out in all directions, like a spider's web.
With a tearing sound, the doors w ere pulled apart by the sudden grow th, and there stood the Gave, eyes alight with foetid magic. The doors were wrenched further apart, and a tide of Chaotic beastmen sw armed into the audience chamber around their master.
Knights leapt forwards to meet them head-on, and Calard saw Maloric and Reolus rush into battle, their blades singing through the air. The irony of a noble of Sangasse fighting to save the lord of Garamont w as not lost on Calard.
Finally facing an enemy upon which he could unleash his fury and grief, Calard sw ept up his dropped sword and entered the frantic combat.
He roared w ordlessly as he swung the blade, all thought of protecting himself swept aside as he let his rage overcome him. He fought like one of the berserk warriors of the icy north, venting his anger in the flesh of the enemy. He hacked the arm from the first beastman that he met, shrugging off the hammer blow he received in the chest, and smashed his blade into the beast's head, cleaving through one of its horns and smashing its skull.
Calard allow ed a red mist to descend over his vision, and he slashed around in his frenzy, caring not at all for his own safety. He threw himself deeper into the fray, and blow s rained down upon him, but still he killed, his armour suffering the brunt of the attacks directed tow ards him.
'Protect the lord Garamont! Fall back!' someone cried, and Calard came to his senses.
His father w as still alive, and he had a duty to perform in protecting him. Throwing his life away meaninglessly would be a dishonour to his lord, and he w as suddenly determined to make his father proud, at last, to protect him w ith his dying breath.
A meaty fist slammed into his temple, and he was sent sprawling to the ground.
Dazed, he dimly registered the tow ering Gave as it strode through the melee, its backw ards-jointed legs giving it an aw kward gait. It smashed a pair of knights aside w ith a sw eep of its staff, and stabbed its sacrificial dagger into the throat of another.
Calard cried out as it took its first step up the dais tow ards Lutheure.
Reolus w as advancing into the roiling midst of the enemy, fighting his way to the doorw ay once more in an attempt to stem the flow of beastmen, w hile the other knights fell back to protect the castellan. The Grail knight moved w ith subtle grace and economy of movement, expending no more energy than was required to kill. He had retrieved a fallen sword from the floor, and w as fighting with two blades, spinning them around in deadly arcs.
Calard pushed to his feet, dazed and moved tow ards the towering creature. A beastman threw itself into his path, its face a snarling blend of goat and man, and Calard tried to kill it quickly. His blade flashed for its neck, but it sw ayed back from the blow and hacked out w ith its axe. The blow glanced off his shield, knocking him back a step, agonisingly further aw ay from the beast stalking up the dais steps.
A pair of loyal knights defending his father stepped forwards to slow the towering beast. It ignored them, feral eyes locked on the lord of Garamont, w ho was staring at it w ith eyes filled with horror and loathing. He had pushed himself to his feet once more, supported by his chamberlain, and once more held the blade of Garamont in his hands, its tip shaky and unsteady. His wife w as cowering behind the thrones w here the chamberlain had thrust her.
The tw o knights came at the beast simultaneously. With inhuman speed, it stepped into the attack of the knight on its right, releasing its grip on its staff, which remained upright, rooted upon the steps.
With its free hand, it caught the descending sword-arm of the knight at the w rist, w renching the metal out of shape and pulling him violently off balance. The sacrificial knife stabbed into the knight's neck as the beast spun, punching through metal and chain, and blood gushed from the w ound. Still turning, the beast slammed the knight into its other attacker, sending them sprawling down the steps.
Calard barely avoided another brutal attack from the beastman he w as engaged with.
The beast had put too much strength behind the blow and stumbled off balance.
Calard killed it w ith a thrust.
Anara w as still standing alongside the castellan, looking tiny and insignificant as she faced dow n the beast looming before her. She w as muttering an incantation softly under her breath, and the creature snarled at her, baring its teeth. Then it roared, the pow er and fury in the deafening cry making Anara recoil back a step. It threw its arm up tow ards her, its long fingers splayed out.
The air blurred before its outstretched hand, like a heat haze against the horizon on a hot day, and Anara w as sent tumbling backw ards, as if struck by a heavy blow .
She struck her head against the heavy armrest of her father's throne and fell unconscious to the floor.
Another desperate knight ran at the tow ering Gave, his sword held in a tw o-handed grip. The beast sw ung its staff up, and thrust it into the charging warrior. It struck the knight in the chest and root tendrils writhed over his body. His boots slipped on the smooth flagstones, and he fell heavily down the steps, the staff attached like a leech to his body. The roots of the tw isted stave wriggled madly as they burrow ed betw een gaps in the knight's armour, pushing through chain links and digging deep into muscle and flesh.
The knight screamed, his body w ithering as the hateful staff sucked the life from him. Dark veins pulsed as the knight's blood w as drawn from his body.
It w as all happening too fast. Calard surged up the stairs tow ards the beast, screaming in hatred and loathing. It swung towards him with inhuman speed, and backhanded him across the side of the head, sending him crashing to the bottom of the dais.
A sw ord sliced across its back, scoring a bloody w ound. It bellowed in pain and anger, and lashed out blindly. The sacrificial dagger plunged into its attacker's helmet, sinking six inches of metal into the man's brain.
Maloric, his noble face twisted in disgust, came at the beast from the side, but it kicked one of its hooves hard into his midsection, denting the Sangasse noble's breastplate and sending him reeling gasping for air.
A sw ord flashed tow ards the beast, and it stepped backw ards quickly, its hand flashing down to grip the weapon as it lanced towards its heart. Blood welled beneath its long spider-leg fingers as it turned the blade aw ay, and the knight, off balance, stumbled tow ards it.
Releasing the sword, the beast w rapped its hands around the knight's helmet and tw isted. A sickening crack sounded, and the warrior fell to the ground, his head almost completely turned around.
Nobody now stood betw een the Gave and the castellan.
Calard rose to his knee, his vision blurred, and staggered back up the dais stairs.
ELISABET SHOOK FREE of the chamberlain's weakening grasp and staggered backw ards, half-blinded by tears. She felt cold stone behind her. There was nowhere to run.
Tears continued to run dow n her face, and she sobbed in terror and shame. The look of horror and revulsion that Calard had given her was imprinted in her mind. She hated herself for what she had done, but w hy didn't he understand that she had done it for them?
It had been an easy thing. She had given the servant, Annabelle, to the Garamont household, and the peasant girl had quickly become an integral part of the daily routine in the castle. It had taken her months to build up the courage to seek out the crone, but at last she had done so, and it w as from her that she had obtained the poison.
'It is a slow acting substance,' the crone had told her. 'It will cause a death that w ill not arouse suspicion.'
How w rong she had been.
Annabelle had added the poison to the castellan's remedy each day, though of course the girl knew not what she did. She was paid handsomely to keep her activities secretive, and not to ask questions.
The full understanding of w hat she had done weighed down upon Elisabet. Though the shame and doubt had plagued her, she had overcome them, focusing only on the f
uture that she w ould have w ith Calard. She would learn to live with the guilt. So long as they w ere together and happy then everything she had been forced to do, how ever distasteful, would have been forgotten in time.
She loved him so very much.
Barely know ing what she was doing, she fumbled against the back w all, feeling around the place w here she had seen the chamberlain press. At last one of the stones clicked inwards. She quickly located the other switch, and the gaping black hole was again revealed.
What cursed tw ist of fate had caused Calard's tw in to appear and shatter all her hopes and dreams? And w hy could Calard not see that everything that she had done had been for him?
Crying for all that could have been, and all that w as now lost to her, Elisabet ducked into the craw l space, wriggling into the darkness.
Damn them all, she thought, sobbing tears of anger, bitterness and grief.
GARAMONT'S AGED CHAMBERLAIN stepped in front of his lord, his hawk-like profile defiant and completely lacking fear. He stood, unarmed, before the beast. It w as half-crouching, moving like a stalking w olf, but still it tow ered over the man.
'Move to your right, my lord,' said the chamberlain, not taking his eyes off the creature. Lutheure, his body w ithered and hunched, shuffled to the right as instructed. Wise to their thinking, the beast stalked sideways, cutting off any route of escape.
'A step more,' hissed the chamberlain, and again the beast matched their movement.
Its back w as now to Calard, as Folcard had no doubt intended, and he stepped as softly as he w as able up the steps behind it.
As if suddenly tiring of the game, the beast lurched forwards and grabbed the chamberlain by his shoulder. The elderly man w as hurled to the side. He slammed into a pillar, and crumpled in a heap at its base.
Calard leapt up the stairs w ith a shout, hefting his sword, but the beast w as too fast.
It stepped forw ards, its powerful legs covering the ground quickly, and swatted Lutheure's blade aside w ith a contemptuous sw eep of its hand, the ancient sword of Garamont spinning across the stone floor.
Warhammer - Knight Errant Page 31
