“I ordered the palisade constructed,” said Albert. “We were fortunate to have finished it before Lord Mitor stripped away the most able-bodied men for his armies. We also lit watch fires at night, and they seem to keep the creatures away. Fire has the power to end their wretched existence. Mortal weapons cannot touch them. We killed, if you can say that, several of the creatures with flaming arrows. Yet we can still see their eyes watching us out of the darkness of the night.” The old knight shook his wrinkled head. “I am too old. Would that I had died before I had seen such evil. The wars of men are one thing, but this is a violation of heaven’s laws.”
“What does this have to do with a San-keth cult at the castle?” said Mazael.
“Necromancy goes hand and glove with these cults,” said Silar. “It is one of the foul arts the serpent god teaches his people and his race. I believe that the cult is raising these creatures.”
“A cult?” said Mazael. “Romaria and the druids of Deepforest Keep believed it to be one man, a renegade dark wizard or necromancer.”
Silar shrugged. “That would not surprise me. Often only the high priest, or an actual San-keth cleric, possesses power enough to perform such dark arts.”
Sir Albert frowned. “Do you suspect anyone?”
“Yes,” said Romaria and Mazael together.
“Simonian of Briault, a wizard Mitor has employed in his court,” said Romaria.
Sir Albert did not recognize the name, but Silar’s dark eyes widened.
“You know the name?” said Mazael.
“Oh, yes,” said Silar. “Yes, indeed. Most of my order and certainly all of Briault does. Simonian was a necromancer and a warlock of the worst sort, one who consorted with the dead and with demons in equal measure. He terrorized Briault for decades until the Briaultan lords united to fight him. My order had a death mark on him. We assumed that he had died in the fighting. It appears that we were wrong.”
“Your order isn’t right too often, is it?” said Mazael.
Silar grinned. “All too true, I fear. We try our best, but alas, we are mortal and prone to error of all sort.”
“If Mitor’s Simonian is the same man you described,” said Mazael, “then he is undoubtedly the wizard raising these creatures.”
“Perhaps,” said Sir Albert. He hesitated. “My lord knights...have you considered that Lord Mitor brought him here with just that purpose in mind?”
“What do you mean?” said Mazael.
“Lord Richard Mandragon’s army is twice the size of Lord Mitor’s,” said Albert. “Lord Richard’s potential allies can reach the Grim Marches with greater speed, as well. It...” Albert fell silent.
“What my friend is unable to say,” said Silar, “is that my order believes Lord Mitor Cravenlock invited the San-keth and Simonian to Castle Cravenlock to help defeat his enemies.”
“That’s absurd,” said Mazael after a long pause.
“Why?” said Silar.
“Because,” Mazael said. “Because...Mitor’s a fool, but... even he could not do something so wretched.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” said Romaria.
“Besides,” said Mazael. “How could Mitor even know where find these San-keth?”
“Because,” said Silar. “Your mother brought the cult to Castle Cravenlock in the first place.”
“That is treason,” said Sir Nathan. “Dare you say that Lord Adalon or Lady Arissa involved themselves in such filth, I will...
“Lord Adalon had nothing to do with the San-keth,” said Silar. “It was Lady Arissa who brought the serpent priests to Castle Cravenlock, to assure her husband’s success against Lord Richard. It was her undoing. Did you know that Lord Richard rose up because he knew of the San-keth cult? We Cirstarcians knew, Lord Richard knew, and yet Lord Adalon never did, the poor old fool.”
Mazael shoved to his feet. “My father was a kindly fool, but even he could not have missed something so dark!”
“Ah, but he did,” said Silar. “History doesn’t repeat itself, you know, but certain patterns do. Lady Arissa consorted with dark powers to try and hold her grip on power. She ruled Lord Adalon, you know that as well as I. And now her son Lord Mitor consorts with those same dark powers to regain his father’s title. And once again Lord Richard marches to meet the armies of the house of Cravenlock.”
“This is madness,” Mazael said. “Even if Mitor was cunning enough to ally himself with the San-keth, Rachel...Rachel would never stand by to something so vile...”
Silar sighed. “Sir Mazael, your sister is not the girl you grew up with, just as you are not the boy you were. You said you had left the Grim Marches for fifteen years, correct? Much can happen in fifteen years. Much can change.”
Mazael mastered his rage before he drew his blade and slew the old man and the monk. “Do you have any proof?”
Silar grimaced. “None. Yet.”
Mazael sat back down. “Then this is all supposition. Simonian is the cause of all this. You said your order had put a death mark on him. He is playing some trickery on Mitor, I don’t doubt it. Gods, I should have simply killed him.”
“You may yet have the chance,” said Sir Albert. “My lord knights, I am honor-bound to tell you. I have seen enough. When Lord Richard’s army comes, I plan to stand with him.”
“Now, that is treason!” said Gerald.
Mazael’s words caught in his throat. He wished that he had stayed in Knightcastle. Everything the old knight and the monk had said rang true in Mazael’s mind. He could almost believe it of Mitor and his harridan wife. But there was no way Rachel could have been involved in something as twisted as a San-keth cult. There was no way. He felt tired. He felt like killing someone.
He remembered how bitter his mother had become. Had she truly worshipped the god of the serpents? She had had no use for him, but had often spent time with Mitor. Had she drawn him into her perversion? He could believe it of Mitor, perhaps, but not Rachel.
“Fine,” said Mazael. “Stand with Lord Mitor, or stand with Lord Richard, it means naught to me. And if that’s all, we’ll be going.”
***
Chapter VI
1
Parley
Demonsouled Page 24
