The Tomb of the Dark Paladin (21 page)

"We will ambush any forces that come for us, Genn. We will battle them with all of our strength and power, but if any should surrender we will give quarter."

"And what do we do with our prisoners then? Put them on a leash and walk them to the Tomb of the Dark Paladin?"

Carym frowned, she had a point. "We will deal with them in an honorable manner. What that looks like remains to be seen."

"With Umber's minions on the prowl, we should stay together," offered Hala. "My room is large and there is ample room on the floor you both."

"Good idea," said Carym as he got up from the table. "I'll arrange to stable the horses here and meet you both at the room."

Even though they were staying in the comfort of an inn, Carym decided it would be best to set a watch. Hala was asleep on the bed and Genn was asleep on a pile of thick furs near the hearth. The room was plain and it was on the second floor, something he would have rather avoided. He sat on a stool near the small window and peered down at the intersection below. From time to time a villager or traveler would walk past in the quiet darkness, once an ornate horse drawn carriage announced its arrival with loud creaking and stomping of hooves.

Fewer and fewer people were about as the night grew deep. It was past time for him to rouse Hala who would begin the second watch, but he did not feel like sleeping. Though he was wide awake, he had to fight the tedium of the task and keep his mind from wandering. It was hard to do, for a person's mind longs for something to occupy it and will often create its own distractions. And so it was hours later when he thought he saw the air shimmer in the moonlight and a strange vaporous form appear. He turned away and rubbed his eyes, knowing that the late hour could play tricks on his mind.

But there it was, a shimmer in the lamplight. It moved slowly toward the door to the inn, pausing before it disappeared 

"Strange," he whispered. He looked about the room instinctively, seeing nothing he looked out the window again. Still nothing. But there 
had
 
been something. He closed his eyes and let his mind reach out to the wards of alarm that he had cast in strategic locations in the inn. These wards allowed him to share a connection with those places where he had placed them, but he sensed nothing; at first.

He sensed intrusion into one of his magical wards, and it was no place where anyone should be. Someone was on the landing at the top of the stairs, near his door! He cast his eyes on the door, silently preparing for a fight. His pulse raced, heart pounding in his ears. The power of the Sigils was at his beck and call, the stones of power tugged at him in their supernatural fashion begging him to unleash their fury. He felt like he was ten feet tall and confident enough to battle the Dark Paladin himself. Quickly he beat down the prideful thoughts for he knew they were merely the temptations of the Shadowstone.

He wanted to wake the others, but he held fast. Perhaps a drunk from the inn below had gone to the wrong room, but he knew that was unlikely. Suddenly the intruder was gone as quickly and quietly as it came. He peered out the window again, looking for that disturbance in the air, but saw nothing. Could he have imagined it? Could the stones of power be playing tricks on him?

The magical wards would not lie to him. Something had been there, outside his door. Undoubtedly it was connected to the apparition that he spied on the street below. An assassin? A spy? Whatever it was, it was no coincidence that it happened upon his door and stopped there. If his wards had worked as intended, then nothing could have detected his presence in the room. He could not help but think that something was happening.

He exhaled deeply and but did not release his hold on the Tides, and sat back in his chair by the window. He knew he could not sleep now so he continued to watch and wait. They would need to leave in the morn, without delay. 

And then there was someone standing next to him with a blade pressed against his neck.

"Hello, Carym," came a familiar voice. The touch of the cold steel sent a shiver down his spine. "Where are they?"

"What are what?" he demanded tersely, awkwardly eying the steel blade. The women were still sleeping, perhaps the sounds of the two men were muffled by the intruder's considerable power. 

"My pretty little stones, that's what!" hissed the figure. 

"Is that you, Zach?" he asked, his stomach twisted for fear of the answer. The intruder's laughter mocked him. He turned his head slightly to face his foe but he saw only a deeply hooded figure. 

"Why? Do you miss your old friend?" The intruder's voice was plain with scorn and derision. 

Carym's face twisted into a sneer as he felt the power of the Tides surging through him like fire. His mind filled with tempting images of the many ways he would make this intruder pay. And if was Zach? So be it. He would get what he deserved! 

Carym let the Tides course through and around him in an invisible aura. Then he whispered a word of power and the energy suddenly turned into a burst of searing flame. His assailant stumbled backward, giving Carym time to stand and face him. But the intruder was no fool, in a blink he was balanced and ready to fight. Carym lunged forward with his fighting sticks in his hands, each whirling and trailing flames. The attacker parried well and moved like a ghost, one of Carym's well-aimed strikes passed right through the man. Carym could not relent. He continued to attack furiously, his anger and frustration over Zach's betrayal driving him.

The attacker was a skillful fighter, matching Carym step for step, becoming more substantial the more he fought. Carym looked his opponent in the eye, struck that the amorphous figure looked so much like his old friend, but still, Carym couldn't be sure. He was full of anger and rage and now didn't even care whether it was Zach or not. The attacker landed a blow with a long dagger that penetrated Carym's defenses, slicing through flesh and bone. Carym was stunned by the blow, his vision dimmed and he felt chilled all over. The blade seemed to suck the very life from his bones. He dropped his fighting sticks and fell to his knees, dimly aware of a woman's voice shouting. But his senses dulled, darkness was overtaking him.
It should not be this way
, he thought. Then, in the deep recesses of his mind, he felt the stones calling to him. He tried to focus, to answer their call. The one stone he did not wish to reach was foremost among the others, the Shadowstone. A woman's scream sounded and he was assaulted with panic and anxiety, he desperately wanted to keep any harm from befalling his friends. In desperation he answered the call of the one stone whose invitation should have gone unheeded.

In a flash Carym lurched to his feet, the dark power of the Shadow coursing through his body. He ripped free the blade that the assassin left in his body and threw it across the room. His sight returned, he could now see Hala lying on the ground in a heap. Genn held a wand before her as the assassin advanced upon her, laughing and unaware that his dispatched prey had risen. With the dagger free from his body, Carym felt his strength returning. His mind was assaulted by the conflicting powers of the other stones in his possession. In a torrent of emotion and power he lurched across the floor grabbing the attacker. The assassin turned at the last moment and slammed a fist into Carym's gut, but the Fyrbold was so infused with power that he felt nothing. 

Genn unleashed a barrage of magical bolts of energy at the assassin and they slammed into the killer with blinding explosions of light. To Carym's amazement, the assassin merely stumbled but was not harmed. After regaining his footing, the killer advanced on Carym again with a skillful display martial fighting prowess. Carym blocked and knocked the man's hands away, grabbing his throat. He squeezed hard, hoping to crush the life from his body, but the assassin's neck seemed to have been made of steel. Other than keeping the assassin at bay, Carym's grip seemed to be doing little else. 

Another blade appeared in the assassin's hand and the intruder tried to eviscerate Carym with it. Carym jumped back, out of reach of his blade. The power coming from that blade caused such a powerful ripple in the flow of the Tides around him that it almost distracted him. Carym knew that he had been seriously injured by the assassin's dark blades and he knew that he must end this assault now before Genn or Hala were killed. He pointed both hands at the attacker and called out in the magical command word that would bend the Tides to his will. The air behind the assassin shimmered with heat and power and a portal yawned behind him. Flames roiled and waves of terrible heat spilled into the room while angry faces peered into the mortal realm, leering. Tendrils of flame crept through the portal like the tentacles of an octopus, desperately seeking a victim. 

Carym lunged forward, heedless of the danger, and wrapped the assassin in a bear-hug grip. He grimaced as he felt the supernaturally cold steel penetrate the flesh on his side again. But he would not allow himself be stopped by pain; using his momentum to drive the man toward the portal opening he moved his foe closer to the hungry faces. The heat coming from the doorway to the Realm of Flames was searing and intense, and his lungs burned from it. The assassin struggled in Carym's enhanced grasp and stabbed him over and over and over. Carym just drove his quarry backward and closer to the opening. Tendrils of flames reached out from it and wrapped themselves around the feet of the assassin who shrieked in pain. The stench of burnt flesh pervaded the air as Carym continued to push the man into the opening.

Dimly he heard Genn's voice shouting for him to let go, to push the assassin through. Though he desperately wanted to, he found that he could not let go. The assassin's magical blade was still at work in his body and his weary arms would not obey. His hold on the Tides was slipping, even as he found himself falling through the portal behind the assassin. He turned his head and looked back as the intolerable heat swallowed him, hoping to see Genn's eyes once more. However, it was not Genn's eyes that watched him depart the world of the living. It was Princess Hala, with a tear drifting down her cheek, who watched him go. 

Then the portal vanished and Carym saw no more. 

"Carym!" shouted Hala, struggling to her feet, panic in her eyes. "Carym!"

Genn was on her knees, her face in her hands. She did not weep, she did not cry out, she did not look.

"Where did they go?" demanded Hala, her voice strained. 

"To the Realm of Flames," answered Genn, her voice trembling.

"I can do nothing," she said, her voice cracking. "Nothing!"

Hala looked at the scorched floor and said nothing more. She had not awakened because of any noise, just a strange feeling in her gut. The intruder looked remarkably like Zach, but she couldn't be sure. Her body ached from the pain but her innate magic helped blunt the powerful blow that the assassin had delivered her. Even so, she had been knocked senseless. She wiped the tear from her face and rose unsteadily to her feet. "He was our only hope."