The Tomb of the Dark Paladin (30 page)

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Authors: Tom Bielawski

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BOOK: The Tomb of the Dark Paladin
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C H A P T E R

T H I R T E E N

~

Carym awoke a short time later, head throbbing but feeling like he could at least walk again. Bart returned to the barn as Carym was getting to his feet.

"Thank you, Bart," he said with heartfelt gratitude. The stalwart bard's face cracked the slightest hint of a smile and he nodded.

"Now, I've managed to keep the townspeople from setting fire to this barn with us in it. But we have some work ahead of us, so we do."

"Aye," said Carym, taking in the destruction and the grisly scene. "We do."

"There is a wagon outside we can use to carry the beasts' corpses beyond the village and burn them before we go. I paid him for damage to his barn too."

"Good. Were there any casualties?"

"By Zuhr's own grace, no. That pack of demon dogs were Hell bent on us, so they were. Had anyone been hurt, I don't know if I could have talked us out of trouble so easily."

"It's the least we can do."

"Are you crazy?" demanded Genn. All eyes turned on her. Carym felt her disdain as keenly as a punch in the gut. 

"What do you mean, Genn?" he asked, hurt.

"We have to leave, now!" she shouted. "Umber's hunters will keep coming. And they know we're are here. Now. None of these farmers would dare to stop us!"

"You have a valid point, Gennevera," offered Hala. "However, were we to leave now without cleaning up the damage we brought upon these innocent people, it would make us little better than those who hunt us."

"So we sit back and let them come again, in the name of what?" she demanded angrily. "Honor?"

"Duty," answered the knight. "Duty."

"Genn, too many people have been hurt or killed because of me. We have to do what is right."

"And if they come again before we're done? What then? What kind of terror will we bring on these innocent people then?"

The companions were silent. No one had an answer. 

"Alright, Genn. You're right. Let's pile the dog corpses in the road, I'll get rid of them quickly with magic. We will take the woman beyond the town limits and bury her elsewhere."

"You're going to use your magic? Aren't you too weak?" asked Hala, concern apparent in her voice.

"Not with Bart's help."

Genn seemed to calm slightly since they weren't going to waste a lot of time, but it was very clear she wanted to be gone. She busied herself moving dog corpses out into the street and refused to meet Carym's eyes. He wondered what was going on with her. He wanted to talk to her, to find out what went wrong between them. But the timing of their mission would not allow it. 

He let out a sigh and got to work.

 

It wasn't long before the canine corpses were piled high in the street and a thin layer of snow covered them already. The farmer and a number of other village men came out to watch the fire. Being Cklathmen, their good nature was hard to suppress for long and they always enjoyed a good show. When Carym ignited the entire pile of corpses with the power of the Flames, the all cheered. They were particularly happy that there was little left on the street to clean up and were content enough to let the next rain handle it. 

Carym was shocked that these folk could be so good natured as to wish them all farewell and offer their homes to him in the future. When they were far enough from the village, Bart broke the truth to him. 

"Carym, when Myrnnish folk wish you good fortune and offer you to stay in their homes the next time you come through, it means they don't think you'll live long enough to take them up on it."

Carym seemed crestfallen, but Bart just laughed. "It's nothing personal, lad. It's just the way of Cklathmen in these parts. They're a funny lot, so they are."

Carym smiled, hoping their particular blessings were not prophetic. 

 

 

They had been walking north for days, stopping only so that each companion could take turns riding their two remaining horses. The day before, they had departed from the main highway that led north and trudged their way through thick forests of pine and birch. Finally the wilderness gave way to what Hala called a road, Carym called it a trail. The sun began its morning climb over mountaintops covered in snow and the companions were thankful for any warmth to come. The end of the road delivered the companions to a wide clearing bordered by forest and hills. An outcropping of large boulders rested there, the dusting of snow reflecting brightly in the bright morning sun. Beyond this point, going north meant going up. This part of the Northern Continent was mountainous and filled with bizarre creatures and monsters most folk didn't believe existed. But Carym had seen enough of things that supposedly did not exist to know better, and he was wary. Still, he was relieved to know that the danger of the pursuit of the Rhi's forces were behind them and that perhaps they would be afforded a comfortable rest, however brief it may be.

The air was still and the woods were deathly quiet. Carym was particularly aware of each noisy breath from the companions steaming in the cold air. Every subtle shift of weight or adjustment of gear seemed loud as thunder. Hala approached the pile of boulders and stood for a moment with her eyes closed. In that moment he was struck by her natural beauty. It didn't detract from his feelings for Gennevera in any way, but in that moment he simply found the princess breathtaking. 

Hala quietly spoke in her native tongue for a moment and then she was bathed in amber light. The golden rays shot upward from her body for a moment, then nothing. She stood a moment longer, her hand on one of the large boulders, before returning to the group.

"I have signaled the watchers. They will send a contingent of warriors to escort us into the kingdom," she said. "We will rest in my father's palace tonight."

Carym could not help but offer the woman a big smile, the idea of sleeping in a palace was a welcome one. And it was clear to Carym that the others felt similarly.

"Who are the watchers, your highness?" asked Sir Ederick, looking about. Carym admired Ederick's tireless concern with security and defenses, it was clear the knight was thinking about defenses even now.

"Some of them are members of the Royal Family charged with keeping the security of the kingdom. It is a rite of passage that is required of those who would rule over the Tribes and the people of our kingdom. I, too, am one of the watchers. We are skilled in all forms of warfare and stealth and we take our duties to heart. Certainly there are some watching us as we speak."

"Are they all shape-shifters like yourself, highness?" asked Sir Ederick.

"Some are. Although their talents differ, Sir Knight, you may rest assured they are all formidable in battle."

"Forgive my questions, I am simply curious about the ways of your people. Are there others of your order who are not of the nobility?"

"In a sense the watchers are knights like you. Some are born into their roles; others have earned the privilege through courage in battle or through other service to our king."

That seemed to satisfy whatever thoughts were behind the knight's questions for he spoke no more. An hour or so later, a large snowy-white owl appeared in the air above them and settled on the ground next to Hala. In a flash of amber light, the owl transformed itself into a fearsome warrior woman who looked very much like the princess. She was adorned with a snowy white cloak mottled with black and brown and the pelt of a snow owl adorned her head like a hood. Carym thought that the eyes of the owl hood seemed distinctly alive, watching.

The woman strode forward and met her princess with barely a glance at Hala's companions. She removed her headpiece and pure white hair spilled down over her shoulders framing her face. Carym was taken by the sight, for he had never seen such hair on a person before. It was neither the white hair of old age, nor the premature white hair of a youth whose life has been extraordinarily demanding. Rather the woman's hair seemed rich and full and vibrant. The white hair that surrounded her youthful face was the pure color of fresh snow, and looked to be as soft. She knelt before the princess and spoke to her in their native language. After a moment, the warrior rose and the two women returned to the group.

"This is my cousin, Anitakhala, honored warrior of our people; she is commander of her company," the princess looked at her cousin with pride. "She and her warriors will escort us to the capital."

"There are more warriors coming to escort us, highness?" asked Bart.

"Yes, though some are already here," said the princess. "They are guarding us very closely."

Bart looked about curiously, a scowl threatening to take over his once jovial features. Bart had changed a great deal in the short time he and Carym had been separated, each undergoing his own rigorous training. He regretted that their mission would not allow him the time to talk with his friend, to share experiences and perhaps learn more about the Sigils from one another. He shook his head and resigned himself to the fact his life had been defined by something larger than his own needs and desires. 

The route the group followed seemed to be little more than an animal trail through woods and the going was rough. The route was mostly uphill, the terrain steep and dense with thorns and other unpleasant bushes. The princess insisted they had passed a number of homes, though Carym had not seen a single dwelling. These foothills were filled with ridges and fingers, draws and even great crevasses. They forded several cold mountain streams, and once startled an otter from his lazy swim along a rippling stream surface. As they progressed farther into the Jaguar lands, signs of wildlife and birds became more abundant and more apparent. Perhaps spring was at work here after all. All the while Carym had not seen a single Watcher other than Anitakhala.   

After two hours of hard travel, they finally arrived at the entrance to the city of Hitchyn Itsa, the land of the Jaguar Tribes. It was unlike any city he had visited before, more unusual even than the great city of Lordsdeep in its own way. Like many other cities that Carym had visited, a wall surrounded Hitchyn Itsa. However, this wall was not made of stone and mortar; rather it was made of bough and branch. The wall was an intricate design of sturdy oak trees grown closely together over many years with interlocking boughs and trunks, which created a virtually impenetrable wall.

The princess guided the group to a place Carym assumed was the gate to the city. Here the trees gave way to form a circular shape allowing those outside to see in, yet the trunks of these trees acted as bars preventing entrance to outsiders. Two jet-black ravens glided silently down from the branches high above the wall overhead and shifted in a blur and a flash of amber light into human forms. The pair of watchers was tall and intimidating; each had jet-black hair, black feathered cloaks and tall spears. They wore helmets fashioned from raven feathers that covered their faces like a visor.

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