The Tomb of the Dark Paladin (5 page)

Carym took another pull of the strong brew and looked at Genn as she looked back at him. Her beauty was dark and intoxicating, Carym was reminded of his brief meeting with Zerva in the woods beside the old druid's grove; the two were very different. Where Zerva was soft, gentle and nurturing, Genn was possessed of an inner fire of determination and drive. She seemed to harbor an inner anger, nurtured it, and railed against those whom she felt were working against her. At times she had the right of it, being Keneerie among humans was no easy thing, though her reaction was prideful all the same.

Rohan had warned against the damage a person could do to themselves and to others by excessive pride and hubris. Carym grew worried for his own soul as well as for Genn's. He had done a great many dark deeds in the throes of pride. Just when Carym feared that he may have done irreparable damage to his own soul, he learned of there was much more to Zuhr. Zuhr was a kind and forgiving god, and among his many virtues were those of forgiveness and redemption, something that Carym took great consolation in. Knowing that he could be redeemed, that he could be forgiven, brought out an inner strength he never knew he had. And Gennevera, she just could not seem to grasp the significance.

In all, Carym found very little time to spend with the woman who had become his lover. Gennevera had been involved in her own rigorous training and was now a full-fledged member in the revived and very ancient Order of the Divine Healer. This was an order of sisters devoted to Zuhr and skilled in the natural arts of healing. It was even said that the older and wiser sisters had been granted special gifts of power by Zuhr, but the truth was a secret the women guarded fiercely and would not speak of with men, not even the Knights of the Hand. The Sisters were a tough bunch, Carym noted, and even engaged in their own forms of marital training for they would be called upon to take part in dangerous missions to spread their faith. Those who undertook a mission were assigned a Hand Protector to guard over them on their journey. Bishop Rohan, mindful of the significance of their quest, saw to it that Carym would be assigned that duty for Gennevera.

Still, there were precious few moments for the couple to spend time together. During those rare moments, Carym found that Gennevera's personality had taken on a much harder edge. She seemed distant, aloof, but Carym suspected that the training she was going through was much more rigorous than he could imagine and did not press her.

"We can't stay here forever," she said suddenly, steel in her voice.

"You're right, spring is coming and the way through to the Jaguar Lands will be easier to negotiate."

Gennevera nodded and said nothing more. The silence was uncomfortable for Carym, he wanted her to keep talking. She looked out into the street, watching some children as they tried to make a snowman from the melting snow. People walked the streets of Obyn going about their business, ox carts and wagons carried wares to and from market, two members of the Cavalry of the Hand ambled along atop their massive war bulls, steel-tipped horns gleaming in the sunlight.

"Gennevera, why do you seem so--" Carym began, but the sudden sound of a man screaming interrupted him. Carym and Genn both looked down the cobblestone boulevard toward the sound. Everyone in the area heard it, even the children stopped their play to protect their ears from the frightful shrieking.

"That's horrible!" said Genn, covering her ears. "It sounds like someone is dying!"

Carym watched as the mounted knights looked at each other, then took off toward the sound, the tips of their spears reflecting the bright winter sun. A chorus of hideous howling sounds rose above even the sound of the thundering hooves as the knights rode toward the perceived danger.

"It sounds like a pack of wolves!"

"In broad daylight?" asked Genn, fearfully. Carym knew why she was concerned. No ordinary wolf pack would risk hunting in a big city like Obyn, especially during daylight hours.

"They've found us..." he said with dread, she nodded. He didn't know precisely what, but the sound could only have been from one of Umber's Shadowhunters.

Carym knew with solemn certainty that someone had just died, and it was likely that many more would die before the day was out if the Shadowfyr's hunters were on the trail. Gennevera's expression hardened just then, and it seemed to Carym that the kind woman he knew at the beginning of the journey had just vanished, replaced by a doughty fighter.

"We should go," she said, rising calmly to her feet. As she stood, the afternoon sun shone on her raven tresses and the silver trim of her maroon robes. A cudgel, fashioned from the leg of a wasp dragon vanquished long ago in the Underllars, was in her hand. Carym rose to follow her, leaving a few coins on the table. The pair walked quickly to their horses. A few of the other patrons who were enjoying the winter sun nearby noticed Genn's attire and Carym's own dark blue tabard with a silver palm and dove emblem. Carym just nodded to the citizens.

They reached their tethered horses and mounted quickly as the sounds of a pitched battle drifted down the boulevard.

"Carym!" called Genn, nodding in the wrong direction. To Carym it seemed she wanted to ride back to the Tower for help; Carym knew that they would never make the half-day journey in time.

"No," he said calmly, his mind shifting into that battle state where he acted purely on training and instinct. "It's the Shadowfyr's minions, and they have come for me."

"But we--" the sound of men fighting mixed with the shrill howls of whatever beasts were stalking them interrupted her. The howling stopped abruptly and she shivered as a poignant silence filled the streets.

"By the sound of it, those brave knights have lost their fight. We have an advantage of higher ground, we will fight here."

Carym turned his horse and trotted quickly back to the inn and shouted at the patrons to move inside. He trotted up and down the street, ordering people to clear the road. A squad of the Rhi's own guardsmen jogged to the intersection where Carym and Genn were preparing to fight.

"Clear the road!" ordered one of the guardsmen, probably a squad leader. "This is no business for the Hand!"

"Sergeant," Carym said as he walked his horse over to the man. Fear began to prick his soul. The incessant pursuit by the Shadow's minions triggered a sense of paranoia and he struggled to stay calm. "You won't be able to fight these things alone, we must work together."

"I see," the man said, scowling even as citizens continued to flee. "Your High and Mighty Knightship thinks that us lowly peasants can't handle a pack of nuisance dogs!"

Carym backed away as he saw what created the disturbance slinking up the slope of the road. The sergeant had not yet seen the terrible creatures with gaping maws, instead he congratulated himself for bullying a Knight of the Hand. Carym drew his fighting sticks, connected them in the middle to form one long fighting staff, and then set them aflame. He wore no armor, preferring the magical
armor
spell that would encase his body in protective magical stone plates. When the sergeant saw what Carym had just done with his magic, his jaw dropped. Then the sergeant turned to see what Carym was staring so intently at and frantically shouted for his men to get into a spear formation. This was essentially a "V" shaped formation with the tip pointing toward the advancing foes, and Carym thought that was a good choice for these men. Four gigantic wolves trotted silently toward the nervous guardsmen.

The wolves were massive, nearly the size of Carym's own horse, with eyes glowing fiercely. Their fur was dark, mottled, somewhat mangy. Saliva dripped from pearly fangs as low growls emanated from gaping maws. The four massive beasts stared at the humans, hatred and venom clear in their eyes. Palpable evil radiated from the creatures. Carym had no doubt that these were agents of the Shadowfyr.

The sense of evil translated into a fear that penetrated deeply into Carym's soul, and he was truly tempted to flee. It was all he and Genn could do to keep their horses from bolting away from these horrifying creatures. Each of the beasts had distinctive markings, they were like no wolves Carym had ever seen. Their eyes were aglow with unholy ferocity, their teeth bared and bloody. Any creature that could take out a pair of mounted Knights of the Hand were creatures to be feared indeed; his heart ached for their needless deaths. The wolves spread out in a formation of their own, moving in concert to unheard commands. The sergeant ordered his men to spread farther out in response to the movements of the deadly beasts, but Carym sensed that was exactly what the wolves wanted.

"Sergeant, close up your ranks! Close them up!" shouted Carym urgently. "Don't let them through your line! Close up, for the love of Zuhr!"

"Coward!" shouted the sergeant over his shoulder. "We can stand against a few dogs!"

Carym prepared to charge in and take over, but Genn moved her horse to block him. "He'll not listen!"

Carym nodded, she was right. He 
enflamed 
Genn's cudgel with the power of the Flame Sigil to aid her. The two stayed close together and Carym hoped that one of the wolves would be separated from its pack mates by the sergeant's men. Then, it happened so fast Carym almost missed his opening. The wolves charged as one into the formation and began tearing into the frightened and poorly led men. Bodies flew and limbs fell as a sheen of bloody mist floated briefly in the air, silencing the bewildered cries of the men. As Carym had expected, two of the wolves flanked the formation of troops, ready to strike from the side. Carym kicked his mount and charged down the slope of the street toward one of the wolves, a grim smile on his face and vengeance on his mind.

Carym used his horse's momentum to ram the wolf's flank and bowled it over, he was certain to force his mount to trample the wolf with its powerful hooves. Genn thundered in behind Carym, stomping across the squealing beast while Carym wheeled about and struck the creature in the head with his fiery fighting stick. The smell of singed fur filled his nostrils as he struck the surprised creature again and again and again. The great wolf alternately snarled and yelped as it was kicked and stomped by the horses and struck with cudgel and staff by men. With a great stroke of luck, Genn struck the flailing wolf in the throat with the silveryl spike at the base of her cudgel and the beast finally stilled. That was when Carym suddenly realized that the sounds of battle around him had stopped, completely. One of the dire wolves stared at him from the far side of the grizzly scene, its eyes alight with malice and an ominous growl coming from its maw; the remaining two wolves seemed preoccupied with their kills, for the moment.

Carym pushed aside his grief over the loss of life and charged the nearest wolf. He again knocked one over with his horse and lashed out with his staff, sending a ball of fire from the tip of his staff at the other wolves. Genn stayed close to Carym, knowing that to separate would likely mean a horrendous death in the maw of a wicked beast. She lashed out with her own cudgel at the beast that they had just trampled. Only this one didn't succumb to its wounds. This wolf rolled quickly to its feet, its fur singed and smoking, snarling viciously. The wolf lunged at Genn's horse and received a powerful kick to the head that should have collapsed its skull. The wolf yelped, shook its head, and lunged again. Carym hurled a ball of flame at the beast as the other wolves worked their way around behind them.

"More fire!" shouted Genn urgently.

He turned quickly in his saddle, pointed his staff at the other two wolves, and shouted a Sigil command. In a flash, a great wall of flames erupted from the ground between him and the attacking wolves. Genn moved her horse closer to the snapping but still dazed wolf and tried to strike it again. The wolf managed to slash a tendon on her horse's leg and the horse screamed pitifully. The dark monster seemed to sense the horse's demise and appeared to gain strength from it. The wolf lunged and managed to clamp its massive jaws onto the horse's neck and Genn knew she and her mount were going down. Carym was busy keeping the wall of flames between them and the other wolves and could not aid her. Genn was on her own and Carym prayed she would not pay for her attachment to him with her own life.

In seconds, Carym saw Genn's horse go down under the vicious jaws of the massive beast and he watched her leap from danger, landing a vicious blow to the creature's head. The wolf let go of its kill and snapped its great head toward the woman. Even as it did so Genn lashed out with the butt of her cudgel capped with that razor sharp silveryl spike. She swung herself up behind Carym and watched as the wolf dropped to the ground, panting, its eye socket crushed. She was amazed that the creature was still breathing. As she watched the dazed creature, she was shocked to see its body change before her very eyes. Its fur receded back into its skin, its snout shortened and a very human, and very bloody, face appeared. Long hair, filthy and caked with blood, appeared and spilled down over the shoulders of a battered and bruised woman. Her naked form was now lying amid a pool of blood and gore.

"Is it down?" he asked.

"Yes, it's down," she replied, gripping him tightly around the waist. "Carym, they are werewolves!"

Carym lowered his head for a moment. This meant the hunters would never stop, never rest, until he and his friends were dead. They weren't just paid assassins or mindless creatures bred to attack like soldiers on the field of battle. They were evil, driven by dark magic, and they would kill, maim or slaughter anyone or anything that stood in their way.