The Tomb of the Dark Paladin (7 page)

"Good Evening, Bishop," said the knight as he raised his sword in salute to the bishop. A few knights gasped or grumbled at Ederick's lack of decorum, he should have lowered himself before the bishop. Nevertheless, Rohan returned the salute with his crook, seeming to ignore the breech of protocol.

"Good Evening, Sir Ederick," said the bishop. "It seems we have a bit of a problem."

Rohan was calm, his face gave no indication of what had transpired in the knight's absence. That was unusual for the normally pleasant man. His eyes seemed different somehow, though the knight could not tell precisely what it was. Could it be that the hurkin wizard had so quickly overtaken everyone in the keep with his magic? Ederick doubted that. There was more to be learned. 

"A delegation from the Rhi of Myrnwell, Rhi Delfyd, arrived not long ago. There has been a disturbance in Obyn, one in which Carym and Genn were involved." Ederick thought that a pained look crossed the bishop's face, but it was gone quickly. He said nothing, nodding at the bishop to go on while he scanned the Tower for signs of trouble. He did not miss the number of men-at-arms high above the courtyard, looking down at him. "The details of the disturbance are troublesome. A number of wolves penetrated the city's defenses, killing and maiming citizens everywhere they went."

"Wolves?" he said with incredulity.

"Indeed. An entire squad of the city guard and a pair of our mounted knights were killed by the beasts." Ederick was shocked. The mounted knights that patrolled Myrnwell were veteran warriors and their mounts, massive Cklathish bulls, were sturdy and very difficult to kill. "Carym and Genn have been accused of bringing the beasts to Myrnwell."

A scowl crossed the knight's face. He would not rebuke his superior, but he let his displeasure at the accusations show on his face. Just then, the angry villagers that Ederick had seen earlier walked into the courtyard from the stable area.

"Am I to be arrested, then?" he asked. The bishop nodded solemnly. "On what charge?"

"The Rhi of Myrnwell holds you responsible for bringing enemies of Umber into his country, and by extension those who hunt them. The Rhi has charged you with murder, a crime over which I cannot take jurisdiction."

"So, you are going to just turn me over to the Rhi? After all I've..." Ederick was so angry he could not say any more. 

"I am not turning you over, Sir Ederick. I reject their charges, but I cannot refuse them." How could he not refuse them? It made no sense to the knight.

He gripped the reins of his horse tightly in one hand, and held his sword high in the other. The Myrnnish villagers, the apparent delegation from Delfyd Rhi, moved to surround him; the warriors in the Tower, his brethren, did nothing to intervene. He backed his horse away from Bishop Rohan and turned the tired horse in hard circles. The formidable beast stomped and snorted, causing the villagers to break ranks in fear of being trampled. 

Ederick was angry, furious. He could not believe what he was hearing. He felt used and betrayed. How could all this happen? How could Zuhr do this to him? He was also angry with himself for not having insisted he and Carym return to their quest much sooner. 

Suddenly a clap of thunder cracked through the air above the Tower with enough concussive force to cause a few men-at-arms to stumble and fall. The thunderclap was accompanied by a blinding streak of light; those who could still see were seeing spots. The ground shook with a sudden impact, as though a meteor had crashed into the center of the courtyard leaving a cloud of dust and sending pellets of debris flying in all directions. When their vision returned they saw a man kneeling beside Ederick's horse, one hand on the ground and the other holding a long staff firmly on the ground. The cobbled stones beneath his feet were now rubble, having shattered from the impact. 

Slowly the man straightened and stood. He cast his hood back from his head and gazed imperiously at the people before them. The courtyard was completely silent; everyone looked at the newcomer in stunned amazement. Never before had they seen such a feat, and neither had Ederick.

"The next man to take a step toward us will find himself shattered like the stones beneath my feet!" shouted the man with authority. Ederick watched him, stunned. Indeed, none seemed eager to take the chance. "You fools have been duped by a wizard from Hurkromin, so you have! Zuhr will be looking upon you with shame. We're leaving now, so we are. Don't be foolish!" The bard turn his back confidently.

Ederick shook his head. How easily the Hand of Zuhr had fallen! Indeed, with neither battle fought nor sword drawn these men had proven themselves unworthy. He was pleased that his armor and his precious few belongings were already strapped to his horse, for there was nothing left for him here. He glanced at the bishop and just for a moment saw a sincere look of sadness in the man's eyes. It was as though the bishop were trying to tell the knight something. But what? A silent plea for help?

Bart strode confidently toward the portcullis, the people in his way parted before him. Ederick followed after, his senses on high alert and feeling a bit guilty about leaving the bishop to the questionable mercy of the evil within the Tower. Then the twang of a bow sounded and a lone arrow flew through the air from the parapet. Bart whirled and thrust his finger into the air toward the hurtling arrow and the missile just stopped. It fell to the ground as though it had struck a wall. The bard stared hard at the stunned bowman who cowered under the powerful glare and dropped his bow. Seemingly satisfied, the bard turned and strode through the portcullis. 

Although the knight and the bard had not always seen eye to eye, he was certainly glad to see the bard right now. Ederick was amazed by the increase in the bard's strength and control over his powers. His appearance seemed more refined now, his features more chiseled. The knight was so surprised by the change that he wondered if the bard had cast a spell or if it were simply exposure to the magic. The bard's green eyes were brighter, his body leaner and more fit. His face was clean-shaven and it seemed that his skin wrapped neatly over the bones of his face. He didn't look unhealthy, but if the man had been thinner the knight would have been concerned for him. 

"Bart," he called, urging his horse to a trot to catch up to the bard. Bart slowed down, allowing Ederick to reach his side. 

"Halt!" shouted the bishop. He pointed his shepherd's hook at the bard in a threatening manner. It was then that Ederick noted the bishop's eyes bulged and seemed to darken almost to black in the flickering torchlight of the courtyard. He glanced at the black wagon on the far side of the courtyard. Its door slowly opened and a cloaked and hooded figure emerged from within. A purple and silver sash with strange lettering crossed the being's body and a number of odd talismans and pouches hung from many places.

The hurkin wizard.

The knight was at a loss. He knew these men and the bishop very well. They had become his friends, his comrades. Yet here they stood, ready to kill him. The hurkin sorcerer had bewitched them and Ederick could not understand how Zuhr had let that happen. The bard gripped his own staff more tightly then, his face a mask of grim determination.

"Bishop Rohan," said the bard, the anger in his voice was profound. "Don't make me fight you."

Ederick was poised for battle, but every bit as troubled as the bard at the prospect of fighting these good men and he would sorely regret taking their lives. The bishop seemed to struggle then, his hook trembled, perhaps fighting against the evil charms that had beguiled him. The knight prayed fervently that the bishop could somehow break free from the spell. The wizard disappeared, then a cloud of black smoke appeared beside the bishop. As the smoke dissipated the sturdy form of a cloaked figure appeared. The wizard's hood now rested on his shoulders giving them all their first look at his face. Gray skin, slightly upturned nose and small tusks that protruded from his lips marked him as a hurkin. Greasy gray hair framed a dark face with beady eyes filled with malevolence and hate. Although Ederick had fought hurkin before and knew what to expect from them, their exceptional strength and skill in magic still gave him pause. And this one was holding a wand of bone, pointed directly at the knight.

"Ah, Sir Ederick Shieldsmoore!" exclaimed the magic-wielder in his thickly accented gravelly voice. "Why don't you stay a here with us for a while, eh?"

Ederick spat on the ground in defiance. He knew the bard must be planning something and hoped he would act soon. With a snarl the wizard closed his eyes and began to chant softly, his voice barely audible. In a flash the knight spurred his horse and charged the hurkin, hoping to strike him down before his spell was complete, hooves thundering on the stone floor. Ederick reveled in the thrill and danger of the charge as he bore down upon his foe, his sword out before him like an extension of his own arm. He raised his sword, prepared to lob the wizard's head from his body and began the downward swing. Something slammed into his side and knocked him completely from his horse. 

C H A P T E R

T H R E E

~

An explosion of blue flames erupted from the hurkin's outstretched wand accompanied by a disorienting clap of thunder. Bart had only just recognized the danger before the knight was inexplicably knocked out of harm's way. He called upon his power over the air to buffer the blast just before he was engulfed in flames himself. Still, the heat was searing even through the shield of air and his lungs felt on fire. His mind raced to analyze defensive options. There were too many here who were bewitched. If he engaged in a prolonged duel with the hurkin, there would be no way they could avoid an intense battle that would surely result in the deaths of many of the Hand's soldiers and perhaps his own. He desperately wanted to destroy this hurkin wizard but in precious few seconds he would be defending himself against a maelstrom of arrows and crossbow bolts.

Bart opened himself up to the Tides and called upon the Sigil of the Air, drawing in all the power he could harness. Then, bolts of lightning rained down from the sky with loud deafening reports of thunder and blinding bursts of light. Indeed, the men-at-arms and knights scattered from the courtyard covering eyes and ears as bolts of lightning blasted the cobblestones into rubble. It was a moment of distraction that was long enough to buy him a few seconds, though it cost him dearly in terms of his own strength. His legs felt like lead now, having utilized a level of power that was only barely within his grasp. The hurkin wizard, too, seemed to have been stunned and staggered with his arm over his head. As he raced among the dancing bolts of lightning, he swung his staff low at the hurkin wizard's stumbling feet, hoping to knock him down. But his swing passed through the hurkin's body as though it were simply air and Bart almost lost his balance. He recovered quickly, realizing that the hurkin's image was an illusion, and dropped to his knees by the knight's side. Ederick was hurt, his head had clearly struck the hard stone ground after falling from his horse. Blood seeped from a wound on the side of the unconscious knight's head.