Shield Knight: Apprentice

by Moeller, Jonathan

  They came to the hatch to the catacombs and stopped.

  “The creature of dark magic went this way,” said Antenora.

  “Why would a thing of dark magic use a crossbow?” said Corbanic. “Never heard of an urvaalg or an ursaar that could do that.”

  “An urshane could,” said Gavin. “Or an urdhracos.”

  “I do not think it was one of the creatures of the dark elves,” said Antenora, frowning, her eyes hazy as she drew on her Sight. “I think it was a human user of dark magic, one who has been so corrupted by the power that he has developed mutations.”

  “Such a man might well use a crossbow to assassinate a bishop,” said Corbanic.

  “Aye,” said Antenora. “I will have to follow the trail at once. Or else it shall soon dissipate.”

  Corbanic frowned. “You’re not going down there alone.”

  “Of course not,” said Gavin. “I will go with her. A Swordbearer has the best defense against a creature of dark magic.”

  “And I shall accompany you as well,” said Caius.

  “For God’s sake,” said Corbanic. “You almost just got assassinated. You are not tramping through the damned catacombs of Tarlion!”

  “My lord Constable, I have some experience with underground tunnels,” said Caius. He lifted his mace of dwarven steel. “And some experience with weapons. If this assassin has come for me, I will not expose anyone else to danger. Besides, if Gavin Swordbearer and the Keeper’s apprentice cannot deal with this assassin of dark magic, then a guard of soldiers would make no difference.”

  Corbanic let out an irritated grunt, but he did nod. “Very well. However, I am sending a runner to the Castra of the Swordbearers. I will send every available Knight of the Soulblade to your aid.”

  “Thank you,” said Antenora. She looked at Gavin. “The trail will not last long. We must move at once.”

  Gavin took a deep breath. “You know, when I was talking about the old days, I didn’t miss them that much.”

  “Fear not,” said Caius. “It is nothing we have not done before.”

  He was right. Gavin also knew that no battle was guaranteed, that chance and misfortune could take anyone. Had the mysterious dark-magic using crossbowman aimed a little better, Caius might now be lying dead.

  Or Antenora, if his aim had been worse. Or even Gavin himself.

  But Caius was right. Gavin was a Swordbearer, and Antenora was a Magistria and the apprentice of the Keeper. It was their responsibility to deal with something like this.

  Sometimes Gavin found himself wondering what Ridmark would do in a dangerous situation, and this was such a time.

  “Let’s go,” said Gavin without preamble, and he reached for the iron ladder.

  ***

  Chapter 4: Kobolds

  Silence ruled in the catacombs below Tarlion.

  Antenora held both her Sight and her magic ready, following the faint trail the dark wizard had left in his wake. It was a challenging task. The catacombs themselves were within the bounds of the ancient warding spells on the walls of Tarlion. Those wards kept creatures of dark magic from entering the city and hampered the use of dark magic within the walls. It was extremely difficult to use dark magic within the bounds of Tarlion.

  Difficult, but not impossible.

  The catacombs themselves had been built of brick and stone, with round arches overhead. Niches lined the walls, filled with bones. Some niches had been filled entirely with bones, while others held only skulls. Inscriptions on the walls noted the names of those who had been interred here.

  With a minor effort of will, Antenora summoned a small globe of fiery light. It hovered over the top of her staff, and it cast flickering shadows on the walls.

  “I had no idea this was all down here,” admitted Gavin, Truthseeker ready in his right hand.

  “They were built before the Orders of the Magistri and the Swordbearers were founded, before Andomhaim fought the urdmordar,” said Antenora, concentrating on the ripple of dark magic. “In the early days of the realm, plagues broke out several times in Tarlion. The dead were very numerous, and catacombs built to house their bones. In time, the High Kings stopped building catacombs below the city, fearing they would provide a secret passage for foes to traverse the walls.”

  Gavin snorted. “You’re not even from Andomhaim, and you know more of its history than I do.”

  “Yes, but I like to read,” said Antenora.

  “You aren’t from Andomhaim, either,” said Caius. “You were from Aranaeus in the Wilderland. You visited Andomhaim proper exactly once before you became a Swordbearer. I suppose not many Swordbearers can say that.”

  “Only four, to my knowledge,” said Antenora, who had read the chronicles of the Order of the Swordbearers.

  “Then you are in rare company,” said Caius.

  Gavin snorted again. “So it would seem…wait. Is your mace enspelled?”

  It was. Caius’s mace of dwarven steel had a pyramidal head. Dwarven glyphs had been carved into both the head and the shaft of the mace, and Antenora saw the glow of potent magic within the weapon thanks to the Sight. She avoided looking at it since both Caius’s mace and Gavin’s soulblade were distractions from the faint, decaying trail of dark magic she wanted to follow.

  “Aye, it is,” said Caius. “Enspelled by the stonescribes of Khald Tormen. A gift from my brother, soon after the siege of Tarlion and the end of the war with the Frostborn.” He smiled. “Narzaxar said that if I was so foolish as to follow someone like the Gray Knight into the Wilderland and back again, then I might as well be armed properly for the challenge.”

  “A thoughtful present,” said Gavin. “I…”

  He came to a sudden stop, Truthseeker coming up in guard.

  “What is it?” said Antenora. The Sight showed her no immediate dangers

  “Do you smell that?” said Gavin, sniffing the air.

  Antenora smelled dust, moisture, crumbling bone, and the other odors she expected to detect in a place like this. But a peculiar dusty scent came to her nostrils, something like the scales of a serpent…

  “Kobolds,” said Caius.

  “Aye,” said Gavin, voice grim. “I’d recognize that smell anywhere.” He looked at Antenora. “I see why the High Kings stopped building catacombs beneath the city.”

  “The kobolds must have crept into the catacombs from somewhere outside the wall,” said Caius. “Maybe that’s how this dark wizard got into the city as well.”

  “After the war with the Frostborn but before the northern gate was rebuilt,” said Antenora, “there were rumors that some of the enslaved creatures of Tarrabus Carhaine’s dvargir mercenaries fled into Tarlion and hid in the city. I’ve never seen or heard any proof of it, though.”

  “Perhaps we are about to see the truth of it for ourselves,” said Caius.

  Ahead the tunnel widened, and Antenora saw that it opened into a wide chamber that looked like a funerary chapel. At the edge of the glow from her staff, she glimpsed something gray and scaled lurking in the shadows.

  “Kobolds,” said Gavin, voice grim. “Looks like the rumors were right. We’ll have to fight.”

  “Perhaps not,” said Caius, his tone thoughtful.

  Gavin looked at the bishop. “They may be minions of this would-be assassin.”

  “They may,” said Caius, “but it occurs to me that if they have been hiding in the catacombs for this long, they will have learned a good deal of caution. If we question them, we may learn more about the assassin. Perhaps where he has been hiding. For he is almost certainly hiding in the catacombs.”

  Gavin hesitated. Antenora could tell that he wanted to take the fight to the kobolds, but he was not ruled by bloodlust.

  “Agreed,” he said at last. “But be careful. They might try to kill and eat us.”

  “If they attempt it,” said Antenora, “they shall be in for an unpleasant surprise.”

  They stepped into the funerary chapel. It looked as if it had been built
as the tomb for some long-dead noble. A stone sarcophagus rested in the center of the chapel, the lid carved in the effigy of an armored knight. There was an altar on one wall, where no doubt a funerary priest had once said masses for the dead. Crumbling frescoes on the walls showed scenes from the scriptures and the life of the Dominus Christus, with the largest picture showing the Dominus Christus raising the daughter of Jairus from the dead. The frescoes had been done in the old style of Andomhaim, similar to that of the Romans of Old Earth, and Antenora would have liked more time to look at them.

  The three kobolds crouching near the sarcophagus made that unlikely.

  They were gaunt, scaled creatures, with long, low bodies, waving tails, and lizard-like skulls crowned with crests of red scales. Their venomous yellow eyes glared at Antenora, and their fingers and toes ended with sharp claws. The kobolds were all naked but given their scaly hides they did not need clothes the way that humans did, and each kobold bore a glyph burned into their chests. It was the glyph of Great House Tzanar of Khaldurmar, the city of the dvargir, and Great House Tzanar had provided Tarrabus with mercenaries during the siege of Tarlion.

  It seemed that the rumors were true, and some of the kobold slaves of the dvargir had indeed escaped into the catacombs.

  “More humans!” hissed one of the kobolds. It spoke Latin, though with a thick, harsh accent.

  “What do you want, humans?” said a second kobold. “We have left you in peace, yes? We have not ventured into your city. Why will you not leave us alone?”

  “We do not mean you harm,” said Caius. “Which one of you leads?”

  “I do,” said the oldest-looking of the kobolds. His gray scales had lost their luster and many scars marked his sides and tail. “I am Naltaph. We have left you humans in peace. Why do you come here? We have not disturbed you.”

  “You were slaves of Great House Tzanar, were you not?” said Caius. “You must have escaped after Tarrabus Carhaine was defeated.”

  “Great battles,” hissed Naltaph. “Many great battles. When the cold ones broke the gate, we fled into the city. After the cold ones were defeated, we fled into the catacombs, and have lived here ever since. It is a good place. The city of humans draws many rats, and the rats are fat and delicious. But we wish no trouble with the humans. If you leave us in peace, we will leave you in peace. Why have you come to trouble us?”

  “Permit me to make a guess,” said Caius. “There has been a human living down here for the past few weeks. He stinks of dark magic and kills any of you who draw too close.”

  “How did you know?” hissed Naltaph. “Are you his ally?”

  “Certainly not,” said Caius. “He is an outlaw, and he tried to murder a guest of the human High King. The man and the woman with me are a Swordbearer and a Magistria.” The kobolds cringed at that. “They will deal with this dark wizard and leave you in peace.”

  “What do you care?” said Naltaph. “You are a dwarf, not a human. This is not your city.”

  Caius smiled. “I was the guest that the dark wizard tried to kill.”

  That seemed to take Naltaph aback, and the kobold leader conferred with the other two creatures in their own language for a moment.

  “Very well,” said Naltaph at last. “We offer a deal. We will lead you to the dark wizard, but in exchange, you will leave us in peace.”

  “So long as you do not disturb the humans living on the surface,” said Gavin. He did not trust the kobolds, though he suspected self-interest would lead them to cooperate. “But if I hear word that you are attacking anyone living in the city or the nearby villages, we will return for you.”

  “Fear not, Swordbearer,” hissed Naltaph. “Why should we attack the humans? The waste of this city draws many rats, and they are far easier to hunt and kill than humans.” He beckoned with a clawed hand. “This way. We will show you the way to the human wizard’s lair.”

  He and the other two kobolds scuttled towards an archway on the far side of the funerary chapel.

  “Antenora?” said Gavin.

  “The path does go in that direction,” said Antenora. “I do not think they are leading us false.” Though given how swiftly the echo of dark magic was fading, they might have no choice but to follow the lead of the kobolds. “I believe that Bishop Caius is right. The kobolds simply wish to dwell in the darkness and eat the rats that come to scavenge in the city. Why should they seek trouble? The sooner we can rid them of this dark wizard and be gone, the happier they will be.”

  “Very well,” said Gavin, though she could tell he was not happy about it.

  “Are you coming, humans?” called Naltaph.

  “Lead the way,” said Gavin, and they followed Naltaph into the next corridor.

  ***

  Chapter 5: Omens & Heralds

  While Gavin would have preferred that Caius remain in safety on the surface, he was nonetheless glad the dwarven bishop had accompanied them into the maze of the catacombs.

  He wasn’t sure they would be able to find their way back to the surface without Caius’s help.

  Gavin hadn’t realized how extensive the catacombs were or how deep they descended. Antenora said that proper maps of the catacombs had been lost when the urdmordar had besieged Tarlion, so no one knew just how far the catacombs went. Rumors said that thieves lurked in hidden places below the streets, or creatures of dark magic.

  Once this was over, Gavin resolved, he would ask the Constable to consider sending men to map the catacombs and perhaps seal up some of the entrances. He could not help but think that a clever foe could dig a tunnel to the catacombs and create a secret entrance to the city.

  “Here, humans,” rasped Naltaph after a half an hour of walking.

  They were in another corridor with an arched ceiling and walls lined with skulls. Ahead the corridor ended in an archway, and a shallow flight of stairs descended to another funerary chapel. Unlike the other funerary chapels that Gavin had seen, a pale blue glow came from within.

  The dark wizard was a short distance away.

  “This is the place, humans,” hissed Naltaph. “The wizard makes his lair within this chapel.” His tongue flicked over his fangs, his nostrils flaring. “He stinks of dark magic.”

  “Thank you,” said Gavin, but the kobolds had already turned, vanishing back into the darkness of the catacombs.

  “It seems they don’t wish to see the outcome of the battle,” said Caius.

  “Sensible of them,” said Antenora.

  Gavin took a deep breath, his fingers tightening against Truthseeker’s hilt. “I’ll go first.”

  He led the way down the stairs, Antenora and Caius following him.

  The funerary chapel was the largest and the grandest that Gavin had seen yet. The sarcophagus had been carved from pale marble, and in some of the crumbling frescoes on the wall, he saw the red dragon sigil of the Pendragons. Had a member of the royal house been buried here? A dusty altar rested against the far wall, a crucifix hanging over it.

  A twisted creature stood near the altar, glaring at Gavin.

  The thing had once been a human man and wore only a dark cloak and a ragged pair of stained trousers. The cloaked man’s skin had turned a corpse-like gray, and all his hair had fallen out. Strange misshapen growths dotted his arms and legs and face, giving off a pale blue glow, and the same light shone from within his eyes. The man snarled, and Gavin saw that his teeth had turned the color of obsidian. Black claws sprouted from his fingers and toes, and in his right hand, he carried a sword.

  And the creature looked somehow familiar. Gavin could not place it, but he was sure that he had seen this man somewhere. At least before dark magic mutation had twisted him.

  “You,” rasped the man, and black slime leaked beneath his teeth as he spoke. “It seems my fake mask has failed to throw you off the trail. Well, no matter. It was foreordained. Or does chaos rule all?” His voice was a twisted gurgle, and even from across the chapel, his rotting odor came to Gavin’s nose.

 
“You tried to assassinate the bishop,” said Gavin.

  The cloaked man let out a wheezing laugh. “Is that what you think happened? No. You don’t remember me, do you? Perhaps I should not be surprised. Incariel’s blessing has left its mark on me. But I saw you at Castra Carhaine, and again during the battle for Tarlion…”

  “Incariel?” said Gavin, taken aback. The Enlightened, the cult that Tarrabus had tried to use to take over Andomhaim, had called upon Incariel. But when Tarrabus had been defeated, the Enlightened had been destroyed. “Are you…no. Wait. I do remember you.” The recognition came. “Sir Avitus Rhoniar, knight and vassal of Dux Tarrabus Carhaine.”

  Avitus let out that croaking laugh again. “Aye, and I was one of the initiates of the inner circles of the Enlightened of Incariel.” He snarled. “We would have saved the world! We would have made mankind into living gods! But you and that wretched Keeper ruined everything.”

  “I had help,” said Gavin, watching Avitus.

  “It matters not,” said Avitus. He began to stalk back and forth, muttering to himself. Gavin suspected that his sanity was as twisted as his flesh.

  “How are you even still alive?” said Gavin. “The Enlightened were destroyed.”

  “I fled and hid when Tarrabus fell,” said Avitus. “When the Frostborn broke the gate, I took refuge within the catacombs. And here I have been hidden ever since, alone in the darkness.” His laughter turned to a giggle. “Alone with the darkness. I have no need for food or drink. The shadow of Incariel sustains me. My throat burns with thirst and my belly twists with hunger, but no food or drink will ever satisfy. The power of darkness is my meat and wine.”

  “It’s over, Sir Avitus,” said Gavin. “Surrender and come with us. You will have to undergo trial before the High King for attempting to kill the bishop, but perhaps the Magistri can burn the dark magic from your flesh…”

  “Fool!” snarled Avitus, whirling to face him. “I didn’t come to kill the wretched dwarf! I came to kill you.”