The Crown knight lowered his head and was silent.
“Meyer Seril, didn’t Lord Soth provide food for your family when their entire crop was destroyed by locusts?”
“Aye,” said Seril. “That he did.”
“And you, Derik Grimscribe, didn’t our lord sponsor your petition to the knighthood when all the others felt you too weak for the order?”
“I’m ashamed to admit I had forgotten,” said Grimscribe.
“Seems many of us have!” shouted Caradoc. “And we should all be ashamed for doubting—even for a second—the innocence of our lord. For I know, with a certainty and a strength of conviction I have never felt before on any matter”—Caradoc paused and lowered the volume of his voice—“if one of us had been found guilty of such a crime and sentenced to death, Lord Soth wouldn’t be wasting time debating our guilt or innocence.”
The knights spoke among themselves and it appeared to Caradoc that he had managed to persuade the last few dissenters to see the other side of the sword.
“What have you got in mind, Knight Caradoc?” asked Colm Farold.
Caradoc looked right and left even though the tavern had been cleared and no one was in the room except for his fellow knights. Still, he spoke in a hushed voice. “I propose we rescue him.”
“But he’s being guarded by knights such as ourselves,” said Farold.
“Tonight, he is. Yes,” said Caradoc. “But perhaps not so tomorrow morning.”
Farold nodded. “I’m with you.”
The confidence and conviction exhibited by Farold seemed to inspire the others.
“I’m with you as well,” said Meyer Seril.
“And I,” nodded Derik Grimscribe.
Until one by one, all of Soth’s knights were in agreement.
The morning sun was nowhere to be seen. It remained hidden behind a layer of dark and heavy clouds that caused the night’s darkness to linger far longer than usual.
To add to the chill in the air, a cold wind was blowing in over the Bay of Branchala, something more than a few residents of Palanthas interpreted as an omen, convincing them to spend the day indoors. Others simply refused to watch, not wanting their memory of the gallant knight to be tainted by the humiliating spectacle of a public execution.
Still, the majority of people had braved the wet and cold and ventured out to watch the beheading. Already, the streets were lined with citizens from all classes, from clerics and merchants, to tradesmen and laborers. Fruit vendors were doing an especially brisk business, suddenly finding eager customers for all their wares, even the most rotten of fruits, vegetables and eggs.
Soth was awakened at dawn and offered a final meal of bread and water, which he refused. Then he was led onto the back of a cart, stripped down to the waist and chained by the wrists to a heavy timber post that rose up from the center of the cart’s wooden floor.
The knights entrusted with the task of preparing Soth for transport seemed to be unenthusiastic about their work. Indeed they almost treated the job with disdain, saying nothing to the disgraced knight and avoiding looking directly into his eyes. Here was one of their own, one of the greatest Knights of Solamnia, reduced to the level of a common criminal.
In their hearts, the question as to whether Soth was guilty or not was of little consequence. He was a Knight of the Rose and he deserved a better fate. But in their minds, the knights knew that the Oath and the Measure had little sympathy for knights who strayed from the path. And to that end, it is even written in the Measure that knights must be more severely punished for their crimes than the common man because anything less would hurt the collective reputation of all knights.
For that reason, the Solamnic Knights tending to Soth on the morning of his execution wanted nothing more than to complete their task quickly and be done with it.
Soth understood this and made it easier on them by saying nothing as they secured him to the post.
At last it was done and his wrists were securely bound and fixed to the top of the post. Soth made a token effort to pull himself free, but knew that any decent squire could have done a proper job of securing him.
As the knights collected their things, one lingered behind. He was a young Crown knight by the look of his clothes, but nothing else about the man was familiar to Soth, most likely because he was recently petitioned to the knighthood.
He looked at Soth, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. “Paladine have mercy on your soul,” he said.
Soth looked at the young man and realized that he had probably been suckling at his mother’s breast when Soth first became a Solamnic Knight. The thought of this boy taking pity on him, angered Soth to no end.
He laughed at the young knight, then said, “No, boy. May Paladine have mercy on yours!”
The knight looked shaken by Soth’s words, stumbling as he got off the cart.
Soth continued to laugh.
Soth’s loyal knights had been up for hours, making plans by lamplight until the sun’s rays were bright enough to properly illuminate the secluded livery stable they’d moved their meeting to in order to avoid being watched or overheard by spies of the high justice.
What they planned to do would not be easy. Had Soth been taken prisoner by a band of ogres, or barbarians, or been placed under some spell by a pack of goblins, his rescue would have likely been a simple matter.
But instead, he was the prisoner of the Knights of Solamnia. His followers would have virtually no advantage because the knights they would be pitting themselves against were just as skilled as they were. And to make matters worse, there would be more guards than rescuers, making the chances of freeing Soth unharmed very slim indeed.
They had discussed tactics long into the night and it was Caradoc who finally came up with something that might tip the scales in their favor. “We are Knights of Solamnia, are we not?”
“Yes, of course,” the knights agreed.
“And it is assumed that we will accept Soth’s fate and conduct ourselves according to the Oath and the Measure.”
The knights were silent, awaiting Caradoc’s next words.
“Well then, any attempt to free our lord would come as a surprise since none would expect us to reject the decision of the high justice.”
The knights remained silent, considering it.
Finally, Wersten Kern spoke. “But what you’re saying is that such a rescue wouldn’t be expected because what it amounts to is treason, something that will likely mark us as outlaws and get us banished from the Knights of Solamnia.”
Caradoc sighed. If Kern was having second thoughts, then some of the others were as well. That meant that Caradoc had one last chance to convince the knights of their task. If he failed now Soth would be doomed. “No, not treason,” said Caradoc. “Our rescue will be an act of tremendous loyalty toward our lord. And in regard to becoming outlaws, how do you know that our reputations haven’t already been damaged through our association with Lord Soth? We can’t even be sure that we’ll be allowed to leave the city without being put on trial ourselves.”
Kern pondered Caradoc’s words, then finally nodded. “Caradoc is right. We’re probably already damned in the eyes of the other knights.” A pause. “If that’s the case, then I think using the element of surprise is the best chance we have of rescuing Lord Soth and leaving Palanthas alive.”
The knights muttered agreement.
“All right then,” said Caradoc. “Perhaps we should begin working out the details.”
The horse cart started with a sudden lurch, then rolled smoothly—if not noisily—out into the courtyard of the Hall of High Justice. There the driver stopped to pick up his escort of four mounted knights in highly polished plate armor, one positioned at each of the cart’s corners. With the knights in place, the cart left the courtyard and began its journey through the streets of Palanthas.
The layout of the city was like that of a gigantic wheel, with each road being a spoke leading directly to the hub. They were currently in Old Ci
ty, which was made up of the Hall of High Justice, the ancient library of Astinus, the palace, homes for the Knights of Solamnia and other structures important to the city’s defense, politics and finances.
In a few minutes the procession passed through the wall that separated Old City from the newer parts of Palanthas. On the other side of the wall, the streets were wider and less crowded and the air seemed fresher, cleaner and infinitely more breathable.
Soth took a deep breath …
And was hit hard on the side of the head by a rotten egg.
It was the first of many.
The wheel-like layout of Palanthas proved to be of benefit to Soth’s knights. Because all of the city’s roads led to its center, each of the knights could take a different route to the execution site and therefore inconspicuously arrive as a group and remain unnoticed until it was time to free Soth and make good their escape.
Meyer Seril had volunteered to follow the route that Lord Soth would be taking. He joined the procession as it emerged from the wall separating the old and new cities, then fell into line with the others following.
Despite the fact that Seril had been wearing his helm and looked like most of the other Knights of Solamnia in the procession, Soth had recognized the three white stockings on his mount and nodded to Seril as he passed.
Seril had given a slight nod, acknowledging Soth.
After that, Soth held his head even higher, despite the fact that he was continuously being pelted with rotten eggs and tomatoes, even several hardened cakes of dried horse dung.
It broke Seril’s heart to see his lord being treated in such a way. When he saw a commoner to his right throwing an egg—an egg which hit Soth squarely in the back—Seril moved his horse forward until it was in front of the offending peasant. Then he pulled hard on his reins, forcing the horse to miss a step and kick with his hind legs in order to regain its balance.
The horse’s right rear hoof shot up from the ground, catching the man in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him flying backward through the air.
Seril looked back and saw him lying flat on his back, struggling to regain his feet, but unable to do so.
“Beg your pardon,” said Seril apologetically. “Are you all right?”
The commoner was too busy trying to catch his breath to answer.
Colm Farold was the first of Soth’s knights to arrive at the city’s center square—the execution site. He had traveled in from the southeast corner of the city and therefore had the shortest distance to cover. Shortly after Farold, Caradoc appeared from the road leading in from due south. Then Wersten Kern came in from the north, leading a second horse by its reins. It was a large horse, and appeared to be strong enough for the task that would be asked of it. But despite the horse’s obvious size and strength, it lacked the same lineage as the mounts belonging to the Knights of Solamnia. When they set out across the Solamnic Plains the horse would inevitably fall behind. The question was, how long would it be before that happened?
As more of his loyal knights began to appear in the square, Soth seemed to become more defiant. Indeed, he was standing straighter now and did not flinch when struck by the rotten projectiles thrown by the angrier members of the crowd.
His long black hair was tangled and matted, pasted against his dirty flesh in some spots, but standing up on end and looking as ragged as wildfire in others. His hard, muscled body was mottled by splotches of red, green and yellow, giving him the appearance of a barbarian in war paint rather than a disgraced Knight of the Rose.
The cart Soth was standing on slowly moved into place next to the execution platform. On the platform, the black-helmed executioner patiently waited for his victim to be brought into position. Although the sky was still overcast, the executioner’s huge double-sided axe still glinted menacingly in the sunlight that managed to break through the clouds.
As the cart came to a stop, Caradoc clenched the reins of his mount more tightly in his fist. It was up to him to give the signal to the rest of the knights.
Caradoc checked the position of the sun, then made a final survey of the scene. Off to the right, the higher officials had yet to take the places that had been set aside for them. There were knights along the fringes of the crowd, but none seemed to be paying too much attention at present because nothing much was happening and the thought of Soth attempting to escape was probably the furthest thing from their minds.
Caradoc looked at each of Soth’s knights in turn. Each one nodded slightly, signifying they were ready. Then he glanced at Lord Soth; he looked anxious to make good his escape. Caradoc raised his hands, gesturing at Soth to be patient.
A commotion erupted at one edge of the square as the high justice, high clerist, and high warrior appeared. Caradoc waited for them to near their places, then gestured with a slightly upraised finger to a woman standing on the opposite side of the square.
“My baby!” she cried. “Someone’s taken my baby!”
Attention suddenly swung from one end of the square to the other as everyone began looking around them in search of the woman’s lost child.
Caradoc lifted his hand high in the air, signaling to the other loyal knights that it was time to make their move.
In seconds Wersten Kern rode up to the execution platform and leaped onto it. Without hesitation he gripped the executioner’s huge double-sided axe in his left hand and brought his armored right hand around for a hard blow directly to the executioner’s exposed chin.
The man dressed in black stumbled backward, then fell off the platform onto the people below.
Before the executioner had landed on a single spectator, Kern had swung the axe around and was chopping at the chains connecting Soth to the post. After several blows it was obvious it would take too long to cut through the heavy forged steel.
“Cut the post,” urged Soth. “At the bottom.”
Seril quickly began directing his efforts on the post itself. Two … three … four blows and the post came free, leaving the bottom of it splintered with several jagged edges.
Soth immediately grabbed hold of the post and began to swing it like a club, knocking down the first two Solamnic knights who had climbed onto the cart in an attempt to stop the escape.
“This way, milord!” shouted Kern, leaping off the platform and onto his horse.
Soth was still shackled to the post and couldn’t hold it anywhere but at the one end to which he was chained. He did his best to hold it high in front of him as he leaped from the cart to the platform.
Another knight scrambled up from below the platform. Soth blocked the knight’s sword with the heavy post, but could not move it quickly enough to use it like a sword. He blocked another blow from the sword, then swung the post in a long circular motion, knocking the knight off the platform as if using an arm to sweep earthenware from the top of a dinner table.
Soth then leaped onto his horse, kicking at the beast’s ribs even before he was settled onto its back. As the horse lunged forward into the crowd, Soth rested the post on his shoulder, giving his exhausted arms the chance to recover, but still keeping the makeshift weapon at the ready.
Colm Farold and the other knights were busy keeping back the Solamnic Knights of Palanthas. If any broke through their ranks they might be able to block off Soth’s escape route.
Surprise had definitely worked to their advantage. Several of the Palanthas knights were unprepared for fighting and hesitant to engage Soth’s knights given that they were fully armored and fighting more fiercely than any opponents the knights of Palanthas had ever come up against.
As Soth raced through the crowd with Wersten Kern leading the way, a Palanthas knight rode up alongside Soth.
Soth looked over at the knight and recognized him as Sword knight Eiwon van Sickle.
“What are you doing?” van Sickle shouted. “You are making a mockery of the Oath and the Measure.”
“According to the high justice, I did that long ago. What more damage can I po
ssibly do?”
Knight van Sickle raised his sword. “Stop at once and face your destiny like a true knight!”
Soth laughed at that, his eyes opening wide and filling with a new bright and fiery madness. “My destiny lies far beyond the walls of this dying city,” he said as he rode through the streets of Palanthas. “One day my name will be known from Palanthas to Istar, from Ergoth to Balifor.”
“Your destiny lies in Palanthas,” said van Sickle. “Prepare to meet it.” The young knight swung his sword with both hands.
Soth held the post up high by his chains, the jagged end pointing to the ground. The thick wooden post blocked the blow, forcing van Sickle to raise his sword for another strike.
At the same time, Soth brought the post back and swung it in a great circle, catching van Sickle squarely in the back. The blow knocked him forward, over the head of his horse. He hit the ground heavily, was trampled by the horse, and was lost in a cloud of dust.
Soth hefted the post back onto his shoulder and hurried to catch up with Kern and the others.
They had cleared the city streets and were now in the open area between Palanthas and the High Clerist’s Tower. Hopefully the knights stationed there were unaware of what was happening.
Unfortunately, the knights guarding the tower looked to be out and about. Up ahead, several of them were already looking in Soth’s direction to see what all the commotion was about. No doubt they had heard the sound of the charging horses. There were also lookouts positioned in the tower.
If the knights weren’t ready for them now, they would be by the time they reached the tower.
Soth took a moment to look behind him.
There was a party of knights there too, charging hard and appearing to be gaining ground.
Up ahead, Caradoc rode in the lead of the escaping knights. Colm Farold struggled to catch up with him. “There are too many ahead,” said Farold breathlessly as he came alongside Caradoc. “Surely they’ll cut us down as we try to break through their ranks.”
Lord Soth Page 22