Lord Soth

by Edo Van Belkom

  “No …”

  The shout contained a measure of sorrow along with terror. Isolde rolled over and realized the cries had come from her husband.

  “Loren, wake up!” she said, placing her hands on his shoulders and shaking him.

  No effect.

  She shook him harder. “Wake up!”

  Soth’s eyes blinked open and he gasped for air. His face was a pale shade of white and damp with sweat. His wide eyes darted around the room as if he were familiarizing himself with his surroundings.

  “It’s all right,” said Isolde. “It was just a dream, a bad, bad dream. Like before.”

  “No,” whispered Soth. “No. This was worse. This was terrible, horrible.”

  “What was it about? What happened?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “It was too horrible. I’d rather forget it than have to go through it again.”

  “Perhaps that might be best,” Isolde nodded. She looked at him for the longest time, drying his face with a bedsheet as she gathered the strength to say the words. Finally she took a deep breath and said, “I had a dream as well.”

  “I hope to Paladine it was less disturbing than mine.”

  “It was,” said Isolde. “In fact, it was a revelation.”

  “Really?” Soth rolled onto his side to face her. “Tell me.”

  Isolde smiled. “You know I have been praying to Mishakal to show me a way in which you can redeem yourself,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Soth. “You have told me of your prayers.”

  “Well, tonight I believe they were finally answered.”

  Soth looked at her for several seconds. She smiled at him again, but remained silent. At last he prodded her, “Please, tell me more.”

  “It wasn’t a nightmare at all,” Isolde began. “It felt warm and comfortable and wonderful. And a voice spoke to me, a female voice. I’m sure it was Mishakal herself.”

  Soth was skeptical. As benevolent as Mishakal was—she was called the Healing Hand, after all—he doubted that she would trouble herself to speak directly to a mere mortal. But as he studied the countenance of Isolde, the absolute conviction in her expression was too strong to be so easily dismissed. He decided to open up his mind and listen carefully to her account. “What did the voice say?”

  “I didn’t understand it all.” She shook her head. “Some parts didn’t make any sense to me.”

  “If you could repeat exactly what the voice said, then perhaps I might be able to make sense of it.”

  “I suppose I could try.” She closed her eyes and concentrated. Her eyelids fluttered and her thin lips trembled as they parted slightly. Suddenly her eyes opened and she began speaking as if someone or something was speaking through her.

  “The former Knight of Solamnia named Soth,” the voice said, “can redeem himself and his followers by journeying to the Temple of the Kingpriest in Istar.”

  Shocked but nevertheless intrigued, Soth leaned closer to Isolde so he might hear her better.

  “Once there, he must confront the Kingpriest and order him to abdicate from the position or suffer the wrath of the gods.”

  Isolde’s mouth closed and for several seconds she was still and quiet. But then after a deep breath she—or whoever was using Isolde as a messenger—began speaking again.

  “The Kingpriest will refuse and will strike down Soth with a bolt of lightning. But that will not be the end of Soth’s quest. By the grace of the gods Paladine and Mishakal, he will rise again in order to continue the fight. Each time the Kingpriest dispatches him to the netherworld, Soth will rise up again, more powerful than the last time until his strength and power are sufficient to finally lay the Kingpriest to rest.”

  Isolde seemed to grow tired, but Soth knew enough not to disturb her until she was done.

  “When that is accomplished, when the Kingpriest is gone from the face of Krynn, only then will Soth be allowed to pass in peace from this world to the next.”

  Soth drew in a long breath.

  “If he fails, all of Krynn will suffer for the arrogance of the Kingpriest. The skies will burn, the land will heave … Life as we know it will be changed forever. This event will come to be known as the Cataclysm.”

  Isolde’s eyes closed again, but this time she fell back onto the bed, exhausted.

  Soth gathered her in his arms and held her tight, stroking her hair and face until she awakened.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I think so,” said Isolde, putting a hand to her head. “I remember hearing a strange voice, something about the Kingpriest and forces of great destruction …”

  Soth nodded.

  “Then it’s true,” Isolde said, suddenly gaining strength. “Mishakal has shown us a way to redemption. After you’ve completed the quest you can rejoin the knighthood and everything will be the way it was before.” She shook her head as her eyes grew wide. “No, even better than it was before.”

  Her smile slowly faded as she realized that Soth wasn’t sharing her excitement.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “What is it?”

  “It’s the nature of the quest.”

  “What about it?”

  Soth sighed. Obviously Isolde had simply acted as a messenger of the gods and was unaware of what was contained in the message.

  “I must battle the Kingpriest of Istar,” said Soth in a tone that suggested he was doomed.

  “What is the problem? You are a Knight of the Rose, a great warrior.”

  “Perhaps, but I am no match for the likes of the Kingpriest.”

  “Then you can prepare yourself for the battle, undergo special training.”

  Soth shook his head. “You don’t understand.” He still didn’t want to say it, but he was finding it more and more difficult to avoid the inevitable. “If I accept this quest, the only time my soul will ever be allowed to rest in peace is when I finally rid Krynn of the Kingpriest.”

  “I still don’t understand,” said Isolde. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that the only way I can successfully complete this quest and save the world from destruction is to sacrifice my own life in the process.”

  Isolde’s lips moved, but she was unable to make a sound.

  Chapter 29

  On Sancrist Island …

  The gnomes and humans watched in awe as the normally blue skies above the island roiled and blackened while the long-dormant volcano beneath Mount Nevermind began to rumble uneasily.

  In Qualinesti …

  Unstoppable brushfires burned through Wayreth Forest, eating up vast tracts of healthy oaks, maples, ash and vallenwood trees, as well as the fruit-laden orchards of apple, peach and pear trees.

  In Silvanesti …

  Fires raged through the fabled Silvanesti Woods, the intense flames and black smoke blocking out all evidence of the sun.

  In Ergoth …

  Water flowed through the lands in and around the city of Daltigoth, flooding farms and forests alike, but also washing away homes and buildings, many of which had stood for centuries.

  In Istar …

  People scurried to find a safe place to hide from the flooding red tides that began to wash through the city’s streets like blood after a hard and long-fought battle.

  In Solamnia …

  The wind began to pick up over the plains, churning the waters of the Vingaard River and blowing sand and dust across the sun-dried earth as if in an attempt to scour it clean.

  Chapter 30

  “It is a heavy price to pay,” said Soth.

  “I know,” said Isolde calmly. “But think of the change it could bring, if not for all the people of Krynn, then for your son.”

  Soth wasn’t as disappointed by Isolde’s words as he was surprised. Since she’d had the vision, she had been steadfast in her conviction. She desperately wanted him to travel to Istar and give up his life in order to prevent the coming Cataclysm. Soth wasn’t afraid of sacrificing his life for others because h
is current life wasn’t worth all that much to him. What surprised him was Isolde’s seeming lack of concern about what her life would be like without him.

  “And what of you and our son? Will you have the strength to go on without me in your life?”

  Isolde moved forward and hugged him long and hard. “It will be so very hard, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to live without you, but I must try to be strong.” She paused. “For I do know that when you succeed, you will forever be a part of both of our lives because we will have you to thank for them.”

  Tears streamed from Isolde’s eyes as she held him tight.

  Soth thought about her words. It was true what Isolde had said. If he succeeded, all the people of Krynn would have him to thank for their lives.

  But what of Isolde and the boy? She seemed heartbroken that he would never be coming back, yet was still brave enough to admit that it was for the best.

  At last the scales had been tipped.

  Soth would travel to Istar.

  “But to give his life—” said Derik Grimscribe, chewing on a piece of day-old bread.

  “To do so in order to save all of Krynn from death and destruction,” interjected Colm Farold between sips of tea. “Certainly that is a worthy enough reason to make such a sacrifice.”

  The knights sat around a rectangular table discussing the latest news. Apparently their lord had been shown a way to redeem himself, restore his good family name and become a hero equal in stature to the great Huma himself.

  But while most of the knights were eager to have the honor of their lord restored to its full and even greater glory, there were those who were skeptical about the vision and the quest it proposed.

  Perhaps it was the messenger of whom they were wary. Not all of the knights were as taken by Isolde Denissa as Soth was.

  Perhaps it was the price Soth had to pay in order to complete the quest. Why did Soth have to die at the hands of the Kingpriest? Couldn’t the Cataclysm be avoided in a way that wouldn’t cost Soth his life? Questions had arisen that caused some of the knights to doubt the validity of the vision, and suggested to them that it was all an elaborate ruse concocted by the high justice to carry out the death sentence imposed upon Soth. Others felt it was a vision sent by the Kingpriest himself because Soth was probably the only knight who was strong enough and brave enough to stop the priest’s bid to take his place among the gods.

  “He’s being used as a pawn in a power struggle that doesn’t concern him,” said Grimscribe.

  “No,” countered Farold. “He’s being given a chance to save himself and the knighthood.”

  “Save himself,” laughed Grimscribe. “How can you say that if he must give up his life in order to succeed?”

  “Because if he is successful and saves Krynn from the Cataclysm, he will not have died in vain. He will live forever, a hero to all.”

  Soth knocked on the door of the knights’ chambers for Wersten Kern and Meyer Seril. It was a big room with the space needed to store their armor, swords, shields and other personal belongings. There was a bed at each end of the room and a desk in the center for reading and writing. There was also a table and two chairs in between the beds.

  Kern and Seril were both seated at the table, passing the time by playing a board game called Briscopa that had apparently become quite popular in Palanthas.

  The two knights looked up at Soth and he bowed slightly, realizing that he was intruding upon their leisure time. “Please excuse the intrusion.”

  “No intrusion at all,” said Seril.

  “Please come in, milord,” said Kern.

  “Thank you.” He stepped into the room and sat on the bed between them. He looked at Meyer Seril. “Excuse me, Knight Seril, but the reason I’m here is to ask something of Knight Kern.”

  “Of course,” said Seril, getting up from his seat. “We can finish the game anytime.”

  Soth waited until Seril had left the room before speaking. “I’ve decided to take on the quest,” he said, his voice still somewhat unsteady, as if he were still trying to accept his own decision. “I will be setting out for Istar in the morning”—he paused for a heartbeat—“and I’d like you to join me.”

  Kern was speechless.

  “Understand that while I am asking this, the decision to accompany me is completely voluntary. If you wish to remain in the keep, no one will ever know of your decision and I will not look upon you with any disfavor.”

  Kern still said nothing.

  “The only others I have asked to join me are Caradoc and Colm Farold. And now you. My three most loyal knights.”

  At last Kern swallowed and was able to speak. “I’d be honored, milord,” he said in a rush of breath.

  Soth nodded and placed a hand on Kern’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

  The sun shone brightly over the jagged peaks of the Dargaard Mountains as if Mishakal herself, the Healing Hand, was showing Soth the way.

  Unlike his departures in the past, there were few people present to see him off. The knights were there, of course, some wishing they could accompany Soth, others no doubt happy to be left behind.

  Isolde was present, dressed in a dark rose-colored gown which she wore as a show of support for her husband’s quest. If she was saddened by the prospect of Soth’s departure, her faith in Mishakal and her own strength of character were helping her to hide it well.

  Soth hoped some of that strength would be passed on to his son. It would serve him well in his later years as a Knight of Solamnia. Soth realized that such a thought was something of a wild fantasy, given that the Knights of Solamnia would never accept the half-breed son of a disgraced knight. But, if his quest were successful, if he saved Krynn from the ravages of the Cataclysm, there might be a chance for his son.

  He approached Isolde, took her hand in his. “Speak well of me to the boy.”

  “I will.”

  “And make sure you tell him that I gave my life as much for him as for the all people of Krynn.”

  “I won’t have to tell him,” said Isolde. “Minstrels and storytellers will sing it to him wherever he may go.”

  Soth nodded, and leaned forward to kiss her.

  As the kiss ended, Isolde lowered her head, covered her face with her hands and wept softly.

  Soth resisted the urge to try and comfort her—it was too late for that now—and moved on to the maid who held Peradur in her arms. He took the bundled child from her, held him close to his face and whispered, “When you grow older, don’t curse me for abandoning you. I am doing this for you because I know your world will be a better place without me in it.”

  The child made a gurgling sound, as if in understanding.

  Soth kissed his son’s forehead and returned him to the arms of the maid. After a final look at the child, he turned away and joined the three waiting knights—Caradoc, Farold and Kern.

  Then he rode out of the keep without looking back.

  Normally it would take Soth and his knights at least ten days to reach Istar, but at the rate they were traveling it would likely take them closer to twenty.

  For Soth, there seemed little point in rushing headlong toward his death. Traveling at a relaxed pace allowed him to enjoy what would be his last few weeks of life. It also gave him the chance to reflect on his life, the mistakes he’d made, the errors in judgment, the sins he’d committed.

  By the end of the third day, Soth was convinced that sacrificing his life was the best thing he could do. After all, he was a Knight of Solamnia and the only thing he’d ever wanted in his life was to be one of the greatest men the knighthood had ever seen. For a time he had achieved that goal and had basked in the glory of being one of the best.

  But now, he was no longer best. He was least. He was worst. He wasn’t even a knight anymore, but a man sentenced to death. Soth was a fugitive from justice and a source of shame to his beloved Knights of Solamnia.

  He had made a mockery of the knighthood.

  Succeeding on this quest wo
uld return them to their former glory.

  He would give up his life.

  It was for the best.

  The knights headed east after leaving Dargaard Keep, then traveled south along the eastern foot of the Dargaard Mountains.

  On the morning of the third day, they changed their direction, and began heading southeast through Estwilde, along a seldom used trail that would take them across the broad, hilly basin between the Dargaard Mountains and the northeastern tip of the Khalkist Mountains.

  Unlike the smooth grasslands of the plains of Solamnia, Estwilde was covered by rugged foothills, pine forests and high mountains.

  And while Estwilde was famous all over Krynn for its dangerous inhabitants—everything from evil humans to goblins, from ogres to hill dwarves—Soth and his men saw not a soul on their journey.

  “Do you think they recognize us as Knights of Solamnia and are keeping a respectful distance?” pondered Colm Farold after they’d been riding the trail through Estwilde for almost a day without seeing any sign of life.

  “Since when do ugly beasts such as goblins and ogres respect anything about the knighthood?” asked Caradoc.

  The knights laughed.

  Soth did not.

  “It is Paladine,” he said.

  “What?” asked Farold.

  “It is Paladine,” Soth repeated. “He is guiding our way, assuring safe passage so I may complete the quest unhindered by such distractions as ogres and goblins.”

  The knights fell silent. They had never heard Soth speak so solemnly about his quest before. The jovial camaraderie they had been experiencing was gone.

  Caradoc tried to get it back. “Well as long as Paladine is watching out for us, maybe he could see to it that a goat crossed our path. I’m half starved.”

  Something appeared up ahead along the trail.

  “What’s that?” asked Wersten Kern, pointing.