Seril lifted the axe away.
Soth lifted his arms off the log.
The chain was still whole, but one of the links had nearly been severed.
Seril looked at the axe. The blade's edge was severely dented. There was still enough cutting area, but only enough for another blow. He raised the axe once more and brought it down with as much force as he could muster.
There was another clink of metal on metal, then the satisfying bite of metal into wood. The axe blade was embedded in the post.
Soth's arms were free.
They buried the post under a pile of leaves and humus and moved on.
While it might be possible for them to hide indefinitely in the mountains, none of the knights wanted that. The longer they remained in the mountains, the more time the pursuing Solamnic Knights would have to organize search patrols.
The problem was that the Knights of Solamnia from Palanthas knew that
Soth and his knights would be attempting to return to Dargaard Keep and would therefore be on the lookout for them. In addition, there might be knights sent northward from Vingaard Keep to search the plains. They considered splitting up in order to divide the forces pursuing them. But inasmuch as they were all outlaws now, splitting up might only mean that there would be a greater chance some of them might be caught attempting to return to Dargaard Keep. And besides that, they were a loyal band. If they succeeded or failed, they would do so together. Dargaard Keep would be the only place where they would be truly safe, so it made the most sense that they all try to get there as quickly as possible.
To that end, they decided to strip themselves of their armor and leave it behind. Giving their mounts lighter loads to carry would allow them to run faster and farther than those of their adversaries. Also, if they were caught by their pursuers there would likely be so many of them that no amount of armor would be enough to protect them from harm.
So, their plan was a simple one. They would hide out in the mountains while they rested and gathered food and supplies for the mad dash across the plains.
In the meantime, they would head north toward the end of the mountain range-a point aptly named Destiny's Hand.
After two nights in the mountains, the knights and their mounts were suitably rested and prepared for the ride back to Dargaard Keep. Early on the third morning, long before the sun came up over the horizon to light their way, Soth and his knights headed east, riding down from the mountains as swiftly as they could. They quickened their pace to a full gallop as they rode out onto the naked plain.
Their horses couldn't continue the pace indefinitely, but they hoped they would be able to put enough distance between themselves and the knights in the High Clerist's Tower to see them safely to Dargaard Keep.
The sun wouldn't be rising for several hours.
Soth hoped it would be enough time.
Bram Springdale, a young Sword knight who less than three months ago had been a squire, was the first to see the plume of dust rising up off the plain.
Springdale had been stationed in the upper battlement of the High
Clerist's Tower since dawn but hadn't spotted anything suspicious. As he continued his precise scan of the horizon-a quarter turn every few minutes-he noticed something out of the corner of his eye: a sort of haze rising up from the ground many, many miles to the northeast, roughly halfway between the High Clerist's Tower and the town of Bright
Hart.
He squinted and concentrated on the leading edge of the dust storm.
Whoever was creating it was in an awful hurry, and heading almost due east away from the mountains.
He tried to count the black dots of the horses and made out five, perhaps six individual dots-Soth and his knights.
Springdale picked up the large steel bell by his side, stepped to the edge of the battlement and swung the bell over his head.
The bell clanged loudly.
Moments later there was much commotion below.
"Soth and his men," shouted Springdale to the knights gathered at the base of the tower. "Northeast of here, midway to Bright Hart, riding hard."
The chase was on.
Within minutes of Springdale's sounding of the alarm, twelve knights left the High Clerist's Tower. A few minutes later another six were away, these riding in a wider arc in the hopes of intersecting with
Soth's men in the middle of the plain.
The first group of knights rode at a full gallop for as long as they could, but dressed in full armor, they soon had to slow their pace in order to let their horses catch their breath. By midafternoon, they still hadn't been able to clearly see the plume of dust on the horizon and were forced to make camp on the banks of one of the many tributaries running into the Vingaard River.
The horses were grateful for the respite.
The knights were not.
"Wake your sleepy heads," said Soth, giving the feet of his knights a gentle push with the toe of his boot.
It was still the middle of the night and the darkness was total. To the southwest a faint glow could be seen where the lights of Palanthas reflected against the clouds. Due east was Dargaard Keep, but they were too far away to see any sign of it-perhaps in another day or two.
The knights grumbled and moaned, but Soth ignored their complaints. It was far more important that they continue moving. When they reached
Dargaard Keep there would be more than enough time to rest.
After they munched on nuts and berries from their packs, the knights set out on foot with their horses in tow.
It was still too dark to travel any faster and a constant gallop would run the horses into the ground.
When the sun rose they would mount up.
But for now any extra distance they could put between themselves could prove crucial in the end.
"A rider!" came the call from above. "No, a group of riders, approaching the keep."
The knights sitting idly in the great hall of Dargaard Keep seemed to come alive at the news.
Darin Valcic was the first one to hurry up the tower to have a look for himself. "Where?" he asked when he joined the lookout stationed on the uppermost level of the keep.
Arnol Kraas, a squire, pointed east to a bit of haze rising up off the plain. "There!"
Valcic's eyes weren't as sharp as Kraas's but he could still make out the telltale cloud of dust. "How many riders do you think there are?"
"Five or six," said the squire.
Other knights began to arrive, each scanning the horizon.
"It's them," said Valcic.
"It's who?" asked Kraas.
"Lord Soth and our fellow knights, of course. Prepare a proper reception and a feast for their arrival." Valcic turned away.
"What's that?" asked one of the knights.
"What?" Valcic asked, turning back around.
"There's another plume of dust further away on the plain," said the knight, pointing.
Valcic squinted and concentrated on the direction the other knight had pointed. It was difficult to make out because the dust had blended into the sky and had looked like nothing more than a rain cloud. But now that it was pointed out to him, Valcic realized it was another group of riders.
A much larger group.
Soth was being chased.
"Never mind the reception for Lord Soth," said Valcic.
"Ready the horses, bring out the armor." A pause. "And prepare for battle."
Usually such a call was answered by a loud and enthusiastic cheer.
This time, however, there was only silence.
"We're gaining on them!" cried Garrett Fenton.
It was true. Despite the fact that Soth's knights held the advantages of fewer riders, faster horses and greater motivation to reach their destination, the Solamnic Knights from Palanthas were edging ever closer. At this rate they would be on top of them in another day, perhaps even sooner.
"Yes," agreed Eiwon van Sickle. "But will we catch them before they reach the keep?"
Fenton didn't answer.
Instead, he kicked at his mount and shot off at a gallop.
When Soth first saw the knights approaching he was sure they had been sent northward from Vingaard Keep to intercept them. But as they came closer, he recognized the familiar shades of reds worn by the knights of
Dargaard Keep and realized that, with their help, they just might make it after all.
When they finally came together, both parries stopped.
"Good to see you Lord Soth," said Darin Valcic. "Alive and well."
"Aye, and it's good to see all of you. A fine sight for my tired and sore eyes." "Not to break up this fine reunion," said Caradoc, "but perhaps we should ride now and greet each other later."
He turned around. "Our pursuers are nearly upon us."
Soth looked behind him and was surprised to find that the knights from
Palanthas had indeed closed the gap. If they were able to keep up their pace, they'd be upon them in a few short hours.
"Right!" said Soth. He urged his horse forward. It protested slightly, but then was off… On the final dash to the keep.
They were minutes away from Dargaard Keep.
Although still at a gallop, Soth's horse was slowing, holding up the mounts of the others which still had some wind left in their lungs.
He kicked at the horse's ribs. Foam was already forming at the mouth of the beast, but it valiantly tried to pick up the pace. After a few more steps it stumbled and fell forward, sending Soth hurtling hard onto the ground.
Several of the knights ahead of Soth kept riding, unaware of what was going on behind them. Those trailing stopped to help Soth to his feet.
"You can ride with me," offered Colm Farold.
"No," said Soth, looking at Farold's horse. "You'll be lucky if the creature takes you the rest of the way to the keep." "You can have my mount, milord," said Darin Valcic.
"It's as fresh as any horse in the keep and I would be honored to have it carry you to safety."
Soth was touched by the gesture, but could not accept it because it likely meant Valcic would be giving up his life in exchange for his own.
"Thank you, Knight Valcic, but I can not accept."
"I insist." "I suggest you settle the matter soon," said Caradoc.
"Or neither of you will make it to the keep alive."
Soth looked at Valcic.
Valcic nodded.
Soth mounted the knight's horse.
And was gone.
Darin Valcic turned west to face the oncoming knights.
There were ten knights abreast at the front of the pack maybe more.
Judging by the plume of dust rising up behind them they might have been six or seven deep, perhaps more than fifty knights in all.
It would be a short battle, but Valcic was determined to put up a fight worthy of a true Knight of Solamnia.
He drew his sword, held it before him with both hands.
A moment later the knights were upon him.
He held his breath… And suddenly, the knights parted, riding around him and leaving him alone on the plains to choke on their dust.
Now on a fresh horse, Soth led his knights in the final charge toward the keep.
He looked very little like the knight who had left Dargaard Keep little more than a week ago.
He had the appearance of a dirty and disheveled wild man whose clothes were little more than rags. His muscular upper body was bruised and stained by the remains of rotten fruit, eggs and dirt that had been hurled at him in Palanthas. And his long black hair flowed back from his head like wildfire, putting an air of madness about him.
But despite it all, he still rode erect and proud on his mount, and his eyes… His eyes were still as alive and piercing as ever.
Soon the knights clattered across the drawbridge and into the keep. Two of the horses who had made the trip from Palanthas stumbled their last few agonizing steps before falling in utter exhaustion.
A moment later the portcullis came crashing down and the drawbridge slowly began to rise up.
Outside, the pursuing knights brought their horses to a halt at the edge of the chasm surrounding the keep, then quickly retreated out of the range of any archers who might be waiting for them on the battlements.
"Are we going to lay siege to the keep?" asked Eiwon van Sickle, regarding the formidable structure before them.
Garrett Fenton looked to Dargaard Keep and then shook his head. "No, I'm afraid it would take far too long and require too many knights. And to what purpose?"
"So what are we going to do? Surely, High Justice Caladen isn't going to allow Soth to get away with his crimes."
"I've received instructions from the high justice. I assure you, he won't be getting away with anything," Fenton said.
"But how-" "Think about it for a moment," Fenton.
"Soth has lived his life as a revered and respected knight.
Now, news of his crimes will be all over Ansalon in a matter of weeks.
Anywhere he goes he will be called a murderer and mocked as a fallen knight. For a Knight of Solamnia, especially one of Soth's stature, such a fate is worse than death itself."
"Yes," said van Sickle. "I can see that." His body seemed to shiver at the thought. Still, he persisted. "But we can't just let him go." "No,"
Fenton said. "There will be conditions that must be met."
Hours later, he rode slowly toward the keep under the protection of a white standard. When Fenton reached the bridge, it did not come down.
He remained seated on his mount and laid forth his conditions.
"Loren Soth," he said loudly enough for all those on the west side of the keep to hear. "You are hereby dishonorably dismissed from the
Knights of Solamnia. Furthermore, if you should ever venture outside the boundaries of Knightlund it will be the duty of every Knight of Solamnia to hunt you down like a common criminal and carry out the execution order of the high justice."
Fenton paused a few moments. "If you understand these terms you may indicate so in an appropriate manner."
Several minutes passed before a column of pale white smoke rose up from the uppermost battlement of the keep.
Seeing the smoke, Fenton nodded. "Very well, then. It is done."
The Solamnic Knights turned their horses around and headed back to
Palanthas.
BOOK THREE
Dead Of Knight
Chapter 27
.
"Tell me it's not true!" cried Isolde. "Tell me Korinne died during the birth and not by your hand!" She had asked the question many times before, but never in as many words. Now, as he'd done so many times before, Soth remained silent, unwilling to face her.
"Tell me, please," repeated Isolde, this time on the verge of tears. At least if he denied it, if he adamantly claimed that some grievous mistake had been made, there might still be a chance for redemption, a chance to clear his good name.
His name and hers.
But if it were indeed true, if he had in fact killed his former wife and child, people would know that she had been carrying his child while he was still married to Korinne.
Then they would assume that because Isolde had been with child it had been that much easier for Soth to turn his back on Korinne. Nay, more than turn his back.
To… She had trouble with the word.
To kill his wife and newborn child.
If that were true, she would be an accomplice to the murders. She would be as guilty of the killings as Soth himself.
If it were true.
If Soth was indeed guilty of the crime, he would never regain his status as one of the greatest Solamnic Knights of all time. Instead he would be a disgraced knight who would be killed on sight if he ever left the keep. And she would be similarly disgraced-a subject of ridicule should she ever venture beyond Dargaard Keep's cold bloodstone walls.
After all, who could pardon such a heinous act? Even the Healing Hand,
Mishakal,
would be hard-pressed to forgive such an atrocity.
If it were true.
"Tell me they made a mistake," she pleaded. "Tell me you did not kill Korinne and the child!"
Soth drew in a long breath, looked Isolde in the eye and spoke to her directly. "Lady Korinne died as a result of the severely deformed child that she bore."
Isolde listened intently to the words. They didn't sound like much of a denial, but Soth's voice was unwavering and it was edged with just a hint of conviction.
She desperately wanted to believe him. For a moment she thought to ask him again in order to cull more reassuring words from him, but decided against it. Those few words would be as much as she would get out of her husband.
They would have to do.
Especially now.
He had changed so much these past few weeks. His face used to be bright and quick to smile. He had laughed every so often and had looked content. Now his face was masked by a shroud of darkness. His eyes, once alight with passion, now smoldered with loathing for everyone and everything around him. He constantly grumbled about everything and even shunned the company of his knights, the same brave men who had literally snatched him from the brink of death.
They'd saved his life, but they hadn't been able to save his honor. That had been crushed and with it so too had the man.
If only there was a way to regain his honor, their honor, the honor of the Soth family name.
Isolde prayed to Mishakal for guidance.
The summer months passed and the keep grew cold and damp. It was as if the sun never shone on its walls, as if the fires in its hearths were more smoke than heat.
Soth tried to attend to his duties as he had before, but now there seemed to be very little for him to do. The people of Knightlund had turned west to Vingaard Keep for protection from marauders, and for advice in land and financial disputes.
Soth wasn't surprised. Who would seek the advice of a murderer?
Certainly no one of sound mind. It was something he never thought he would say, but he longed for the days when he sat in judgment, settling trivial land claims and disputes over money. At one time he would have done anything not to have to listen to commoners' petty arguments, but now he would give everything just to listen to them once more.
Lord Soth w-6 Page 23