He sat in his throne chair in the middle of a large empty room. For some reason the chair was comfortable now and he could sit in it for hours without moving, his eyes closed as he relived the past.
"Why don't you go out for a ride?" asked a voice from somewhere in the shadows.
Soth didn't need to look up. He knew it was Isolde. He did not answer her.
"Loren?" she called, stepping into the hall.
"What is it?" snapped Soth, his eyes narrowed in anger.
"Why don't you get out of the keep for a while?"
"And why don't you tend to the child and leave me to my own affairs?"
Isolde was visibly hurt by the sharp words of her husband, but continued moving forward, undaunted.
"It pains me to see you lingering within the keep like a shadow. I look at you and I see a ghost from your former life."
"Enough!" shouted Soth, rising from his throne.
But Isolde would not stop. "The knights seem lost, too.
They've looked to you for direction for so long, and suddenly it's not-" "I said enough!" "You are still a Knight of Solamnia," she continued.
"You all are. No matter what has happened, you must continue living your life in accordance with the Oath and the Measure. Anything else for a knight is the same as death-"
Soth had heard enough. He placed his large hands on Isolde's tiny elven shoulders and pushed her roughly to the floor.
She hit the cold hard stones with a loud thump, but did not cry out.
Soth looked at her for the longest time, ashamed at what he'd done, and hating himself for what he had become.
Isolde slowly picked herself up off the floor.
Soth left the hall without saying a word.
Isolde stood up and brushed off her clothes. As she did, a single tear fell from the corner of her eye. The tear was not for what had happened, for clearly Soth was not himself these days. Gone was the brave and valiant warrior, the Soth she'd come to know and love. And in his place was this dark and brooding man who had forgotten everything for which he had once stood.
She left the hall and headed for the chapel.
She had been praying to Mishakal for guidance and in a way she had been guided. She was beginning to feel more certain that she knew what was required for the benefit of herself, her son Peradur, and for all those living inside the keep.
Soth needed to find a way in which to redeem himself.
She entered the chapel and knelt down in her familiar place, her legs covering the darker spots her knees had rubbed into the wood these past few weeks, and prayed.
She prayed to Mishakal to show her a way in which Soth might find redemption.
The room had been the healer's chambers for years, but because Istvan did not return from Palanthas following Soth's hearing, Isolde had decided the room could be converted to a nursery. Soth had wanted the room left abandoned, but Isolde had insisted. Further protests on Soth's part would have required some sort of explanation, so in the end he reluctantly yielded to her request.
In spite of the memories he tried to bury, Soth found himself coming here more and more often to spend time with his son, Peradur. One reason was that he had the time to spend, another was that he felt if he spent time with the child now, he might be able to prevent his sins from being passed on as his father's sins had been passed onto him.
He wasn't sure how being with the child might prevent this, but because
Soth's father Aynkell had spent very little time with him as a child,
Soth felt that doing the opposite might produce the opposite result-a young man whose soul was free of the black marks incurred by the previous generations.
Whatever the outcome, it was worth the effort given that Soth felt he couldn't make things any worse for the boy if he tried.
"There's a good boy," he said, the soft tone of his voice sounding strange coming from such a big man. "A good boy who will one day grow to be a good knight."
The child smiled.
"A great knight."
The child giggled.
Soth took a small wooden sword from a chest full of toys and noisemakers. The sword was made of soft fir wood and rounded at each on all sides in order to prevent the child from accidentally hurting himself. Soth placed the hilt of the sword in the child's tiny hand and instinctively his fingers curled around it, holding the sword tightly.
Soth smiled approvingly, his quiet, hissing laughter sounding like steam from a cauldron. He let go of the sword, allowing Peradur to hold it by himself. For several seconds he held it aloft as proudly as any champion knight, but then the blade began to waver until it fell back against the child's chest. Then, taking hold of it with both hands, Peradur brought the soft wooden sword to his mouth and began chewing on it.
Again Soth laughed, but his joy was shortlived.
He wanted nothing more than for his son to follow in his footsteps and become a Knight of Solamnia, keeping the Soth legacy alive for yet another generation. But now it seemed that dream would never be realized.
And he had no one to blame but himself.
First of all, the Knights of Solamnia had never accepted a half-elf into the knighthood. To the best of his knowledge, Soth couldn't even remember a half-elf serving as a squire. Secondly, while at one time the
Solamnic Knights might have accepted a half-elf whose name was Soth, those days were over. Because of his deeds and heinous violation of the
Oath and the Measure, it was highly unlikely that any young man carrying the taint of the Soth name would ever be allowed to join the knighthood.
The boy was barely a few months old and he'd already been judged because of his father's deed.
Because of the sins of his father.
Soth watched Peradur chew on the sword, his pink gums gnashing against the wood. As he did so, Soth wondered how could it be that something as innocent as a child, something that was supposed to bring him such joy, had only brought him more remorse, greater shame, and above all, such heartfelt pain.
No sword had ever hurt him like this.
And worst of all, it would be a pain that would never fade with the passage of time. For what might the child feel toward him when he finally came of age?
Anger?
Resentment?
Disgust?
Shame?
The thought of it made Soth shiver.
"Excuse me, milord," said a soft voice.
Soth turned and saw the young maid, Jenfer Clinyc, who had been entrusted with Peradur's care ever since the dismissal of Mirrel. She stood in the doorway in a way that suggested she knew she was intruding.
Soth liked the girl; she was good with the child, unassuming and unpretentious around others, and most importantly, was absolutely devoted to both Isolde and Peradur.
"It's time for the young knight's bath," she said with a smile.
Soth nodded, touched his son's head gently, then rose to his feet. He took one last look at the child, then turned and left the room.
He walked down the hall and through the keep, heading toward the chapel.
When he arrived, he eased the door open.
He was surprised to find Isolde there, but let none of it show. Instead he quietly stepped into the chapel and knelt down by her side.
Whispering under his breath, he began to pray to Paladine, patron of the
Knights of the Rose and spiritual father of the Knights of Solamnia, to bring some light and hope into his life.
Chapter 28
The roar of the flames was deafening.
Every stick of wood in the keep seemed to be alight, crawling with orange flames that licked at the walls like the tongue of some great serpent.
And then, in the midst of the fire, a voice.
"Father!" came the cry.
The call of his son, Peradur.
Soth ran through the burning keep, his eyes stinging from the smoke, his clothes clinging to his damp skin.
"Peradur!" he called into the midst of t
he flames.
"Father, over here!"
Soth moved forward.
Suddenly he felt an intense heat burning his back. He spun around and saw his cloak trailing behind him, burning as brightly as a tallow-soaked torch. He tore the clasp from his neck and threw the cloak to the ground where it was immediately engulfed in flames.
"Father! Where are you father?"
"I'm here!" he answered. "I'm coming!"
He drew his broadsword and used it to cut a swath through the flames and burning timbers that had fallen from the ceiling.
Finally he reached the nursery. It billowed with smoke the flames chewed their way across the rafters supporting the room's ceiling.
"Father, save me!"
Soth was in tears from the smoke and could barely see more than the few feet in front of him.
"Father, help me! Please!"
He moved forward, being drawn by the sound of his son's voice.
Suddenly, there it was-the cradle. He had made it. He took a final few steps and looked inside the cradle.
The hag-like face of the witch smiled up at him.
"Father, help me!" the witch cried out, the young boy's voice suddenly sounding hideous coming from such an Ugly, gap-toothed mouth. She laughed wickedly, the cackle cutting through the roar of the fire like a sword through the leg of an ogre.
Soth recoiled in horror and screamed from the utter depths of his soul.
"No!"
She was floating.
Light shone all around her, a soft glow warming her from the inside out.
And a voice.
A beautiful voice was speaking to her.
Isolde heard it not with her ears, but with her mind.
It was telling her softly, so softly, what must be done.
And she understood.
And then there came a sound so loud and sharp that the dream shattered around her like glass. Isolde looked sleepily around the room, certain that the ground had shook and that the walls were about to topple.
"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 suc
cessfully 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 Saticrist 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, earing 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 his 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.
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