The Tomb of the Dark Paladin

by Tom Bielawski

  Shalthazar slowly let his spells fade but he was alert and his protective wards would notify him of any imminent threats. "What is your intention?"

  The general looked around and a gust of wind blew his long hair about his face. "My intention, Shalthazar, is the same as yours: to survive."

  Shalthazar let that hang in the breeze for a moment, each elf taking the measure of the other. Finally he said, "So our great lord has seen an end to your usefulness as well?"

  Medov nodded simply. Shalthazar allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. "Then perhaps we can help each other, General."

  "It would seem so."

  "Please," said the dark elf, his outward countenance softening somewhat. "Allow me to show you to your quarters, we have much to discuss."

  Shalthazar and Medov entered the tower through the rooftop door as the dark elf waved off the squad of soldiers. But he did not miss the looks of disdain and contempt; there would be trouble in the ranks soon.

  C H A P T E R

  S I X

  ~

  "Gavinos," said the thayne as he slowly turned to face his former friend. "You do me honor, skulking about the streets like a rat to follow me."

  Gavinos led Cannath into an alley where they could be alone. Cannath knew that Gavinos was up to something that he didn't want anyone else to know about, and the elf seemed confident enough that he didn't need any help.

  "Where are you going?" said the elf, emotionless. The man's eyes were gray, cold and hard like steel.

  "I am the Thayne of Hybrand, I go where I choose." Cannath noticed that Gavinos came alone, and he was somewhat relieved. Although the thought of the scope of his power was sobering.

  "Come now, Cannath. We both know you are the king of nothing. Now, where are you going?"

  "You are vile and without honor, elf. You are little better than a mindless trok, so why don't you go and lick your hurkin master's boots?" Cannath was trying very hard to provoke the elf, and it worked. Gavinos' face finally betrayed the disdain and anger hiding beneath the surface, and he thrust a gloved hand out toward the thayne. It happened so fast that Cannath had not seen it coming, and he was shocked when the elf's hand bounced off his midsection with a pop. Gavinos recoiled with a snarl, holding his hand.

  "What magic have you found, fool?" demanded the elf in anger. Cannath did not answer, he just drew his sword and stared out from the depths of his hood. "Put that away before you hurt yourself!"

  "The only one I intend to hurt is you," growled the thayne. Cannath advanced on the elf, fully in the throes of blood lust. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind a voice told him that this was wrong. And in those deep recesses, he knew that the voice was right. But rage overpowered his good sense and he prepared to take his revenge, prepared to die doing it.

  Suddenly a shroud of darkness, deeper than the shadows of the alley, surrounded the elf. When the shroud dissipated, Gavinos was gone. But Cannath was no fool. He whirled about and moved his back closer to the wall, knowing that the elf would not give up so easily. He didn't see Gavinos but felt icy tendrils creeping across his skin, sticky like a spider's web.

  Cannath swung his sword in a few controlled strokes above his head and in the air about him, and the web-like tendrils faded. The elf was trying to capture him with his magic, and Cannath felt inferior. His legs began to tremble and he heard his innards gurgling. He began to sweat and horrible faces began to appear in the darkness about him. Fear began to take over, but the battle-hardened thayne recognized he was losing focus; would have none of it. He knew what the elf was up to and, with intense willpower, he controlled his reactions. Slowly the faces disappeared and the fear symptoms passed, but the elf was still hidden from sight.

  Cannath knew he was in great danger, the power that this elf commanded was tremendous and he did not think he would survive. The thought that he would be cheated of his revenge boiled his blood. In a complete rage, Cannath stepped deeper into the shadows, swinging his sword and moving in decisive and purposeful arcs. Each move was executed from the muscle memory that comes from decades of training in martial combat, further filled with the strength fueled by rage. He moved with unnatural speed, attacking every shadow and every space in the alley in a blur of movement. To anyone passing by, it would have seemed as though a blur were chasing shadows about the alley, and the shadows were losing. Indeed, each time the thayne attacked a piece of the darkness it faded and the natural light from the streets filtered in. Suddenly Gavinos was in front of him, hands out in a plea for mercy and the thayne paused. That pause was all Gavinos needed and a blade of black steel flew from his hand striking Cannath in the shoulder, sinking to the hilt. The force of the impact threw the man back, even as another blade struck him. Then another and another. Gavinos advanced from the shadows as the thayne faltered and stepped back, condescension plain on his face.

  "You didn't think you could beat me, did you?" he snickered, seeming completely unfazed by Cannath's furious assault. "Fool. Had it not been for my need to find the armor and sword you now possess, I would have killed you long ago. But only the Thayne of Hybrand would be permitted to find them in their hidden chamber."

  Cannath stumbled and fell to his knees, his hand resting atop his sword on the ground. The magical blades that Gavinos had so easily impaled him with were gone, but the effects of their wounds lingered still. Gavinos did not strike again, but the thayne knew that it was only so that the smarmy elf could belittle him once more before killing him and taking his armor. He was angry, it just couldn't end like this! He struggled to his feet and looked Gavinos in the eye, but all he saw were pools of darkness. The power surging about him was palpable, and Cannath wondered how he ever thought he could have fought the elf.

  "Oh, you wish to die on your feet?" said the elf, full of mockery. "Close your eyes, Cannath. You don't want to see this coming."

  That mocking tone triggered something deep within the thayne. He felt as though he had enough strength left for one more attack. He would not give the elf the pleasure of an easy kill; Cannath, Thayne of Hybrand, would die fighting. But his only hope of landing at least one blow with his powerful sword would be to catch the elf unawares. So Cannath lowered his head in defeat and feigned indifference to his coming doom.

  Mocking laughter oozed from the dark elf's mouth and fueled Cannath's considerable anger. As he stood there, presumably beaten, Gavinos slowly circled him. The elf poked him with a sharp dagger that just appeared in his hands, testing the thayne 's resolve. Gavinos knew full well the level of anger that brewed beneath the surface. Each poke from the dagger sent a surge of pain through his enemy's body and came with a laugh from the elf.

  "You were always so easy to manipulate, Cannath. It was pathetic, really, how much." Cannath looked up, it was no use. Gavinos knew the man too well. The smile on the elf's face was predatory, and Cannath knew he was the prey. Still, he would not be the doe that simply accepts its fate and dies in the jaws of the panther. "Ah, there we are! Ready for another go?"

  In that moment, it seemed to Cannath that time slowed down even though his own perception of it had not. It was as though Gavinos was nearly frozen in place, barely moving. A flash of light behind the elf caught Cannath's attention. It was a dagger in mid-flight, the lamplight flashing on its blade. But the dagger was not one of Gavinos' magical blades, this one was flying--slowly--toward the foul elf. Who would attack Gavinos here? What could this mean? Cannath sensed that his good fortune and heightened senses would not last much longer. In fact, it seemed that already the blade was moving faster through the air towards its unsuspecting target. Cannath knew his best chance for damaging Gavinos would come at a moment of distraction, he must wait for the unseen attacker's blade to reach the elf then he would strike.

  Suddenly time returned to normal. Cannath watched as the powerful elf whirled, apparently sensing the impending attack. Gavinos thrust his hand out and a surge of black energy burst forth, enveloping the ordinary blade. It happened so quickly that Can
nath feared he may have lost his chance, but Gavinos' back remained to him long enough. In a burst of pent up energy Cannath stepped forward and thrust his blade toward the elf, but the wily Gavinos would not be taken so easily. Just as he finished turning the unknown attacker's blade into dust the elf sensed the thayne 's thrust and leaped into the air with unnatural agility. But not before the tip of Cannath's ancient blade found the elf's flesh. It was as though he had hooked the elf with his blade, for Gavinos seemed stuck to the end of it, and whatever dark power he had used to propel himself into the air failed. The success of the attack did not come without a price. A terrible pain shot up through Cannath's arm and into his chest. He felt like his chest was constricting and the air was being squeezed from his lungs. Through agonizing pain, he saw that something was happening to the elf. Gavinos writhed in pain, screaming as blood began to drip from his eyes and his cupped Elvish ears. Cannath would have his revenge. The fact that he would see this elf dead gave him the strength to persevere through the terrible pain he was feeling now. He dropped to his knees as the elf fell to the ground, yet Cannath kept an iron grip on his sword. The elf's skin glowed a dark red and terrible heat radiated from the body. The heat was intense but Cannath forced himself to endure it and felt the tip of the blade sink deeper into the elf's body. Finally, the elf's body was immolated in what had to be magical flames. The screaming stopped and Gavinos was reduced to ashes.

  The pain left and Cannath stared at the dark spot on the ground that had once been his friend, then foe. He knew he should be up and gone from this place and wondered how long it would be before a squad of hurkin came looking for Gavinos. The sound of someone approaching reminded him that there was someone else nearby that wanted Gavinos dead. He jumped to his feet, surprised at how quickly his strength had returned to him, ready to defend himself.

  And Thayne Cannath of Hybrand saw the last person on Llars he expected to see walking into the torch lit alley.

  Captain Harn Amos, former officer of the Royal Guard, strode into the alley wearing black clothes and armed to the teeth with blades. A shuffling figure ambled along behind Amos but Cannath focused only on his trusted captain.

  "Amos?" he asked, disbelieving. He lowered his sword and walked forward to meet his old guard captain. "Is that truly you?" Cannath could not believe the tumultuous feelings twisting his insides. Glory and shame each fought the other valiantly for Cannath's victory over Gavinos, each for very different reasons. He tried to force the conflicting emotions down deep and away, and was overpowered by another emotion. Guilt. Guilt for what he had done to his once beloved country, his people and his friends.

  As Amos neared him, the thayne saw that the man had endured much suffering in the last months. His face was worn and haggard with tired eyes. He stood tall before the king, neither bowing nor saluting the man he once served.

  "What has happened to you, old friend?" asked Cannath, feeling his grief and guilt more strongly. How desperately he wanted to repay Umber!

  Amos stood quietly for a moment, then slammed a gloved fist into the thayne 's face. Cannath never saw it coming and found himself lying in a heap on the ground. When he opened his eyes, it felt like he had somehow just fallen asleep. But the pain in his face told him the truth of the matter. He stood angrily, dizzily, and fumbled for his sword. A strong hand grasped the material of his coat and slammed him into the wall.

  "What happened to me? You did!" Amos shouted. "You and your vile, filthy, evil friends! Thanks to you, I am a slave! Our country is gone!"

  "Amos," Cannath began, pushing his old friend away. He was bigger and stronger than Amos, and could easily kill him in a fight. Yet, that was not what the thayne wanted to do. There was a time when Cannath would have flogged a man for much smaller displays of insolence than this. But the weight of the responsibility of his actions again stayed his hand. "You are..."

  "What?" he demanded. "What could you possibly say?"

  "Well," said the thayne with a sigh. "There is little to say. I failed, miserably. I am not fit for the kingship, nor is anyone with whom I am related."

  "So you are just going to leave?" he demanded. "You're going to give up? The shopkeeper told me you were leaving, but I couldn't believe it."

  "It is true," he responded gravely. "I am leaving and I will not return. There is nothing that I can do here. Of those few of our countrymen that remain, none would ever dare trust me again. Rightly so. No apology I could make would ever be enough.

  "I am leaving because I have learned what sinister plans the Dark Lord has in store for the world as we know it. If Hybrand is but a small example of what's to come, then I must do what I can to stop it. I hope--no, I pray, that Hybrand will rise from the ashes and never invest their hopes in a single man again."

  Amos stared at his former liege, a deep scowl on his face. Finally, his face relaxed and he lowered his hand from his sword hilt.

  "I thank you for intervening, Captain. But now I must find a way north."

  "Where?"

  "Across the great bay, toward Caelambra I suppose."

  "You don't stand a chance of getting through this mob of hurkin," said Amos, his voice controlled. "In fact, if it weren't for some of my friends, you and that elf would have brought the entire Hurkin Horde down on your head."

  Cannath had indeed wondered why scores of hurkin soldiers had not piled into the alley and killed him long ago. A noisy working party of human slaves was stacking boxes at the entrance to the alleyway. "I owe you my thanks, for what little it is worth."

  "Precious little indeed. Come with me," mumbled Amos as he turned around. "By the way, Cannath. Meet Hugh, your best friend."

  It was only then that Cannath truly noticed the hunched figure in the alley with them. And it was, in fact, Hugh Renaul.

  He was speechless. He stared numbly at the vacant, dead eyes of his oldest and truest friend. For a scant moment he thought there was a flicker of recognition in those eyes, but it passed too quickly. Grief threatened to overwhelm him again, he knew deep down that he had likely sent his best friend to his death. And here he stood. A mockery of his former self. A rotting and stinking facsimile of a man who had been by his side since childhood. The shock of the sight stunned the thayne, and he stopped short. Only the devilish power of Coronus could do something this terrible. The stench of death wafted into his nostrils and turned his stomach. The indignity of it all was so offensive that part of him felt like he had to strike the abomination down. Could he do it? Could he strike down his best friend?

  Amos turned and faced him. "Well, Cannath? What will you do?" Amos stared hard at his former liege, his hands absently touching the heavy iron bracers that marked him as a slave to the Horde. With a snarl, Amos turned and walked out of the alley. Hugh remained, his eyes no longer vacant but questioning.

  The last Thayne of Hybrand knew what he must do.

  He had no choice. It was his own fault that Hugh was a death slave, tormented to existence between life and death; it was his responsibility to end his friend's torment.

  "I'm sorry, old friend," he said, holding his sword before him in both hands. Hugh's decaying face seemed to change ever so slightly. Was it relief? Was it fear? He did not know. His heart broke over what he must now do. He raised his sword high above his head as Hugh stood, his gaze once again indifferent. Cannath held his sword poised above his head, aware that Amos was watching from the end of the alley. Cannath knew that he had brought this evil upon his land, upon his friend, and he must be the one to break it.

  The last Thayne of Hybrand swung his ancient blade and struck Hugh Renaul. A brilliant flash of light blinded him for a moment. An audible gasp escaped the lips of the seemingly mindless death slave as he dropped to his knees. Cannath stepped back and watched as Hugh fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. Anger seethed within him as his mind desperately raced to find someone to blame, but he knew the blame was his own.

  Cannath stepped toward the heap that was once his old friend. He was thrown acros
s the alley by an explosion. He landed heavily striking his head hard on the wall of the alley. Amos rushed in and dragged Cannath to his feet.

  "Get up!" he hissed. "We have to go!"

  Cannath rubbed his head and looked for Hugh's body. All that remained was a black stain on the stone ground. Amos grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away.

  "I don't know how you did it, Cannath, but you just destroyed a death slave."

  Cannath straightened his coat and ensured that his sword was hidden beneath its folds once more. With his hood low over his face, he followed Amos and a number of other slaves along the pier. He tried to look at Amos' accomplices but is head hurt so badly he couldn't turn it from side to side.

  "Where are we going?" he asked, groggily.

  "We are leaving Hybrand. Death slaves have a way of silently reporting back to Commander Coronus, or one of his minions, when we humans dare to resist the hurkin overlordship. I don't know why, but the death slave that was once Hugh Renaul never seemed to report us. It's why we kept him around. Now you've gone and killed him."

  "He exploded!" Cannath gasped, the pain of speaking was terrible.

  "I saw," Amos replied grimly. "We've never been able to kill one, let alone blow one up. That information will be useful in the future."

  Cannath stopped, prepared to defend his action, but Amos just shoved him along. "Forget it, Cannath; you probably did him a favor." Cannath nodded his agreement, and immediately regretted it as a sharp pain stabbed through his skull. He felt, rather than saw, that a light snow was falling. He remembered how Ognadrog, and countless other hurkin, whined about the colder climate of Hybrand. Hurkromin was miserably hot and the hurkin were having trouble acclimating.