The Tomb of the Dark Paladin

by Tom Bielawski

  "So we sit back and let them come again, in the name of what?" she demanded angrily. "Honor?"

  "Duty," answered the knight. "Duty."

  "Genn, too many people have been hurt or killed because of me. We have to do what is right."

  "And if they come again before we're done? What then? What kind of terror will we bring on these innocent people then?"

  The companions were silent. No one had an answer.

  "Alright, Genn. You're right. Let's pile the dog corpses in the road, I'll get rid of them quickly with magic. We will take the woman beyond the town limits and bury her elsewhere."

  "You're going to use your magic? Aren't you too weak?" asked Hala, concern apparent in her voice.

  "Not with Bart's help."

  Genn seemed to calm slightly since they weren't going to waste a lot of time, but it was very clear she wanted to be gone. She busied herself moving dog corpses out into the street and refused to meet Carym's eyes. He wondered what was going on with her. He wanted to talk to her, to find out what went wrong between them. But the timing of their mission would not allow it.

  He let out a sigh and got to work.

  It wasn't long before the canine corpses were piled high in the street and a thin layer of snow covered them already. The farmer and a number of other village men came out to watch the fire. Being Cklathmen, their good nature was hard to suppress for long and they always enjoyed a good show. When Carym ignited the entire pile of corpses with the power of the Flames, the all cheered. They were particularly happy that there was little left on the street to clean up and were content enough to let the next rain handle it.

  Carym was shocked that these folk could be so good natured as to wish them all farewell and offer their homes to him in the future. When they were far enough from the village, Bart broke the truth to him.

  "Carym, when Myrnnish folk wish you good fortune and offer you to stay in their homes the next time you come through, it means they don't think you'll live long enough to take them up on it."

  Carym seemed crestfallen, but Bart just laughed. "It's nothing personal, lad. It's just the way of Cklathmen in these parts. They're a funny lot, so they are."

  Carym smiled, hoping their particular blessings were not prophetic.

  They had been walking north for days, stopping only so that each companion could take turns riding their two remaining horses. The day before, they had departed from the main highway that led north and trudged their way through thick forests of pine and birch. Finally the wilderness gave way to what Hala called a road, Carym called it a trail. The sun began its morning climb over mountaintops covered in snow and the companions were thankful for any warmth to come. The end of the road delivered the companions to a wide clearing bordered by forest and hills. An outcropping of large boulders rested there, the dusting of snow reflecting brightly in the bright morning sun. Beyond this point, going north meant going up. This part of the Northern Continent was mountainous and filled with bizarre creatures and monsters most folk didn't believe existed. But Carym had seen enough of things that supposedly did not exist to know better, and he was wary. Still, he was relieved to know that the danger of the pursuit of the Rhi's forces were behind them and that perhaps they would be afforded a comfortable rest, however brief it may be.

  The air was still and the woods were deathly quiet. Carym was particularly aware of each noisy breath from the companions steaming in the cold air. Every subtle shift of weight or adjustment of gear seemed loud as thunder. Hala approached the pile of boulders and stood for a moment with her eyes closed. In that moment he was struck by her natural beauty. It didn't detract from his feelings for Gennevera in any way, but in that moment he simply found the princess breathtaking.

  Hala quietly spoke in her native tongue for a moment and then she was bathed in amber light. The golden rays shot upward from her body for a moment, then nothing. She stood a moment longer, her hand on one of the large boulders, before returning to the group.

  "I have signaled the watchers. They will send a contingent of warriors to escort us into the kingdom," she said. "We will rest in my father's palace tonight."

  Carym could not help but offer the woman a big smile, the idea of sleeping in a palace was a welcome one. And it was clear to Carym that the others felt similarly.

  "Who are the watchers, your highness?" asked Sir Ederick, looking about. Carym admired Ederick's tireless concern with security and defenses, it was clear the knight was thinking about defenses even now.

  "Some of them are members of the Royal Family charged with keeping the security of the kingdom. It is a rite of passage that is required of those who would rule over the Tribes and the people of our kingdom. I, too, am one of the watchers. We are skilled in all forms of warfare and stealth and we take our duties to heart. Certainly there are some watching us as we speak."

  "Are they all shape-shifters like yourself, highness?" asked Sir Ederick.

  "Some are. Although their talents differ, Sir Knight, you may rest assured they are all formidable in battle."

  "Forgive my questions, I am simply curious about the ways of your people. Are there others of your order who are not of the nobility?"

  "In a sense the watchers are knights like you. Some are born into their roles; others have earned the privilege through courage in battle or through other service to our king."

  That seemed to satisfy whatever thoughts were behind the knight's questions for he spoke no more. An hour or so later, a large snowy-white owl appeared in the air above them and settled on the ground next to Hala. In a flash of amber light, the owl transformed itself into a fearsome warrior woman who looked very much like the princess. She was adorned with a snowy white cloak mottled with black and brown and the pelt of a snow owl adorned her head like a hood. Carym thought that the eyes of the owl hood seemed distinctly alive, watching.

  The woman strode forward and met her princess with barely a glance at Hala's companions. She removed her headpiece and pure white hair spilled down over her shoulders framing her face. Carym was taken by the sight, for he had never seen such hair on a person before. It was neither the white hair of old age, nor the premature white hair of a youth whose life has been extraordinarily demanding. Rather the woman's hair seemed rich and full and vibrant. The white hair that surrounded her youthful face was the pure color of fresh snow, and looked to be as soft. She knelt before the princess and spoke to her in their native language. After a moment, the warrior rose and the two women returned to the group.

  "This is my cousin, Anitakhala, honored warrior of our people; she is commander of her company," the princess looked at her cousin with pride. "She and her warriors will escort us to the capital."

  "There are more warriors coming to escort us, highness?" asked Bart.

  "Yes, though some are already here," said the princess. "They are guarding us very closely."

  Bart looked about curiously, a scowl threatening to take over his once jovial features. Bart had changed a great deal in the short time he and Carym had been separated, each undergoing his own rigorous training. He regretted that their mission would not allow him the time to talk with his friend, to share experiences and perhaps learn more about the Sigils from one another. He shook his head and resigned himself to the fact his life had been defined by something larger than his own needs and desires.

  The route the group followed seemed to be little more than an animal trail through woods and the going was rough. The route was mostly uphill, the terrain steep and dense with thorns and other unpleasant bushes. The princess insisted they had passed a number of homes, though Carym had not seen a single dwelling. These foothills were filled with ridges and fingers, draws and even great crevasses. They forded several cold mountain streams, and once startled an otter from his lazy swim along a rippling stream surface. As they progressed farther into the Jaguar lands, signs of wildlife and birds became more abundant and more apparent. Perhaps spring was at work here after all. All the while Carym had not seen a
single Watcher other than Anitakhala.

  After two hours of hard travel, they finally arrived at the entrance to the city of Hitchyn Itsa, the land of the Jaguar Tribes. It was unlike any city he had visited before, more unusual even than the great city of Lordsdeep in its own way. Like many other cities that Carym had visited, a wall surrounded Hitchyn Itsa. However, this wall was not made of stone and mortar; rather it was made of bough and branch. The wall was an intricate design of sturdy oak trees grown closely together over many years with interlocking boughs and trunks, which created a virtually impenetrable wall.

  The princess guided the group to a place Carym assumed was the gate to the city. Here the trees gave way to form a circular shape allowing those outside to see in, yet the trunks of these trees acted as bars preventing entrance to outsiders. Two jet-black ravens glided silently down from the branches high above the wall overhead and shifted in a blur and a flash of amber light into human forms. The pair of watchers was tall and intimidating; each had jet-black hair, black feathered cloaks and tall spears. They wore helmets fashioned from raven feathers that covered their faces like a visor.

  With a word from the princess, the men turned in unison and faced the gate. Then, still in unison, they touched their spears to one of the trunks in the opening and one of them spoke. The gate shimmered with amber light and the boughs and branches yielded to the warriors. The princess and her cousin led the way through the wall of oaks and into the city where a contingent of Jaguar warriors stood ready to escort their royal leaders. They were a fierce and intimidating sight resplendent in their animal pelts and brandishing wicked spears. Carym felt that the legends about the mystery of this city, and of the Jaguar Knights didn't do them justice.

  This was a city comprised of massive trees. Tribal elders used an ancient form of magic to encourage the boughs of the great trees to grow together to fashion the homes and buildings of these wild folk. Carym stared in awe as he saw the highways in the sky that led from tree to tree far above. In the distance, one great tree stood taller and broader than the rest, like a mountain surrounded by smaller hills.

  The princess guided the group along the ground to the city center; Carym's awe of the beautiful city only grew as they walked. When they reached the mammoth tree at the city center, a large bough lowered itself to the ground for the group.

  "Please, accompany me to the court of my father the king. He is a great and wise man and knows much of the ancient tomb that we seek," she paused a moment and gave Carym a genuine smile. "And he would like to personally thank you for rescuing me."

  "We would be most honored, your highness," said Carym, with nods of agreement and looks of awe from the companions. All except Gennevera, who seemed to grit her teeth before looking away from Carym. Carym determined not to be bothered by Gennevera's cold shoulder. He could hardly keep himself from gawking out at the landscape as the bough took them higher and higher. The view of the forest and the pristine lands surrounding the capital city was breathtaking. He was overcome by the beauty of the world before him and could not speak, it was truly a marvel of Zuhr's creation. Great lakes shimmered in the sunlight, hills rolled to the south while mountains loomed very close to the north and west. Rivers and forests blanketed in early springtime snow gave the land a sense of purity. It could only have been the power of Zuhr that created this magnificent perfection. Serenity slipped away from him and his heart skipped a beat when he saw something, a stain upon the perfection of the landscape. A long black line crept along the ground like a great black snake, stark against the snowy white surface. At first he thought that it was just a road his eyes tricked him into believing was moving.

  "Princess!" he called. Everyone peered intently to the east where Carym was pointing. "Out there, in the distance!"

  "What is it, Carym?" asked the knight, peering out into the distance. "I see the road--" but the knight paused in mid-sentence. They were all quiet as the great bough ceased motion and all watched the dark line with intense interest.

  "Soldiers," Ederick finally said, nodding to himself. "They follow the ground contours and seem almost to blend with the road, very wise. Their weapons do not shine in the sunlight, that makes it hard to tell from a great distance what they are and harder to tell how many. But their movement gives them away."

  "I guess there's two hundred of them, so I do," said the bard. Carym wasn't sure how he could see well enough to count but he didn't argue.

  "Soldiers of Ilian Nah," said the princess with a note of anger. The air was significantly colder now that they were so high up in the air. It seemed to Carym that when he inhaled, it froze his heart. "They seek the tomb. They have yet to trespass, but if they do, they will find it unpleasant to stay."

  "Aren't they the forces of that Prophet-General? The one loyal to Umber?" asked the knight. "How can you be sure?"

  "I can't be sure until the watchers report. But I have little doubt."

  Carym feared deeply that he this might just be the trigger point of a much, much, larger war to come. The innocent people of the Jaguar Tribes were being drawn into the conflict by his actions; it was a burdensome feeling.

  The group reached the top of the tree palace and quickly exited from their bough onto a wide walkway that spiraled farther upward and around the trunk of the tree. The walkway ended at the door to a great hall, the court of the King of the Jaguar Nation.

  The companions were ushered into the grand hall, word began to spread of the enemy patrol. A large fire burned at one end of the great hall in a fireplace crafted out of tree limbs treated with a special flame-resistant resin. Such a resin would be highly coveted among the armies of Llars, offering protection to the soldiers from the fires of an enemy.

  The walls of the chamber were adorned with paintings and furs and there were a number wooden sculptures of the animals held sacred by the Tribesmen: jaguars, ravens, a variety of raptors, even a great serpent. A long table was located near the fire already set with plates loaded with food.

  "Come forward outsiders!" called a man seated on a beautiful throne of branches decorated with many ornate shapes and patterns. This man had seen many winters. His platinum hair was pulled tight and braided behind his head. Tattoos of jaguars adorned his face and arms, he wore a jaguar skin cloak. His crown was the head of jaguar ornamented with precious gems and feathers from a number of birds, its widened mouth framed his face. Although the man was old, his large muscles and toned body demonstrated that he was still formidable. One hand rested on an armrest of polished oak while the other held a shiny staff of polished wood decorated with feathers and talons.

  "I am aware of the threat which you have brought upon our lands," said the king somberly. Ederick appeared to be ready to speak but the king silenced him and continued. "I do not fault you; this was not unforeseen. We have known for centuries that the dark-skinned men from faraway lands would come to seek the tomb. In fact, this isn't the first time they have ventured near our kingdom; many of their search patrols have strayed close to our lands. We have fought them before."

  "We were foolish to think we made it this far unnoticed. Your highness, I beg your forgiveness for bringing this scourge to your land," Sir Ederick said as he bowed low to the great king.

  "Rise, Sir Knight. As I have said, this was not unforeseen, however it is the first time they have actually dared come this close to our city. This is a destiny over which you have no control. It is your destiny to find that which you seek, and it is ours to fight those who would stop you.

  "I want to thank you for rescuing my daughter from the clutches of soulless men. When my warriors returned from their search without her I had feared that I lost my shining star." The great king looked at his daughter with pride, his deep, green eyes shining. Then he looked back at the group and the stern regal gaze returned. "I will reward you for your daring rescue. Will the one who is called Carym, come forward?"

  Carym walked to the throne and stopped, bowing low.

  "I am Carym of Hyrum, Your High
ness."

  "You are the one who rescued my daughter?"

  "We all contributed to that effort, Your Highness," he replied, embarrassed at hearing it said so bluntly.

  The king was silent a moment, but nodded at Carym's assertion. Then he rose from his throne and walked down to Carym. He placed his hand on Carym's shoulder and said, "Unfortunately I cannot allow you to enter the lands where the tomb is hidden because you are not a member of our tribe." Carym's stomach twisted in fear. Could they have come so far only to be thwarted by this? Would the king truly stop them? But the king was not finished. "It is a terrible place, haunted by the Dark Paladin and the cursed men who followed him."

  Carym grimly recalled the last time he had been forced to deal with the spirit of a cursed lord, and it hadn't turned out well. He had known all along that the tomb was guarded by the spirit of the Dark Paladin, but it never occurred to him to think of it as haunted. It was a dark feeling.

  The king signaled to a man who was dressed in the traditional garb of the Jaguar tribes, one whose animal symbol was a serpent. He carried a long wooden staff carved in the likeness of a snake. The king spoke to the man in their native tongue and the princess moved to stand behind her father. Then the king, flanked by the princess and the other man, turned and faced Carym. The princess told Carym to kneel before the king with his face down. Carym did as he was told. The knight stood watching curiously and Gennevera stood by, unsure if some trick may be at hand, glancing suspiciously at Hala.

  "This is the Royal Shaman, Carym. He is going to make you an honorary member of our tribe," explained the princess.

  The shaman spoke a rhythmic chant in his own language and Carym thought he heard Zuhr's name more than once. Gennevera gasped as the Shaman's staff suddenly turned into a real snake. The serpent fell to the ground and slithered swiftly to the now prostrate Carym as the old man performed a peculiar dance in a circular pattern around Carym. Gennevera moved as if to intervene but a firm grip from a watchful tribesman stopped her. The sight of the shaman was disturbing to her. His flesh was old and taut, seemingly stretched over his skull giving him a grave-like visage. Small skulls and bones adorned his serpent skin clothing and a number of bones and dried out body parts dangled from his staff. His luminous black eyes glittered in the afternoon light, watching his magical snake intently.