D&D - Mystara - Penhaligon Trilogy 02

by The Dragon's Tomb - Heinrich, D. J (v1. 1)

  “To what do we owe the meaning of this intrusion, crone?” Arteris asked. Her voice was colder than it had ever been to either Brisbois or Jo. “I should have you thrown out, but I am assuming this is important.” Arteris arched her brows haughtily.

  “Where is the box?” Karleah demanded. The wiz- ardess’s lanky gray hair seemed to stand on end.

  “What box?” Arteris asked angrily.

  Braddoc jumped to his feet and stood beside Karleah. “Your Ladyship,” he said, his eyes suddenly wide with alarm. “I know the box of which Karleah speaks: the iron box I took from Verdilith’s lair!” Jo stood and joined her friends. She noticed Sir Graybow’s eyes and pursed her lips. Her friends were more important than protocol.

  “Its the key to this magical conundrum,” the old crone supplied.

  Arteris turned on the mages, who had been silent all along. “Master Keller,” she said to the youngest, “did you not tell me that this . . . box was simply a puzzle box, an item definitely not magical?”

  The mage stood and stared from Karleah to Arteris. He stammered, “Y-yes, Your Ladyship, I did.”

  “You fool!” Karleah shrieked. She threw up her bony hands and advanced on the mage. “Don’t you know? The box is what’s drained away all your castle’s magic, and much of mine!”

  The young man’s face blanched. “I—I didn’t know,” he stuttered.

  “That box must be hidden far, far away,” Karleah said in a voice deadly serious. “That box must be dropped in the deepest gorge, the farthest sea, whatever! It must be removed from all sources of magic immediately.r She gave the mage a push with her oaken staff. “Go, get the box. Give it to Braddoc, that unmagical dwarf who brought it here in the first place. He should take it away.”

  The young man was shaking so badly he almost fell over on top of Karleah. “I—I—I can’t, old crone,” he said fearfully. “I can’t get the box!”

  “What!” Karleah shrieked. Never before had Jo seen the old wizardess more upset. Why, it’s almost as if Karleah’s terrified, Jo thought suddenly. Can the box really be that powerful? “What have you done with it, fool?” Karleah roared. She raised her staff.

  The oldest mage, Aranth, stepped forward and pulled young Keller away. He, too, was shaking, but he said with some semblance of calm, “The puzzle box was a disruption to my mages—they were fiddling about, trying to open it when they should have been working on restoring the castle s magic. I sent it away so we could get back to work.”

  “Sent it where?” Karleah asked, breathlessly.

  “To a cousin of mine,” Aranth said. “He loves such puzzles, as do all those wizards up there in Armstead.”

  Karleah’^ face turned white, and Jo swore some of the womans hair did, too. “You . . . you sent the box to . . . to Armstead?” Karleah whispered. “You sent the box to the most . . . magic-filled place in the country . . . ?”

  Karleah s eyes rolled back in her head, and she crumpled.

  “Karleah!” Dayin shouted as he knelt next to the wizardess’s fallen form. Jo knelt, too, and lifted Karleah’s head onto her lap. Jo looked up at Sir Graybow, but the castellan was speaking in Arteris s ear.

  “Karleah! Karleah!” Jo whispered as she stroked the old womans lined face, marveling at the deep seams.

  The baroness’s voice rang out authoritatively, “Council members, please leave. This is a matter I would discuss with the mages. Guards, take Master Brisbois to the dungeons. Sir Graybow, attend the wizardess and her companions.”

  Madam Astwood eyed the baroness sulkily. “Your Ladyship, it is inappropriate to make decisions concerning the Estate of Penhaligon without our counsel and knowledge.”

  Arteris fixed her icy gaze on the mistress of etiquette. “In times of dire threat, security must come before freedom of knowledge,” the baroness said. She continued in a voice loud enough to carry to all the council members, some of whom were already at the door. “And should word of this leak out to anyone—anyone, mind you—I shall personally see that each and every one of you is removed from the council .” The council members cast quick glances at each other, then slowly filed out of the room.

  The two guards had Brisbois by his arms when the knight called out, “Baroness! Please, I would remain!”

  Arteris hesitated, then looked at the castellan. Sir Graybow rubbed his chin, then shook his head. “No,” the castellan said, “I cannot permit it. The security of the casde is my affair. If either Auroch or Verdilith is the cause of our troubles, Brisbois might reveal our plans.” Sir Graybow gestured for the guards to take Brisbois away. The man left without another word.

  Jo and Dayin watched with trepidation as Karleah slowly recovered from her swoon. Out of the corner of her eye, Jo noticed that the majority of the council members had filed out of the room at a gesture from Sir Graybow.

  “What . . . what happened?” Karleah muttered.

  Jo and Dayin helped her rise. They settled her on a chair. The baroness and Sir Graybow stood nearby, expressions of concern filling their faces. The three mages tried to look equally interested in the old woman’s welfare, but were obviously anxious about their own. Karleah looked back and forth between Sir Graybow and Arteris. “Sending that thing to Armstead, indeed!” she spat. “Whose pea-brained idea was that?”

  The castellan looked to the three huddled magicians, then turned to Arteris and whispered, “I know you wanted to discuss the matter with your magely advisors, My Lady, but I think we should dismiss them as well. Each is as suspect in this plot as Master Brisbois.”

  The baroness gave each of the sorcerers a penetrating gaze, and Jo suspected that this gaze had been used to elicit the truth from lesser men many times before. After a moment, Arteris pursed her lips and nodded to herself. She turned to Karleah and said, “I cannot suspect everyone, Sir Graybow. I think these mages are more bunglers than traitors. Let them stay.”

  The insult notwithstanding, the mages seemed to ease a bit.

  “As you wish,” Sir Graybow said, then turned to the mages. “When did you send the box?”

  Aranth answered, “It left with four guards almost a week ago. They should be in Armstead any day now. Are you saying that this—thing, will destroy the magic there as well?”

  Karleah pursed her lips and sucked in her cheeks. Her face was suddenly gaunt and strained with fatigue. “Yes.” She bowed her head and nodded gravely. “But I don’t think the box simply drains magical energy: otherwise, why would Verdilith have kept it in his lair? The dragon obviously had the box for a reason—and he must have let us steal it for a reason, too. It must have another purpose.”

  “Perhaps it needs to gather a certain amount of power before it can fulfill its true purpose,” Aranth suggested tentatively. “If the box arrives in Armstead, it may gather enough magical energy to ... to destroy all of Penhaligon.”

  “If Verdilith and Auroch created it,” Karleah finished, “I would agree.”

  The baroness made a slight noise, and Sir Graybow put his hand on the womans shoulder. Arteris leaned toward the castellan minutely, the first time Jo had ever seen the woman display any weakness. “What can be done?” Arteris asked quietly.

  “Surely we can prevent this catastrophe,” Sir Graybow said to Karleah. “Treacherous sorcery has never yet defeated the Quadrivial.” His gruff voice rang in the room, and Jo felt suddenly heartened.

  Karleah shrugged. “We can intercept the box, I suppose,” she said slowly. “Perhaps your guards are slow, or have met with disaster.”

  Sir Graybow nodded, then helped the baroness to her chair and sat next to her. Jo and the others sat down as well.

  “This is what we will do,” the castellan began, his deep voice reassuring and authoritative. “Squire Menhir,” he said formally, “by virtue of your prompt return of Master Brisbois, your proven rapport with Karleah, who knows most about the box, and the fact that I am surer of your motives than of any other knights and squires at this point, I send you after this box. You must stop its
arrival at Armstead any way you can ”

  The baroness looked askance at her castellan and said, “I’m sorry, Sir Graybow, but I believe that one of the more experienced knights should be given this task.”

  “Normally, that would be true, My Lady, but there is one overriding reason for my choice. Squire Menhir has something no other knight possesses.”

  “And that is?”

  “Wyrmblight. If the dragon Verdilith is involved in these events, the sword forged to slay him must go along.”

  “But she is only a squire.”

  “I will send her in the company of Master Briarblood, a fighter equal to even our most experienced knights.” Sir Graybow looked at the dwarf, who nodded his head slightly. “And Karleah Kunzay will go as well, a mage who exceeds our mages in experience and intuition—as shown by her discovery of the box’s power.

  “In their initial assault on Verdilith’s lair, Squire Menhir and her companions proved themselves more effective than the full regiment of knights and mages we sent afterward. And, given the problem of security, I would prefer to send a small, potent strike force rather than a marching army.”

  “Do you agree to go, Karleah Kunzay?” Arteris asked. The old wizardess rubbed her chin for a moment. Then, looking at Jo, she said, “Aye, I’ll go, but on one condition: that only one more person accompanies us, and I choose whom.” Karleah turned to Sir Graybow and Arteris, who traded stunned looks.

  Graybow peered at Karleah. “And who would that be?” Karleah grunted. “Master Brisbois.”

  Jo stood and cried, “What? Are you crazy, Karleah? That man’s in league with Auroch—”

  Karleah snapped, “Hush up, young lady. I’ve got more intuition in my little toenail than you have in your whole carrot-topped head! Brisbois is innocent. He’s also the only one who knows anything about Aurochs whereabouts and plans. He completes the strike force. We’ve got our sword-bearer . . .” She looked at Jo, Wyrmblight resting against the chair beside her. The crone’s gaze then shifted to Braddoc. “We’ve got our warrior, our spell- flinger (and assistant),” she continued, patting Dayin’s shoulder. “Now we need an information man, and Brisbois is it.”

  “With Brisbois in our camp, Auroch has a certain chance of finding out what we’re up to!” Jo shouted. The castellan grabbed her arm and flashed her a warning look. Jo reluctantly took her seat. She crossed her arms.

  Arteris spoke up. “It would seem that the disposition of Master Brisbois must be addressed now, rather than later as we had hoped.” She paused and looked at Jo. “The council had not quite come to a decision, and now other factors have arisen that would further color their judgments.” The baroness steepled her fingers again and set her gaze on Jo, who felt suddenly uncomfortable.

  “Squire Menhir, as heir to Sir Flinn s blade, what would you have us do with Master Brisbois? Would you grant him mercy ... or death.”

  Jo stared at the baroness, her mouth suddenly dry. Her arms felt like lead, and she let them come uncrossed. “Afy decision, Your Ladyship?” she asked, breathless.

  The baroness nodded. “Yes, squire. The decision is yours. Master Brisbois has clearly betrayed his duty, not once but twice. The first time, Sir Flinn asked that the man be spared, asked that Master Brisbois act as his bondsman for one year, in hopes that he could be reformed. Sir Flinn s mercy, of course, went astray.”

  “I know all this,” whispered Jo.

  Arteris nodded. “And now, Master Brisbois has betrayed his duty a second time, not honoring his sworn word as bondsman,” the baroness said. She shook her head sadly. “We have not determined if Brisbois joined Auroch willingly or was indeed abducted by the mage. But, either way, he rendered to Sir Flinn none of his service as bondsman. And, in a feeble attempt to return himself to our good graces, Master Brisbois willfully misled the knighthood,” Arteris paused, letting the point sink in. “By all rights,” Arteris continued slowly, “the man deserves no further mercies. He is clearly without honor. He is possibly in league with Auroch and Verdilith. And he may do us great harm. His execution would be warranted, and I will sanction it with only a word from you to do so.”

  Sir Graybow covered Jos hands with his own and said,

  “The choice is yours, Squire Menhir. You are Sir Flinn’s former squire. Not only are his memory and his sword entrusted to you, but his commitments are yours as well.” He paused and then said, “As we all saw in the marketplace, the people of Penhaligon cheer your mission of vengeance, whether I do or not. So, I leave the choice to you: mercy or death.”

  “Mercy or death?” Jo muttered in bewilderment. Those two words hammered at her soul. She wanted her revenge, now even more than in the marketplace. During the council meeting, Brisbois had smoothly laid out excuse after excuse, lie after lie, and Jo had grown only more angry. He was not innocent. Brisbois had defamed Flinn. Brisbois had burned Flinn’s home and befriended Flinn’s killer. He had vowed his service as bondsman and then fled when Auroch had attacked. A score of true offenses rose to the surface of Jo’s mind, accompanied by a hundred imagined ones. And her anger deepened. The stone in her belt pouch seemed to throb in sympathy with her hatred, and a voice in her head whispered, Give him death, Johauna; for the sake of Flinn'7ds soul, give him death.

  But Flinn had let the man live. The irony of the situation suddenly struck Jo: Brisbois had dishonored Flinn by saying he had denied mercy to a foe on the battlefield. The charge was not only false, but absurd. Flinn demonstrated his mercy by granting a second chance to the very man who had falsely accused him. It was Flinn’s mercy that had saved Brisbois, had let him keep his title, had let him live.

  Jo felt the anger in her begin to crack. For so long this grim vow of vengeance had eclipsed her mind, eclipsed her being. And, in its deep shadow, Jo’s soul had withered. Her single-minded quest to hunt down and kill the slayers of Flinn seemed suddenly hollow, destroying rather than building her soul.

  It was making her more like Brisbois, less like Flinn.

  No, Jo told herself. True knights exhibit not only Honor, Courage, Faith, and Glory. True knights also exhibit Mercy.

  “If I am the heir to Sir Flinn’s estate as well as his commitments,” Jo said clearly, “then I can only do as he would have done: I grant mercy to Sir Brisbois.” Jo’s eyes glittered suddenly. “But Master Brisbois must fulfill his sworn word as bondsman.”

  Conflicting emotions flitted across the castellan’s face, and Jo wondered just what the man was thinking. Finally, he turned to Arteris and said, “If you so approve, Your Ladyship.”

  The baroness gave a slight nod.

  Karleah caught Jo’s eyes and said, “Looks like we’d better get that man out of the dungeons, then. We’ve a box to find.”

  Jo nodded slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. A niggling voice in her mind told her she had made the wrong choice, and for the wrong reasons.

  Chapter XI

  wish I could go with you, Jo," Sir Graybow said as he gave Jo a leg up into her horse’s saddle. He looked up at the squire and then clasped her wrist in farewell.

  Jo smiled sincerely, peering into the man's eyes. "I wish you could, too," Jo whispered.

  Sir Graybow smiled wryly. “Duty calls.” The skin around his light blue eyes wrinkled a litde.

  The young woman nodded. “Duty is important. And I know that your first loyalty must be to the castle.” Jo shook her head, her gray eyes intent. “You have given me things that no one else could. For that, you have my loyalty, and I will try my best not to fail you.”

  “That’s all I can ask, Johauna,” Sir Graybow said, looking down the road. “You do know which way to go now, don’t you?” he asked teasingly.

  “Oh, aye!” Jo responded with a laugh. “You only kept us up the better part of the night memorizing your maps!” The castellan’s questioning gaze didn’t soften. Shaking her head, Jo recited, “Head due northwest through the

  Wulfholdes and enter the Altan Tepes Mountains. From there head north by northwest until
we reach the end of the Altan Tepes and the Black Peaks take over. Follow the trail to Armstead.” She looked down at the castellan. “How’d I do?”

  Sir Graybow nodded. “Fine, Jo, fine.” The man frowned. “Its been years since I’ve seen the Black Peaks, and a more treacherous mountain range I’ve never found. There aren’t any villages along the way, not even hamlets where you can get a night’s respite.”

  “I know,” Jo responded. “We have Fernlover and one other mule to carry our supplies, and spring has come to the land. We’re strong enough. We’ll find the box, hopefully before it arrives in Armstead.”

  Sir Graybow nodded. “That’s unlikely, Jo, but not as farfetched as we had at first thought. I sent messenger pigeons to a few knights on reconnaissance along the Duke’s Road south of Kelvin, telling them to ride west to Rifllian and north to Verge and Threshold. Perhaps they’ll arrive in Threshold before the box does.”

  “Should we try to meet them in Threshold?” Jo asked steadily.

  Sir Graybow shook his head. “No, continue on through the village, heading straight northwest until you reach Armstead, then backtrack along the trail to intercept the box.”

  “Right,” Jo said lightly. “If that’s all, then, we’ll be on our way. We’ve a good hour or two before sunrise, and we can be well out of Penhaligon territory by then.” She paused and then added, “Have you any last words of wisdom?”

  The castellan smiled, his second chin wobbling slightly. “Yes, but only this: have faith in yourself. I do.” He stepped away from Jo’s horse. “That’s all I can ask, and that’s all I want.” Sir Graybow held up his hand, and a guard opened the wide doors to let Jo’s party out through one of the secondary exits.

  Jo’s throat constricted, and she could only nod one last time to the castellan. Then she touched her heels to Carsig’s flanks. The big gelding leaped forward, his metal-shod hooves ringing on the cobblestone pavement. Behind Jo rode Karleah on a mare every bit as gray as the wizardess herself. Dayin followed after, again on one of Braddoc’s long-legged ponies. Brisbois took up the next position. He’d protested upon seeing Jo’s mount, for the gelding used to be his. Jo cut his complaint short. Brisbois was given the choice between several sturdy horses, but, to everyone’s surprise, he’d picked a stocky, short-coupled, piebald mare. She was an ugly thing, but Brisbois insisted that she was what he wanted. He led a pack-laden mule, as did Braddoc. The dwarf rode his jet pony, Onyx, and led Fernlover, the mule.