The Sworn Knight Page 2

  Her words were vague and hard to remember. It was also said that the dead spoke in riddles. But what had she said about him? If she was right about Ferla, she would be right about him too.

  He knew there was more, but he did remember this. It was something about him not being who he thought he was.

  That brought a smile to his face. The meaning was clear enough there. He had thought he was the man destined to be the seventh knight, even though he refused that fate. But he was something else.

  What else had the queen said about him? Something about a burden he had to carry and it would be heavier than most men’s. He wished he had paid more attention. But maybe it wouldn’t have helped. That really was a riddle.

  Gazing out at the forest far, far below he got the feeling that change was in the air. It was like the world was breathless, waiting. Everything was silent. It was an uneasy feeling, and his instincts quickened to life with the threat of danger and his heart thudded.

  Diving and rolling, he drew his sword and came to his feet ready to fight. He wore no armor today, but he went nowhere without the sword and he would sell his life dearly.

  It was only Asana though. His teacher had approached silently, as was his wont. He had drawn no weapon, but this was part of his training. Always he pushed his two students to hone their instincts and be wary. You could not fight a man if he stabbed you in the back by stealth.

  Asana merely grinned at him, and slowly Faran sheathed the sword, but his heart still thudded. It was just a part of their daily training, but this much was different: Asana had never smiled before. But now his face was lit up and his eyes danced with amusement.

  Ever since the battle with Lindercroft, he had been like this. It was as though he was a different man. He smiled and grinned and jested constantly with Kubodin.

  But perhaps this was his real self. The man they had known before was one who had believed he was soon to die. That had come out after the battle as well, and Faran was even more in awe of him. He had taught his students despite thinking it would ultimately cause his death.

  “Nicely done, Faran.” Asana said. His lips still twitched. “I tried hard to sneak up on you then, but perhaps just now isn’t a good time for our usual games. We’re still on edge.”

  He said no more, but Faran read in his gaze what he thought. Faran himself was more on edge than anyone else, and he was right

  “Shall we sit together a little while?”

  They did so and looked out at the vast expanse of Alithoras.

  “What troubles you?” Asana asked eventually.

  Faran trusted this man, and he knew it would be good to get things off his chest.

  “I never wanted to be the seventh knight. And I’m glad it’s Ferla instead. Although it puts her at even greater risk, but she’s willing to shoulder that responsibility. But I feel lost, myself. Who am I? What is my purpose? Do I even have one?”

  Asana nodded. “Troubling thoughts, to be sure.” He leaned back, placing his arms behind him. “I once had a friend. He had a favorite saying, which was that it’s good to be normal.”

  Faran looked out at Halathar. “Do you think that’s my lot in life then? To be normal?”

  Asana laughed. “You could wish it was so. Being something else is dangerous. But in truth, you are anything but normal. My advice though is to wait and see. Ferla has found her destiny. Yours will come too. But don’t seek it out. A destiny is a dangerous thing. Let it find you, and enjoy your life as best as circumstances permit until then.”

  They sounded like wise words. But they also gave the impression that Asana knew something he was not saying.

  3. The Mark of Danger

  The next day, the little group left the mountain. It was past time that they did so, for danger grew rapidly every day they did not.

  Faran thought they had timed it right, though. They had needed a few days to recover from their injuries. It would have done them no good to escape the mountain earlier only to be waylaid in the wild somewhere and unable to fight properly. That was a death sentence.

  Kubodin had suffered the worst injuries. But the little man had shrugged them off quickly. He was not as well as he pretended though, yet Faran would still not like to take him on, injured or not. He had proved himself nearly Asana’s equal as a warrior, but he also possessed some strange kind of magic.

  They were headed down the southern slope of the mountain, the same side Faran and Ferla had first come up what now seemed long ago. But on the brink, they all stood and looked back.

  Faran was not sure what the others were thinking. It was probably along the same lines as him though. This was a goodbye. Probably even a final goodbye. The mountain had been home, and it was sad to leave it. There was beauty and peace here. There were memories too. Those at least, would come with them.

  He reached out and took Ferla’s hand. She squeezed his own firmly. They had both been through this before, but they were still alive and better equipped now to deal with what the future might bring than they ever had before. It did not lessen the sense of loss though.

  Kareste was the first to move. Almost, Faran thought, he heard her sigh and then she swung around and began walking down the path, her staff by her side and used now and then as a walking stick.

  The others followed. It was a bright day, and warm. Soon Faran felt perspiration bead on his face, but it was certainly easier walking down that it had been walking up.

  “Do not let your guard down,” Kareste warned them. She did not look back as she spoke.

  Faran knew what she meant. He, and the others, scanned the sky regularly for signs of elù-draks, but there were none. They also kept an eye out on the slopes below, and as far as they could see in the distance over the battle plains. Nothing stirred. But that was no guarantee.

  Kubodin came up behind them on his mule. He was the rear guard, and also the one best positioned to keep a lookout. It was easier to do this riding than walking down a slope.

  The little man whistled softly to himself, and he hummed and even sang at times. But every time Faran glanced back at him, his eyes were sharp and alert. He would miss nothing that was there to be seen.

  Night fell not long after. It was a warm evening, and moths filled the air. This was especially the case when they went through some of the small valleys where the great pines grew. It was darker here too, and they slowed as they went, Kareste leading them carefully.

  No one said anything, but they all knew if some ambush awaited them it would be sprung in such a place. But just as Kubodin was wary behind them, Kareste almost seemed to scent the air like a wild animal before she proceeded.

  It might be, Faran considered, that she used magic to sense what was ahead of her. It was a skill he did not have, nor had it been suggested to him as possible, but he had a feeling that it might be able to be done and even a few ideas on how to attempt it.

  They did not speak as they walked now, for they were in the midst of one such valley. Faran moved as silently as he could, drawing on his hunter’s skills, and Ferla did likewise. She walked ahead of him, her hand always near her sword hilt, and her head turning regularly from side to side.

  They had debated before they left where they would go, and when they would do it. There were reasons not to travel at night, yet Kareste had argued that the dark would hide them, and if it came to a fight then they had all proved themselves. But it would be better to slip away, using what cover was available. On a mountain, this meant traveling at night.

  Faran thought she was right, and her view had prevailed. But Asana had not been convinced. Even so, he had deferred to her leadership, and in this he had shown his maturity. As great a swordsman as he was, he had little knowledge of their enemies and the types of creatures that might be sent against them. Nor did he understand magic and sorcery.

  But Kareste did, and for all that she took her time and trod warily, she also moved with confidence. They were lucky to have her, and if she was not Aranloth then she was the closes
t to him they would ever see, and they trusted her.

  The stars shimmered in the dark sky, and the half-moon hung heavy, casting long shadows down the mountain. In one of those hidden valleys, where the great pines grew, they rested during the middle reaches of the night.

  The grass was wet with dew, but they sat and ate a light meal. When they were done, they talked quietly. All except Kubodin who kept a guard a short distance away so that he could better hear if someone, or something, approached.

  “It worries me,” Ferla said quietly, “that we have seen no sign of the elù-draks.”

  Kareste glanced skyward at mention of the word, as they all did.

  “I’ve been wondering, too,” the lòhren answered. “It’s a mystery, but it can only be to our benefit. I suspect Lindercroft sent them back to serve the king when he was sure we were surrounded and could not escape.”

  “But why didn’t he use them against us in the battle?” Asana asked.

  Faran had asked himself the same thing, but he was glad to get Kareste’s confirmation.

  “The elù-draks are best suited to causing fear from the sky, and finding quarry for their masters. In battle, they can be terrible, for they are hard to kill. But they’re not good at fighting as part of a group. They’re almost as likely to turn on their own as on us. Nor do they work well together with their own kind.”

  Faran tried to think what he would do now if he were in the king’s position.

  “If the elù-draks were sent back to the king before the battle started, do you think Druilgar even knows that Lindercroft is dead?”

  “A good question,” Asana said.

  Kareste nodded. “So it is. But we have no way of knowing for sure. I think it likely, though. Perhaps he didn’t discover it straightaway, but we must assume he knows now and is taking steps. The elù-draks were certainly not Lindercroft’s only way of reporting to the king.”

  She did not say magic, but Faran thought that was what she meant.

  “What steps will he be taking?” Faran asked.

  Kareste grinned, but her expression was still grim. Just then she reminded Faran of Kubodin.

  “Find us and kill us,” she said. “But he’ll be all the more worried now. We’ve eluded his forces again and again, or killed them. And the prophecy will be a weight on his mind. Every day that Ferla lives is a day it will feel heavier to him.”

  They moved off again into the silent night after that. The moon was lowering, and a bank of clouds rolled in from the east. It grew dark, and there was a sense of brooding in the air.

  But they saw nothing out of place, and after the long night ended they reached the bottom of the mountain and walked on the flat plains as the sun rose and the stars faded away.

  It warmed quickly again, and the light felt hot when it shone through gaps in the clouds. Kareste, showing no signs of tiredness, found a small gully where an overhanging bank gave them shelter from the sun, and also from prying eyes.

  They ate again and rested, and also took turns keeping watch through the day. But there was no sign of another living soul. The mule grazed at whiles, and the sound of it was peaceful. It reminded Faran of the livestock at Dromdruin Village, and he slept well.

  When the night came again, they were moving once more. Their luck had been good that no elù-draks had returned, but it could not last. The farther they traveled away from the mountain the safer they would be.

  It surprised Faran though that they moved to the south and toward Halathar.

  “Are we going to the elves?” he asked.

  It was Asana who answered him. “No. But the elves and I have an arrangement. There’s a place where Kubodin or I can leave a message for them if we leave the mountain, as we are, or if there is trouble.”

  “Or if they ever wanted to kick us out of our home,” Kubodin added.

  “That they never did,” Asana answered, “nor would they. But we were only caretakers there and they knew we would leave eventually. This was arranged to let them know.”

  “They already know something has happened,” Kareste said. “They would have seen the elù-draks likely enough, if from a distance, and maybe even sensed some of the magics unleashed.”

  “But they will not know that we are leaving, or even if we are alive.”

  Kareste nodded at that, and some time toward the middle of the night they came to a strange area on the plains. Here, a small collection of trees grew, perhaps some outreach from the great forest that could not be that far away now. But in the center was a kind of glade.

  There was something different here. Some sense of magic, and Faran felt that the air was almost alive. Kareste glanced at him, but said nothing.

  Aranloth had told him about places like this. There were areas where magic ran strongly in the earth. On such places, rings of standing stones had often been built. Or the people of antiquity had gathered for ceremonies.

  But there were no standing stones here. There was a single stone though, half as tall as a man and set deep into the earth. It was white and chalky, and Faran got the sense that once it was much larger, but time and weather had worn away at it.

  The stone was of no particular shape, but the top of it was flat, and that appeared to be shaped by tools rather than time.

  Asana moved over to the stone, and the others followed. All except Kubodin who held back a little way and kept watch.

  “The messages are left with stones,” Asana informed them. “Just simple messages, you understand. Nothing too complex.”

  He reached down and picked up some small stones, only as large as a pigeon egg, from the ground. These were not white, nor was their lying about the accident they seemed. They had been left there deliberately, and they were large enough that neither wind nor rain would dislodge them if left on the table-like top of the larger stone.

  Asana carefully laid some stones out in a pattern of three slanted lines. They went from right to left, and each was longer than the previous.

  “A drùgluck sign,” Kareste whispered.

  “Indeed,” Asana replied. “It will warn the elves that danger is abroad, and its nature.”

  Faran was familiar with the mark. Aranloth had told him much about it. It was the mark of evil, and used by elugs and elùgroths as a warning to stay away from a certain place.

  “Next,” Asana continued, “a stone to represent Nuril Faranar.”

  For this, he used a stone larger than the others, and he placed it dead in the center of the flat surface. The stone must have been especially picked for just this purpose. It was rounded on the sides but rose to a flat surface where it had been chipped. It looked like a replica of the mountain itself, but no one would be able to guess that or interpret the message. Only Asana telling them that it was so had let them see it.

  After that, he placed two stones at the bottom corner of the surface. One was larger than the other, and it was pale while the other was darker.

  “Me and Kubodin,” he indicated. Then he took a stone and made several scratches radiating out in a circle on the chalky surface.

  Faran knew what it was. Agrak. It symbolized a group of doves taking flight.

  “The rune for flee,” he said, and he saw Ferla nodding at his words.

  “Exactly so,” Asana confirmed. “It’s a simple message, but the elves will get the drift of it.”

  They left then, but even as they did so Asana picked up a rock, the size of his fist, that lay beneath a tree. He moved it to the tree beside it.

  Kareste laughed. “You and the Halathrin are certainly careful enough.”

  Faran did not understand. “What was the purpose of that.”

  “It’s simple enough,” Asana replied. “If for some reason the message I left is disturbed, the elves will know at least that one had been left. Shifting that stone was a second message.”

  “It would also act as a warning,” Kareste added. “If the proper message is obliterated, it would mean, almost certainly, that people did it. And that in itself
is a signal to take care and be watchful.”

  They left the little glade then, moving out of the trees and back onto the plain. Nothing had changed, nor was there any sign of the enemy. But Kareste waited patiently for some while, casting her gaze everywhere in search of something out of place before they proceeded.

  They only walked another hour or so before finding a hollow in the land, overgrown with a clump of bushes. It was not great cover, and the mule was likely visible, at least from the sky, but it was the best they could find.

  There, they ate another cold meal. Kareste would allow no fires, nor did Faran think it would have been wise to do so. A few cold meals were a small sacrifice to hide from the enemy.

  “What now?” Kubodin asked. He sat cross-legged on the ground, his axe in his hand and his whetstone rubbing loudly over the already sharp blades.

  No one answered. But eventually, Ferla stirred. “I know my duty. I must return to Faladir, and find a way to overthrow the evil that has grown there.”

  Faran did not hesitate. “I’ll go with you.”

  She smiled at him then, but it was a sad smile. “I don’t expect you to, Faran. Likely, I go to my death, and I’ll not be responsible for yours as well.”

  “Nor will you be. You stuck by me all this time, and you could have left. It was your choice. Now, the choice is mine to make, and you bear no responsibility for it. I’m going with you, and that’s that.”

  There was a murmur of approval from the others, and Kareste spoke.

  “We have all agreed on this. We are all going with you. The evil in Faladir will spread. It threatens all realms and all lands. We will do what we can to help you fulfill the prophecy.”

  Ferla seemed humbled by those words, and there was a glimmer of tears in her eyes but she made no move to wipe them away.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I have a task to do, and in truth I’ll need your help. But regardless of prophecy, I have no idea how to go about things.”

  “Prophecy has a habit of being vague like that,” Kareste replied, “but the way forward will become clearer as we go, and we can begin to plan as we travel.”