The Sworn Knight, Robert Ryan [good beach reads .txt] 📗

Asana sighed. “It makes no difference, my friend.”

Kubodin nodded. “Hey! That was a long story,” he said. “Nowit’s time for some sleep.”

Saying no more the little man moved away into the trees andlay down to rest.

Ferla looked at Asana, and she was sure there were tears inhis eyes now. But he lay down as well and hid his face.

The watch was Ferla’s, and she knew she would not have beenable to sleep anyway.

The sun rose higher, and she realized that great though hertroubles were, they were not the only ones. Evil did not always come from aMorleth Stone. It was in the hearts of men first.

9. Unwitting Fools

Savanest had wasted no time, and he and his men hadhastened to the lone mountain known as Nuril Faranar. He did not like thatname. He liked nothing about the immortal Halathrin, and Alithoras would havebeen better if the elves had never come here on their great exodus.

He was not sure that he had always felt that way. His youthwas hazy to him these days, his memory not what it was. Oftentimes he reachedfor thoughts that he knew he had once had, and found new ways of thinking thereinstead. It was disconcerting, but it was the least of his worries.

Death. Now that was a greater concern, and he contemplatedit now. For now he sat, calm and reposed in meditation before a grave. Nor wasit just any grave, but the grave of Knight Lindercroft. His sword it was thatmarked this resting place, and Savanest would know it anywhere. The weapons andarmor of the knights were all similar in their making, but never identical.

How many times had he sparred Lindercroft, the knight wieldingthat same sword? How many times had he spoken to him, noticing how his handnever rested far from it? All the knights were trained to do that. A weaponshould always be able to be drawn quickly. But Lindercroft often hooked histhumb in his belt to remind him to keep it close. It was a novice training aidthat he had never grown out of.

Nor would he ever. He was dead now, buried in the cold earthon the top of this inhospitable mountain. He would never feel the sun again. Hewould never walk or talk or enjoy the simple pleasures of a cold drink of waterafter a hard training session. He was dead, and everything he felt or thoughtor dreamed was dead with him.

Whatever remained of his spirit was in the void now. Someclaimed that in the void the spirit found its true home. Others that there wasno such thing as a spirit at all.

Savanest knew better. He had summoned the dead now. He hadspoken to Lindercroft across the barrier between worlds. But he remembered thatAranloth had told him once that this was not proof of the existence of aspirit. There were those who believed that a spirit was no more than the shadowof a person’s life. Or a reflection of the real thing. But as neither shadownor reflection was the thing itself, so too a ghost was not the real person. Hecould not recall Aranloth ever saying what he had believed himself though,which was typical. Always he held back his higher knowledge, if he had any.

The Morleth Stone was better. It was a true Osahka, and abetter guide to the mysteries of the cosmos. Not that serving it was easy.

It was depressing to meditate by a grave, and Savaneststood. Earlier, he had sent out scouts to find a trail, but he was notconvinced they would find anything. But he had to wait on whatever news theywould bring. In the meantime, he must wait, inactive, and that annoyed him.

He decided to walk to the southern side of the plateau. Heknew what he would see from there, and he would not like it. But a knight mustconfront his own emotions and control them. Otherwise, they would control him,and that was a fault of lesser men.

The gardens he passed through meant nothing to him. What usewas beauty? It was a construct of emotion only, and it served no practicalpurpose. A sword though, that was a thing of true beauty. It was designed well.It was efficient. It could kill or protect, and the skill to use itsuccessfully only came after great devotion.

It did not take him long to reach the side of the plateau.The slope tumbled down before him, and he enjoyed the sensation of height. Faraway and far below, was the smudge of forest that he knew was Halathar, theforest of the elves.

How he hated them! The elves had thwarted progress long ago.Since then, Alithoras had stultified. It had not moved forward. Things now wereas they were then, and they could have been so much better long ago.

But change was coming. He felt it. He lived it. He was aninstrument of destiny, and he would help to bring a new order to the world.Everyone would be equal. Everyone would live in prosperity. There would be noconflict to annoy and distract, for those who contested the new order would bedestroyed. Utterly.

Several hours passed, and the delay vexed him. But he coulddo nothing without information, and it took time for the men who had been sentto scour the land to do so and then return.

It vexed him also that he had no elù-draks. Lindercroft hadbeen given full use of them, but he had not. The king had claimed that theywere needed in the city. It was certainly true that there were rebels there,but the king had an army and he had only fifty men.

His vexation was forgotten as the captain approached him.The scouts would have returned and reported to him.

“My lord,” the captain said, and he saluted crisply.

“What news?”

“The scouts report tracks everywhere. Even down the mountainat many points, and some of these are recent but they cannot tell which was themost recent. They are all at least several days old, even a week or so old.They followed them, as best they could. Some circled back up to here. Others theywere not sure. The