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

So too it had told him to keep digging. And therefore he hadordered the men to do so. Discarding the bones, they dug two feet deeper, andthen their shovels struck something hard. A gold box it was, and inside scoresof little pearls, replicas of the controlling were-stone that he wore. They toowere on silver chains.

The stones he gave to the men. He knew what they would do,but they did not. They thought them rewards for service. The gold box he gaveto them too. They could sell it when they returned to Faladir and distributethe wealth among themselves.

Except they would never return. Their fate was sealed now,and their lives belonged to him. He would use them, but how?

He was not sure. He had not known then, and he still didnot. He knew now that the transformation the stones engendered would aid himthough. But before he pressed too far forward on that, he needed to know whereto go.

That was what infuriated him. He knew Lindercroft was dead.He knew their quarry had escaped, yet again. What he did not know was where hisquarry had gone.

The king had been furious at that. It was best forLindercroft that he had died, for surely the king would have condemned him to aworse fate.

How the king knew of Lindercroft’s death, he was not sure.Some magic beyond his understanding, no doubt. All had seemed well until then,too, for Lindercroft had sent the elù-draks back to help subdue Faladir whereunrest constantly grew. They had taken a message with them as well. The enemyhad been found and surrounded. There would be no escape.

Oh, how the king had railed about that. For the next day heknew Lindercroft was dead, but not the enemy.

The king had told him what he knew, which was little enough.He had warned him too that no more failures would be tolerated. Savanestunderstood that, and he expected nothing less. He must prove himself worthy tobe a leader in this bright new world to come.

Yet he remained at a standstill. Worse, he did not know howhis brother knight fared. Sofanil searched for their enemy too, but Savanesthad been set the task before him. If he were not the one to neutralize thethreat of the enemy, he might well be killed. At the very least, he wouldsuffer a fall from grace that would take years to recover from. If ever.

But he did not know where to search, other than southward,toward the hated forest of the elves. The pressure on him was enormous, but hewas a knight. Once a Kingshield Knight, and now a Morleth Knight. He would finda way.

Lindercroft had found the enemy. But how? And why had he notgiven details of where in his message back to the king? That was anunacceptable failure, and yet Savanest understood it. Knowledge was power, andthe other knights a threat. The rivalry between them all was enormous, andsecrecy was the rule unless dire need intervened. Lindercroft had no desire tosee his rivals come in at the last moment and help destroy the enemy. So he hadkept his knowledge secret, and taken it to the grave with him.

Savanest felt a chill. An inkling of an idea came to him,and with it hope but also stabbing fear. Lindercroft knew all that wasnecessary to restart the hunt. But Lindercroft was dead, his knowledge lost tothe world…

But was it?

Once the thought entered Savanest’s mind, he could notbanish it. So what that Lindercroft was dead? He still had the knowledge, andthe dead could be summoned.

It would be a great risk. Enormous. Savanest was not quitesure of the rites, but his power was growing day by day. He felt his connectionover all the countless leagues to the Morleth Stone, and he knew that wouldguide him. He had also read ancient texts. Yes, he could summon the spirit ofLindercroft and put it to the question.

This was not a decision to think deeply on. The more hethought, the more fearful and indecisive he would become. The risks were great,but they could not be allowed to stifle the potential gains that were greaterstill. He must act, and soon. Otherwise dread would paralyze him.

Night was not far away, and already his mind leaped towardwhat rites were needed. Darkness was a necessity. Midnight would be the time,for in that juncture between night and day where the barriers between worlds wasat its weakest it was the best time to act. So too the lake would help. It alsowas a gateway between worlds, being neither of the land nor the sky.

He breathed in once more the sweet smell of old smoke andash from the ruined cabin, and then he strode toward the lake. His men lookedat him as he approached.

“Wait here,” he commanded. “Stay close to the camp, and ifyou value your lives do not follow me. Move away from here for nothing, nomatter what lights you may see in the distance. Or what sounds.”

He left them then as dusk fell. He would walk a mile or so away,and then prepare. Midnight was a good while off, but the hours between would bespent in meditation and communion with the stone.

As he walked, the men behind him lit their campfires for thenight, but they were small. Already the transformation was beginning, and theydid not like the light, but they did not notice. Soon though, they would. Hefingered the were-stone as he strode ahead. The men would cause no problems. Hemust bring his mind to bear on the task at hand.

Night fell around him, sending tendrils of mist from thestill-warm water of the lake. Up on the ridges, owls hooted and somethingsplashed in the water nearby. The valley teemed with life, but soon it wouldopen up to the world of death.

He came to a stop at a place where the bank was green withgrass and some willows, dark and still in the shadows, overhung the lake edge.He was far enough from the men here that they should see nothing. But thatcould not be guaranteed. He had never done this before. Yet if