Knight Eternal (A Novel of Epic Fantasy) (Harbinger of Doom Volume 3) (2 page)

Claradon tried not to look
at the portrait, tried to keep his composure.

“
I should’ve been with
them. Who knows, maybe I could’ve made some difference—or at least,
I could’ve died with them. I should have.”

“
We were with Sir Gabriel,
at least,” said Claradon.

Ob nodded. “It’s good that you were beside
him at the end; not good for a man to die alone.”

They sat in silence for a time, grieving in
their own way, until Claradon spoke again.

“
We both need to get some
rest. Your arm is badly hurt and my head still throbs; one ear
hears almost nothing, the other rings without end.”

“
Aye, mine ring as well. A
day or two will heal them, if Thor’s luck is with us. As for my
arm, thanks to whatever witch’s brew Mr. Fancy Pants slipped me, it
seems I will heal unnatural quick-like. No doubt that tin can will
be claiming he saved my life to all and everyone.”

Ob lifted his ale mug and
took several swallows. “There are some important things that you’ve
a need to know. Things that maybe Aradon and Gabe should’ve told
you long ago, but they did not, for reasons of their own. So now
the telling falls to me.”

Claradon grew paler, nodded, and leaned back
into the cushioned armchair, jaw set, eyes staring straight
ahead.

“
When I first came to the
Dor, long before I became Castellan, I worked as a scout for your
father’s grandfather who was the young lord of the House at that
time. In those days there was a knight who was a good friend to
your great grandfather. He would come to visit and go hunting with
him in the mountains and such. This knight was a great weapons
master, and during his visits he would often train the knights of
the House in the ways of battle. His name was Gabriel.”

“
Quite a coincidence, but
what importance does it have?”

“
It’s not a coincidence at
all, boy, and that’s the point of it. That Gabriel and our Gabriel
were the same fellow. Gabe wasn’t no normal man. He was old. I’m
over three hundred, but to him, I was a child.”

“
That doesn’t make any
sense. Men don’t live that long.”

“
Some men do, it seems; if
men they truly be.”

Claradon got up and paced.
“I’ve heard stories of certain wizards, with their potions and
such, that can extend life and maintain youth, but Gabriel was no
wizard. He was a soldier—a knight, a hero.”

“
I can’t explain it, boy.
I just know it to be the truth. Back in the day, after some years
went by, Gabe stopped coming around. He had gone traveling about
the world, doing hero stuff and such, I expect. I didn’t see him
again until one day, many a year later, when he showed up at the
Dor.

“
I was shocked when I laid
eyes upon him. It had been decades but he looked as young as he did
when I first came to the Dor.

“
I was the only one that
knew; the only one around long enough to remember.

“
Gabe took me aside and
told me that I had to swear never to tell nobody about his secret.
So I swore. You’re the first and only person I’ve done talked to
about this, save for your father, and he already knew. I’m only
telling you now cause they’re both gone and you’ve a right to
know.”

“
Father knew all
this?”

“
Your grandfather told
him. Seems all the lords of the House knew, far back into olden
times. Family legend says Gabe was a good friend to the Eotrus for
many generations, long afore I came here.”

“
Did you ask him how he
lived so long? Could he have had elven blood?”

“
I asked him, but he
wouldn’t speak of it, save to say he was no elf. He said that there
were others like him and that they would kill me dead if they found
out that I knew about them. Gabe was never one to make idle threats
or warnings, so I done believed him. You mustn’t tell no one what I
told you today, or they’ll kill you and me both. You must keep
especial quiet around Mr. Fancy Pants. I would bet my life that old
Lord Angle Theta is one of them.”

“
Ob, from anyone other
than you, I don’t think I would believe a word of this, but after
what we went through last night—”

“
I’ve never lied to you,
Claradon—.”

“
I know that.”

“
I’ve never lied, but
there have been some truths like what I just told you that I’ve had
to hold back. There’s more to it, boy. It’ll be difficult for you
to hear.”

“
More? Tell me. Tell me
and let’s be done with this.”

Ob took a swig from his mug and then placed
it on the night table. Claradon sat down on the edge of the
armchair.

“
One time, when Gabe
returned to the Dor after a mission doing hero stuff, he brought
with him a small child—a mere babe.”

“
A baby?”

“
A cute little bugger, as
far as you volsungs go anyways. He entrusted it to the care of your
father. Then Gabe picked up and left again for a time. Aradon kept
the child, and he and his Lady, who had no children yet of their
own, raised him as their very own son, but for some darned reason,
he never told the boy that he wasn’t his natural
father.”

Claradon’s face went
white, his hands icy cold.

“
How many years
ago?”

“
Twenty five.”

Claradon’s eyes slowly closed. Ob tried to
pass him the mug but Claradon brushed it away. They sat in silence
for some minutes.

“
So I’m not a true
Eotrus.”

“
Don’t ever be saying
that, boy. You are as much an Eotrus as Aradon, Jude, or any of
them. You are Aradon’s son in every way that is important. Nobody
would dispute that, not even Gabe.”

“
In the Vermion you said
that I’m the lord of the land now. But am I? Or is
Jude?”

“
You are, Claradon. You
are the Lord of the House now, answerable only to the King and the
High Council, and don’t ever forget it. And if you’re smart, you
will not tell Jude or anyone about this, ever. It can only bring
trouble.”

A vacant stare dominated Claradon’s
face.

“
Was Gabriel my real
father?”

“
No, boy, he wasn’t. All I
can say about it is that your natural parents died when you was a
babe.”

Claradon reached for the mug.

***

While in pursuit of
Korrgonn and Mortach, Claradon received a summons from the High
Council of Lomion, ordering him to travel to Lomion City to receive
official appointment as the new Lord of Dor Eotrus. Claradon found
the High Council fractured into rival groups, some members
supporting the traditional government while others were loyal to
The Shadow League, a mysterious group allied with the dark powers
of Nifleheim.

Chancellor Barusa of House Alder accused
Claradon of conspiring to murder Aradon and claim Dor Eotrus for
his own, before his time. To avoid losing the Dor to the Alders,
Claradon challenged, and bested Barusa in single combat, thereby
solidifying his claim to the Dor.

Aided by Harringgold,
Archduke of Lomion, Claradon and his comrades tracked the Nifleheim
lords to an old warehouse in the dread Southeast section of Lomion
City. Disguised as cultists, they stumbled into a black mass
attended by thousands and presided over by Ginalli, an Arkon and
High Priest of The Shadow League.

Ginalli’s sermon told the
tale of the Harbinger of Doom, the ancient fiend of myth and legend
that had long ago led a rebellion against the cultists’ “one true
god,” Azathoth. Thrown out of the heavens for his treachery, this
monster was cursed for all time and reviled by all mankind no
matter what name or guise he took. Korrgonn stepped from the
shadows and boomed that this harbinger of doom walked Midgaard
still, though untold centuries had passed, and that he was here, in
Lomion.

“
Where?” shouted the
cultists.

Directly at Theta, Korrgonn pointed.

Panic ensued and Claradon
and his group fled. Mortach of Nifleheim pursued them and cornered
Theta and Ob. Ob escaped through a hole while Theta confronted
Mortach. The gnome overheard all that passed between them. Theta
admitted that in ancient days he had turned against Azathoth, but
claimed that it was Azathoth and his followers that were evil, not
he. Mortach claimed that Azathoth is good, and that the Nifleheim
lords merely carry out his bidding as part of a larger, holy plan
beyond Theta’s grasp. The two agreed, their argument could end only
one way: the old way of the sword. And so, in a duel witnessed by
none, and overheard only by Ob the gnome, Lord Angle Theta slew
Mortach, Lord of Nifleheim.

This meant that Theta was the Bogeyman, The
Prince of Lies, the veritable Harbinger of Doom of myth and legend.
Since the betrayal of Azathoth took place ages ago, this also meant
that Theta was old beyond comprehension. Ob’s mind nearly fractured
as the truth of this settled in. Theta swore Ob to secrecy.

The group rejoined and
vowed to continue their quest to destroy Korrgonn and the mad
cultists that worshipped him.

Some weeks later…

I

THE MESSENGER

“
To sate my thirst, I will drink

thy blood—the blood of
kings
.”

A cloaked figure shambled
through the Outer Dor, a vibrant town of some few thousands that
encircled the stone fortress called Dor Eotrus. The people gave the
shambler wide berth, suspicious of strangers in those dark times.
Hunched beneath a black cloak that concealed its face, the wearer’s
aspect remained unknown as he approached the entry to the Dor
proper.

Several soldiers manned the guard post
outside the entryway, passing the time with a game of dice. The
tallest of the group, a gaunt veteran with a scar across his right
cheek, stepped forward. He shivered from a sudden chill in the
air.

“
Halt, and state your
business,” said Sir Marzdan, watch captain of the gate. With each
breath, steam rose from Marzdan’s mouth, where there was none
moments before. The shambler stopped before the captain, though he
said nothing.

“
Who are you?” said
Marzdan after some moments. “Speak.” Marzdan’s fingers tapped his
sword hilt.

“
Messenger,” moaned the
cloak, though no steam followed from beneath its hood.

Marzdan eyed him with suspicion and wrinkled
his nose when he caught the fetid stench that emanated from the
messenger. It wasn’t the stink of a beggar, but something fouler,
darker. The other guards took notice, put aside their game, and
took up positions some feet behind their captain.

“
What is your
message?”

“
Only for the Eotrus,” he
said in a slow, eerie voice that made Marzdan’s neck hairs stand
up.

“
That will not get you
in.” Marzdan looked him up and down. “Who sent you here? Have you
some token?”

“
A token?” said the
messenger. “Yes, a token I do have.” The messenger slowly reached
out his arm toward the watchman. The hand that emerged from beneath
that threadbare cloak wore no human flesh. No skin, no muscle, no
sinew concealed its naked gray bones. This was no mere messenger,
but some creature out of nightmare.

Marzdan’s eyes widened;
his fingers locked around his sword hilt, though he didn’t pull the
blade free. “What—what are you?”

“
Messenger,” moaned the
cloak once again.

Marzdan’s face blanched,
but he stood his ground and stared at the skeletal hand and the
gleaming contents it held. A ring–a golden ring that bore the
symbol of House Eotrus, the noble family that ruled the fortress
and the surrounding lands.

“
Make no move
creature.”

Marzdan moved closer and plucked the ring
from the boney hand, taking great care to touch only the ring.

“
Wait here,” said the
knight. “I’ll get word to the citadel.”

The messenger stood still as a statue,
silent as the grave. Marzdan backed cautiously away, his hand never
leaving his sword hilt.

“
I’m going to get Jude,”
Marzdan said quietly to his guardsmen. “You men stand fast. If that
thing holds his ground, leave him be. Not a word to him,
understand?”

“
Not a word,” said
Harsnip, a skinny blond soldier not yet eighteen—his eyes wide,
voice crackling with fear.

“
If he tries to pass the
gate, you’re to cut him down. Whatever it takes, you don’t let him
pass. You‘re to protect the Dor. Understood?”

“
Aye,” said Baret, an
older soldier with white hair. “We know our job, Captain. That
bugger will not get by us, to be sure, but you be quick. Right
quick.”

“
Right quick,” said
Harsnip.

“
Aye, I will,” said
Marzdan, a wary eye still on the messenger.

“
That arm—it’s nothing but
bones,” whispered Graham, a stout soldier with big ears.

“
Nothing but bones,” said
Harsnip.

“
This is some sorcery,
some foul magic,” said Graham.

“
It’s foul magic, it is,”
said Harsnip.

“
There’s no such thing as
magic, you fools,” said Baret. “A damn trick is all, to fool
us.”