The Cavalier (37 page)

Jonas dropped the sparkling shirt over his head and it seemed to shrink to his form, looking like a normal shirt of metal. It was so light that Jonas could barely feel it. Next he put the breastplate over his head and buckled it at the sides. It, too, fit perfectly, as if it were made for him. He buckled on his shoulder guards, greaves, and wrist guards. He put his new tunic in his backpack and lifted his green traveling cloak from the floor and put it back over his head. He then unbuckled his old sword and buckled on his new ones. The twin blades hung lightly at his side and the belt fit him perfectly.

Lastly, he reached out and grabbed his new bow and quiver. He buckled the quiver to the side of his pack and held the long black bow firmly in his hand. He felt magic within the bow as well, and the grip fit his hand perfectly. There was no doubt in Jonas’s mind that these were indeed gifts from Shyann.

“You are looking more and more like a cavalier every day. Now all you need is your steed,” Kiln said with a smile.

Jonas looked down at his breastplate, his swords, and his bow and grinned from ear to ear.
 
“This all feels so right, like they were made for me.”

“I think they were, my friend.”

Eight 
Startling Events

Lathrin, third lance of the Finarthian Knights, led fifty of his knights off the main road towards the farm. A report had come in several days ago that there was a massacre at one of the farm settlements near the outer limits of the king’s land. Lathrin and his men were sent out immediately by the king to investigate the attack.

Lathrin led the column of knights toward a lone farmhouse, their sparkling lance tips flashing as the setting sun shone against the jostling weapons.

A middle aged farmer wearing old worn out clothing approached them as they neared his home.

“Good day, sir, I am Lathrin, third lance of the Finarthian Knights. We have come to investigate the massacre,” he said as he stopped his warhorse next to the man.

The man eyed the soldiers uneasily before replying. “Two days ago in the middle of the night my family and I heard horrible sounds, like a battle of some sort. There was screaming and horrible screeches, sort of like a wild animal. But it didn’t sound like any animal I had ever heard. We saw a very bright light shine in the field but it didn’t last long. We didn’t know what it was. But in the morning I took my sons out into the field to investigate and saw the killings.”

“How many dead?” asked Lathrin.

“Four,” the farmer replied.

“Where did this happen?”

The man turned, pointing into a field beyond his house.
 
“It’s a short walk away, just follow the fence line and you will see it. I don’t know what will be left now with the scavengers and all. Sir, it looked like one of the men killed was a priest or maybe a cavalier. I have never seen one myself but he carried Ulren’s symbol. I didn’t touch anything; it had the feel of evil.”

“I see,” Lathrin replied. “Thank you. We will go have a look.” The farmer nodded and watched the horses thunder into the field.

It didn’t take them long to find the carnage. Lathrin could see the four forms ripped and torn to pieces even at a distance. Their dark blood had soaked into the ground, staining the otherwise beautiful grassland.

Lathrin dismounted and told the others to do the same. “Don’t touch anything,” he ordered his men. “Just look for any clues as to what may have caused this.”

Lathrin walked to one of the corpses on the ground. A large buzzard flapped its wings angrily as he approached before it was forced to fly away. The body’s chest was ripped open and it was missing an arm. The man’s face had been torn off as well. Lathrin covered his nose from the stench as he knelt by the corpse. The dead man was a warrior, that much was obvious. His metal chest plate had been ripped off and thrown to the side and his sword was lying about ten paces away. Lathrin could see four deep cuts, like claw marks, covering his right thigh. It was obvious that claws and teeth of some sort ripped open the man’s chest.
 

“What did this sir?” asked Pelimus, a veteran knight of twenty years.

“A beast of some kind. Something big and powerful. What of the other bodies?”

“Looks the same, sir. They were killed with tooth and claw. There are no other bodies about so whatever attacked them left no trace,” he said as he averted his eyes from the gruesome scene.

“Sir!” yelled one of his soldiers.

Lathrin stood up looking over his shoulder. About forty paces away one of his men was motioning for him. Lathrin and Pelimus jogged over to see what he was so excited about. “What is it, Caros?” asked Lathrin as he neared the warrior.

“Sir, I think you should look at this,” Caros said as he stepped aside to reveal another corpse. Lathrin looked down at the body and saw another mutilated corpse, this body worse than the others. His entire chest cavity had been ripped open and his entrails spread over the grass. The body was clawed repeatedly until most of the warrior’s arms and legs had been ripped of skin and flesh, exposing white bone underneath. The only thing left untouched was the man’s face, and Lathrin knew that face.

“I can’t believe it, that’s Hilius, cavalier to Bandris.”

“I thought so,” replied Caros. “I found this lying nearby.” Caros held up a silver necklace carrying a pendant marked with Bandris’s double bladed battle-axe. It was the cavalier’s religious symbol. “What could do this to a cavalier, sir?” asked the uneasy warrior.

“I don’t know, Caros,” Lathrin said kneeling next to the mutilated body and shaking his head sadly. They have been getting reports from scouts and travelers that cavaliers from Annure, Tarsis, and all the eastern lands of Kraawn, have been attacked and killed over the last year. The king had ordered his officers to keep the reports secret, but eventually word had spread through the troops and to the people of Finarth. It wasn’t long before it became common knowledge that something was hunting and killing cavaliers.

The people were becoming frightened and restless and the king had no answers for them. The only thing they did know was that an evil was awakening; there was no doubt of that. The knights of Finarth had been constantly roaming the lands trying to find the killer, or killers, but to no avail. Whatever was killing the cavaliers was eluding them.

“Bury these men,” ordered Lathrin. “Then we head back to Finarth. The king must be given word that another cavalier has been killed.”

***

“How can this be!” bellowed the king, standing up angrily from the table. In audience was Lathrin, Prince Baylin, Manlin, high priest to Shyann, and Alerion, the king’s wizard.

“I don’t know, my Lord, but I am not mistaken. I have met Hilius on several occasions. It was he, and he carried Bandris’s symbol,” replied Lathrin.

King Gavinsteal turned around and looked up toward the back wall at the huge painting depicting the Dark One being defeated by his ancestor, King Ullis Gavinsteal. He gripped his sword handle tightly as he looked at the black figure of Malbeck.
Is it possible that Malbeck is back
?

 
“Sir, if I may speak?” asked the aging wizard. Alerion’s head was bald and his chin was speckled with gray and black hair that was trimmed to a sharp point. The wizard wore an ordinary blue tunic and gray breeches, and at his shoulders hung a heavy blue cloak lined with expensive silk.

“Of course, Alerion. What have you found out?” asked the king, turning back around to address the men.

“My Lord, I have been exhausting all my power to try and gain information as you requested. I have magically contacted the court wizards at Annure, Ta-ron, and Tarsis. So far, there have been six cavaliers killed.”

“How is this possible?” whispered Manlin. “Are you sure, Alerion?”

“Yes, unfortunately I am. Lapeen, Tary’an, Osandris, Rian, Katliss, and now Hilius,” added the wizard.

The king sat down heavily in his chair. “Katliss was slain? But he was the last first rank cavalier,” moaned the bewildered king.

“I do not believe it. What could do this?” muttered the shocked priest.

“It could only be a demon or beast of great power,” answered the wizard. “It could be the same one that attacked Jonas and the knight apprentices. All six of the cavaliers were killed in different locations, but in the same way. Also, I have received an urgent message from King Kromm.”

“What is it?” asked the king.

“It is reported that a large army is forming at Banrith castle,” Alerion continued. “Tarsinian scouts have reported that orcs, goblins, boargs, and other monsters have been pouring from the Blacklands and the Mazgar Forest by the thousands.” Everyone sat in silence taking in the wizard’s words.

“Father, there can be no doubt now,” interjected Baylin. “Over three years ago a Banthra attacked a small village that happened to be the home of a small boy. Soon after that same boy was attacked on the road by a priest of Naz-reen and then attacked by a demon in our very castle. Now six cavaliers have been killed by a demon and a monstrous army is building in Banrith, the stronghold that used to be the home of Malbeck himself before he was killed a thousand years ago. Father, it is happening again. The evil in the lands is growing in power and preparing the road for invasion. What better way to do that than to take out the ultimate threat to them, the cavaliers who protect our lands from this evil.”

The king sat silently for a moment, contemplating everyone’s words. “Have we heard anything from Jonas or Kiln?” asked the king, looking up at Alerion.

“No sir. No word.”

Suddenly the chamber’s double doors burst open. Everyone looked down the hall to see a young soldier running toward them. He was dirty and sweaty and flanked by the door guards who let him in.

The king got up immediately, moving toward the stumbling scout. “What is it, Tuarg?”

“Sir, I’m sorry to barge in on you, but I have urgent news,” sputtered the man through panting breaths.

“Go ahead, what is it?”

“Sir, I was scouting deep in the flatlands along the Tuvell River when I saw an approaching army.”

“What!” stormed the king in disbelief. “Who was it?”

“Sir, they bore the colors of Lord Moradin, but there were Sithgarin tribes with him as well.”

“How many?”

“I’m not sure. We were spotted by boargs and Keltick was killed. I barely got away, but I think there must have been thirty thousand or so. My Lord, the Tuvell Garrison was destroyed to the man.”

The perimeter of the king’s land was marked by several garrisons. These garrisons served two purposes, one, to protect the local people that lived in the king’s lands and paid taxes but were far away from Finarth, and two, to act as a warning bell to any approaching threat. These garrisons were located by the only bridges big enough to move an army over the expansive Sithgarin River

“Bandris’s axe! We had five hundred men at that garrison!” the king roared. He moved back up the stairs to his throne and sat down heavily in thought. “Lathrin, call a war council. We meet in one hour.”

“Yes, my Lord,” replied Lathrin as he got up from the table and strode down the long hallway and out the double doors.

“Good work, Tuarg. Rest now and be ready to scout again tomorrow,” ordered the king.

“Yes, sir,” the tired scout replied, turning to follow Lathrin out the door.

“Father, Lord Moradin would not attack us openly unless he was being forced to, or being paid a lot of gold. He has always been a thorn in our side but he does not have the power to confront us directly. Do you think Banrith has something to do with this?”

“I do,” replied the tired king. “Something is happening at Banrith. Evil is spreading from that land again.” The king directed his demanding gaze toward Alerion. “Alerion, I need some questions answered, and soon. Is Malbeck back? What sort of evil is rising from the North? What are we going to be fighting and how do we defeat it?”

Alerion stood up and gripped his staff that was leaning against the table’s edge. “I will do my best, sire,” replied the wizard with a nod as he walked out of the king’s conference room.

“Manlin?”

“Yes, my Lord?” asked the high priest.

“Go to your temple. Pray to Shyann, use her power to find out anything for me, any information that would be useful.”

The priest stood up. “If she wills it my Lord, then I will have some answers for you.” Manlin turned, following the wizard down the hallway.

“Father, it’s a ruse of some sort. The army at Banrith attacks Tarsis, while this new army attacks us. Neither army can come to aid the other. Simple divide and conquer strategy.”

“My thoughts exactly,” the king replied. “Baylin, send out riders immediately to our allies and ask them to send their soldiers. Tell them to meet our army at the Lindsor Bridge as soon as they can mobilize their forces. How long to march an army from Numenell?”

“I’d say about eight days,” replied the prince.

“Okay, go, my son. Send out the riders and then meet me back here as soon as you can for the council. I will need you.”

“Yes, Father,” replied the prince, bowing as he departed.

***