The Knight and the Knave

Chapter 3   The sleek gray horse galloped across the dark snow-covered plains. For days, the knight had ridden his powerful horse to the northern reaches. The burnished silver half-plate armor of the Templar Knights reflected the pale moonlight like a mirror. Unlike the bulkier plate mail armor found elsewhere throughout the Flanaess, this armor replaced the cumbersome chain mail with black leather, thus allowing for greater ease of movement and control. His only protection against the frigid winter air was a heavy cloak of gray wool wrapped around his shoulders, and clasped at the neck by a silver and black brooch engraved with a spread-winged hawk. Upon the horse's left flank was sheathed a great sword, almost five feet in length, with a shiny silvery hilt and black leather covered grip, whose pommel was engraved with the same bird of prey. An angry scowl clouded his handsome features. His skin was the dark tones of the Palish folk, and his raven black hair was tied in the fashion of the Dedicated, a long ponytail reaching down his back. The thunder of hoofbeats drowned the  constant stream of prayers whispered through clenched teeth. "O Blinding Light, set thy heavenly lamps to guide my way. Let thy pure radiance pierce this darkness before me, that I, thy humble and faithful servant, may deliver thy justice upon the wicked. Let me be the instrument of thy redemption, that I may right this dreadful wrong and restore thy disgraced son before the eyes of thy flock. Let me wreak thy righteous vengeance upon this heathen who has cast a shadow of doubt upon thy most faithful knight. Let this pagan be blinded by the Light of your truth and let him come to see the Way of Righteousness." The knight rode on no mere quest for revenge. This was a fervent task to clear the name of an innocent man, who had been beset by wicked unbelievers. He had taken the northeastern road to Eltison Town, then had ridden cross-country to Holdworthy. His quarry had been sighted there, headed in a northerly direction. Putting his trust in the Lightbringer's hands, he had forsaken the road to Wintershiven, and rode across the fields in the direction of the Brilliant Castles. For aside from several small villages and monasteries, there were no major settlements in the northern reaches. The man he sought was a treacherous pagan. The man had brought ruin and disgrace to the young knight's father, and cast shame upon the family's name. The young man had arrived at the family estate too late to intervene. His father was gone and his lands now belonged to someone else. And so, armed only with a sword and his faith, the knight had set off in pursuit of the criminal responsible for this tragedy. He had only a description and a fragment of an overheard conversation as proof of the man's guilt, but the knight had no fear, for the great god Pholtus was with him. With His aid, those who were responsible would be found, and His holy wrath would know no earthly bounds.   -----o-----   Morning eventually came to the snowy fields of the Pale. The winter nights were long and the short days brought little warmth to combat the bitter chill in the air. The young Templar Knight met the sunrise on one knee, feeling the warm kiss of the golden rays upon his clean-shaven face.  His hands clutched the blade of his great sword, thrust point first into the cold hard ground before him. A silver chain bearing a smooth electrum disc, the holy symbol of Pholtus, was intertwined through his fingers. The knight murmured his morning prayers; even among the pious folk of the Pale, few prayed with the fervor of one of the Dedicated. Only those priests and Templar Knights who showed signs of the God's favor were made into the Dedicated. They were anointed by the Supreme Prelate and kept their hair long, tied in ponytails, to symbolize their devotion to the Lightbringer. The man's ride had been long, and the trail was becoming harder to follow. He had stopped at the village of Preacher's Mill last night. The small community lay near the Troll Fens, in the northern reaches. The farmers were overjoyed to have a Templar Knight among them. Talk around town had centered on news of troll raids in the area. So far Preacher's Mill had been spared, but none knew when or where the trolls would attack next. The townsfolk had petitioned for help from the nearby Brilliant Castles, and had been assured by the garrison commander that the Church Militant would end this threat with all possible expediency. Troll raids, he thought. Elaina said the man spoke of leading troll raids. He frowned. Another crime for which he must be held accountable. The Law of Pholtus was clear, and his justice would be swift. The knight had described the one he followed to the local priest, but none of the townsfolk had seen such a man. However, one of the farmers had seen a lone figure riding north towards the Fens on the previous night. That's it. It must be him. I am sure of it. But it had snowed on the following day, and all tracks had been covered. He had no further leads to follow, so he had departed with the prayers and the blessings of the entire village to see him through. But now the trail had ended and only peril lay before him. So he prayed for a way to fulfill his task. He prayed to the Lightbringer with all of his heart for a vision, for a sign. And the golden light of dawn blinded his eyes and showed him the way...   -----o-----   Lotheneser kicked a pile of snow in frustration. The recently fallen flakes obliterated any tracks or signs of recent passage. Sunder sat on his horse with a grim expression on his face. For days the Company had searched the countryside looking for trolls. The garrison commander at Truth's Beacon, one of the Brilliant Castles nearby, had informed them of the difficulties in intercepting the troll raids. Troll attacks had been suffered by these people in the past, but never with such frequency or ferocity, and never in such great numbers. Since there was no way to predict where they would strike, only the cries of alert and the ringing of the church bells would signal the onset of an attack. By the time the Templar Knights arrived at one of the stricken villages, the trolls were gone, and only the bodies of the slaughtered peasants were found. No tracks, no signs of the trolls were found, save claw marks on bodies and the harrowing tales told by the few grieving survivors. It was unnatural. Sorcery had to be at play, and all the prayers of the Knights and their priests had been unequal to the task of putting an end to the menace. Forays had been made into the Fens, yet no clues as to the location of the monsters' lair had been found. The despondent soldiers had resorted to nightly patrols of the northern borders, yet their numbers were not sufficient to adequately guard the frontier. In spite of their vigilance, the raids had continued, unseen and unnoticed until it was too late. So the Company scoured the northern reaches. So far, neither Lotheneser's enchanted blade, nor Emanniel's confidence had been able to provide them with a solution. The men's patience had been worn thin by the endless fruitless searches. Asharak returned from a scouting run and reported his findings: "There is a man to the north of our position. He seems to be a Templar Knight." Sunder turned to Keras. "I thought the garrison commander said his patrols were only out at night, when the beasts are supposed to scour the countryside." "So he said," Keras answered. "What was he doing?" He asked the Chakyik warrior. "He seems to be staring north into the Fens, as if waiting for something," came the man's reply. "Well, then," Sunder said, spurring his horse forward. "Let us see if he has seen something useful." The rest of the Company followed behind him.   -----o-----   The knight saw the horses approaching and smiled. The men were a rag-tag bunch, some bore pikes and glaives, while others had bows and swords. One bore a standard with a black raven flaring and snapping in the wind. The knight thanked the Lightbringer and raised a hand in greeting. The tall man at the lead signaled for a halt, and the men behind him reigned in their horses. The Company halted a short distance from the knight. Sunder dismounted and approached him, raising his right hand in greeting. "Hail and well met, Templar. May you have the Lightbringer's blessings. My name is Sunder Threndor, and these stalwart lads are the Company of the Raven. We are seeking sign of the foul beasts that have been raiding from the fen, but these snow flurries make tracking all but impossible. Have you by chance seen or heard any evidence of their passing?" The knight stood silent for a moment, staring at them, not menacingly but not indifferently either. His presence was felt by all, it could almost be touched. He seemed to radiate an aura of peace and wellbeing. The men looked at each other to see if they felt it too. There was no doubt he was a Knight of the Theocracy, and yet there was something different about this one. He did not seem as stone cold as the rest, there was a fire within him...  Besides, what was he doing riding alone? These thoughts were interrupted by his first words, which revealed that the curiosity was mutual. "Morning, travelers. May the Light shine upon your souls. I am called Kelliam Tharius, and I also, am seeking the foul creatures you mention, or rather, their source. It is very rare to see a company such as this in the Pale. From your standard and your equipment it appears that you are a mercenary band, and that is somewhat intriguing. What is a group of mercenaries such as this doing in the Pale? Surely the north lands have been raided by trolls before, and there has never been a need to hire mercenaries. Who put you on this errand, may I ask?" "We have been asked to investigate these raids because of their unusual frequency and unpredictability. As to our paymaster, all I may tell you is that we were sent by the Church. We are otherwise sworn to secrecy." Sunder answered the question cautiously, keenly aware of the price of indiscretion.  "I also am curious, Sir Kelliam, about you presence here, as we were not told of anyone else investigating this matter." "No, indeed my presence here obeys no official mandate.  I am here on an urgent personal matter.  I seek a man who has done my family a great evil, and I will not rest until I bring justice to him and he sees the error of his ways.  Until he is Blinded by the Light.  I have strong reason to believe that he is the cause of these unusual raids and I suspect his plans may go well beyond that.  He is plotting against the Theocracy itself. The reason I tell you all of this, friend, is to ask if you have seen such a person.  He has been described to me only as a pale man in a crimson cloak." Emanniel glanced at Keras, Lotheneser and Sunder, exchanging a subtle look. Sunder shook his head. Crimson cloaks were not uncommon. Why, very likely, Jisander had a cloak like that in his pack. That pretentious peacock could be very well described as "a pale man in a crimson cloak." His skin was certainly fair. Still, the description fit the Theocrat's foreign advisor perfectly. "We have seen no such man since reaching the northern Pale.  However, it seems our goals are similar, for if your quarry is responsible for these raids, he is also the one we seek.  What can you tell us about him?" Mayhap this was just a foolish assumption, Sunder thought. Surely he must know something else about this man he seeks. "There is little else I know of this pagan, except that he is allied with a powerful Prelate, and together they have betrayed and disgraced my father, and for this they shall be punished by the holy wrath of Pholtus." Kelliam spoke with passion, and a fervent fire burned in his eyes. "Our goals are indeed similar," Kelliam continued. "And I also believe that our meeting has not been by chance, for the Lightbringer has shown me the way. I have been shown that a black raven will be my ally..." This last was said pointing at the Company's standard. "So I ask, Sunder Threndor, if I may join your company on this quest, for if you fight for the people of the Pale your cause is noble indeed, and together we will put an end to both the troll raids, and their accursed instigator." Sunder studied the knight for a moment. He was a young man who spoke with sincerity. An open, honest man. Strong in his beliefs and with a clear sense of right and wrong. Sunder liked him immediately, for he recognized a kindred spirit. "You seem to be an honorable man, Sir Kelliam, and I would be glad if you would join us in our quest. We will be glad to have a Templar Knight in our ranks, your reputation for bravery is second to none."   -----o-----   A loud cawing interrupted their conversation. A raven, the largest any of them had ever seen, flew over their heads and circled once around the group. The large bird then flew north, in the direction of the Fens. The bird circled and set down on the denuded branch of a leafless tree. It gazed back at the Company with one glittering eye, as if waiting for something. "Pholtus be praised! This is as I have seen in my vision! Come friends, we must approach it." Kelliam exclaimed triumphantly. Sunder looked at the raven in wonder. A skilled woodsman, he had never seen such boldness in a bird. "It does appear to be an omen, lads. But what is this about a vision, Sir Kelliam? You say you knew we would meet? " "Aye. Just before your arrival, I was illuminated by this vision: To the East, beyond the rising sun, I saw a white wolf holding a white hawk in its jaws. The wolf bit down on the trapped bird, and the blood dripping from its mouth fell onto a pile of copper coins. The blood raining down on the coins turned them into purest silver. To the West, I saw a snowy sparrowhawk trapped in a spider's web, its wings pinned down by the sticky tendrils, as a bloated white spider dripped venom onto it from wicked fangs. To the South, I saw a blood covered falcon flying away. To the North, I saw a white owl fighting a silver hawk, blood dripping from their beaks and talons. The owl struck a mighty blow, and the hawk fell to the ground. And then a great black raven appeared, and drove the owl away, and flew down to stand watch over the wounded hawk... " "Well," Sunder replied. "I know naught of soothsaying or dreamreading. But it seems we are fated to stand together against a great evil." Sunder hesitated briefly, displaying no emotion other than a subtle narrowing of his eyes. He glanced at Keras and Lotheneser inquisitively, then again turned to the knight. "But there is something we must discuss before we proceed. We have seen a pale man garbed in crimson, but not in this area...  we saw such a man in Wintershiven." "Remember well where we saw this man, Sunder," Emanniel whispered fiercely. The wrong words could see them burnt as heretics.  Lotheneser said, loud enough for Sunder, Emanniel and Keras to hear: "Sunder, while I would ordinarily advice caution, I do believe that this knight is an honorable man. I think we should tell him the truth if he is to ride with the Company. I know he is a knight of the Theocracy, and logic dictates that he should be the LAST person we tell, yet somehow I sense that he is not like ordinary Templar Knights. That is what I would advise. What say you, Keras?" "If the two pale men are the same, then the trolls are probably expecting us; let us not disappoint them," Keras said with a mischievous smile.   -----o-----   Kelliam rode in silence. The mercenaries' words had chilled his soul. Their account of their meeting with the Supreme Prelate worried him immensely. If these men spoke truly, the pale man he sought could very well be this foreign advisor. He had no cause to doubt the veracity of their claims. They even bore letters of authorization from His Worshipful  Mercy, Ogon Tillit. That meant that the Theocrat's life and the wellbeing of the state could be in jeopardy. Disturbing news indeed. We must get to the heart of this matter, he thought. The raven cawed once more as the men approached and flew off in the direction of the marshes. The Company spurred their horses on, in close pursuit. And so did they approach the Troll Fens. The black bird would alight on a nearby tree to await the riders, and would take off again when they were in sight. The raven led them straight to the edge of the mysterious swamp. The plains melted into broken ground, the horses churned up mud as they traversed the uneven terrain. Ahead, the fens came into view. A thick mist covered the high grasses and stunted trees which marked the borders of the marshes. The black bird sat on one of the leafless branches, half hidden by the mist. Sunder looked up to see the bird still waiting, expectantly.  "Ravens, we will leave our mounts here. Artur and Justyn, you will watch them. Durlan, let us prepare to enter the swamp." As the others dismounted and readied their gear, Sunder studied the ground for signs of recent passage. None were to be seen. Frowning, he handed the reins of his roan stallion to one of the Ratikan soldiers. "Take good care of Dancar, Justyn. Remember to light no fires. Night will fall in a few hours and the trolls could be drawn to the light. We will return soon enough." "Aye, Captain," the lad replied. The roan snorted and pulled at the reins. A spirited animal, that one. Dancar meant 'blade' or 'sword' in the Suel tongue. The very style of swordplay Sunder practiced was called 'Krovas Dancar' or 'faith of the sword.' A fitting name for such a magnificent animal. The Templar's dark gray horse was restless as well. Kelliam grabbed the reins of his mount and held its nose close to his own. Looking the stallion in the eye, Kelliam spoke as if to a child: "Now, Phaeresturm, behave yourself. You cannot come with me this time. You mind these men and don't bite! I shall come back for you soon." The beast quieted in response to his words, then turned to look at his new handlers. Sunder could swear he saw a mischievous look in the horse's eye. "It seems we follow this bird to our destination," Emanniel said sourly, having also scouted the area for tracks. He was not entirely happy with the turn of events this expedition had taken. He no longer seemed to be in control of the situation, as he had in Wintershiven. These mercenaries were proficient at their work. Still, he thought. We seem to be nearing our goal. As long as this assignment is completed, I shall have what I came for. The others grunted their assent. Only the Templar Knight, Kelliam, seemed to be happy with the idea of their strange guide. The others were somewhat wary, but followed nonetheless. Only Eliazar was vocal in his disagreement. "Has everyone in this Company taken leave of their senses? Why am I the only one to think that following some stupid bird into the swamps is insane?" The small Keoish man complained. "This is madness!" "Well, now, O gloomy one!" Jisander replied nonchalantly, removing his fine cloak to keep it from being soiled by the mud at their feet. He folded it fastidiously and stowed it in his pack. "Do you have any better ideas? For days all you've done is complain that we've had no clue as to the whereabouts of our foes. Now you're angry because a little bird is showing us the way?" The others laughed at the pair's incessant verbal sparring. Ghallar and Arngrim distributed unlit torches to the members of the Company, while Thaddeas handed out skins full of oil. Keras furled the Raven Banner, while all prepared for the danger that lay ahead. Durlan, Lotheneser, Asharak and Jerem readied their bows and wrapped oil soaked rags over arrows. "Move out, lads," Sunder ordered, loosening his sword in its scabbard.   -----o-----   For hours they marched through the swamps. In spite of the bitter cold, the waters were not frozen in these marshes. They had known of this, for some Palish folk had spoken of ancient magics keeping the waters free from ice, while other had cited underground thermal springs as the cause. The relative warmth of the Fens proved to be a refuge for wildlife in the bitter Palish winter. Cries of birds and the rustle of snakes and other reptiles startled the Company several times. On one occasion, they heard a blood-curling scream, a sound like a horse being slaughtered. The direction matched that which the raven had shown them, so they pressed on, ready for combat. Sunder marched at the head of the Company, for his knowledge of the wilds made him best suited to avoid the dangers of the fens. He noticed that the path revealed by the raven had led them clear of the usual perils, such as quicksand and deep mud pits. Behind him, Kelliam and Ghallar strode side by side, their heavy armors glinting in the fading sunlight. Night was approaching fast. Both warriors carried their weapons on one hand and unlit torches on the other. Behind them came pairs of archers and torch bearers to assist them in lighting arrows and to provide them cover while they shot their missiles. Lotheneser and Jerem were followed by Asharak and Thaddeas, who were followed in turn by Durlan and Emanniel. Covering the rear came Jisander and Eliazar bearing more flammables, while Keras and Arngrim guarded their backs. The raven flew before them, silently guiding their steps. As the sun set and the daylight faded, the raven set down on a stunted tree upon a hill. It began to caw insistently. Sunder ordered the Company to halt with a hand signal.    -----o-----   A strange luminescence shone behind the hill. With the raven's cries drowning the sounds of their approach, Sunder, Lotheneser, Keras, Emanniel and Kelliam climbed the slope and dropped down on the mud as they saw what lay beyond. The raven fell silent as the men turned their attention to the sight before them. They saw a small clearing before the dark opening of a cave which lay on the hillside on the opposite side of their vantage point. A large black iron cauldron sat over a roaring fire at the center of the clearing. A hideous troll, nearly a span-and-a-half in height, squatted over the steaming pot. Matted black hair drooped over a sickly green hide. The troll's gaunt frame and gangly limbs belied its strength. The creature's size showed it to be a female. Female trolls were both larger and more powerful than the males. Dead black eyes squinted from either side of a long wart-covered beak-like nose. Rows of sharp teeth were bared in a horrible grin from a jutting pointed chin. The troll's features were a grotesque caricature of a human face. The troll hunched over the steaming kettle and shambled to and fro on clawed three toed feet, stirring its boiling contents with a wooden pole. The stench emanating from the pot was nauseating. The men shuddered to think what the ingredients of this disgusting brew might be. Several male trolls could be seen around the clearing. A pair stood off to one side, squatted over a shapeless lump of something, while another stood some distance away on the far side of the clearing. The Companions' attention, however, was drawn to another figure below them. A man in a scarlet cloak approached the cauldron, limping slightly. The men peered closely, trying to discern the man's features, which were hidden by his drawn-up hood. "You is plenty late, Keshkal," the female troll's voice screeched like rusted iron hinges, its pitch surprisingly high for such a large creature. "Moon is back in sky. You say Keshkal return before moon come back." Last night had been the first night of a new moon. The man threw back the hood and stared coldly at the troll hag. "It could not be helped, Moggra, when one of your trolls chose to make a meal out of my horse." Moggra laughed, a hideous sound. "Sometimes we gets hungry, yes?" "Yes," answered the pale man. "But don't expect the poor fellow to ever be hungry again. If you can find what's left of him," he added with a sardonic smile upon colorless lips. Kelliam's gaze shifted to meet Sunder's eyes. With a brief nod, the blademaster confirmed the knight's unspoken question. This was indeed the same man they had met in the Theocrat's study: Koram-ad-Kor. The albino peered into the smoking cauldron. "Has the charm I taught you succeeded in concealing your forays, Moggra?" The troll hag cackled. "Plenty good magic, Keshkal. Finds us tender manflesh to eats." Keshkal, thought Sunder. 'Senior Steward' in the Sueloise speech. Sometimes used to mean 'slave master.' This man mocks these creatures even as he uses them for his own foul purposes. "I have returned to remind you of your task, Moggra. Seven days from now, you must strike at the Brilliant Castles in full force." Moggra stirred the brew and added sullenly: "Magic not so powerful when nasty moon rides the sky. P'rhaps we no attacks then, yes?" For all their ferocity, it seemed the trolls feared to storm the fortresses of the Church Militant. "No, Moggra. It must be in seven days, for the attack must come at the same time as our strike from the Nutherwood. Only if we divide the Theocrat's troops and attack them in two fronts can we decimate them." The troll cackled with glee. "Yes, yes! Crush T'okrat! Then Moggra can hunt juicy manthings when she wants! Moggra will make magic to blind T'okrat! Seven dayses, yes!" "T'okrat?" whispered Emanniel. "I doubt His Worshipful Mercy would take kindly to such familiarity..." He said with a grin. Lotheneser motioned for him to be quiet. "Good, good," the albino smiled. "Tonight I will show you how to strengthen your conjuration, so that the spell will allow you to enter the keeps without the Templars' knowledge." Moggra cackled again. "We feasts tonight! Tender morsels for all!" Koram-ad-Kor began chanting and gesturing over the foul vapors of the cauldron. The troll hag crudely imitated his graceful movements as they conjured their foul magics. "Friend Sunder," Kelliam hissed fiercely between clenched teeth. "We must strike at once, 'ere this foul pair conjures up some vile sorcery. Else, another village may fall to the trolls."   -----o-----