Lord Soth (15 page)

“When he was done, he gave his knights a choice.” He gave a nod to Arnol Kraas, connecting the lesson learned from his tale to the story he was telling now. “Those who believed in the rebels’ cause were welcome to stay. Those who did not were given leave to return to Daltigoth.

“Most of the knights chose to remain loyal to Vinas Solamnus, even though it would mean certain exile from Ergoth for them, and quite possibly death. Those who returned to Daltigoth gave Solamnus’s message to the emperor—correct the wrongs being done to the people, or prepare for war.”

Soth paused to wet his throat. The knights remained silent, listening intently. Even though they knew this story well, it must have sounded different coming from a knight such as Soth.

“Of course, the emperor denounced Solamnus as a traitor,
stripping him of his lands and title. The people of Daltigoth prepared for a war which would eventually come to be known as the War of Ice Tears because that winter was the most severe in Ergoth’s recorded history. But despite the cold, Solamnus was able, with the loyal and steadfast support of his knights”—Soth put extra emphasis on these last few words for obvious reasons—“to lay siege to the city, destroying its food supplies and spreading the news of the emperor’s corruption. All the while the emperor himself remained hidden like a coward deep within the bowels of his palace.”

Several knights let out mild
harumphs
of contempt.

“In two months the capital fell and the emperor was forced to sue for peace. As a result, the northeastern part of Ergoth gained its independence. The people named it Solamnia in honor of their new king, Vinas Solamnus. And although Solamnia never achieved its greatness and power until long after the death of Vinas Solamnus, it quickly came to be known as a land populated by people who possessed great amounts of honesty, integrity, and fierce determination.”

The knights remained silent for several long moments and all that could be heard was the snap and crackle of the slightly greener wood on the fire.

And then a voice.

“May our loyalty to you, milord,” said Colm Farold, “someday be compared to that of the knights who served Vinas Solamnus so well.”

“Hear, hear!” the rest of the knights said in unison.

“I have no doubt that it will,” said Soth, nodding graciously.

After the tales had ended, the fire burned through the night, providing some warmth against the cool nocturnal winds that blew across the plains.

There was little danger of reprisals from the ogres of Throtyl who would no doubt think twice in the future before attacking soil under the protection of the Knights of
Solamnia. And, other than a few wild animals, there was little else to be wary of in this part of Knightlund. So the knights had all drunk their fill and set about to get a peaceful night’s sleep under the stars.

All except for Soth.

He did not look forward to the night. Considering the dreams he’d been having of late, sleep was something to be avoided or at least put off until absolutely necessary. For that reason, he wandered around the perimeter of the camp under the pretense of keeping watch.

“Milord,” said Meyer Seril. “It is my turn to keep watch. And with all the squires here I don’t think you are even scheduled to take a turn.”

Soth turned and looked at the young Crown knight appreciatively. “I’m not very tired,” he said. “I might as well keep watch if I’m going to be awake. You go to sleep, Knight Seril. You fought well, and you deserve to get some rest.”

“Thank you, milord,” the young knight said, proud to have been noticed by his lord.

“Go now,” said Soth. He had no idea how Seril had fought because the battle had been so brief, but it didn’t hurt to tell him he’d done well. Nor did it hurt for him to take the watch when he wasn’t required to. Such a thing did wonders for the knights’ morale and loyalty, not to mention their opinion of him as a leader.

With Seril gone, Soth walked around the encampment and looked north toward Dargaard Keep. The pinnacle of its rose-shaped silhouette was just discernible against the dark night sky. As he stared at the keep, he marveled at how black its form appeared even in the dead of night.

The sight chilled him.

And, as he wrapped his cloak around himself to stave off the chill shiver that ran through him, he suddenly looked forward to morning, and the coming of the sun.

Chapter 8

The knights broke camp early the next morning and rode across
the plains with the outline of Dargaard Keep constantly before them, rising up from the horizon like a rose-shaped beacon. By midday they were close enough to make out details in the keep’s walls such as windows and battlements, and by late afternoon they had begun to discern the individual blocks of bloodstone.

Given that their approach would have been monitored throughout the day from one or more of the keep’s towers, the knights fully expected that their return would be accompanied by a suitable amount of fanfare.

They were not disappointed.

Residents of the keep and those employed in and around it all came out to welcome the triumphant knights. Men, women and children lined the path of their approach, all happy to see them returning so soon after their departure and in good health.

As the knights neared, the wooden drawbridge was lowered over the chasm that surrounded the keep and the
heavy steel portcullis rose up like a welcoming hand being offered in greeting.

Gared Kentner, the keep’s quartermaster, counted the number of knights on horseback and asked Soth with a grave voice, “Casualties?”

Soth slowed and looked down at the clerk. “None. I’ve left several knights in Halton as a precautionary measure.”

“Excellent,” said Kentner, who was probably thankful that he wouldn’t have to process any personal belongings or make adjustments to the bunk allotments.

Soth continued on into the keep.

Heading up the welcoming party inside was Lady Korinne. As Soth rode toward her he noticed that she had donned her finest robes and jewels in order to greet him. He held his breath a moment. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

Feeling his heart gathering up in his throat, Soth quickly dismounted and approached her. He took her hand in his.

She said, “Milord.”

Soth removed his helm, leaned forward, took her in his arms and kissed her. There was passion in her kiss to be sure, but there was also something else to it, something that was keeping her from giving herself up to him completely.

For a moment Soth’s mind raced back to the dream he’d had during his night on the plains. Had she been unfaithful? He immediately broke off the kiss and pulled himself away from her. “Is there something you must tell me?” he said, his voice even and devoid of emotion.

She looked up. Tears began to well in her eyes.

Soth feared the worst.

“I … I am not with child as we had hoped.” When she finally said the words, they escaped her lips in a rush, like water gushing from a broken damn.

Soth was simultaneously hit by waves of relief and disappointment. Korinne had not conceived, but his dream and subsequent fear over her infidelity had been little more than folly on his part.

As he looked at her, he made sure his face betrayed none of his emotions. He simply gazed into her pale green eyes and said, “Then we shall have to try again.” He allowed a loving smile to creep onto his face. “And often.”

Upon hearing the words, Lady Korinne let out a long sigh.

Obviously she had feared his reaction would be more severe. But what could he do? Draw his sword and threaten her with it until she produced an heir? It was a popular tactic with barbarians, but there was no proof that it actually worked. No, this was just as difficult for her because she wanted a child just as much—perhaps even more—than he did. Soth felt it best that they try to ease each other’s pain rather than add to it.

“Perhaps we should even try … right away. Right now,” said Soth.

A girlish sort of smile broke over Korinne’s face.

He took her by the hand and led her up the stairs toward their bedchamber.

The passionate nights Soth spent by Lady Korinne’s side continued throughout the winter, keeping them both warm and protecting them from the chill of the winter months—Frostkolt, Newkolt and Deepkolt.

But the winter’s icy cold lingered despite the coming of spring when Dargaard Keep was rocked by the news of Lord Reynard Gladria’s death at his home in Palanthas. Although he had been ill for many months, his death still came as a shock to Lord Soth and Lady Korinne. Indeed, all of Solamnia mourned the man’s passing. But what made it doubly painful for Korinne was that she hadn’t given her father a grandchild before his passing. For this reason, Korinne long considered herself to be a failure and no amount of words from Soth, family or friends—however kind—could bring her out of her state of despondency.

After journeying to Palanthas for Lord Reynard’s elaborate
public funeral, Soth remained in the city for several weeks while the slow passage of time gently eased Korinne’s pain. Then as the month of Brookgreen came to a close and Soth felt he’d neglected his knightly duties long enough and was compelled to return to Dargaard Keep, he offered to let Korinne remain with her mother in Palanthas and return to the keep only when she felt she was ready.

Korinne refused.

With a loyalty and honor worthy of a Knight of Solamnia she told Soth, “My place is by my husband’s side. I will return with you to Dargaard Keep.” And with that they returned to Knightlund with renewed hopes of birthing an heir before Korinne’s mother Leyla also passed away.

But Yurthgreen also came and went, and despite the flowering of the plants and the greenery beginning to sprout on the trees around the keep, Korinne once again came to Soth with the now agonizingly painful news.

This time Soth simply raised his eyebrows expectantly, having used words to ask the question far too often.

Korinne shook her head.

Soth let out a sigh, his chest aching. He’d been able to remain optimistic by believing that when Paladine (the Great Dragon and the God of Good) wished him to have an heir, he would bless the couple with one. After all, were not the Knights of Solamnia also called the Sons of Paladine? Surely, a new “Son” for the Soth household was only a matter of time. Still, the wait grew more and more painful with each passing month.

Korinne’s eyes welled up with tears. She looked away from Soth as if ashamed, then turned and quickly left the room.

Soth remained where he was, his words on the matter—no matter how kind—having been unable to ease her pain for many, many months now. He tried to busy himself with some task, but could not.

Korinne’s sobs could be heard echoing too loudly through the keep.