Sword of Light (The Knights of the Golden Dragons - Book One) (23 page)

           
Boremac grinned at that knight's
questioning gaze. "Clearly Father Oregeth questioned the wisdom of me
joining this quest to set the world back to rights. I can only hope that my
face more closely resembles the smiling one at the end of my days."
Boremac grew serious before he continued. "I've never been one tied by my
word in the past. Honor means little to a man that is surrounded by thieves
most of the time. Still this much I can promise you, Lord Lightsword, I have
given my word to an honorable man and he has shown me nothing but trust in all
our dealings. You will not fall as long as there is power in these quick hands
to prevent it. I am figuring between your faith and my luck, we should do well.
Of course, we can't forget these graceless bush beaters that would see a man
undone over his misunderstood intentions."

           
Gregor's hands shot up in a warding
gesture to the others around the fire, hoping to stifle the flurry of curses
the rogue's words would no doubt bring. "We have all made errors today,
Master Boremac, and increasing the animosity within our number serves no
purpose. Despite the rangers’ handling of you, I am certain you can see they
had my safety at the front of their minds as you did. Bickering accomplishes
nothing. Please choose your words more carefully, if only out of respect for me."

           
Dramor's loud voice broke the moment
of silence observed after Gregor spoke. "I got
nothin
'
but respect for
ya
, Lord Lightsword, but this man
needs to air out 'is voice. I
wan'ta
give
ya
my
respec
' for tossing me,
Master Boremac, and I '
ope
ya
can see me
wantn
' to give you a what
fer
of
yer
own." The
mountain man struggled to his feet, clearly still affected by Boremac's abuse,
and bowed to the rogue. "I cannot rightly speak for all of us, but me
,
 
I
welcome
ya
. We gonna need all the '
elp
we
can muster 'fore this is over wit'."

           
Tana stood beside Dramor and the
others around the fire. There were looks of concern, and a few smiling faces
that shook their heads as they rose, but together they bowed to their leader's
judgment. "What a day has come that brings the valiant to lie down with
the serpents! The Goddess and God must bless us all to suffer this fit of
madness. We will follow you, Gregor, into the Abyss itself should that be what
is required, just do not ask me to follow the words of this most questionable
individual. His tongue twists like smoke in a whirlwind."

           
Boremac decided to accept the compliment
implied in Tana’s words, no matter what her intention had been, and he laughed
openly for the first time he could remember. "We are not so different,
huntress. I would say that of the two of us, my game is far more dangerous than
yours. Ever had a rabbit scar you for turning your back to it? Those assembled
here would do worse than to have me to guide them in a pinch. At least I know
enough to keep my enemies in front of me." The throwing dagger leapt into
his hand before Boremac had made his feet and the blade spun through the air
just past Tana's ear. Five bows, including Tana's own, were nocked and at the
ready as the sound of breaking limbs drew Gregor's attention beyond where Tana
stood. A thud sounded in the darkness outside the light of the fire, and a misfired
crossbow bolt angled out from the ground near where Tana stood. Boremac moved
to retrieve the bolt, staring intently at the tip. "Looks like we're even,
huntress. Good thing none of you tree dwellers got hold of this. You would have
gone ahead and tasted the point to test the poison. Would've killed you so
fast, you would not have had time to flop." He tossed the offending bolt
into the fire. "Contact poison, and a rare one to be sure. Someone really
wanted to break up this little party. Wonder why the assassins haven’t killed
you, Gregor? No offense of course."

           
Tana relaxed her drawn arrow and
placed it into her quiver as the other archers followed her lead. "Why
would a lone surviving assassin take a shot at me?" The question was
rhetorical judging from her tone, but Boremac was moved to answer it anyway.

           
"Well, he identified the leader
of the group easily enough. You may as well have put a bull's-eye on your back
when you shot the assassins' leader. They do not take kindly to outside
interference. The killer no doubt saw an opportunity to gain favor with the
Master of these bastards if he could have taken you down before retreating. He
probably hoped to secure his departure in the chaos created by your
demise." Boremac shrugged as if what he said should have been obvious.
"That brings us back to the question of why Gregor was not slain. These Black
Hands are killers, not kidnappers, at least not without a damn good reason, and
highly skilled professionals besides. Given time and inclination the lone
remaining hunter would've slain you all."

           
Gregor spoke up before Tana could
reply, though he seemed to be sorting his own thoughts as well as addressing
the others. "He wants the blade I carry, and it appears he wants me as
well, though I cannot say why. If master Silverwing were here, he could shed
some light on the motivation of the dark priest. Boremac, you said you spoke
with my mentor recently. Where is he now?"

           
"Well beyond our reach I'm
certain, Gregor. I remained in Zanthfar at his request before he left to go
into the mountains, though I am unsure why. Can I see the blade of which you
speak? Lord Silverwing told me you bear part of the true sword that has honored
the leader of the Knights since it was first created." Gregor reached
behind his back to pass the blade to the rogue, the hesitation in releasing his
grip on it nearly imperceptible. The rogue noted his reluctance and kept the
blade held before Gregor as he examined it. "Never held a blessed artifact
before. Can't say I see much to it, though it has a keen edge. It was finely
crafted to be sure, but is useless without a hilt. What are these runes tracing
up the blade?" The rogue handed the blade back to Gregor's waiting hands.

           
"I cannot say. The runes are
ancient and their meaning is lost to all but the one that crafted the weapon so
long ago. Long study in the Temple of Light brought me no closer to deciphering
them." The knight turned to Tana to explain the importance of the sword.
"This sword is the weapon passed from one leader to the next throughout
the history of the Knights of the Golden Dragon. The will of the God of Light
himself was brought to bear against all manner of evil in the time since its
initial blessing, when the first Knights were called. Somehow the blade was
undone when the Knights I served were destroyed. A power infused the blade which
allowed a great demon to take possession of it as it was turned against the
last leader of the Knights of the Golden Dragon. I think now I know why the
blade was broken even as Lord Clamine sacrificed himself to save me."
Understanding lit Gregor's features as he stared into the flames, remembering
that terrible night so long ago. "The God of Light kept the blade safe in
the flesh of his holy warrior as He dismissed the demon that would've killed us
both. The sword hilt was lost in the Abyss with the dismissal of the creature,
carried away with the Tharnorsa."

           
"Who is the priest? Who could
wield such power? Evil of this nature is surely beyond the grasp of mere
mortals." Tana's matter-of-fact statement drew Gregor's eyes to meet her
own.

           
"Father Tur'morival is no mere
mortal, at least not anymore. He once served the God of Light and formed the
consortium of priests drawn from many faiths to create the Order of the Crimson
Night. The Order’s purpose was to prepare the followers of true faiths for the
Crimson Night that was to come, and for many years they stood at the front of
the battle against Abysmal incursions into the world. I believe Father
Tur'morival was tainted by the forces he sought to defeat, though I cannot say
why this came to pass." Gregor shook his head as broken images invaded his
mind from his encounter with the demonologist in his dream. "He is no
longer a man. Some form twisted by the demonic forces he has chosen to ally
himself with is all that remains." Gregor related his encounter with
Father Tur'morival as well as what he had been able to learn studying the
priest's written works in the Temple of Light. The knight also shared his
recent encounters with the priests of the Crimson Night, answering a few
questions offered by the rangers and druids as he progressed, though few
interrupted his discourse, content to learn what they could from his words.

           
"Your encounter with the cursed
wolves shows the priest's power to twist simpler beasts, but we have not
encountered any of these Crimson Night staff wielders within the wilds near
Zanthfar. Do you think they have the power to create the demon bloods we have
seen leading the orc tribes?" Tana looked at Gregor with many questions
poised behind her eyes, choosing to save the others until they were safe.

           
"Demon bloods?" Gregor was
caught off guard by the question. "What are you referring to as demon
bloods? Have you encountered twisted humanoids as well as animals? I've seen no
such creatures, but there was little news delivered to the Temple in Nactium
concerning Zanthfar while I was there pursuing my training."

           
Tana shared what she knew of the
demon blooded orcs that had until recently caused so much trouble in the area.
Gregor's face became more troubled the longer she spoke. He felt sure that the
manipulation and creation of such creatures was beyond the powers of even
Father Tur'morival, and he said as much. Gregor could find no logic in the
creation of such a force, even if the dark summoner could control such numbers
of the creatures. Something else had to be behind the demon bloods.

           
The young knight’s attention was
drawn to Tana as she finished addressing him and Boremac. She was talking low
to Three-Paw while examining his maimed paw. As the huntress spoke a few reassuring
words to the wolf, she enclosed the damaged paw in her hands and closed her
eyes as she meditated, communing with her Goddess. When she drew her hands from
Three-paw a moment later, his maimed paw was restored. Three-paw seemed to be
as amazed by this as Gregor was, and the wolf let out a bark as it touched the renewed
paw to the earth. Tana shooed the animal toward the forest with a few words of
praise and a wave of her hand. Gregor found he was wondering just how much
power Tana had over the natural creatures, as the lame wolf that had kept him
company bounded into the woods toward its pack, once more whole.

           
Boremac began addressing the group.
 
“Not really all that hard to figure out once
you have all the pieces to the puzzle laid out before you." Boremac shook
his head. "Of course, extracting things intentionally hidden is more in my
line of work than the rest of you. Two motivations come clear if you look at it
properly. The two most basic motivations of all mankind amplified to the level
of power said man, or demon in this case, wields. Fear and revenge, Lord
Lightsword, are as old to our people now as to the ancient ones that first
emerged from the wood to conquer the lands. Your Father Tur'morival fears that
sword. That is obvious from the lengths he is going trying to obtain the blade.
What reason would he have to fear the weapon, you ask? Simple enough really, so
I will let you puzzle that one out on your own. I will tell you this. The hilt
is not lost, and I suspect it is much closer to Father Tur'morival than one
might think. So who has the hilt? The same demon who took it in the first
place, no doubt, and he still hungers for the flesh that escaped him. That
would be you, holy warrior."

           
"I can find no argument with
your reasoning, though how Father Tur'morival is able to exercise his will over
the demon is a mystery. It gives me no pleasure to know that the Tharnorsa has
returned to this land, even bound to the demonologist. He will pay for the
blood of the Knights I served." Gregor grew silent for a few moments as he
considered the rogue's words. "Is the true blade the only thing that can
slay Father Tur'morival? Why would he allow the hilt to remain so close to him,
as you suggest, knowing the demon he controls would destroy him at the first
opportunity? The demon must seek a great prize to be at the mercy of any
mortal. Lord Silverwing is heading to face father Tur'morival and knows nothing
of this. We have to find him before...”

           
"Yes, before the trap is
set." Boremac finished the knight's thought. "Unfortunately, Master
Gregor, Father Tur'morival seems to have put everything into motion quite well.
Lord Silverwing is the bait."