Lord Soth

Chapter 10

Sunshine-filled days and rain-swept nights provided the perfect conditions for farming, and the farmers of Solamnia were already thanking Paladine for what they expected to be a bumper crop and bountiful harvest.

But for Lord Soth, the month of Holmswelt meant something else. Every summer the Knights of Solamnia traveled across Ansalon to meet and confer about everything from the training of squires, to the retirement of elderly knights, from the latest developments in weaponry and armor to scholarly studies of the Oath and The Measure.

The previous year, Soth had missed the annual meeting because of preparations for the wedding and the transfer of rule of Knightlund from his father to himself. This year however, Soth had to attend because, as a leading member of the Order of the Rose, he would be more than conspicuous by his absence.

And so, on the first day of Holmswelt, Soth and six of his loyal knights prepared for the three-day journey across the Solamnic plains to Palanthas, the great port city and the jewel of Solamnia.

Soth had chosen to take only six knights with him- Crown knights

Caradoc, Kern and Krejigaard, and Sword knights Valcic, Vingus, and

Farold-the journey being something of a reward for their outstanding conduct over the course of the past twelve months. Soth took everything into consideration when making his choices, from bravery in battle against the ogres in Halton to keeping spirits and morale high throughout the long, cold winter.

He might have been able to bring more knights with him, but with a limited number attending the meeting, that would have come at the expense of other Knights of Solamnia stationed elsewhere on the continent.

Besides, the system currently in use had proved best in terms of educating the entire knighthood. When Soth's six knights returned to

Dargaard Keep, they would instruct the others in what they had learned.

In this way all the Knights of Solamnia could grow stronger while those in Palanthas wouldn't have to scramble in order to accommodate every knight who wished to attend.

Out of respect for the hot summer sun, Soth dressed for the journey by wearing a light tunic and leggings and covered that with lightweight leather armor. He expected little trouble on the way and indeed there had only been a few uprisings (such as the ogre attack on Halton) ever since the Kingpriest of Istar's Proclamation of Manifest Virtue. The proclamation, made many years ago, had dealt a death blow to the minions of Evil still brave (or perhaps mad) enough to show themselves on the continent of Ansalon. At times Soth felt the Kingpriest was becoming too powerful for his own good, but that was something for clerics and politicians to decide. He was a warrior, and fought for the cause of

Good in whatever guise it decided to manifest itself.

The six knights were already mounted upon their horses and waiting patiently while Soth said goodbye to Korinne.

"The Knights' Meeting runs seven days. I will likely be gone twice that length of time."

"Take as much time as you need," said Korinne. "No more, no less."

Soth nodded. Korinne was a strong woman and had proved to be an excellent wife in all but one crucial area.

She looked at him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"Perhaps by the time you return-"

Soth cut off her words by placing his right index finger to her lips. He shook his head. "It pains me to continue to be so hopeful," he said, knowing the words would hurt Korinne, but not knowing any easier way to say them.

"Perhaps it would be better for both of us if you would talk to me about children only when you are truly with child."

Korinne looked up at Soth, her lips pressed together to no doubt keep them from trembling. Her eyes looked wet and glassy, on the verge of tears. "Yes, milord."

He leaned forward to kiss her and felt her dry lips press against his cheek. He straightened up and looked at her for several moments wanting to say something but not knowing what. Finally, he turned away and mounted his horse.

"To Palanthas!" he said.

He led the knights slowly through the gate, under the portcullis and over the drawbridge leading out of Dargaard Keep. Although the portcullis remained up until they were well on their way and nearly out of sight of the keep, Soth never once looked back.

"A honed broadsword, a sturdy shield and a little plate armor is all a good Knight of Solamnia ever needs in battle," said Caradoc, riding alongside Soth as they neared the end of the first day on their journey to Palanthas. They had already discussed life in the keep, prospects of a good crop, and the charms of certain women Caradoc found

— "interesting." And now they were talking about weaponry, a subject that would have much attention paid to it when they reached the Knights' Meeting.

Soth was of a mind that there was more to weapons than simply a broadsword and shield. While they would always be the chosen weapon of the Knights of Solamnia for close man-to-man fighting, there were other weapons in development across the continent that would prove most effective should there ever be another large-scale war.

"A broadsword is a fine weapon," said Soth. "No doubt about it, but the great Huma Dragonbane proved that battling certain enemies requires specialized weaponry." "Perhaps," said Caradoc, obviously not ready to fully concede his point.

"Take elven weapons for example," Soth continued.

There were still many long hours ahead of them and conversations didn't necessarily have to end just because the other party was partially in agreement. "I hear talk that they have developed several types of arrowheads for use with their crossbows: a narrow spiked head for piercing armor; a heavy ironwood head for bashing; a razor-sharp Yshaped head for cutting ropes, banners, legs and arms; a flanged leaf-shaped head for inflicting the maximum amount of damage; and a "singing" head that is fitted with a hollow tube that creates a piercing shriek when its fired."

"Really?" Caradoc's eyes opened wide, perhaps in terror of the weapon, perhaps in amazement over its ingenuity.

"Yes, a dreadful weapon if there ever was one."

"I would be interested in seeing such a weapon." "Eiwon van Sickle has told me that there will be examples of them on display in Palanthas.

Demonstrations are scheduled as-"

Soth's words were cut off by a scream.

A woman's scream.

Instinctively, all the knights stopped in their tracks and listened for the sound again.

Moments later there was another scream, this one more faint and less sharp than the first. It was coming from somewhere up ahead and to the left. Soth looked in the direction and saw that the trail crested slightly in the distance. On the left of the trail the tops of several trees could be seen peaking over the horizon. The dip on the other side of the crest had to be fairly deep considering that the valley had given rise to a small forest in the midst of the plain.

There was yet another scream, this one different from the first two.

Obviously there was more than one woman in peril.

Without a word, Soth gave his mount a kick in the ribs.

The large, black horse shot forward and was quickly running at full speed toward the forest.

And without even losing a step, the knights were right there with him, three on each side.

Soth slowed as he came over a crest. Below he could see what looked to be an encampment. It was a small clearing at the edge of the forest, a place where many travelers had rested on the road between Palanthas and Dargaard Keep.

Except these travelers were not resting. Judging by their screams, it sounded as if they were being tormented.

But by whom?

Soth cut to the left and headed for the edge of the forest in the hopes that the knights could reach the woods without being seen. After slowing to assess the situation, he stepped up the pace again. Time appeared to be of the essence.

Upon reaching the edge of the forest, Soth gestured to Colm Farold to take two knights around the other side of the woods while Soth and the three remaining knights went to investigate what was going on in the clearing.

The forest was small and in no time Soth and his knights had circled back to the clearing. When the camp came into view, things suddenly became clearer.

Much clearer.

Whoever had made camp had been ambushed by a small party of ogres. Soth could see one of the brutes, holding someone to the ground. The screams coming from the person beneath the ogre sounded muffled, yet the terror contained within the scream was real.

Soth dismounted and ran to where the ogre wrestled to subdue his victim.

Drawing his sword as he approached, he gave the brute a kick to the ribs to announce his arrival.

That seemed to get the ogre's attention.

He rolled off his victim and onto the grass. An elderly elf-woman lay on the grass, eyes wide with fright, body trembling in fear.

The ogre held his midsection tightly and struggled to catch his breath.

When he looked up and saw Soth towering over him, he searched the ground for his weapon, but it was too far away to be of any use. Quickly he stood up and prepared to fight Soth with his bare hands.

Soth wasn't about to battle an unarmed opponent with his broadsword, but then what constituted a fair fight with an ogre? Thankfully, the ogre settled the matter himself by picking up a sturdy nearby branch, using it as a pike.

The ogre thrust the branch forward, but Soth was able to deflect the blows with his shield. Then the ogre decided to sweep the ground with the branch hoping to knock Soth off his feet. Soth was able to step quickly enough to avoid the sweeping branch, then managed to go on the offensive while the ogre was bringing the branch back into position.

Wielding his sword with a single hand, Soth brought it straight down upon the ogre. But instead of splitting the beast in two, the blow was blocked by the branch, which only chipped and splintered.

After several near misses for each of the combatants, Soth was able to execute another overhanded blow. Again the ogre protected himself with the branch, but this time the blow broke it in two, giving the ogre two too-short clubs and rendering him once again weaponless.

This time, however, Soth had no qualms about battling an unarmed ogre.

While the ogre was still looking dumbfounded at the broken wood in his hands, Soth lunged forward running the beast through with his sword.

After crying out in pain, the ogre looked at Soth with a mix of shock and terror for several long moments before Soth wiped the look from his face with a backhanded swipe of his shield. The ogre's eyes suddenly glazed over and turned upward as he fell heavily to the ground.

Dead.

Wasting little time, Soth ran to the elderly elf-woman who had been helped off the ground by Darin Valcic and Zander Vingus. Apparently, as

Soth had been finishing off the ogre, they'd made sure she wasn't in any danger, then ventured into the forest in search of more of the foul beasts.

"Are you all right?" Soth asked, seeing a thin line of blood running down from her pointed left ear.

"I think so," she nodded, her eyes staring blankly before her. "We're on pilgrimage to Palanthas," she said. "To become Revered Daughters of

Paladine." A sigh. "We stopped here for the night. We were just about to begin our prayers when… when… they came."

"How many ogres were there?" asked Soth, his voice as calm and soothing as he could make it under the circumstances.

"Five or six. Maybe more. It was so hard to tell, they all look so much alike. Hideous, horrible…" The shock of her ordeal was beginning to settle in and she began to weep.

Soth had to know one last thing.

"How many in your party?"

"Five. Myself and… four young maidens." She drew in a sudden gasp in realization. "Oh merciful Mishakal!

What's become of them?"

Soth knew the woman needed further comfort, but there were others in greater danger. If there were ogres in the forest, his six knights would need all the help they could get in finding and defeating them.

"Will you be all right on your own for a short while?"

The question seemed to give the elf-woman reason to compose herself. She sniffed once and nodded. "Go find the others. I'll be well enough."

"Good," said Soth, rising up and heading into the forest.

"There's two of them over there," said Colm Farold, pointing to a small clearing just through the trees.

"Three," said Wersten Kern, pointing to the right side of the clearing.

"So there are."

Kris Krejigaard came up behind the two knights after circling the clearing. "It looks as if they've captured a group of elf-maidens. Two of the women are tied to trees just past those bushes. They appear to be unharmed, but it's hard to tell from a distance." "Any other ogres?" asked Farold.

"Not in the immediate area," answered Krejigaard. "I heard some voices in that direction, but Caradoc was over that way and further along should be Vallic and Vingus."

"Very well then," nodded Farold. "We'll sweep through the woods in that direction once we're done here. Did you see any weapons?"

"A few clubs and swords, maybe some daggers.

Nothing out of the ordinary for ogres."

"Anything else?"

"There's a formidable foul stench downwind of them. It burned my eyes and seared my throat."

Farold turned to Krejigaard and gave a little smile. "All right then.

There are some maidens in distress. Let's save them, shall we?"

The three knights rose up proudly, drew their swords and rushed into the clearing with a loud, sharp battle cry.

There was the sound of running water up ahead. That seemed strange to

Caradoc because he hadn't seen any creeks or streams cutting through the forest.

He took two more cautious steps forward, using his broadsword to part the overhanging branches ahead of him.

And then there he was.

An ogre.

Relieving himself against a tree.

The ogre's weapons were lying on the ground several feet away. Caradoc laughed inwardly at the sight. Such a vulnerable position for an ogre to find himself in-for any warrior to find himself in for that matter.

He took a few more steps toward the ogre and smacked his hairy behind with the flat side of his broadsword.

"Ow!" cried the ogre, turning around to see which of his fellows had been so brazen. When he saw Caradoc he was suddenly in a hurry to finish relieving himself, but his body didn't seem to be cooperating.

Caradoc couldn't help but laugh at the ugly brute as he struggled to finish his business while he hurriedly tried to collect his weapons off the ground.

"If you were at all familiar with the Oath and the Measure," said

Caradoc, a bit of smug confidence to his voice, "you would know that it is against the Knights of Solamnia's code of ethics to battle an unarmed opponent in anything other than a fair fight."

The ogre seemed to be comforted to hear this and calmly went about finishing his business against the tree.

The beast's sudden casual demeanor angered Caradoc.

It was obvious that the ogres had attacked innocent and defenseless travelers, robbing and looting them, and Paladine only knows what else.

In just a few moments they had turned an otherwise peaceful journey into a nightmare of horrors. And now the ogre thought he'd be getting a fighting chance just because the knights happened to be governed by a strict and chivalric code. Well, it was obvious to Caradoc that the ogres lived by no such honorable code of conduct, so why should he be bound by honor in a fight with one of them?

"But since you've probably never even heard of the Oath and the Measure," Caradoc continued, his voice now edged with a hint of contempt. "I see no good reason why I should remain bound to it."

Caradoc immediately raised his sword and swung it from left to right, the sharp cutting edge leading the way.

Almost at once, the ogre's head became separated from its shoulders. It spun in the air and hit the ground with a thud, its mouth open and its eyes wide in a look of utter surprise.

A moment later, the ogre's great body fell to the ground like a tree, covering the upturned head and face with its trunk.

"Stupid savage," said Caradoc, wiping his bloody sword on some of the leaves around him.

Just then, a loud call came from somewhere to his left.

He headed in that direction, the pointed tip of his sword leading the way.

After leaving the elderly elf-woman behind, Soth quickly came upon two more ogres, one a black-haired giant standing a head taller than Soth himself, the other redheaded and somewhat shorter than the first, perhaps even equal in height to Soth.

The black-haired ogre was holding an elf-maiden in his arms, moving his great thick-fingered hands over her seemingly lifeless body. If the elf-maiden was dead, Soth vowed, the ogre's death would be slow and painful. The red-headed ogre seemed to be asleep on the ground on the other side of a large log. He was of little concern to Soth.

Soth decided to battle the black-haired ogre first and charged headlong in that direction.

Seeing Soth approaching, the ogre dropped the elfmaiden onto the soft layer of humus covering the forest floor. In another second he was up on both feet, sword before him and ready to fight. The ogre wielded a heavy clabbard style of sword, a type of weapon most often used by minotaurs, but just as easily wielded by large and powerful ogres. Soth noticed the weapon, saw the cutting edge backed with a serrated saw-toothed edge that could cut through his leather armor with ease, and suddenly became more cautious. Obviously, these ogres were much fiercer warriors than the ones they'd encountered in Halton. These were nomadic marauders, used to fighting-and defeating-an assortment of foes.

That fact was evidenced as Soth realized that this ogre wasn't about to show Soth any amount of respect or proceed with any caution. He lumbered forward, swinging his clabbard sword as easily as Soth might wield a dagger.

Soth held out his sword in an attempt to slow the ogre's progress, but to no avail. The ogre kept charging, forcing Soth to leap to the side.

He was almost out of the way, but was caught by the ogre's shoulder. The hard impact sent Soth flying backward through the air. He landed with a hard thump that nearly knocked the air from his lungs.

As Soth clambered to get back to his feet, he felt his clenched hands gather up soft dirt and leaves from the forest floor. For a moment he considered blinding the ogre by throwing the mix into his eyes, but decided the tactic was too foul and very much beneath him. Instead he found a large rock about half the size of a loaf of bread and picked it up. Then as the ogre made a second charge, Soth threw the rock at the ogre's head.

The rock's flight was true, and when it hit the ogre's forehead, the sound it made reminded Soth of solid rock colliding with solid rock.

Following the blow, the ogre stumbled a few more steps then stopped, blinking several times as if unsure where he was. Soth let out a slight sigh of relief and felt pleased with himself at recalling the squire's second rule. Simply stated it was this: No matter how well-armed or armored an opponent is, he can still be killed by a simple blow to the head.

This ogre wasn't dead yet, but he was dazed.

Severely so.

The ogre staggered forward, then back, then forward again. Soth followed his path for a few moments, then decided he'd had enough. With the ogre so incapacitated, it was a simple matter to run the beast through with his sword.

When the fallen ogre was lying still on the ground, Soth moved forward to take a better look at the creature.

He took one step… And was sent hurtling forward by a heavy blow to the small of his back. As Soth tripped over the fallen blackhaired ogre, he realized he'd forgotten about the redheaded one sleeping on the other side of the log. When Soth hit the ground, he did his best to roll and rise up to his feet, but several of his ribs were bruised and any sudden movements sent pain shooting up through his body.

Yet despite the pain, he somehow made it onto his feet and managed to turn and face his attacker.

Thankfully the red-headed ogre was the smaller of the two. But even so,

Soth would have been hard-pressed to defeat the ogre at the best of times. Now, with his bruised, or perhaps even broken ribs, the ogre would prove to be more than a match for him.

"The forest is full of Knights of Solamnia," said Soth, hoping to scare the ogre off and avoid having to fight him at close quarters. "If you turn and run now, you'll be able to leave this forest with your life."

The ogre simply laughed, a loud mocking call that boomed through the woods. Soth said nothing, hoping the ogre's laugh would rally the knights around him.

But as the seconds passed, Soth began to get the feeling that he was alone in this fight. Very well then, he thought, raising his sword to confront the beast.

The ogre also carried a sword, one that was slightly wider and longer than Soth's own. Usually this would put Soth at a disadvantage, but it appeared that the ogre was unable to wield the weapon without the use of both hands, which might be enough to tip the balance in Soth's favor.

"Only one way to find out," he muttered, moving forward to confront the beast.

Almost at once their swords came together, clanging and singing as they banged and scraped against one another with each mighty blow. Soth quickly realized that it would be impossible for him to match the ogre blow-for-blow.

Instead he began moving left and right in order to avoid having to counter as many blows as possible. Soon the ogre began to tire, his movements becoming wilder and wilder with each progressively sluggish swing of his sword.

Frustrated, the ogre held his sword before him and charged at Soth, most likely hoping to get close enough to render their swords useless and to force them to switch to wrestling and barehanded fighting. Needless to say, Soth wanted no part of that, given that he was in no condition to try and kill an ogre with his bare hands.

So, as the ogre came toward him, he ducked down to the ground, falling on his hands and knees and turning himself into an obstacle too large for the ogre to avoid.

Soth winced in pain as the ogre's heavy shins slammed into his side, but the tactic had paid off. Like a tree cut off at its stump, the ogre began to fall.

By the time the beast hit the ground, Soth was already on his feet towering over him. The ogre was dazed by the fall and had even cut himself by falling on top of his own blade. The wound wasn't enough to keep him down however, and Soth had to quickly see to it that the ogre would never be getting up again.

He clasped both hands around the upturned hilt of his sword and drove the point of his blade downward with all his might, through the ogre and into the soft ground beneath him.

The breath came out of the ogre's body in a whoosh, and then all was silent.

All except for… Soth listened closely for the faint sound.

There was a low moan coming from somewhere nearby.

He looked at the elf-maid the dark-haired ogre had laid upon the ground, but she was nowhere to be seen.

More than likely she had run from the scene as soon as she was able.

Who, or what then, was making the sound?

Something caught Soth's attention, a slight movement in the left corner of his field of vision. There seemed to be another maiden, this one fair-haired, lying on the other side of the large fallen log.

Soth pulled his sword from the ground and turned to investigate.

At first he feared the woman dead.

Her face was pressed hard against the forest floor and all he could see was the dirty blond hair that covered the back of her head and shoulders. Her body appeared to be still and without breath. For a moment, Soth cursed the ogres for their deeds, but then came the familiar moan.

Quickly, Soth leaped over the log and rolled the elfmaiden gently onto her side. Then he removed his leather gauntlet from his right hand and wiped the dirt and humus from the maiden's face with the tips of his fingers.

Even through the dirt and grime that remained on her visage, Soth could see that she was utterly beautiful.

Anger at the ogres flared within him once more as he thought about what the ugly brutes had done to this lovely, innocent flower and her companions.

He removed the gauntlet from his left hand and eased her body off the ground, sitting her upright against the log. Her body was thin and limp beneath her flowing pale green and brown robes. Still, despite the fact that she was barely heavier than a handful of down, Soth had the feeling she was a very strong woman.

When she was finally sitting comfortably Soth brushed more of her face clean, marveling at the prominence of her high cheekbones, the delicate points of her ears, and the softness of her goose-white skin, skin that had unfortunately been marred in spots by bruises and scrapes.

She was breathing easier now, yet still unconscious. Soth reached down around his waist and opened up a small pouch. Inside was a mixture of sharp and pungent herbs that Soth had used many times to awaken knights who had been knocked unconscious by a blow to the head.

He took a pinch of the mixture and held it under the maiden's nose. When she did not stir, he rubbed the herbs between his fingers, releasing a sharp new aroma into the air.

Finally she jerked her head away. Slowly, her eyelids began to rise.

After several false starts, her eyes finally fluttered open. They were hazel in color, indicating to Soth that-considering the color of her hair and complexion of her skin-the party of elf-maidens on its way to

Palanthas had probably originated in Silvanesti.

She turned her head to look at him… And Soth felt his heart begin to pound beneath his breastplate like that of a squire sneaking a peek through the window of a lady's bedchamber.

She was strikingly attractive, her beauty perhaps even rivaling that of

Lady Korinne. But more than simple beauty was the air of nobility and grace she exuded, a quality that refused to be dulled, even by coming into contact with the rough and jagged edges of the ogres.

"Are you all right?" Soth asked softly, a little surprised to find his mouth dry as dust.

"Yes," she said, the word sounding slightly melodic, as if it had been plucked from the middle of a verse. "I think so. Who… who are you?"

Soth eased one knee onto the ground and placed his arms on the other. He slipped off his helm and said, "I'm Lord Loren Soth of Dargaard Keep,

Knight of the Rose."

She smiled at him and said, "You saved my life."

Soth opened his mouth to speak, but words would not come.

He gently helped the elf-maiden to her feet and began to lead her through the forest toward the clearing where he expected to find both the knights and maidens gathered.

After a few steps it became apparent that the elf-maid had twisted her ankle during her struggle with the ogre. It was at least sprained, perhaps even broken.

"Allow me," offered Soth, scooping the woman up in his arms and carrying her the rest of the way.

"Oh," the elf-maid said as she was lifted off the ground.

"It's easier this way," said Soth, trying to make light of the close contact which might or might not have been necessary.

If she had been an ugly old maid, would he have offered to carry her?

Probably, but he would have done so a lot less enthusiastically.

"Perhaps I should introduce myself," said the maiden, her voice sounding to his ears like that of a songbird.

"I was curious as to your name."

"It's Isolde," she said, putting her arms around his neck to steady herself as he stepped over a fallen tree. "Isolde Denissa."

"A lovely name," said Soth. "For a lovely elf."

She smiled at that. "So you're charming as well as brave, strong and handsome." She rested her head against his shoulder.

Soth felt warm all over and found himself firming up his grip even though there was no danger of dropping the lithe young elf.

As he stepped into the clearing however, the feeling of warmth vanished as he came under the scrutiny of his fellow knights and the elderly elf-woman.

Did she look too comfortable in his arms? Could his sudden-he tried to think of the right word-affection for her be so easily discerned from the look on his face?

"Is she all right?" asked the elf-woman, who had undoubtedly been charged with the care of the maidens.

The question jarred Soth's train of thought. Of course, with her eyes closed and her head resting upon his shoulder, she appeared to be near death in their eyes. "She's been injured, but"-he paused for a moment as a wild thought leaped forward in his mind, quelling all other thoughts-"it's nothing the healer won't be able to mend." He put her down on the ground to reunite her with her fellow travelers.

"The healer?" asked Colm Farold, looking the elf-maiden over. "She doesn't look to be in need of Istvan."

"On the outside no, but she appears to have suffered"- he hesitated slightly-"internal injuries which might be best left to the healer to remedy. She may very well heal on her own, but it's always best to be sure."

Farold gave Soth a curious look, but dared not contradict his lord twice. "Very well, milord. We can always attend the Knights' Meeting next year."

Soth raised his hand dramatically. "No," he said. "These elf-maidens were on a holy pilgrimage to Palanthas. It is your duty as a Knight of

Solamnia to see they arrive there without further harm." "Our duty?" asked Farold. "You say that as if you won't be coming with us."

"I won't," said Soth. "I will be escorting the injured elf maid back to

Dargaard Keep while you and the others continue on to Palanthas. Deliver them safely so that they may pledge themselves to Paladine, father of all that is good. Then, attend the Knights' Meeting as heroes worthy of the title Knights of Solamnia."

Farold smiled with pride and gratitude. Arriving in Palanthas escorting a group of maidens they'd rescued from ogre bandits would make the knights the talk of the entire meeting, a rare opportunity for the knights to be regarded with the highest esteem by their peers. "Thank you, milord."

Soth shrugged his shoulders. "After she is in the care of the healer,

I'll once again set out for Palanthas and join you there. You must extend my apologies to the grand master, and conduct yourselves with the utmost honor and decorum in my absence." "I will, milord," said Farold.

"We will."

Soth nodded, then turned to inform the maidens of their plans.

"My knights will be escorting you the rest of the way to Palanthas," he told the elderly elf-woman. "Meanwhile, I will be taking Isolde Denissa back to Dargaard Keep where she can receive proper aid at the hands of the keep's healer."

The elf-woman tilted her head back and looked at Soth down the length of her nose. "I've looked her over and her injuries seem to be minor.

I think she's healthy enough to continue on with us to Palanthas, but thank you very much for your most generous offer."

The elf-woman was probably several hundred years old and had likely seen a great many things in her lifetime.

She had acquired great wisdom through her years of experience and for that reason alone deserved Soth's respect. Nevertheless, he couldn't allow her to meddle with his plan.

"It's not an offer," he said plainly.

She looked at him with narrowing eyes. "You mentioned Dargaard Keep before. Who are you exactly?"

Soth realized that their first meeting had been somewhat rushed and they'd never properly introduced themselves.

"I… am Lord Loren Soth of Dargaard Keep, Knight of the Rose."

A mixture of shock, surprise and embarrassment traversed the old woman's face at the mention of his name.

Apparently she had heard of Soth at some point in her long life.

"Excuse me, milord," she said, using the word even though she was not required to do so. "I was dubious of your intentions, but now that I know who you are I have no doubt that Isolde will be safe in your care."

She finished her words by lowering her head slightly, an unmistakable sign of respect.

"You have my word as a Knight of Solamnia," said Soth.

"No harm will come to her."

The ride back to Dargaard Keep was taken at a slow pace as the bump and jostle of a hard ride might further injure the young elf-maid.

For much of the time, Soth trailed Isolde by a horse length to the left.

As they rode slowly across the plains he watched her ride, her long thin legs draped over the horse and sometimes made bare by a sudden gust of wind. The wind also played through her hair, making her dirty blond locks dance like flames in the light of the sun.

And even though Soth had never imagined that he'd be so enamored by an elf-in fact he'd never been particularly fond of the race to begin with-he somehow found himself becoming attracted to the maiden. Perhaps it was her mix of youthful innocence and womanly beauty, or perhaps it was the look of awe in her eyes when she spoke and looked at him.

Whatever it was, he was enchanted by her. Of that, there could be no doubt.

"I'm becoming weary," said Isolde. "Can we stop for a little while?"

Soth scanned the surrounding landscape. It was barren and flat and the sun beat down on them mercilessly. He would have liked to have stopped by a stand of trees or a rock formation, but he wasn't about to suggest that Isolde continue on if she didn't feel up to it.

"All right, we can stop here. But not for long."

"Thank you, milord."

"You may call me Loren."

"Very well… Loren."

They stopped on the trail and Isolde waited until Soth had dismounted and could assist her from her mount. He reached up, put his hands about her waist and eased her off the horse. Before her feet touched the ground Isolde put her arms around Soth's neck and held him close.

"I wanted to thank you for all you've done."

Soth was surprised by how tightly Isolde held onto him, or perhaps surprised that she was so at ease when there were only inches between them.

"It was nothing, really," said Soth, holding Isolde aloft because she didn't seem in any hurry to get her feet onto the ground. "I did nothing that any Knight of Solamnia wouldn't have done in a similar circumstance."

"Perhaps, but it wasn't just any Knight of Solamnia who saved me, it was you."

"But-"

His words were cut off by a kiss.

A deep soulful kiss, more passionate than mere thanks would require.

Soth hesitated at first, but quickly felt himself giving in to the moment until he returned the kiss with as much urgency as it was given.

It was a long time before Isolde's feet touched the ground.

When Dargaard Keep was well within their sights and he knew he would be seen from the highest of the keep's towers, Soth felt the warm summer's breeze touch the back of his neck like a cold, cold hand.

It had been so easy to kiss Isolde.

It had felt so natural. It was natural, too, that they ride together on his horse, leaving hers to trail riderless behind them.

But now with the red rose of Dargaard Keep blooming on the horizon, his thoughts turned to Lady Korinne and he felt a churning in the pit of his stomach, almost as if he were going to be sick.

Did his attraction to Isolde mean that his love for Lady Korinne was waning? After all. Lady Korinne was herself an attractive woman whose beauty was known throughout Ansalon. Then why had he so easily forgotten about her upon seeing Isolde? What was it about the elf-maid that would prompt him to forget his lovely, loyal and most-cherished wife? What did Isolde possess that Korinne did not?

He couldn't think of anything.

He'd merely been attracted by her appearance. And while she was stunningly attractive, her looks were no reason for him to lose his head and start acting like a lovesick young boy. But while there wasn't anything wrong with lusting after beautiful young women, elf or otherwise, (he was married, not dead, after all) it was another matter entirely if he chose to act upon his emotions.

The kiss had been an aberration, he thought, vowing to have Isolde's injuries taken care of, then send her off to Palanthas with an escort so that she could rejoin her fellow maidens.

"Almost there," he said.

Isolde craned her neck to see the top of the keep over Soth's shoulder.

"Where are your chambers?" she asked.

"The second window from the top on the left side of the tower," he said.

"And that's where you sleep?"

Soth considered telling her that it was the room where both he and Lady

Korinne slept, but for some reason he did not. Instead, he merely said,

"Yes."

"Lord Soth returns!"

"Milord approaches!"

The loud shouts echoed down from the tower's two top observation posts almost at the same time.

Immediately upon hearing the words. Lady Korinne felt her heart drop like a stone into the pit of her stomach.

Something had to be wrong.

The Knights' Meeting was to have lasted seven days and her husband was not to have returned for at least ten, or perhaps for even two weeks, yet here he was returning just two days after leaving. He hadn't even reached Palanthas.

A lump of worry gathered in Korinne's throat as she hurried to the window of her bedchamber. The room was high up in the keep with a view that stretched all the way to the Vingaard River. If the sky was clear, she'd likely be able to see her husband's approach.

She scanned the horizon and picked out two horses far off in the distance making their way toward the keep.

There appeared to be two riders, but she couldn't be sure.

One was obviously Lord Soth, his size, shape and the deep rose-red color of his leather armor unmistakable even at this distance. The other traveler was much harder to identify.

Clearly the rider was not a knight, being too small and slender to belong to any of the orders.

At one point, the two horses turned slightly to one side.

At once, Korinne saw that the trailing horse was riderless, while the second rider sat directly behind Lord Soth.

She shifted her gaze back onto her husband. From the way he was riding, it was obvious that he was unharmed.

She was relieved but the lump of worry was still knotted in her throat.

In fact, it seemed to have grown larger.

If he hadn't been injured, then why was he returning so early, and in the company of a woman? A woman who rode with her arms wrapped tightly around the waist of Korinne's husband.