Chapter 5

After the exhilarating charge out of the keep, the thirteen Solamnic

Knights loyal to Lord Soth settled down to a somewhat more relaxed pace which would allow them to travel the maximum amount of distance in what was left of the day.

After night had fallen, they continued on in the darkness for several hours and would have ridden through the night had Soth asked it of them.

But of course, he would never think to do such a thing. For although it was imperative they get to Halton as quickly as possible, Soth refused to compromise his knights' fighting ability by bringing them to the point of exhaustion before they'd even arrived at the battle. When they passed the halfway point between Dargaard Keep and Halton, the decision to stop for the night was made easy for Soth when the passage through that part of the mountains proved too treacherous to complete under the cover of darkness.

He stopped the procession and the knights dutifully, if not gratefully, dismounted and stretched their limbs. Soon after, Caradoc had arranged a watch rotation and the knights set about eating what little provisions they had taken with them. In a day or so the squires would catch up to the group and there would be plenty of time to feast, but for now they had to travel as lightly and as quickly as possible.

A chill wind blew down from the mountains, but fires were obviously out of the question. And so, they ate cold food in the dark, and after they'd staved off their pangs of hunger, at least temporarily, the knights silently made themselves comfortable wherever they could.

Finally, they closed their eyes for a few hours' rest… And dreamed of the battle ahead.


Soth looked up and saw the rocks tumbling down the mountainside. He ducked beneath an overhang and watched the stones and boulders roll past, then crash heavily into the soft valley floor below.

He waited another few seconds, listening to the flap of the dragon's wings as it flew over the mountain's peak and prepared for yet another pass.

"Father!"

It was a thin, weak voice, yet somehow familiar.

Another moment passed and he realized it was the voice of his son.

He was still alive.

Soth ran out from under the overhang and quickly looked left and right.

"Father!" came the call again.

He ran to the left, over the loose rocks that had been dislodged by the dragon's pass. After cresting a slight rise, he saw his son standing in the middle of a clearing. He was looking around, his steps tentative and cautious.

He was a young and handsome man, with all the size and strength of his father. He was dressed in shining plate armor, dented and scratched in spots in evidence of the fierceness of battles past. He held his sword stiffly before him like a pathfinder, lighting his way in the dark.

Soth ran toward his son, but stopped when he noticed the boy's eyes.

They were two large white spheres absolutely without color. The young man was blind, wandering aimlessly over the mountainside, in search of

… "Father, are you there?"

"Yes!" cried Soth, moving toward the boy.

But the dragon was back, plunging down toward them, so close now that

Soth could feel the rush of hot wind against his body as it approached.

He drew his sword to face the beast. It was a red dragon, its head and snout crowned by great spiny horns and its body covered with large red diamond-shaped scales.

Such a powerful and evil enemy, even Soth felt a shiver of fear run through him.

"Father, help me!"

The dragon swooped closely overhead, then rose up in a slow, wide arc in preparation for another pass.

Soth turned toward his son, but a rock rolled in front of him and he was forced to jump back… Directly into the path of another, larger rock.

The great stone slammed into him, knocking him down and pinning him to the ground. Desperately he tried to move, but both his legs had been crushed, and the rock-more like a boulder-was far too heavy to move.

"Father? Are you there?"

Soth tried to speak, but the words would not come to his parched throat.

The red dragon had circled back once more, this time coming in to land on the side of the mountain no more than fifty paces from the boy.

"Is that you?" The younger Soth turned his head toward the dragon, listening to the sounds of movement around him.

The dragon moved closer, a wide villainous smile forming on its hideous snout. It began to inhale, gathering its breath. Then, slowly it opened its mouth wide.

Soth felt the blood drain from his face. His heart fell into the pit of his stomach. He opened his mouth to scream, but could not make a sound.

The red dragon exhaled a cone of white-hot flames.

"Father, please…"

The boy's sword and shield began to melt in the wash of fire.

"Help me!"

And a moment later the young Soth was also aflame, his armor and body being incinerated by the intense heat of the dragon's fiery breath.

"No!" Soth cried, this time managing to say the word.

The dragon closed its mouth and turned to face him.

Thin white tendrils of smoke wafted up from its nostrils and the corners of its mouth as it took several steps in his direction.

Soth began to thrash from side to side, pulling at his ruined legs, trying to get them free.

The dragon inhaled again, then opened its mouth and… "Milord!" whispered Caradoc.

Soth's eyes fluttered open. "What?" he gasped. "What is it?"

"Are you all right? It sounded as if you might be in pain."

Soth fought to catch his breath. He looked around. It was still dark out. Slowly, he remembered where he was, and realized he'd been having a dream.

A bad dream.

A nightmare.

"No, I'm… I'm fine," he said. He looked down at his legs, and saw that his feet had become entangled in his cloak. He kicked the cloak away. "Is it my turn to keep watch?" he asked hopefully. Anything to keep him from returning to the nightmare of the dream.

"No, milord," said Caradoc. "It is time to go. Your turn to keep watch came and went some time ago. You were sleeping so soundly we decided it was best not to wake you." Soth said nothing to this. He could reprimand his knights for not waking him, but he knew the fault lay within himself. After all, the squire's first rule was that knights who slept too deeply did not live very long. It wasn't like him to forget something like that, but he had.

Perhaps it was best not to dwell on it. In fact, the less he reminded himself about his ghastly nightmare the better.

"Very well," he said at last. "But, don't let it happen again."

"Yes, milord."

Soth rose up off the ground, stiff and sore, his clothes cold and damp with sweat.


The knights were well on their way as the sun broke over the tops of the Dargaard Mountains. After a cold night and its legacy of stiff joints and sore bones, the sun's warmth was a more than welcome relief for the knights.

Soth took his customary position at the head of the group during the early hours, but as they neared Halton, he allowed the rider who'd come from the village to take the lead position given that he was more familiar with the surrounding terrain.

When the village at last came into sight, Soth moved the knights slightly up the mountain slopes in order to avoid detection as the ogres would no doubt have one or two guards watching the surrounding lands and especially the approach from Dargaard Keep.

As they made their way through a shallow gully, one of the knights let out a birdlike cry. Soth immediately halted the knights with an upraised fist. The procession stopped and went silent as Soth waited for the knight who'd called out the warning to offer a report.

The knight turned out to be Colm Farold, Knight of the Sword. "Voices, milord," he said. "Coming from over there." He pointed with a subtle gesture at a thick patch of fireweed growing close to the ground some yards off.

Soth nodded, and listened closely. Indeed there were faint sounds coming from somewhere to his left. He gestured to Farold with his head, then pointed to two other knights. The selected knights immediately dismounted.

"Nothing here, men," said Soth, moving forward through the gully, leaving the three knights behind. "I think it's best we be moving on."

Once they were through the gully, Soth doubled his men back around in a wide arc and minutes later they were once again traversing the gully.

Except this time, Farold and the other knights were there waiting for them, swords drawn and two prisoners in hand.

"Hender and Pike!" exclaimed the rider.

"You know these two?" asked Soth.

"Indeed, milord. One is my cousin, the other his neighbor."

Soth looked at the men flanked by the trio of knights and recognized them from their manner of dress as being simple farmers.

"We found them cowering in the bushes almost with their heads buried in the ground," Farold explained.

"We were afraid you might be more ogres," said the older of the two, the one the rider had identified as Hender. He was a man with thin gray hair, a long white beard, and the red neck and thickly calloused hands of one who tills the land.

If the man hadn't been so terrified, Soth might have considered his words an insult. And if their task wasn't so urgent, he might have taken the time to make a comment about them. Instead, he decided to concentrate on the matter at hand. "How long ago did you escape from the village?" "This morning," said the other farmer, a somewhat younger man who was obviously the one named Pike.

"Before sunup."

Soth wasn't surprised by this. It was just like ogres to take over a village, then get careless about keeping it while they indulged on food, ale and wine in celebration.

Fortunately for Soth and the people of Halton, it simply meant that the ogres' celebration would be short-lived.

"Did you get a chance to learn where the ogres are located?" asked Soth.

"Most of them, milord," said Pike.

"I saw some too," offered Hender.

"Excellent," said Soth. Then in a slightly louder voice.

"We'll break for a short rest here. When we mount again, we'll be riding into battle."

He dismounted and began studying the map the rider had drawn back at

Dargaard Keep. In comparing it to what was known about the ogres by

Hender and Pike, it became clear that, despite what the rider had said about them at Dargaard Keep, these ogres preferred to stick close together.

According to Hender, most of the ogres had gathered in the middle of the village around the open meeting place called Center Square. From there, four pathways led out in four basic directions: north, south, west and east. The pathway leading into the village from the north was the largest of the four and could easily be considered a road.

It was the village's main connection to Dargaard Keep to the north and the path most often traveled by villagers.

The path heading west was also fairly wide and well maintained. This was the path that hooked up with the trail that led to Vingaard Keep, another stronghold of the Knights of Solamnia. The path south was thin and seldom used, stopping at the edge of Halton Wood, a thick, dark forest that had, up until now, served as a buffer zone between the farmers and the ogres living in Throtyl to the south. The path leading east was also a short one, leading to a single farmhouse and a trail that led up the side of one of the Dargaard range's more majestic peaks.

It was this path that the knights decided on utilizing. It was likely that the ogres had posted guards on the main north-south road, so they would gain some measure of surprise by coming at them out of the mountains from the east. It was also a safer plan for the villagers given that most of them were being held up in the two large homes on the west side of the main road. If the knights were successful, they'd be able to overpower the ogres long before they had a chance to harm any of their prisoners.

So, armed with a rough battle plan, they set out around midday, riding halfway up the slopes of the Dargaard Mountains in the hopes of remaining unseen by any scouts or guards the ogres might have stationed around the perimeter of the village. As they got closer to Halton, however, it became more and more apparent that the ogres didn't perceive there to be much of a threat from outside forces. There were no guards, no sentries, nobody on the rooftops overlooking the countryside.

Nevertheless, Soth kept the knights hidden on the mountainside in order to assure they retained the element of surprise.

"Is this the path?" Soth said in a whisper, even though such precautions were proving to be less and less necessary.

"Yes, milord," said Pike. "It curves a little to the right before joining up with the others in the center of town.

There is a farm house on the right of it halfway between here and the center of town. On the left there's a small creek that feeds into a large pond which is where the farmers get most of their water during the dry summer seasons."

"You will take your men across the field there," said Soth, pointing to the open field below. The grain was nearing harvest and stood as tall as a man, if not taller. "Leave your mounts behind and secure the trade post and mercantile before joining me in the center of town."

Farold nodded and dismounted. The three knights under his command also dismounted, leaving their horses to the villagers. In a minute the knights were out of sight, heading toward the village.

"Caradoc!"

"Milord." "You will continued skirting the mountains and come at the village from the south. I don't expect you'll come up against much resistance, but you might run into several ogres on the run."

Caradoc grinned at the thought. "Yes, milord." "Take Knight Kern with you," said Soth. "Be careful through the mountains, but move quickly."

Caradoc nodded.

Kern followed, nodding to Soth as he passed.

That left Soth and six other knights, including Sword knights Darin

Valcic and Zander Vingus, for what would basically be a full-frontal attack.

Soth took a deep breath. After all these years as a knight and the countless battles and adventures he'd been a part of, he still felt the same excitement beginning to build within him. It was a nervous sort of tension, an almost euphoric sensation that would continue to build until it all but disappeared upon the onset of battle. Then, his knightly instincts and years of training would take control and he would fight like a man possessed, not stopping until the last of his foes had been vanquished.

But that would all come later. For now, he savored the sweet feeling of anticipation, struggling with himself to keep it in check lest it overtake him too early. He still had a responsibility to his men to lead them safely into battle, for if one of them should die during the fight, a little piece of him would die along with that knight.

He drew his sword, held it at the ready and gave his mount a gentle squeeze with his legs. The horse began moving forward.

The rest of the knights followed.

Soon after they set out, the path curved to the right as it followed the bend of the river feeding into the pond.

There was a small farmhouse on the right of the road. Soth sent two knights to inspect it, but it proved to be empty of either villagers or ogres.

They continued on, Soth in front and three knights to either side of him in a loose V shape. As the path straightened out, they were able to see

Center Square. Apparently, Paladine was smiling favorably on their expedition because they'd arrived just as the ogres were packing up their booty and preparing for the trip back to Throtyl. As the knights watched, several of them were casually inspecting their loads unaware of their impending demise.

Soth gauged the distance between his men and the ogres. He was close enough that any thoughts in the ogres' minds about running for cover would be out of the question.

The knights would easily be upon them before they reached safety.

No, Soth's attack plan had left them only one option, stand and fight.

Soth raised his sword high above him and kicked at his mount. The horse surged forward and in seconds the air was full of the sounds of charging hoofs.

The first ogre to see Soth stared at the knight for a moment as if he were looking at death itself. He moved left, then right, then finally picked up his nearby club and took up an improvised battle stance, ready to fight.

Soth continued to charge, leaning right and swinging his sword, the length of which outdistanced the ogre's club by half. The leading edge of the blade cut through the ogre's midsection, spattering Soth and his horse with blood. The ogre stood upright a moment, then doubled over before dropping heavily to the ground.

Quickly, the rest of the ogres became aware of the oncoming knights.

Some decided to flee, heading north or south in search of cover. The last knights on either side broke off from the main assault to take care of these, cutting them down as they ran. After that, the knights swung around to rejoin the main group, leaving any further runners for the knights positioned to the north and south of the village.

Soth's charge had brought him through Center Square. He stopped his horse and dismounted, preferring to fight the rest of the battle on foot. The other knights had also dismounted and were now involved in close fighting, each knight battling one or more of the ogres who had remained to fight.

Soth approached the fray, eager to even the odds.


"It's not fair," said Farold.

The Knight of the Sword had led his party through the fields unnoticed and now looked across the main road at the two buildings serving as a makeshift prison for the villagers.

"What's not fair?" asked Kris Krejigaard, a Knight of the Crown who had just returned from inspecting the mercantile and trade center, both of which proved to have been cleared out by the ogres.

"The stupid brutes have posted a single guard outside the prison and that one's asleep on the job."

"Perhaps their victory celebrations went long into the night?" offered

Krejigaard.

"Indeed, they must have."

"But you can't kill him as he sleeps." "No, of course not," said Farold.

It was forbidden by the Measure to kill an opponent whilst unawares.

"But I doubt he'll put up much of a fight after I wake him."

"No," said Krejigaard. "in his condition, I suppose not."

Farold rose up, walked boldly across the street and kicked at the feet of the sleeping ogre.

"Huh? What?" the beast sputtered.

"Surrender, or die at my blade," said Farold.

The ogre threw a handful of dirt into Farold's face, reached for his nearby spike-end club and leaped up from the ground.

Farold was blinded for a moment, cursing as he wiped his eyes. Luckily he was able to recover from the dirty tactic in time to meet the ogre's challenge.

While Farold and the ogre fought, Krejigaard went to the two buildings on the west side of the road and released the imprisoned villagers. Then he escorted them to the mercantile where the two other knights in

Farold's command waited with the small amounts of food, water and other supplies they had carried in their packs.

When Krejigaard rejoined Farold, the Sword knight was standing over his fallen enemy looking none the worse for the battle.

"That didn't take long," said Krejigaard.

"I suspect his abilities were muddled by sleep," said Farold, his voice edged with a hint of regret. "That or by last night's ale."

"Perhaps he would have been wise to remember the squire's first rule."

"So it would seem," said Farold, his eyes already scanning the village before him.

Off in the distance, sounds of a much larger battle could be heard.

Without another word between them, the two knights headed south.


Soth searched the square for an opponent. He found one in the largest of the ogres who was looking behind a grain cart for an unsuspecting knight.

"I'm over here, you ugly brute," said Soth, putting a boot to the ogre's backside and pushing him headfirst into the dirt.

The ogre tumbled and grunted, then looked up at Soth.

"Didn't know Knights of Solamnia fought like common tavern wenches."

Soth was amused by the remark and grateful his opponent had a sense of humor. "Only when fighting old maids."

The ogre stood up, and for the first time Soth realized the beast was a full head taller than himself.

They began trading blows and for a while it was all Soth could do to keep up with the ogre. He'd been able to cut his foe here and there, but the opportunity for a death blow had so far eluded him.

The ogre blocked an overhanded swing of Soth's sword, then countered with a punch to Soth's ribs. His armor softened much of the blow, but it still hurt him.

And that's when the ogre made his one fatal mistake.

He became a little overconfident.

"You're not a bad fighter for a human. There must be some ogre blood in you, probably on your mother's side."

The remark enraged Soth, blinding him with fury. The Soth family was a noble one, certainly free of the vile taint of something as disgusting as ogre blood.

With a roar, Soth was upon the beast, his broadsword moving surely and swiftly, making it seem as if there were two or more swords fighting on his behalf.

The ogre fought off Soth's advances, but eventually began to tire. Soth was able to strike him at will, and took great delight in killing him slowly-wounding him on the shoulder, then the leg, stabbing him in the chest, then the stomach.

The ogre fell heavily to the ground, bleeding but still very much alive.

But Soth showed no mercy, continuing to hack at the body, lopping off limbs and cutting deeply into the flesh, again and again until the once formidable beast was little more than a grotesque lump of gore.

"Milord," said a voice of one of the knights.

Soth didn't hear it.

"Milord!" the knight called again.

Soth continued to stab and chop at the dead ogre.

Finally the knight, Darin Valcic, grabbed at Soth's arm.

"He's dead, milord."

Soth stopped at last, his sword poised over his right shoulder and his breath coming hard and fast.

"There are still others… alive," said Valcic.

"Then let us find them," said Soth, his eyes alight with a dangerously bright glint of rage.


Caradoc stepped quietly through the bush. He'd heard sounds of movement in the distance and was slowly making his way toward their source.

After a few steps he stopped again and listened. It sounded as if someone was breathing hard. Most likely it was an ogre fleeing the battle that was now raging in the center of the village.

Caradoc continued his approach, being careful not to alert the ogre to his presence. Behind him, he could hear the faint footsteps of Wersten

Kern as he came to join him.

Caradoc turned, faced the knight and gestured that he should circle around the back of their enemy.

Kern nodded and headed off through the bush.

When the younger knight was out of earshot, Caradoc continued his hunt of the lone ogre. He'd traveled several more yards and stopped. The sound of the ogre's breathing was heavy and loud. In fact he was so close now that he could almost smell the beast's foul breath.

Caradoc pulled back a branch… And there was the ogre, his back to Caradoc, no doubt watching the village to see if he were being pursued.

The ogre was a large one, a full head taller than Caradoc and with long, wild hair that covered his shoulders and most of his back like a horse's mane. The beast's arms were as thick as Caradoc's thighs and his legs easily reminded one of tree trunks.

Caradoc took a breath and readied his sword. Then he slipped through the few remaining trees and prepared himself for a fight.

And at that moment the ogre turned.

From the look on his face, he was obviously surprised, but no longer inclined to flee. The ogre drew his huge sword and held it before him as he lunged toward Caradoc.

The knight was able to deflect the initial thrust with his shield, but the force of the blow caused a sharp stab of pain to shoot up the length of his arm. Still, Caradoc managed to strike a retaliatory blow against the ogre's naked thigh. It was a glancing blow, but still strong enough to slow the beast down.

After trading several ineffective blows, the two combatants squared off once more, this time as if ready to begin the fight anew.

"Caradoc!" It was the voice of Wersten Kern coming from somewhere deep in the bush.

The ogre turned to face this new threat approaching from behind, and when he did, Caradoc raised his sword and struck the beast in the back of the head.

Dead.

Seconds later, Kern appeared through the bush. When he looked at the ogre lying prone on the forest floor, his eyes opened wide in awe. "Look at the size of him!" "He put up a valiant fight," said Caradoc, standing over the fallen ogre with one foot resting on its chest. "But in the end he proved to be no match for my blade."

Kern looked upon his fellow knight with an admiring eye, obviously not having seen the underhanded way in which Caradoc had felled the beast.

"Well done. Knight Caradoc," cheered Kern.

"Thank you. Knight Kern," Caradoc said, bowing slightly.

There was a moment of silence between them.

"Well, enough of this," said Kern. "This fight is over, but there is still a battle to be won."

"Lead the way," said Caradoc.


The battle in Center Square was brief.

Several of the ogres had fallen during the initial attack, reducing their force to a more manageable number. Then as the battle continued and more ogres fell, the will to fight in the ones that remained seemed to weaken, opening the way for a virtual rout over the loosely knit army of marauding beasts.

And now, bloody ogres littered the square.

Those who had fled the battle had been taken care of by Farold to the north and Caradoc to the south. It was possible that one or more of the ogres had managed to escape the slaughter and would eventually make it back to Throtyl, but Soth wasn't too concerned about that. If an ogre were to reach Throtyl it would mean he would be able to tell the rest of them what had happened to their party, thereby providing an effective warning to those who might try a similar attack on villages within the realm of Knightlund.

There was also a chance that the ogres would attempt to mount reprisal attacks, but their numbers would be no match for an extended war with the combined forces of all the Knights of Solamnia. This had been little more than an isolated skirmish, and now it was over.

Soth wiped his blade clean on a dead ogre's loincloth, then sheathed the sword and looked around to inspect the damage. Except for what the ogres had consumed while they had been in control of the village, most of their booty-the village's store-was recovered intact. A few villagers would be inconvenienced by having to cart their valuables back to their homes, and others would need time to get over the shock of the ogres' attack, but all in all, everything had gone as well as, or perhaps even better, than Soth could have hoped.

Best of all, not one of his knights had suffered a serious injury. Of course, a few of them had suffered cuts and gashes, and others had been bruised by the ogres, but their pains were nothing a tankard or two of ale wouldn't cure.

Soth detected some movement to his left. He turned and saw Farold approaching the Square from the north. "All clear, milord," he said.

"And the villagers?"

"Safe."

Soth nodded and looked to the south. Caradoc was there with Kern. Soth raised his head, as if asking a question of his seneschal.

"No more ogres in the forest, milord," said Caradoc. "If there are, they're halfway to Throtyl by now."

Soth nodded. His chest swelled with pride at the way his knights had handled themselves, but he was also rightly proud of himself for planning a battle strategy that ensured all of his knights would be able to fight again another day. As their leader, this had been one of Soth's prime concerns.

"Well done. Knights of Solamnia," he said loudly.

"Well done, milord!" the knights cheered in unison.

It was a good day to be a Knight of Solamnia.

When they ventured out into their village and found their streets rid of the dreaded ogres, the grateful villagers of Halton insisted that the knights remain in the town for a celebratory feast.

And, after a day and a half's ride and a short, but intense battle, the knights quickly acquiesced to the offer.

For the feast, all types of food-much of it taken directly from what the ogres had pillaged and loaded onto their carts-was served up on tables set up within Center Square itself. Ale and wine poured freely into what seemed to be bottomless tankards, and music and song from the town's finest minstrels and bards gave the night an almost festival atmosphere.

After the meal, the villagers continued to show the knights their gratitude by offering them a number of gifts ranging from heirloom quilted blankets to household bric-a-brac made from precious metals and rare wood. In a few cases the offered gifts included the favors of several of the more adventurous-not to mention attractive-women of the village. The knights, of course, all remained true to the Oath and the

Measure and kindly refused such tempting entreaties.

Especially virtuous among the knights was Lord Soth himself, who despite the intoxicating effect of the ale and the tempting proposition made to him by a pretty and buxom young farm girl, found his thoughts kept drifting back toward Dargaard Keep and his Lady Korinne who waited patiently for him to return.

Загрузка...