Shield Knight: Apprentice Read online

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  Chapter 2: Crossbow

  Antenora walked north along the Via Borealis towards the Forum of the North, Gavin on her right, Philip walking between them, and Carlon cradled in the arms of his nurse Rotrude, an elderly halfling woman who was both apple-cheeked and slightly apple-shaped. Despite her age, she was still vigorous, likely since halflings lived longer than humans.

  It had not taken Antenora long to prepare, but she had made the effort nonetheless. There were proprieties to be observed, and it was not every day that she met both the Constable of Tarlion and a bishop. She had donned a fine blue gown with black scrollwork on the sleeves and bodice and had done up her hair and donned silver earrings and a golden necklace. She was still surprised at the face that gazed at her from the mirror. Antenora had been used to thinking of herself as the yellow-eyed, half-dead creature that she had been, so it shocked her to see a beautiful young woman staring at her from the glass.

  It unsettled her, too. She had been a beautiful young woman long ago in Britannia upon Old Earth, and in her arrogance, vanity, and pride, she had let Mordred Pendragon seduce her. And she had paid for that folly, paid and paid for centuries.

  She didn’t deserve the second chance at life she had found, didn’t deserve the loving husband who walked next to her.

  Or the children.

  Philip chattered away as they walked, mostly to Gavin, though from time to time he looked to Antenora. He was looking for her approval, she knew, and she tried to smile when he looked at her, complimenting him when he recited one of his lessons. Antenora wasn’t sure if she was doing it right. Gavin was so much better with the children than she was.

  So much better with people in general, really.

  Fifteen centuries spent wandering the face of Old Earth and fighting dark magic had given her a great deal of knowledge about a variety of topics, but it had not given her the gift of dealing comfortably with people. Antenora never knew quite what to say, and overthought things. She appreciated formal occasions and the demands of noble courtesy – there were always clear rules about what to do and say. But Gavin had an easy touch that she did not.

  Maybe it was because he had a gentler heart than she did. He hadn’t stained his soul with crimes the way she had, nor had he been bound with a curse of dark magic for a millennium and a half…

  Antenora could almost hear Gavin telling her that she was overthinking things again, and she laughed at herself.

  “My lady?”

  She blinked and looked at Rotrude. Carlon was squirming in her arms, reaching for Antenora.

  “I think he wants to go to you, my lady,” said Rotrude.

  “Yes, of course,” said Antenora. “Will you take my staff?”

  She traded her staff for Carlon, though Rotrude held the staff gingerly as if fearing it might explode. Antenora lifted Carlon, and the boy smiled, hugged her, and rested his head against her left shoulder. A sudden wave of warmth rolled through her, and to Antenora’s surprise, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes.

  She wasn’t always sure what to do with her children, but it was worth it.

  “How come Carlon gets to be carried and I have to walk?” said Philip, petulance in his voice.

  Gavin opened his mouth, but Antenora spoke first.

  “Because Carlon is two and you are seven,” said Antenora. “In another year you will be old enough to be a page in the High King’s court. Do you think squires and knights get carried?”

  “No,” said Philip. “They ride on horses.”

  “Well, you cannot ride on a horse if your mother is carrying you,” said Antenora.

  Philip’s petulance turned into thoughtfulness as he considered this. Gavin winked at her, and Antenora smiled back. After seven years, Antenora still wasn’t sure she understood motherhood, but sometimes she got it right.

  They reached the Forum of the North. It was a large plaza before Tarlion’s northern gate, lined with shops and taverns. Merchants set up their stalls throughout the Forum, hawking their wares, and four men in the tabards of the city militia patrolled the market, iron-bound cudgels in hand. Before the northern gate waited a dozen men-at-arms in blue tabards adorned with the red dragon sigil of the Pendragons. A knight on horseback waited with the men-at-arms, scowling at the gate. He was a graying old man with a permanent scowl and a barrel chest, still strong despite his years.

  The knight turned as they approached and blinked in surprise.

  “Sir Gavin, Lady Antenora,” said Corbanic Lamorus, the Constable of Tarlion. “This is a surprise.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re not expecting more trouble, are you? More of those damned Maledicti warlocks?”

  “No, my lord,” said Gavin. “It’s just that Brother…ah, Bishop Caius is an old friend, and we wish to see him.”

  Corbanic grunted. “That’s right. I remember when you lot turned up in Coldinium when I was still the Comes there. That damned traitor Tarrabus Carhaine. If we had killed him then and there, we might have averted much evil.”

  “The obvious is only obvious in hindsight, Lord Constable,” said Antenora.

  “There’s God’s own truth,” said Corbanic. Antenora liked the gruff knight. Corbanic was old enough that he spoke his mind and did not give a damn what anyone thought, which Antenora found refreshing. “Well, once the bishop gives his message to the High King, you can catch up and get drunk.”

  “Caius is a bishop now,” said Gavin. “Wouldn’t getting drunk be inappropriate?”

  Corbanic’s smile was cynical. “You haven’t known many high churchmen, have you? They’re not all as dour as old Caelmark Arban. Anyway, my outriders say that the dwarves should be here at any minute.” He looked at Antenora and grunted. “Let’s hope this goes better than the last time we met some dwarves, aye?”

  “You have my full and fervent agreement, my lord,” said Antenora.

  She feared the children would get antsy, but fortunately, it was a short wait. A few moments later a party of twenty dwarves on horseback rode through the gate. The dwarves rode the shaggy Kothluuskan mountain ponies they preferred for long journeys. The ponies could not travel as swiftly as the horses of Andomhaim, but the beasts had nearly bottomless stamina. Most of the dwarves wore bronze-colored armor of dwarven steel, axes and swords at their belts. The lead rider wore only a simple brown robe and a wooden cross on a leather cord around his neck. The only sign of his rank was the bishop’s ring on his left hand.

  Caius had not changed in the nine years since Antenora had met him, but dwarves aged far more slowly than humans. His skin was the color of gray granite, and his eyes an eerie shade of blue that reminded Antenora of polished marble. His receding hairline and bushy beard were entirely gray.

  “Bishop Caius,” said Corbanic. “In the name of High King Arandar, I bid you welcome to Tarlion.”

  “Thank you, Lord Constable,” said Caius, his voice calm and resonant, and then he smiled. “I daresay these are more pleasant circumstances than our first meeting.”

  Corbanic snorted. “Aye, no Mhorites are prowling through the streets this time. Though I suppose that depends on the contents of your message.”

  “Fear not, sir,” said Caius. “I must give my message to Lord Varaxar to relay to the High King. But King Axazamar places no blame for the attack on his ambassador upon the men of Andomhaim.” His eyes shifted to Antenora and Gavin, and he smiled. “Indeed, based on Lord Varaxar’s report, it seems the men of Andomhaim fought fiercely to defend him from these Maledicti sorcerers.” He smiled. “Sir Gavin, Lady Antenora, it is good to see you again.”

  “And you, bishop,” said Gavin.

  Caius laughed. “I am still not used to that. But given how the church in Khald Tormen has grown, the other bishops felt that the time had come to appoint an overseer for the faithful there. And we thought the dwarves would be more likely to accept a bishop of their own kindred, just as the orcs of Rhaluusk, Khaluusk, and Mhorluusk have their own churchmen.”

  “I suppose when
you give a sermon, then,” said Gavin, “the other priests have no choice but to listen.”

  “Alas, loquaciousness is one of the temptations of my heart,” said Caius. “Has there been any news of Ridmark and Calliande?”

  “Quite a bit,” said Antenora. The last she had heard, Calliande and Ridmark and the allies they had made in Owyllain were attempting to enter Urd Maelwyn in hopes of finding Irizidur, the mad dwarven smith who had forged the Seven Swords for the Sovereign. Antenora had been unable to contact Calliande since. She hoped that meant Calliande was within the wards of Urd Maelwyn, which would block Antenora’s efforts to reach her through the enspelled bracelet.

  It might also mean that Calliande was dead.

  Caius nodded and looked back to Corbanic. “Lord Constable, I should deliver my message to Lord Varaxar as soon as possible. Then I must pay my respects to the High King and his Queen.” He looked at Gavin again. “But I should very much like to dine with you and Lady Antenora as soon as possible. Could you come to the dwarven embassy tomorrow night? I would like to see Camorak and his wife and son as well. Then you can share your news of the Shield Knight and the Keeper.”

  “I would be glad of it,” said Gavin. He grinned. “It will be just like the old days. Except we won’t be sleeping in a forest. And you and Kharlacht won’t spend hours arguing theology.”

  “Discussing theology,” said Caius with placid calm. “We were discussing theology. It…”

  Gavin frowned and looked to the left.

  Antenora followed his gaze and saw him looking at an inn on the other side of the Forum. It was a four-story building of white stone and red tiles, and there was a flash of metal from a window on the top floor.

  A crossbow.

  “Look out!” shouted Gavin.

  Even as he spoke, there was a flash of metal, and a crossbow quarrel shivered to splinters at his feet.

  ***

  Chapter 3: Red Mask

  Motion erupted around Gavin, but it was organized.

  Caius and the dwarves leaped from the horses, the dwarven soldiers raising their shields. Corbanic barked orders to the men-at-arms, and they drew swords and lifted their shields. Shouts and screams rang through the Forum, and Gavin yanked Truthseeker from the scabbard at his belt. He looked at Antenora, terrified that a crossbow quarrel might have struck her or the children, but they were unharmed. Antenora had already cast a spell, and the pale white haze of a warding spell covered both her and Philip and Carlon and Rotrude.

  “We are safe!” said Antenora. She must have read his intention in his eyes because she nodded. “Go! I will look after the children!”

  Gavin nodded and raced forward, drawing on Truthseeker for speed. He caught a flicker of motion from the inn’s window. The unknown crossbowman was fleeing. Gavin gritted his teeth and ran faster, wishing he had thought to wear his armor today.

  He burst through the door and into the inn’s common room. It was a pleasant place, with a flagstone floor, wooden tables and benches, and polished rafters. There were only a few men in the common room. The innkeeper, a stout man in an apron, gave Gavin a horrified look.

  “My lord,” he said, shocked. “I…”

  Gavin ignored him, raced up the flights of stairs to the inn’s top floor, and looked around. A corridor ran the length of the top floor, and Gavin found the door to the room that overlooked the Forum. It was partly ajar, and Gavin kicked it open and went inside, Truthseeker held before him.

  But the room was empty.

  It was furnished with a bed, a wooden chair, and a small table. The shutters had been thrown open, and Gavin saw the Forum of the North through the window. Below the window lay the crossbow. On the table rested a quiver of bolts, several small glass vials, and a red mask carved in the shape of a skull.

  A very familiar-looking red mask…

  Gavin heard a clatter in the hallway.

  He whirled, Truthseeker coming up in guard, and saw another stairwell at the back of the corridor. The sound of boots striking the stairs came to his ears, and Gavin realized that the crossbowman was racing down the steps. He sprinted forward and hurtled down the corridor, leaping down the steps two at a time. These stairs lacked the polish of the main stairwell, and Gavin supposed the inn’s servants and workers used them.

  The stairs ended at the inn’s kitchen, and Gavin looked around. A half-dozen shocked women in aprons looked at him, some of them shying into the corners or hiding behind the work tables. There was a door in the far wall, leading to the alley behind the inn, and it was ajar. Gavin raced for it and came to a stop in the alley, looking up and down.

  He just had time to see a dark form vanish into the ground.

  Gavin strode closer. A metal hatchway on the ground had been torn open, and he saw an iron ladder descending into the darkness. It must lead to either the city’s sewers or the ancient catacombs. The catacombs, most likely, to judge from the lack of stench coming from the hatchway.

  The assassin had escaped.

  Gavin shook his head, sheathed Truthseeker, and stepped back into the kitchen.

  “My lord,” said the oldest of the women, likely the innkeeper’s wife. “We didn’t do anything.”

  “The man who ran through here before me,” said Gavin. “Did any of you get a good look at him?”

  The innkeeper’s wife looked at the other women.

  “A black cloak,” volunteered one.

  “He had a sword,” said another.

  “He moved so fast,” said the innkeeper’s wife. “As fast as you, my lord.”

  Gavin nodded. “Thank you.”

  He walked past them and into the common room. Corbanic, Caius, Antenora, and a dozen dwarven soldiers and a dozen men-at-arms had filed into the room, facing the flustered-looking innkeeper.

  “I don’t know,” said the innkeeper, terror on his face. “I don’t know what any of this is about.”

  “Come, Master Esser,” said Corbanic. “You must have seen something.”

  “But none of the rooms on the top floor are occupied at the moment,” said Esser. “It…”

  “I saw the assassin,” said Gavin, and all eyes turned towards him. “He was in a room on the top floor, but he fled out the back and escaped into the catacombs. Lord Corbanic, I think you had better see for yourself.”

  “Very well,” said Corbanic. “Lead the way.”

  Gavin looked at Antenora.

  “I sent Rotrude back to the Tower of the Keeper with the children,” said Antenora. “It seemed safe enough, and two of the Constable’s men-at-arms are with her.”

  “Your wife is persuasive at times, sir,” said Corbanic.

  Gavin nodded. “This way.”

  He led the way to the stairs. Corbanic followed, as did Caius, Antenora, and a half-dozen of the dwarven warriors. It made for a crowded stairwell and a lot of creaking. Gavin walked into the room on the fourth floor, and Corbanic, Antenora, and Caius followed him. Caius raised a hand, and his guards waited outside.

  “Well, lord bishop,” said Corbanic, “it seems someone wants to assassinate you.”

  Antenora picked up one of the vials and examined it. “This is a potent venom. The head of the quarrel that struck the ground outside was smeared with this poison.”

  “Bloody hell,” said Corbanic, striking his fist against his sword pommel in annoyance. “Can’t we go a single damned year without someone trying to assassinate an ambassador to the High King?”

  “That mask,” said Caius, pointing at the wooden mask on the table. “You’ll remember those, Gavin.”

  “Aye,” said Gavin with a chill. “It looks like the masks worn by the Red Family of Cintarra.”

  Corbanic scowled. “Someone hired the Red Family to assassinate the bishop?”

  “It wouldn't be the first time I fought with the Red Family,” said Caius. “We dealt with them harshly when I was traveling with the Shield Knight before the Frostborn war. Frankly, I am surprised they never tried to take vengeance upon Lord Ridm
ark or any of the rest of us.”

  “As far as I know, they haven’t,” said Gavin. “Maybe we killed so many they decided to cut their losses.”

  “Maybe,” said Caius. “But the mask looks wrong.”

  “You’re right,” said Gavin. “The assassins of the Red Family always wore masks and helmets of red metal. This is just painted wood.”

  Antenora stooped and sniffed the mask. “Fresh-painted wood. Within the last few days, I think.”

  “Like someone wanted to kill you,” said Gavin to Caius, “and make it look as if the Red Family was responsible.”

  “But who?” said Caius. “I cannot think of anyone who has a sufficient grudge against me to attempt such a thing. Not all the dwarves of the Three Kingdoms are pleased with the religious changes that have come to our kindred, but as far as I know, there has not been a single instance of violence between the baptized dwarves and those who keep to the ways of the gods of stone and silence.”

  “There is dark magic here,” said Antenora, straightening up from the mask.

  “Where?” said Gavin, reaching for Truthseeker’s hilt. Was the mask enspelled? Or was there some other object of dark magic in the room? Or, worse, was there a creature of dark magic nearby? Urvaalgs and some other creatures of dark magic could make themselves nearly unseen.

  “An echo,” said Antenora. “A creature of powerful dark magic was here.” She turned her head, gazing down the corridor. “The echo goes that way.” Her fingers tightened against her staff. “It will dissipate soon. If we move at once, we can follow it.”

  “Then by all means, lead on,” said Corbanic.

  “Let me go first,” said Gavin, stepping in front of Antenora.

  Gavin led the way down the corridor, Antenora, Caius, Corbanic, and the dwarven warriors following him. At Antenora’s direction, he went down the back stairs and through the kitchens. The innkeeper’s wife and her workers stared at them in alarm, and Gavin felt a stab of sympathy for them. They had done nothing wrong, and they didn’t deserve this kind of upheaval.