A Different World: Part 1 - The Siege of Penthorpe Keep - 11. Chapter 11: A New Mission

Every inch of Skold’s body ached. He and the remnants of his group had been trudging through Swineshead Wood for hours. Soon, he sensed, it would be morning. He pushed aside a long gnarled branch and there, just yards away, was the stream they’d passed on the way to the orc camp. Most of it was frozen in places but there were still spots free from the ice.

He knelt down in the snow and dipped his hands into the freezing water. His hands were instantly numbed but he didn’t care; his throat was so parched it was agonizing to swallow. He lowered his mouth to his cupped hands and drank greedily. Droplets of water fell from in between his fingers. Had water ever felt or tasted so good?

The snapping of twigs alerted him to the presence of another. Before anyone else was alerted to the sound, Skold rose to his feet, ready to decimate any potential threat with an offensive spell. He let out a breath of relief when he saw it was only Konstantine, and behind him, Sonja and the three counselors. Althon, Alagossa, and Viktor were covered in dirt, their clothes ripped and bloodied in spots but they were not fatally injured.

“I almost turned you into a pile of ash,” Skold said to Konstantine.

“I’m glad to see you too,” he said. He came towards Skold, perhaps to embrace him, eyes brimming with emotion, but then stopped when he saw the piercing look Skold was giving him. Skold was not in the mood to deal with Konstantine’s constant need for validation and affection. In fact it was all but impossible to look at his third-in-command and not compare him to the necromancer. While Konstantine was certainly taller than Skold he did not have the towering stature the necromancer had, nor was he broad in chest and shoulder or thick in neck. Nor did he, or had he, ever awoken the uncontrollable lust Skold had felt in the presence of the necromancer. No being had. For years Skold had slept in the beds of men trying to find the one thing through sensual pleasure that might fill the emotional void within him. He’d yet to find it.

Konstantine nodded, a silent acknowledgement.

“Skold,” said Alagossa, oblivious to the tense moment that had passed between the newly appointed general and Konstantine. “You have no idea how relieved I am to see you in one piece. We are forever in your debt...”

“Can we save the emotional exchanges for when we’re back at Penthorpe Keep?” Viktor cut in shrewdly. His breath misted the night. “My balls are ready to fall off.”

For once Skold agreed with the counselor.

It was a long journey back to Penthorpe Keep. By the time they reached the castle night had turned into day. In Skold’s absence the rest of the inhabitants in the castle had finished clearing the corpses and most of the debris. However there were still signs of war to be found: burnt patches of dead grass, boot prints in the hard dirt and a hushed silence Skold was all too familiar with. It was the hush that came over everything after battle, when everyone tried to recover and make sense of things.

Skold veered off from the others without offering explanation as to where he was going or what he would be doing. I’ve more than earned a momentary reprieve from the rest of the world, he thought.

He stumbled into his quarters and latched the door behind him. If anyone wanted to get in they would have to break the door down. He pulled the curtains over the windows and stripped out of his filthy robes. He winced as he eased himself under the covers. His body was covered in aches and bruises. His face smarted from where the Flesheater had hit him. Here, in the privacy of his own quarters he did not feel the need to hide his pain.

Skold slept for two days. As he slept the bruises and cuts that marked his body healed. When he woke up he was ravenous. He bathed, dressed, and went down to the hall where he found Sonja sitting at the far end, in the corner. Skold filled a large plate with a meat pie, grapes, and olives, grabbed large goblet of mead, and joined his sister.

“Back from the dead, are we?” Sonja asked.

“War is exhausting,” said Skold.

“I’ll drink to that.” She took his goblet and took a long sip from it.

He scowled and snatched it back. “Go get your own.”

She smirked. “Don’t like drinking after your own sister? You remember in the winter months when we only had one spoon.”

“Aye,” Skold agreed. “And now that everyone has been killed off by the plague there’s plenty to go around. I suppose there’s one good thing about what Paladin’s done.” He looked around. “Where’s Konstantine?”

“Being questioned by the counselors I expect. I just finished giving my testimony. They questioned me for two hours wanting to be filled in with what all happened. Maeglin’s next, I expect, then you.”

“It’s not that hard to put together. Paladin’s army came, sieged the castle, killed General Cevna and kidnapped the counselors and we came and rescued them. End of story.”

Sonja leaned forward to make sure no one else was listening; she spoke loud enough so only Skold could hear. “Aye, but that’s not the part they’re interested in. They want to know more about the necromancer.” Skold leaned back. He wasn’t surprised. Of course they would want to know more about the necromancer.

“Rumor is you saw him,” said Sonja.

“I did,” Skold said.

“What did he look like?”

Skold hated the look of child-like curiosity on her face; and yet a part of him wanted to relay what he saw. You can’t tell her he knew your name, a voice inside him spoke. It was not the voice of the necromancer but his own conscience. Rarely did his instincts ever lead him wrong, so Skold listened. “He was an elf, like us.”

Her eyes widened with excitement. “What happened? Tell me.”

“He saved us - saved me. If he hadn’t interceded when he had I wouldn’t be sitting before you.”

“Why would he attract attention to himself like that? He must be the last of his kind. Most of the necromancers were exterminated centuries ago.”

Skold shrugged once more. “Who can say? I got the sense he was...old. Powerful beyond words.”

Sonja shuddered. “After years of fighting in a war I wish I could say there was nothing left on this earth that could scare me. But I can’t. The revenants we fought on the hill frightened me more than words can say. There were just a few of them then. What could he do if he had hundreds?”

“The seer did say this war has attracted the attention of ancient beings. I would say she’s right, wouldn’t you?”

“It must have been a sight to see. Up until now I almost believed them to be nothing more than bedtime stories.” Sonja's eyes turned wistful as her mind turned to the past. “Do you remember the stories Mother used to tell us before we went to bed, little brother? She'd always been such a good story teller. I imagine she got them from all the books she read. She was always reading. And her voice… she had the most beautiful voice. I always wondered how she could end up with Father, they were so different from each other, as different as night and day. She was so graceful and kind and he was so stoic…”

Her words were soon lost on Skold as his own mind turned to the past. He thought not of Lea reading them stories before her bed but the deranged doppelganger that had taken her place, a vomiting, dying thing, her eyes roving around madly in their sockets as she babbled to ghosts only she could see.

He thought of Maeglin riding towards Skold and his sister as they awaited news of the return of King Yaldon’s troops, the sad look on his face. I hate to tell you this but I’m afraid your father has died in battle. Skold remembered feeling of the laughter bubbling up inside him, an uncontrollable animal with a mind of its own. It was the irony of the situation for he’d told his father months ago, just before he left, he hoped Solomon died, something Sonja didn’t know about. I hope you die out there, he’d told Solomon. I hope they bring your remains home so I can shit on them. Only there hadn’t been any remains to bring home. The laughter erupted from him like lava from a volcano, tears streaming from his eyes. It seemed the spirits of Valhalla had granted him his wish.

Skold didn’t bring up these thoughts to Sonja. They would only upset her so he kept them to himself. He finished his wine, and stood up, and told her he was going to get some air.

“Skold,” she said.

“What?”

Suddenly she looked very strained, an expression he wasn’t used to seeing on her face. No, she didn’t just look strained. She looked guilty, as if she’d done some unforgivable thing. “The counselors...they...” Skold waited for his sister to finish but she only shook her head, looking somber, subdued. “Never mind, you’ll find out soon enough.”

He went up to the battlements. The guards on shift saluted him respectfully and continued their watch as if the siege had never happened. Now he turned his attention to the white landscape and let the silence wash over him.

Up until now it had been all but impossible to appreciate nature, what little there was. The trees were skeletons, the roads buried under snow. It wasn't just Paladin and his plague the rest of the world was at the mercy of but the elements as well.

However, for Skold at least, there was a brutal, predatory beauty to it, the mountains in particular: the way they jutted from the earth like some ancient, indomitable force; the clean smell of the air; the way the sky seemed to press down.

Yes, beautiful.

The peace was short-lived.

“Skold,” said Maeglin.

Skold exhaled. There's never rest for the wicked. He studied his fellow elf and found there was no better expression. While he had slept soundly over the last two days Maeglin had not. The dark bags around his eyes had only grown darker, the lines around his mouth etched ever deeper. The only sign elves ever really aged after adulthood was when pushed to the brink of madness - and while their minds were certainly more durable and sharper than the mere humans they were susceptible to madness, especially those who’d witness the carnage that occurs in the midst of battle. Maeglin was considerably older than Skold and therefore had seen more battles, more deaths. Valyuun’s death at the hands of the orc chief must have been the final stroke. If Skold had the heart he would have felt sorry for him; the only way he could sense Maeglin’s pain was through simple assessment.

“You don’t look well,” Skold said.

“Yes, I imagine not?”

“You need to get some sleep.”

“Would if I could, but I can’t. Not without dreaming. Do you dream, Skold?”

“I do.”

“The seer left yesterday,” said Maeglin.

“She did?”

“Yes.”

“Did she tell anyone where she was going or when she would be back?”

“No. I don’t trust her - and no one else does either. And with good reason. After all she is a seer.”

Maeglin leaned miserably against the wall and stared morosely at the snowy landscape before him.

“What do you want, Maeglin?” Skold asked, suddenly annoyed. He’d come up here to be alone, to have a moment’s peace, and Maeglin was interrupting it.

“The counselors are ready for you.”

Skold left without a word, however before he could get more than a few steps away Maeglin grabbed his shoulder. Skold turned, unsure of what to do. Maeglin was staring back, eyes bulging from his head. “He knew you...the necromancer...he knew you by name. How did he know your name?”

Skold wrenched his arm and resisted the urge to shove the elf back. “I don’t know. I don’t know how he knew my name.” He walked hurriedly away before Maeglin could hurtle anymore questions at him. The truth was the question terrified him, made him feel as though he had committed some unforgivable act of betrayal.

                        …

“We cannot thank you enough for saving our lives,” said Althon. Beside him, Alagossa nodded. “You have proven once again you are truly Solomon’s soul. When King Yaldon planned to hand you your father’s sword and armor the three of us advised against it. We were uncertain if you were capable of taking his place. Be that as it may King Yaldon saw fit to give you a chance. In doing so he proved our assumptions wrong.” The middle counselor turned to Viktor. “Wouldn’t you say, Viktor?”

“Yes,” said Viktor, and no more.

Skold took this all in, nodding in the right places and saying his thanks at the praise but was unmoved by it all.

Sitting in their thrones once more, the counselors seemed to have regained their dignity. All signs of their captivity, at least those on the outside, were gone as if they’d never been there; the effects this week’s events had on their minds remained to be seen.

“Though we were able to fend of Paladin’s forces with the help of the the late General Cevna, may the Spirits of Valhalla rest his soul, combined with your efforts the war is not over. There are other battles that must be fought,” Althon continued. “Forces converge unseen, taking advantage of our distractions. This necromancer that we’ve heard so much testimony about concerns us. We’ve just received word from King Yaldon and he is equally as concerned.”

Skold straightened, his interest captured. “I’m listening.”

Alagossa picked up where Althon left off. “If what we have been told about the number of forces he had with him at the camp are true then there’s no telling how many he has. Where is he getting them? What is his intent with them? In the past necromancers have always used their powers to pillage and conquer. This is why centuries ago King Yaldon had their kind exterminated and their practice of Death Magic outlawed. It was a dark time much like this one. The bedtime stories we tell our children cannot compare. While the necromancer is not a threat at the moment he could become a very serious one - and with our numbers and resources quickly dwindling while Paladin thrives, King Yaldon feels we cannot take another surprise.”

Skold nodded. “I understand.”

“Which is why King Yaldon feels we need your eyes and ears on him,” Althon said. “We need to know what he’s doing, anything that sheds light on this mysterious creature. That is where you come in.”

“You want me to kill him?” Skold asked.

“Hahhh,” Viktor said. “You could try but your chances, even someone as skilled as yourself Skold, would be none. It would be a suicide mission. No, you are not to kill him. The mission you’re being assigned is not the usual grunt work you’re used to. You are to investigate. To watch, listen, report back and nothing more. And you’re to keep yourself concealed. The necromancer cannot be aware of your presence.”

He already is, Skold almost said, but stopped himself. There was the same feeling he’d had after his confrontation with Maeglin on the battlements: the feeling he was a traitor. To tell them the whole truth would only lead to greater dangers and concerns, this he knew.

I am standing in an ever-growing pit of snakes.

“You will not be going alone, however. We will be sending you one other to lend assistance. Konstantine.”

Skold managed to suppress a groan. “With all respect, counselor I move much faster when I’m on my own...”

Althon held up a hand, silencing him. “We understand your doubts. If there was someone else we feel we could send along with you we would. But Konstantine has always been loyal to you and would follow anywhere.”

“And Sonja?”

“She will be with us, commanding in your stead until you return.”

Ahhh, so this was what she was trying to tell me but couldn’t. A tidal wave of doubt flooded Skold, unbidden and unforeseen. “I see. I will do as the king asks.”

“You leave at first light,” said Althon, “so I suggest you say your goodbyes and pack adequately for your journey. As for everything else we will be sending you off with two of our best horses and enough funds for a good start. Also, there is one other thing you should know.”

“Yes?”

“The seer that helped you rescue us.”

“What of her?”

“She’s gone from the castle. And so is the medallion you found at the site of those four scouts.”

                            …

That night Skold could not sleep. Normally, under such circumstances Skold would have sought Konstantine’s company - or the company of another - but tonight he wanted to be alone as much as ever.

He lay in bed, listening to the miserable moans of the wind. The room flickered in the soft glow of the fire. He suspected tonight would be the last comfortable night he would get to experience for a while. Out there Konstantine and he would have to forage through the cold. Perhaps occasionally they could stay at an inn and rent a room but the money would have to be used sparingly, for who knew how long they’d be out there, searching.

Searching for the necromancer.

No matter which way Skold turned, it seemed the necromancer waited, just ahead. Back at the orc camp Skold had almost given in completely to whatever power the necromancer had over him. It was only because of Maeglin’s intervention he’d managed to resist. And yet even now some machination, whether it be coincidence or Cerbyendeuyng, was leading him back to the necromancer. What awaited him there?

I will find out soon enough.

As soon as the first sign of the sun made itself known Skold began to pack. It didn’t take long - there wasn’t much to pack. Sonja was waiting for him out in the corridor.

“You’re leaving,” she said. It wasn’t a question. She already knew.

“I am.”

“And you don’t know how long you’ll be gone?”

“I don’t.”

“It’ll be strange not having you or Konstantine around, not having to look after both of your asses.”

“Before long you won’t notice. When you’re commander you’re too busy trying to keep yourself and everyone else alive.”

She smiled. “I wonder if Father would be proud of me.”

“We’ll never know,” he said.

She nodded. “Be careful out there, won’t you?”

“I can only try.”

Out in the courtyard Konstantine was waiting for him, sitting atop one of the large steeds, holding the reigns of the other in a gloved hand. He was dressed in multiple layers as Skold was in preparation for the cold, long journey ahead of them.

Skold mounted his horse and glanced at Konstantine. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Whenever you are.”

Together they set off at a steady pace, heading towards whatever mysteries might lay ahead.

                        …

To get back to the main roads, they made their way through the bare fields and wood back to Boar’s Head. With much of the village now buried under snow it appeared more dead than ever. They didn’t have to go far inside before Skold and Konstantine both sense something was out of place: Both horses were tense, their sides heaving up and down. Skold had to keep tugging on the reign to keep his horse in place.

“Do you feel that?” Konstantine asked. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“I do.”

“It’s just like the presence we felt when we rendezvoused with Maeglin and the counselors...and again when we went to look for Maeglin’s scouts. You don’t think it could be the necromancer, do you?”

“I don’t know.” Skold was only half paying attention to Konstantine. His eyes scanned the snowy ground, searching for tracks. He had an idea and jumped off his horse.

“Where are you going?” Konstantine demanded. His voice was shaking.

“I’ll be back in a moment. I want to check on something.”

“And if there’s trouble lurking about?”

“Shout and I’ll come running.”

With the old church to his left, Skold began to make his way in the direction of the mass grave where he’d had all of the villagers buried. He passed through the skeletal ruins of an old hut, snow crunchlng underneath his feet. His eyes searched for signs that he was being followed but there were none. Even so, he kept his hand on the hilt of his sword at all times.

It didn’t take him long to find the mass grave. For a moment he could only stand there, staring down at it, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He called for Konstantine and waited. Moment later Konstantine came with the horses. He dismounted his own horse and cursed. “The necromancer’s been here.”

“That’s obvious,” Skold said.

The grave that had taken multiple shovels to dig was now completely empty. There were claw marks in dirt and snow. Skold imagined a hundred undead hands clawing at the dirt, undead muscles working as the reanimated corpses fought to dig their way out, the necromancer watching, perhaps proud of his power.

Skold knelt down and scooped a handful of dirt up. He grounded it around, felt the grit brushing up against his flesh. He stared into the distance and wondered just how far ahead of them the necromancer was. A few miles? A few days? He shouldn’t be too hard to find, Skold thought. All we have to do is follow his little army of the undead.

Skold stood and rubbed as much of the dirt off his hand as he could. “Let’s go. We can send a raven back to Penthorpe Keep detailing what we found here when we reach the next town...if there’s one where everyone isn’t dead.”

They moved on and left Boar’s Head behind once more.