LXXVI. The night that came was long, and dark it remained until well past dusk. Edwald leaned against the wall, still half-dead he could not sleep, for the pain of his wound caused great pain all throughout the night. Asadue could not find rest either, for though he was glad to see his pupil alive, the thought of having been so near to loose him still ached deep in his mind.
Upon half an hour since the sun breaking, they could glimpse through a broken window that it was day again, and not long after that, someone came through the door. They hoped to see the Black Knight again, so that they could sway not to inflict such pain in the lives of thousand who had not deserved it. Sadly for them both, through the door came a mere Buram footman, and he brought them food to break their fast. Edwald refused to eat, yet after a while, the footman came back with even more food, and hunger would soon kill his abstinence. The same footman kept coming back regularly thereafter, and each time they hoped someone would free them from their bounds.
Soon enough their prayers would be answered.
It had been two days, since the Black Knight had last talked to him. For all Edwald knew, he must have left with his host, and may already have ravaged every village and town on his way to Fyore. He mourned for all those who must had perished by his sword, and every now and then, he told his mentor, he could hear the cries and wails of hundreds from beyond those walls, men and women who might very well have fallen like prey to Buram jaws. All of the above, he bore in mind, and he wrestled endlessly against those thoughts, yet, restrained by chains, little could his hands do to avert those things from coming to pass.
On the second night, there came a heavy fog that covered the land, and so dense it was that both haze and cold, through the broken glass, filtered inside. Asadue was just within Edwald’s sight, but to the walls, floor, and ceiling, he was almost blind. His ears were sharp, however, and in the quiet of the night, he could hear some trouble happening outside. It seemed that there had been a clash, for Edwald heard the sound of steel against steel in the dark.
Perhaps it had been an attack, but who was fighting in it, Edwald did not know. There had been many knights of Neldor gathered in Culgarost, last year, and Seranos was only a few miles down the river. So, it could have been that they had heard the Buram had settled in Seranos, and were now finishing off what was left of their host. If this were the case, then they would eventually find him and his pupil bound against the wall. The chains alone should serve them as proof that they had played no part in the Black Knight’s plot, yet were it true what he had said before, the other knights of the Order would know who he was and kill him on the spot.
They heard the door crack amidst the fog, and a faint torch-light came through, a figure stood on the threshold, of a tall man dressed in black. He bore a sword in hand and his face was masked with a cloak. Edwald recognised him as the Black Knight, but he could not be sure, he did not know whether he should be either glad or troubled. He hoped that he had had a change of heart and repented for the things that he had planned, still he had more likely returned from his quest and now the time had come to ransom Edwald for his son and wife.
As the strange figure came in, he noticed that he was missing a limb, which had been replaced with a wooden leg, instead of the silver pegleg he had worn during their duel. He was breathing heavily and he approached him warily as if he had not seen him for months, though their fight had only been two days ago. Edwald took another glance at him through the haze and noticed again that there were no eyes to look, but a sort of helmet that bore the resemblance of long pointed hood. He remembered the Fold of Sheep, and that the monks that are sworn therein, are required to wear a capirote-hood that was just like his. His was made of iron though, and not of cloth like a regular priestly cowl.
No monk would in his sane mind wear an iron hood, so he deduced it must have been, indeed, the Black Knight, who had decided to don another kind of armour. This assertion was, nonetheless, also false, for this knight—whosoever he was—did take his helm off, something the Black Knight had never done before. So he must have rather been a different man, and surely enough he was.
The fog was still very thick, so Edwald could not see his face right away, but the face that he thought to have seen through the haze, belonged to a ghost, whom he had last seen not long ago. The man behind the helmet had a scar on his right-side face and he was missing an eye. Edwald trembled as he saw him, for he thought his father had come to visit him again as a wraith. Asadue, however, could see him as well, so the man before him must have been of bone and flesh.
The man stepped in closer to him and Edwald’s fear turned to joy. Tears ran through his face, his arms and limbs shivered. Sobbing, he pulled himself towards him.
-“Could it be you, brother?” Edwald said and frowning so as to be certain that this was not some trick of the mind or else a witchcraft the Black Knight had left behind. Still, he recognised his brother’s face; his deep blue eye, his ever-frowing brown brows, his crooked nose, his trimmed half-reddish beard, and on his cheeks there were some tears, which Elbracht had rarely seen before, for in his youth, Carédock had always been either joking around or devilry wroth, now he was neither of both. He was filled with an evenly great joy.
Their eyes were hooked in each other’s, both streaming tears. The brothers, who fate had torn apart, were face to face that night. Carédock bent down to him putting both of his hands upon each his brother’s shoulders, he looked deep in his eyes as if searching for words that could not be spoken. Edwald looked back at him, feeling love, sorrow and regret.
-“I am come, brother.” Carédock said with emotion, “You need not fear me. I might wear a monk’s cloth, and done a pointed-hood, but I will always be your blood, no matter the scars and wounds, the strife or mirth, for good or bad, we are brethren in blood and heart.” He swung his sword and broke his brother’s chains, and then he turned to Asadue and did the same for him.
Elbracht was short of words, he could only look with tearful eyes at his brother. He had feared Carédock would begrudge him leaving him behind in Culgarost, and were he wroth now or should he loathe him for what he had done, Elbracht would have conceded to it all. But instead of the awaited reaction, Carédock was glad to see his brother again, so much so that shed his share of tears as well. The two brothers embraced, and finally Elbracht could speak again.
-“I am sorry, brother, I am sorry.” He said in tears, “I should never have left you behind. I should not have lied to you so many times in my life.”
-“Elbracht, ‘tis all in the past.” Carédock replied. “No matter the mood of the day, or the cause of our distress, I will always be there for you standing by your side.”
Elbracht was glad to hear this, and his heart smiled, so they embranced one more time.
-“It is not yet safe to tarry here.” Carédock said, “There still might come back for more.”
He fave his brother and Asadue an extra coat for the cold, and Edwald searched about for his and his mentor’s belongings. To his luck he found them by a corner of the room. His mentor had still his books, maps and journals, and he still got his sword, Oakenjaw and the Shield of the Sovarós. He felt some respect for the Black Knight as he noticed not a single thing was missing, for had it been a common commander with no care and morals, he would allow his soldiers to claim the spoils of a fallen foe without a second thought.
They left their prison-turned abode, and they saw other men clad and geared just like Brother Carédock. They wore a monk’s black cloth and underneath iron armour. Unlike Carédock, however, they did not have an iron helmet, instead they had priestly cowls. These armoured priests were taking their spoils from the Buram camp and many guards were lying dead on the ground.
One of those monks approached them.
-“Captain, We have gathered all what we could.” He told Carédock, “We’ve got supplies for a month. Still some of the Buram folk fled to the south, they might come back for more.”
Edwald understood in that moment that Sir Frann had told him the truth as he first informed him of the rumours about a rogue-gone monk who had settled in the north, gathering like-minded priests to his own flock. The armoured monk had referred to his brother as Captain, so it might well be true, that news were no lie, and his brother chad indeed forsaken his vows and escaped the cloister. This was very problematic on it own, since he tainted his name as an Oathbreaker. Yet now was no time for those worries, the rogue monks had raided the Buram stronghold in Seranos, and should they come back, they would be outnumbered and slaughtered.
-“We should better get moving then.” Carédock told the priestly soldier.
-“Whither shall we go?” Edwald asked his brother.
-“To our base in Horshire, west of here.” He replied, “There we can talk some more, but now we must get going.”
He gave had two horses fetched for them, his own was black like coal, and on his back, he put his pointed helmet back on, and raising his sword, he spoke in a loud and lear voice.
-“Brothers, Faithful of the Gods, gather what you can. We head back to Horshire!”
Swiftly, like ants being mustered together, the monks came from every street of Seranos. Each and all had a horse, and wielded both sword and shield. In number, Edwald counted them as two hundred, yet he judged they must have been rather twice as strong, for the garrison that the Black Knight had left behind was formidable in its own right. So if for untrained monks it was easy to outmatch them all, they must have had some strength, which they were too humble show.
Brother Carédock rode at the head, Asadue and Edwald went beside him, and two hundred Black-Cloths*(1) followed them. They cantered across large lands of white, where both the cloud and sloping fields, touched with unseen arms. Upon a few hours, they came to a shire, where a thousand horses pranced leashless hither and thither over the snows. In the middle thereof, there was a wooden redoubt with neither sigil nor flag to let them stand out. It was well defended, however, and large enough to accommodate half a thousand men, which wasn’t much compared to the large armies of wealthy lords, but under the command and training of Brother Carédock, the Black-Cloths proved to be strong enough to stand their ground on their own.
They had come to Horshire, the last and only outpost of their priestly confederacy, south of the Dúnk. There, a horn twice was blown and the gates opened for the captain-monk and his host. Inside, Edwald and Asadue saw that there were another three hundred men, not all priests, some had been city guards, others blacksmiths, but all were outcast, none of them was a saint, they had either broken vows or been exiled of their towns and villages. Now they were all brothers in arms, and found common purpose with the man they had turned to as their leader.
Brother Carédock was saluted many times as he walked by, and was approached with many errands and news. He ignored them all, instead he walked his brother and his mentor to a wooden house, where they could have some privacy.
Carédock gave his guests food and warmth, he lit a fire and kept full their cups, and once they had been fed and warmed up, he sat them with spoke with endless questions on his tongue.
-“How is mother? How are our brothers? Is it still warmer down there in the south?” he kept on asking, “And most importantly, what is your business up here in the north? Why have you come to these lands? Was it not safer to remain in the South?”
-“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Edwald replied, “There are so many things I have to say, but I will start where it all began, in Keor. Word had reached us that you had escaped the Fold, you were gathering armies and they were calling you the ‘Black Knight’ in the north.”
-“Some have called me that before,” Carédock said, “But up until the last two months, I tried my best not to be called thus, for I was not the same man that had brought the Buram horde. Now, they call me the Rogue Monk, and I must say, I’ve grown rather fond of it. But what was your business with the Black Knight? Why did we find you chained in his camp?”
Then, Edwald told him the whole tale; the King’s errand, the business with the dwarves and the magic sword, the death of the Sovarós, their visit to Fyore, the betrayal of Lord Carathuel and his pledge to Lady Aléndra. Carédock was amazed to hear of their escape from Fyore, and then horrified that they had disguised as slaves. He was thrilled when Edwald talked about their business in Hebrom and the time when they allied with Sir Hans Woodmot, the greatest swordsman in the Realm. There was some sadness in his eyes as he heard of the slaughter of Lord Hadril and his kin in the woods. Hardest to believe or even comprehend was the tale of their time with the Elves; Locht Nelbáris, the pool of memories, the Wooden-kings, the Games of the Mind, and of how they saved Sir Antuel from an endless slumber. He was moved by the kindness and sacrifice of the goodwife Eridda. Their voyage with Alen the Tar, and their journey to the Tomb of Elorio were terrifying and mysterious, but by far the one story that boiled his blood the most was that of the treason of Sir Frann the Turncloak and the death of Sir Hans. He was deeply impressed that his brother could outsmart Sir Frann in a duel where he was blindfolded and he was equally confused when he heard of their arrival in Myrlost and the dark omens in the Ennard temple.
The story turned more pressing as he heard of his strife with Lord Tyén and the way he escaped from Myrlost, and the whole matter with the omens of Edwald’s death fighting the Black Knight—whom at the time he believed to be his brother—was hard for Carédock to hear. The part about why the Black Knight had let them live and the other about the conundrum of Edwald’s Ennard Blood, Edwald did not share with his brother that day, for it would have been too complex to explain, and he did not understand it, himself. He did tell him about the Order of Neldor, and the Black Knight’s claim that he had been summoned to wreak havoc in the north secretly on behalf of the White Tower. This only seemed to enrage Carédock furthermore.
-“I told you the same, and you did not believe me,” he said, “I told you the Order is not to be trusted, they work in the shadows though they claim to be the light, and among all princes of the world, it is you whom they fear the most. All this you did not believe and you lied and lied and made your moves in court so that they could not have me killed. I have grown past rage and regrets already, I hold you no grudges for what you did, but neither do I approve of it. You should have let me kill Lord Osguald, and our lives would have been much easier by now.”
-“I know, I know I have misjudged you,” Edwald said, “I have lied to you, I have tricked you. I took your eye, I took your honour, it was I who made you cripple, not cousin Martid. I am ashamed of all what I have done, and though I would wish to change what has happened so far, but I can try to make wrongs right this time. I have come all the way north here for you. This whole quest, the lies, the truths the sidequest and all; I did it to get to you. The King wanted me to send you back to the Fold of Sheep, but I only used the task a pretext to get faster to you. I have not come to deliver that oath, nor to seek your forgiveness. I have come to bring you home. I swore to our mother that would bring you back to our true Fold. It matters not whether you hate or not—In all honesty, I thought you would be more wroth to see me—You are my brother, you are my blood, and for better or worse, the blood that runs thick is bound with love.”
The two brothers embraced again, but now it was Carédock’s turn.
-“So you must tell me now what your story is.” Edwald said excited, “I left you alone in Culgarost, and a year later, your are rebel outcast that calls himself the Rogue Monk. How on earth did you manage to bring about such a strange tale?”
-“That is indeed a queer tale.” Carédock responded, “Well, since you have told me yours, it is only polite for me to tell you mine.”
-“Tell me about the days, right after we left Culgarost without you.” Edwald painfully reminded him.
-“Ah yes.” Carédock said, “The first day in the cloister was a pit of agony, I hated myself, I shut myself from everyone. Uncle Carédock tried his best to make me feel more at home, and though I never felt well in the Fold, he was the only thing I could grab onto. Weeks passed and slowly I came out from agony, I began to contemplate more of my life and about the choices I had made, had it not been for Uncle Carédock, I might have gone mad or depressed, but he taught me the pillars of the faith, and I became a heartful student to him. In my time there, I sort of felt for him what you feel for Mentor Asadue.
“While I read about the histories of the Sagrary and delved into the deeper passages of scripture, I also learnt quite a good deal about our Uncle, and now I can say, that there must be a power of fate bound to names, for those who share it may begin to realise that they are much alike, like a legacy that is passed down from man to man. Both Carédocks, the Elder and the Younger, found this premise to be true, for we saw ourselves in each other. He told me a lot of things about his life—believe me, father did not tell us the whole stories!
“Anyhow, he has really shaped my way of reasoning, but he also passed onto me an ambition for Truth, soon, not even his vast knowledge would answer my questions. So I went to the root and read the texts upon which our faith is based, and in interpreting them in their ancient tongues, I had found truths that had either gone missing, or were altogether ignored, by the callous and old. These truths spoke of the meaning of solidarity and honour, and the will of oneself to pursue in life what their heart longs for. These translations of mine however, were not of the liking of the high clergy, so they began to limit my access to the archives and prohibited me from spending time with Uncle Carédock. They had grown wary of him, thinking that he might have been the cause behind my ‘mislead’ ways.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
“They even tried to have me stand trial on the charge of heresy, yet they found nothing against me. Besides, I am sure to assume that I was being kept safe in Culgarost after all, for though the priest had enough reasons to dislike me or even plot to have me killed, I often saw powerful men from court, who would come and speak with my directly superiors whenever I got in some trouble. Hells, I even saw Lord Osguald himself one time! I know the King had his own interest on me. Mayhaps, he would use me as way to manipulate you from afar.
“So it was by that time that I planned my escape. I had been deprived of many of my rights as a monk, like reading holy texts or hosting mass for my brothers and I had learnt that I was probably only a pawn in Lord Osguald’s power games. The Monastery had given as much as it could, and our paths had grown apart. But I was not alone in my grievances; many other monks found common ground with me, and told me that they would follow me if I fled.
“I met with them in the shadows of the crypts, and we convened to seize the weapons from the Sagrary’s guard. On the day of Elsarmas, when all should have been in prayer, we took our chance and managed to leave Culgarost. Uncle Carédock had a role to play in that plot, though he did not wish to follow us, for he even if he believed the things I said, he thought it best that the truths I had found should best be debated on slowly and peacefully. I respected his piety, but that was not my way, so I took a choice and left the Fold.
“These monks became my brothers, we struggled together for months, and we raised each other up and kept watch over one another. But as winter came, we had a shortage in bread, we were many mouths to feed, but our faith prohibited us from stealing from the common folk, and none would risk being seen by guards and taken back to the cloister to be later punished for his crimes.
“There was one option, however, we had neglected to entertain. Monasteries are obliged by oath to help brothers of the faith in need, when they knock at their doors. Because of our priviledged schooling, many of us knew the locations of various monasteries across the Realm. So we headed to the nearest one of them. When they refused us, we broke our vows again and stole their stores the following night.
“With the pass of time, most of us had become hardened by the cold and when the heart does not get its warmth from time to time, it lights a fire on its own, that oftentimes tends to grow into violence. First we only stole in the night, but soon enough we began to raid monasteries even in the day. Some of the monks we encountered in those abbeys would turn to our side. For better or worse our fame was spread and other outcast and downtrodden folks turned too to us. It was by those times, when they began to call me the Black Knight and my brothers were known as the Rogue Monks.
“We slowly set a few bases along the towns and cities of the River Dúnk, so others could spread the reinterpretation of Holy Scripture. But our fate was soon to turn. The word had spread that the Pass of Hel had become a dangerous road again. I remembered the story of Sir Estewan back in Culgarost and how he talked about Sir Carlot the Bearclaw and his gang of troublemakers. I thought of the many people who cross that road, and the thought of them being defenceless in those parts convinced me to repurpose our brotherhood into defending the northern path. So we moved to an abandoned monastery near the Pass of Hel and we started regularly patrolling the thoroughfare.
“One of our scouts came back to the monastery reporting to have seen a large force of black-clad soldiers marching towards the Pass. We gathered all the men we could and decided to hinder them as we could from reaching deeper into the Realm. We were about three hundred men strong back then, and the scouts reported there were thousands in the ranks of the approaching host. This did not restrain us, however, we made our stand in the Pass of Hel and though we tried our best, many brothers had fallen to the sword. We were overwhelmed by their might, and one of them almost cost me my life, if only my fellow men had not dragged my numb body out of the fight.
“Over the next few months, we followed the invading army’s trail but could do little to avert their many sieges and battles. Instead we turned into more pious ways, helping the victims of the siege rebuild as best we could and shared our scarce stores even with them. We went from town to town, always two steps behind the invading host, and every now and then many among the sufferers would wish to follow our teachings and joined the brotherhood.
When news came to me that the common folk had said the Black Knight and the captain of the Buram forces were one and the same, I gave my best to try to disassociate with that name, but the rumours had already been spread, and it has tainted my name for the worst yet.
“The Buram Horde was over a thousand strong and we were not the best soldiers either, so to do our part in drawing the invaders are out of our land, we had to avoid fighting them in open field; what we did instead was almost as risky; we cut the line of supplies from the north and raided their smaller outpost all the way down the River Dúnk.
“Until two fortnights ago, we had gathered about five hundred Black-Cloths, and we knew their main camp was in Seranos. We waited and prepared for the right time to attack. We might not have finished them all off, but we were numerous enough to deal with, at least, a third of the Black Knight’s host. We decided to attack in the night from the west and south, but imagine my surprise when I found their camps all but forsaken and instead of a Black Knight to kill, I discovered Mentor Asadue and you bound in chains against the walls. And so our paths have met again, though we man has stranded us in distant lands; the fates always find their way to bind brother back together.”
-“You have been through quite a lot, yourself.” Edwald said, “Gods, look at our struggle and success, see how blood does leave a trail! I must tell you now of the goal of my quest. As I said, the King asked me to sway you against the things it was feared you would do and deliver back into the ‘Fold’—with this the King must surely have meant the Fold of Sheep, which is to say the cloister. However, I had already sworn to our mother that I would bring you back to the Fold of home. So I took the chance to excuse my reasons, and began my journey hither. Still, my oath is not yet fulfilled, for the quest was not just to find you, but to bring you back to Keor.”
-“I cannot go back just yet.” Carédock said, “Although nothing would be more of a blessing than seeing my mother and brothers again, I cannot leave the north, when it is so close to war. Many have turned to me in their need, and I have given them my care and heed. I cannot just go and leave my flock shepherdless. Besides, we cannot allow the Black Knight to let the blood of thousands pay for his hatred and misfortunes. We must stop him, this much suffering needs not be.”
-“And how will we achieve such a feat?” Edwald said, “Your flock is barely five hundred men strong, the Buram host is over five thousand. Never before have so few outmatched so many. Not even with the mind of General Caradon or even father could the odds turn in their favour.”
Even as he said this, Edwald and his brother heard the neighing of horses and iron hooves against the mud approaching from afar. At once, a monk-warrior entered and informed his captain that an army was approaching from the east.
-“What’s their banner?” Carédock asked, “Is it the Buram’s crescent sun?”
-“Ney, it is the red banner of a griffin, the sigil of the Sovarós.” the warrior-monk replied.
Both Edwald and Asadue were baffled, where not all Sovarós armies under Lord Carathuel’s command, and was he not mustering his forces in Fyore? How could they have come so far north in such implausible hast, with a Buram Horde marching about, to say the least? All these questions could only be answered with their eyes. They followed Carédock to a wooden battlement from where they beheld the Sovarós army. In Asadue’s account the army must have been about two thousand strong, but what their allegiance or goal was he did not know.
-“Whom do you serve?” Carédock shouted from above, “Are you friend or foe?”
-“We serve the rightful Lord of Fyore.” A strong man answered.
-“You mean you serve the Black Crow,” Edwald shouted back at him. “We have no love for him.”
-“Neither do we,” the strong man said, “We serve the rightful Lord of Fyore, Sir Antuel Sovarós, Lord Hadril’s true heir.”
-“What’s you name, sire?” Edwald recognised the voice.
-“Lord Elbracht, you know my name.” He said, as he removed his helmet, “I am Tyén son of Tuar of House Sovarós, Lord of Myrlost and the Cadia.” then he pointed at a younger soldier, whom he bid to remove his helmet too, “And this young man you also know. He is Sir Antuel son of the late King Elorio III of House Sovarós, rightful Lord of Fyore and Prince-Elector of Thindur.”
Edwald could neither believe his eyes, nor trust his ears. He was genuinely glad to see them, but he was not expecting to reunite so quickly with neither of them. Regardless, their arrival could not have come at a better time, for they brought with them an army which though it was not yet quite enough to stop the Buram Horde from their captain’s evil goal, it was strong enough to put on a fight.
-“Sir Antuel!” Edwald shouted joyful from above. “How glad am I to see you!”
-“Likewise, my lord.” Sir Antuel replied, “Yet, it does not sit well for you to be on that side of the wall in the company of the Black Knight, who has much brought about much pain in the north.”
-“Ney, we have been mistaking,” Edwald said, “My brother, Carédock, is not the Black Knight we’ve thought, there are two men in these lands who have been called thus, and we have wrongly understood that they are one and the same, Still only on of them should we cast blame. My brother is a monk who lives as an outcast along other folks; they are not the Buram we’ve been told of. Come inside, we will tell you the truth.”
Edwald trusted them right away, Carédock, however, did not.
-“Hold the gates shut!” the Rogue Monk said, annulling his brother’s welcome. Edwald was notably confused,
-“What are you doing?” he asked his brother, “These men are my friends, I assure you, and no harm will come from them.”
-“They have not yet stated the purspose of their visit.” Carédock replied. “They might as well be on the enemy side, plotting with the King and the Order.”
-“There is no need to fear them.” Edwald said, “They only need to see that our men are not Buram and then it will all be alright.”
-“Ney, brother. These men come from the Cadia. The men there are deeply faithful to the Sagrary, and they do not tolerate outcasts and rogue monks.” Carédock said, “If we opened the gate, they might as well kill us.”
-“Not Sir Antuel, he owes me his life…” Edwald said.
-“It is not Sir Antuel whom troubles me, but Lord Tyén.” Carédock said, “Did you not know, our father held him captive in his own castle during the civil war? It might be that he holds you grudges for our father’s deeds.”
-“Lord Tyén was a good host, he welcomed me gracefully into his castle.” Edwald responded.
-“I hold you no ill will, Sir Carédock the Younger,” Lord Tyén shouted from bellow the wall, “I merely wish to talk to your lord brother. To prove that I mean no harm you may take me in unarmed, and blindfolded if must needs, But I only wish to confer with you.”
-“Very well.” Carédock said, “Leave your swords and shield behind. Then approached the gates, but you must tell your men to stand a hundred yards away from them.”
-“It shall be done.” Lord Tyén said, as he unmounted his horse, he threw off his shield and sword and walked helmetless towards the gates, his men stood a hundred yards away, he sped up his pace and just as the sentries were about to open the door, Carédock stopped them and told them to bring a rope up to the battlement.
Carédock had dedused that had he opened the gates for Lord Tyén alone, his army might have rushed forth and some would have managed to get in before they were again shut. A rope to climb was much safer, for it gave the hostage a one way access to the enemy fortress without the risk of a sudden assault.
-“I hope you are healthy and in good health, my lord,” Carédock said from above as he dropped down the rope, “For you shall be climbing a rope to have your talk.”
Lord Tyén was robust and he climbed his way up with relative ease. Atop the battlement, Edwald shook hands with him, and Master Asadue bowed his head before him. Brother Carédock payed him no welcoming gesture.
-“Lord Tyén, are you so certain of my blame?” Carédock asked, “I bet, you still believe I was behind all those sieges and slaughter in the north and that my brother has just lied to you and that he had turned rogue like me.”
-“Am I wrong to have my doubts, Sir Carédock?” Lord Tyén replied, “I need not reminding you that even before News of the Buram Horde came hither lands, there was already a Black Knight errandlessly wandering in the north of Thindur, a Knight who had broken his oaths both to his king and lord and who also happened to be a monk that likewise broke his sacred vows. Your fame spread quickly across these lands, ‘Brother Carédock’, and it my eyes now confirm that all this time you have built an army made out of Outcasts and Black-Cloths, and and the rumour is also known that the raidings of the northern monasteries were also of your doing. So judge me again, sir. Am I wrong to mistrust you?”
-“You are not, my lord.” Carédock said, “and yet am I also wrong to distrust you too, when your fame is also widely heard of in the north. You are devout Sagrarian, faithful to the grave to whatever the elder priests say. But when one attempts to read scripture on their own free mind, you disavow them and punish them. I have also heard rumours about you. They say your piety and mercy is well renowned, but when it comes to the faith you are as ruthless as a dragon. They say you have burnt hundreds of so called heretics and tortured a thousand to seek out a thousand more. You are wolf cloaked in sheep-clothes, my lord. I am sure brother was not aware of that.”
-“I was not,” Edwald said, “which is quaint. My sword should have revealed me if he was being deceitful in any way.”
-“You do not understand the powers of the occult, young lord Elbracht.” Lord Tyén said, “I did not wish to punish you for breaking into our most holy shrine in Myrlost without our consent. Only the King and the High Enimeres and myself are allowed in that fane. And just like that sword of yours the powers of the Ennards are beyond your grasp. Since you are alive, I can see that they have very easily misled your path.”
-“Nevermind the fates and their games,” Edwald said, “Answer the question, my lord. Are you truly so cruel against your own?”
-“Those who mistreat the Faith are just as wicked as the Omynous’ fiends.” Lord Tyén replied, they had to pay for their blasphemy, and your brother has not merely twisted Holy Scripture, he has also taken up a sword and wielded it against his own brothers in the Fold. That is enough sacrilege to have your brother Carédock burnt at the stake—as he should have been after he tried to kill the King.”
-“You are so misguided, my lord Tyén,” Elbracht said respectfully, “And yet, since the identity of Sir Antuel has been disclosed to your troops, it his safe to assume that now they follow him as the rightful lord of Fyore and Prince-Elector of Thindur. They follow him, not you. He is my peer in power and nobility; it is he whom I should peak, to not you. You claim to say that you have the most honour and reverence to tradition and the old wont of your house. So am I wrong, lord Tyén, to demand to speak to your kinsman?”
-“You are not. But he is still a boy.” Lord Tyén tried to shield himself by saying.
-“He is not.” Edwald affirmed, “He is grown of age, and rules by his own right of birth.”
-“Lord Elbracht is right,” Asadue said, “He should speak with the commander of your army for this to be parley.”
-“But you need not leave, my lord Tyén.” Edwald said, “I will go down to him. Mayhaps he is wiser than you.”
Edwald climbed down the rope, and on foot he walked towards the Sovarós Host. On his horse, Sir Antuel, rode towards him glad to meet with him again.
-“Lord Elbracht, I mean Edwald…” he said.
-“Call me as you will.” the Edoran*(2) said, “I am glad to see you.”
-“So am I!” Sir Antuel said, “I owe you my life, Edwald. Had it not been for you, I would still be dreaming of my family among the elves in Locht Nelbáris. But now I am sure of my duty to my land and my family. So that I might honour their memory, instead of endlessly mouring their souls, and cherish their legacy among the books of history.”
-“You speak with wise words, my lord.” Edwald said, “And yet it is your land, your peoples who suffer the most at this very hour. There are indeed, two Knights who don the Black. One is my brother, The Rogue Monk, and the other, is the true enemy of the North. He comes from the Buram Lands, ‘Easternmost Realm by the Rising Sun’. Their leader will attempt to take the city of Fyore, the capital of your kingdom. And I am certain that though our forces might not be enough against a thousand-strong Buram army, yet together we could even have a chance slow them down or, be the Gods on our side, defeat them. Will you ally yourself and your kingdom with me and mine against the Buram Threat? If you are willing to do this, I swear to you that I will pledge my kingdom in Harardor and my armies at your disposal to restore your rightful throne and avenge your brothers and sisters who have suffered at the hands of the Lord Carathuel. Are you willing to sign this pact, my lord?”
Sir Antuel hesitated, he looked at his kinsman, lord Tyén from up the battlement beginng him with signs that he should not align himself with Edwald, yet even as he loved his kinsman well, he remembered the late history of his family. The latest heads of the House of Sovarós had always been swayed and misguided by their uncle or brother, and none of the last three Lords of Fyore had been misled on many occasions, which often ended with the death of such lords, such as was the case for Elorio III, who was all but a puppet-king of his younger brother Lord Jaerech, the Old Gold Crow, and as happened even to his own brother, Lord Hadril, being fooled and slaughtered by his own cousin, Lord Carathuel, who was the usurper of his throne.
-“My forebearers, would have hesitated to seal any alliance agreed upon in a rush.” Sir Antuel said, without stutter, but full of confidence, “They say war happens in a rush. Why shouldn’t peace be brought about in a rush too? I say that I vow my brotherly love to you, my lord Elbracht, and all my legions and armies which loyalty lies in me, shall be at your disposal as well, to defeat this Buram Invaders.”
The two men embraced and sealed their amity in ink and wax.
Asadue noted on the mood of Lord Tyén as he saw his kinsman ignore his advice so bluntly. Yet he was bound by oath to him, so he did what he commanded.
Sir Antuel was invited inside the Fortress, and the Black-Cloths were fed with the stores of his army. In gratitude, the Black Monks gave many footmen horses for the march to the south. All the while, the captains of both armies met in Carédock’s room, and there Edwald told them about the true intent of the Black Knight and of his ties to the White Tower.
-“Again, you speak like your father,” Lord Tyén said, “The Order is not to blame for every mishap on earth.”
-“This time it is, my lord.” Edwald reaffirmed, “The Black Knight also knew about the vision we bore witness to back in Myrlost. He also has had access to the beyond. He claimed, however, that he had seen the full vision, and I only a small part of it.
-“To have seen once into the Beyond does not mean you are a master thereof, that is at least what the curators of the temple have told me.” Lord Tyén said, “And fate is not yet written, we must find a way to fool what the Black Knight knows about that vision. Once we seed doubts in his mind, he might loose confidence in his foresight.”
-“That could work,” Asadue said, “The Black Knight does not seem to have many weaknesses. Not even the might of Edwald’s sword could fully defeat him, yet he relies too much in his foresight. He is too sure, of what will happen. If we take that away from him, he will loose his calm and will not manage to predict what the outcome will be.”
-“And how shall we make him distrust himself?” Sir Antuel asked.
-“There is already something he said that has proven to be wrong.” Edwald said, “He told me my brother was dead, and that his men had dragged his corpse away from the battle at the Pass of Hell and buried him somewhere in the north. But my lords, See it for yourselves, my brother is no ghost. He is of bone and flesh, and stands next to me. The Black Knight is sure of Brother Carédock’s death. So if we show him that this is not the case, he will panic and doubt his foresight.”
-“‘Tis a sound plan, but how will we get his attention?” Lord Tyén said, “Our armies are not as fast as his, and the Buram will reach the castle of Ronnos before us. Should they take that stronghold, they will have control over the access to the Graythland and a straight path to Fyore.”
-“Then we must hasten our pace,” Edwald said, “We’ve got many horses, if we manage to a get just within sight of the Buram Horde, we will put them under pressure and thus they will not have enough time to siege the castle.”
-“I don’t know if it will be enough against the Buram, brother.” Carédock said, “But our time in the raids, has taught my brotherhood how to tense the strings and, cut supply-lines, and annoy them to such an extent that he will want to deal with us.”
-“I trust each and every single one of you here present,” Edwald said, “This Black Knight must not be allowed to thrive. For all our sakes, I hope the Gods are on our side.”