Stormfyre Chapter Eighteen

  Hello and welcome to the halfway point of Stormfyre. Yes, chapter eighteen marks the mid point of my first foray into fantasy, and I hope you have enjoyed the ride thus far.  I hope you enjoy the latter portion, and God bless! Yours in Christ, Ian T Curtis.        

            Avernus Cromley bid them to sit at chairs he had his soldiers bring in from other rooms on the lower floor. He offered them meldian spirits in crystal goblets he had sitting at the corner of his desk. Cameron was more than happy to take him up on his offer. The others declined, save for Kamil who had a single goblet but refused another when Cameron fixed him with a cold stare.

            The baron told them of the war, how the mighty Southcross fell to Dagoth. The siege ended with the execution of Carridon Stonethrow in the throne chamber of the Kingdom. Damien's jaw dropped when he heard the news of the king's demise. Benmont uttered a soft curse. He would have to look elsewhere for his vengeance. The baron told them that he had received word from Devlin Telba, an old friend of the family, that he was sending a young man and woman to be looked after until it was safe for them to return home. Avernus didn't have any qualms with allowing them sanctuary from the tyranny of lord Steelbreeze. Nor did he mind having Benmont, whom he regarded with a careful eye as the big man sat on his chair near the first of the many shelves that filled the room.

            "You may consider yourselves guests here until such time that the war has ended," Avernus proclaimed to them.

            "Why wouldn't it be over now? If Southcross fell then there's no one to stand in the way of Dagoth, is there?" Kamil questioned as he sipped at his goblet.

            "The Eagle will come from the north with his armies. He will stop Darius Steelbreeze from taking the High Throne. That is what the king is after, said that he was having divine visions."

            "You've spoken with the king?" Cameron asked.

            "I have. Months ago, before this madness began; I invited him to my tower to speak of an alliance with Dagoth. Even then his madness was beginning. He told me that I would have to come to him if I wanted to speak of marshalling our power. When I spent time in his court, however, I decided that his machinations were too ambitious, and dangerous, for me. I left there and haven't shared words with him since."

            "Does the king intend to turn his armies on you, Baron? You abstained from the battle at Southcross. That may be provocation enough for him to launch an assault on your tower."

            "I think not. The king has what he wants for the moment, and that is a clear path for the island where Dynasty resides. I have nothing for him here. I don't believe that he would waste the man power to attack me, it would be a delay of time and of lives."

            "You have these children now," Cameron stated, "The king needs them removed so he can bond to the High Throne. There was an attempt on two of them in the village of Hamla. That was why Devlin sent us here."

            "The heirs to the throne of Dagoth do pose something of a crimp in the plans of one that must be clean when he sits in Dynasty. Perhaps he should not have allowed his libido to control him the way it did when he was younger, then he wouldn't have this problem."

            "Baron, please! I would ask you not mention such matters with the children here! They have already suffered enough hardship. There is no need to compound it with your hasty words," Damien snapped at the baron. Avernus nodded his head in agreement.

            "Apologies to you, father. And to you children as well. Know now that you are safe in Cromley Tower. You are guests of the highest esteem, so please feel free to explore the tower at your leisure. Trost will be at your command if you have need of anything, as are the other servants that you will find in the tower. They will show you to your rooms. Supper will be within the hour, I will have my butler fetch you for it. I bid you good evening until then."

            Avernus watched them all stand from their chairs and exit the room, Cameron last. One of his servants closed the door behind them, clicking it shut. The baron sat back on his chair and poured himself another goblet of meldian spirits. A youth came out from behind another of the book shelves carrying a large book and quill pen with an ink blot. He took a seat before the baron and waited in silence for the baron to begin speaking.

            "Send word to Darius. Tell him I have what he wants, and that he has what I want. Propose to him a trade. I will give him the wayward bastard children if he delivers to me the throne of Dagoth. I will accept nothing else in trade. Write this message and leave this night. I want an answer as soon as possible, so I know how much longer I need to detain these whelps."

            "Lord Baron, why not simply lock them away in the dungeon until you have word from the king?" the scribe questioned, penning words with fresh ink at the same time.

            "Because fool, it is easier on myself if I maintain appearances and let them wander with the illusion that they are free. They will wait here and I will keep a close watch on them. Those children are the keys to my kingdom."

            The scribe had finished penning the words and was rolling the scroll up when Avernus stopped him with the wave of an open hand.

            "Lord Baron?"

            "There is one more thing to take care of. The warrior; this Cameron Reol. He will be problems if he is allowed to stay here. He has a keen mind and I think that in time he may divine what I intend for these whelps. Get rid of him; remove him from the tower halls."

            "How shall I do it, Lord Baron?" the scribe questioned timidly.

            "I care not, so long as no one else takes notice of it. Just be rid of him." The scribe nodded and was gone, pacing down the hall swiftly, leaving the master of the tower to his thoughts. And they were grand ones.

            Later that night, after supper had been served in the main dining hall, Kamil, Benmont and Kirstin sat in a common room with a host of younger nobility that had been staying in Avernus' tower the last several days. Two of the young women were particularly interested in hearing how Kamil and Benmont came into their company. Kamil was more than happy to tell their tale while Benmont would have been just as happy retiring for the evening.

            "You said that you came from Hamla?" one of the young women asked, a flirtatious smile on her lips. The other girl was leaning close to Kamil, her eyes large and pretty as she listened to his tale.

            "Far to the east, yes."

            "Wasn't that a dangerous journey?" the other girl asked him, flitting her eyes as she spoke. Kamil felt warm all along his face as he continued to speak.

            "Very dangerous, right Benmont?" Kamil turned and slipped his hand under Benmont's arm in an attempt to pull him closer to the conversation. The large youth wrenched away, sneering at him.

            "I wasn't with you for the entire duration of the journey, remember, Kamil? I only met with you after I was sick with the fever. I don't recall you rushing forward to aid Cameron when he was trying to subdue me."

            "He had it under control," Kamil told him confidently, making the women giggle, "But after you were with, we had some dangerous adventures, didn't we?"

            "All we did was venture here. I don't see the adventure in it."

            "Well, I think you ladies would be interested in hearing about when we were ambushed by ten bandits. We had to fight our way through them to gain passage to the next village. And we managed to save the life of the local constable at the same time."

            "There were five of them, and they were poachers, not bandits. And we snuck up on them while they were fighting the constable, not the other way around."

            "You have to excuse Benmont, he's such a stickler for detail," Kamil stammered as the young women laughed again, this time their affections falling toward Benmont. Benmont stared at them wide eyed like they were bandits themselves, and turned red in the face as he leaned back on the chair that he had been sitting in. One of the young women, her name was Tandy, scooted her seat a bit closer to him, her eyes large and dark. Benmont had the sudden impression of hitting her but pushed it from his mind. Some noble I would make, Benmont bickered silently, punching any noble that pays me attention.

            "And then what did you do, master Dravan? After you reached the village that you had to fight to, I mean." Kamil craned his neck to look at the other girl who sat there, arms holding her chin up, smiling openly at him. This one's name was Diela Shar, daughter of nobility far to the north, much the same area that Sara sought to escape, leaving her family behind.

            "After that we fought a wild beast on the plains. It nearly killed the lot of us. I helped slay it. Cameron helped too."

            "And what was I doing at that time, I wonder?" Benmont growled, "Relieving myself I suppose?"

            "Benmont!" Kamil gasped his mouth dropping wide. Tandy and Diela Shar laughed, their hands cupped over their mouths as they fought to control their laughter. Benmont only shrugged and leaned back in his chair, folding his considerable arms before him.

            "I need sleep. I'm going to my room. Goodnight, Kamil. Goodnight, ladies."

            "Master Grimnight, may I walk with you? I feel tired as well, and was wondering if you might walk me back to my room. It isn't far from where you are sleeping, you know," Tandy stood up and placed her hand on his arm. Benmont nearly went total red in the face for a moment but regained his composure enough to speak.

            "I would be happy to, lady."

            "Goodnight, mistress," Kamil called out after them as they left the room, "And a good night to you, master Grim." Kamil had the satisfaction of seeing the youth give him an acid look before leaving for the west hall, where their rooms were.

            "So, mistress Diela," Kamil began, "would you like to walk with me?" It turned out that she did, and the pair of them left the common room, Diela's hand on his arm. Kirstin watched them go, a sad smile on her face, and then faced her company. Trost Lefield sat across from her, fingers slowly twisting the edge of his wine glass back and forth.

            "You look magnificent this evening. Did I tell you that?" Trost asked her.

            "Only five times now," she told him, but blushed from the comment nonetheless. Kirstin had worn a dress with long flowing skirts to supper, with silk gloves that clung to her smoothly, reaching up to her forearms. A small circlet of silver kept her fiery red hair in place. She felt out of place in a house with so many that could claim the mantle of nobility, but at the same instant she felt strangely at home, as if this was where she belonged. Judging by the way Kamil had looked that evening, he was feeling the same way. She couldn't tell with Benmont. He kept his emotions too closely guarded for her to ever be sure.

            "Let us walk the balconies tonight," Trost told her, "There will be precious few nights where it will be warm enough to do so in the next month." Kirstin rose with his help, taking his arm and allowing him to lead as they exited the common room and approached the outer door where the circular balcony awaited them.

            She liked this feeling, the feeling of being a proper lady, dressed in elegant clothes and not some roaming waif that carried a blade and rode her horse until it made her posterior ache. The tower was magnificent, as was her host, Lord Baron Cromley. He had been a true gentleman during supper, making conversation even with Ferrin, who, she had to admit, seemed a bit out of place in his silk over coat and pressed breeches. She gathered that nobility wasn't for everyone. But it had suited Cameron well, she thought. He looked like he had been born to the roll as he strolled into the dining hall with his coat tails flapping behind him. She thought he looked very handsome. Blushing, she turned away from Trost until she knew the flush in her cheeks was gone.

            "Lady, where will you go after this?" Trost asked her as they circled the balconies at a slow pace. The moon was high in the night sky, with pins of light in the form of stars to accompany it. The night was silent in its perfection. Kirstin couldn't have asked for a better night to walk.

            "Pardon?" she asked, feeling embarrassed for letting her mind wander.

            "I asked you where would you go after this is all over? When you are free to go where you choose?"

            "I will go home, I think. It has been months since I have seen my mother or my..." she stopped when she couldn't decide what to call him, and then simply said, "I would like to travel home."

            "I see," Trost returned, his face darkened.

            "Is there something wrong?" Kirstin asked.

            "I was thinking, hoping that you would stay here for a time. I have barely begun to know you but I like you already very much. I would be disappointed if I lost the chance to better know you."

            "Perhaps I may stay here," Kirstin said flirtatiously, "If I have good reason to."

            "Am I not then good enough reason for you? Is there another? A young man that waits for you in Hamla?"

            "No," she commented, "there is no one waiting there for me, save for my mother."

            "Then you might stay?" Trost asked her.

            "Time will tell, master Lefield. Time will tell."

            "I will accept that answer, for now," The pair of them wandered the walks of the balcony, hand in hand. They stayed out there for a long time, talking with each other, until it was nearly the sunrise.

            The room that Cameron had been given was little more than a bed with a hamper to hold his things in but he had slept in worse. One lantern hung from a metal hook on the back wall, casting a wavering glow over his possessions. He sat on his bed, wearing only his breeches, reading a book that he had found in the library on the second floor of the tower. He was two chapters into the book, something about a king thrown out of his kingdom and raising an army to win it back, when there was a knock at his door.

            Placing the book on his bed, he slipped off it and pulled one of his loose wool shirts over his head before walking over to the door. He flung the door open and took a step out, realizing, a moment too late, that he just stepped into a trap. He saw an armored guard from the corner of his eye, already bringing a mace down on his head. Cameron stepped fully into the hall and avoided the attack, allowing the mace to strike hard on the wall. Cameron spun about and connected into the man's face, making him stagger back and slide along the wall. Another guard uttered a curse from behind him a second before he attacked. That was his mistake. Cameron dropped to his knees and spun around, ducking the swipe of a club aimed for his upper back. He returned in kind, punching hard into the soldier's groin. The man made a pitiful whining sound and let the club drop from nerveless fingers. Cameron scooped up the club in time to parry the next attack by the mace wielding soldier. Their weapons connected with a loud clap that filled the hall as Cameron pulled free of the connection and swung first low and then high. The guard had speed enough to block the strike low, but took the full force of the club to his head. Blood sprayed from a deep gash on the man's forehead as he fell backward, letting the mace clatter on the stones behind him.

            Cameron was just about to rush back into his chamber when he felt a sting on his side. With a whispered curse he pulled a needle from his ribs. There was sticky fluid at the tip, yellowish tinted in the lantern light. Cameron felt the first waves of drowsiness coming on as another pair of guards garbed in chainmail came from around the corner. Both of them wielded maces, spikes dulled to keep the blows from being lethal. He was wanted alive, he surmised, which didn't make him feel much better then thinking that someone wanted him dead. Struggling against the tiring caress of the toxin in his blood, Cameron stepped toward the first of the pair of men that approached him. He parried the swing of the mace, letting it trail off his club, then returned with a blow that left the man's arm useless. As the first soldier fell back, clutching his broken arm, the second man stepped closer and sung once, the twice at Cameron's head. He ducked the first and parried the second, almost losing the club with it. He was sweating, and his strength was failing him.

            Gritting his teeth, holding tighter to his weapon, Cameron returned the attack, swinging a straight arc at the man's knees, trying to pitch him off balance. The soldier was fast to avoid, though, and leapt over the club, coming down and bringing his mace across Cameron's shoulder. Gasping with the shock of the impact Cameron dropped to the floor, doing all he could to keep hold of the club. The soldier grinned at him through his helmet, bringing the mace down in what he believed was the final blow. Cameron waited until the last second and rolled to the side, tripping him and making him drop to his knees. Cameron sat up, head reeling with the toxin, and swatted him across the back of his head with the club, knocking his helmet off.

            Grunting with pain, the soldier stepped back up to his feet as Cameron rose, using the wall as a brace. The soldier rushed in and swung hard, screaming with the effort that he put into the blow. Cameron ducked low as he could and chose to drop the club, instead taking hand holds of the chain tunic and pulling on them with all he had left in him. The soldier jerked forward, his head slamming into the stone wall with a crunching thump. The youth dropped at his feet even as Cameron was taking up his mace to face the trio of soldiers that came for him from down the hall.

            "Burn you, Cromley," Cameron whispered as he circled the trio, ready for battle. It became a moot point, however. Uttering a quiet gasp, Cameron crumpled to the floor in an unconscious heap. The trio of guards approached him as a man might walk toward a raging inferno, trepidation filling their every step.

            "Name of the One," one of the guards growled to another, "Did you see the man fight, even after he was poisoned? This one's dangerous, he is. Why don't we just kill him and be done with it?"

            "The commander had other ideas for him. It has been a long time since Garrodine has had someone survive any of his torture sessions. This one might just make it to the second. I want you to bring him to Garrodine, as a gift from the baron."

            "This isn't right. We should kill him. Letting him live is a mistake."

            "I don't care to hear your opinions on this. Take him to the dungeons and give him to the keeper. Do you not feel that you can obey this simple order?" The guard shook his head, showing his commander that he was ready to obey.

            "This is good. Take his things with him. I don't care what you do with them, just make sure he isn't seen or heard from by any of the ones who came with him, or it will be your heads the baron has! Now be gone with him!"

            Later that evening, in Baron Cromley's study, Avernus sat at his desk, thumbing over near crumbling texts that he had brought from an expedition to an old, long forgotten castle that stood thirty miles of the crossing on the south side. It was deep in a forest thick with undergrowth and trees taller than any man could properly look at. The books had pages of alchemy and rites of passage so old that his sages had a difficult time translating them for him, but he coaxed them into it as only he could.

            That night, as he did on so many other nights when matters of court didn't exhaust him and send him to an early bed, he studied the tombs in the hope of unlocking the knowledge that was stored there so long ago. A single flame from a candle sat on his desk, at the corner, allowing him the privacy that he sought. A knock at the door came, making him crane his neck and utter a sigh.

            "Will I never get any peace tonight?" he said aloud, closing the front of the ancient book after taking care to mark his place, "Enter!" he called out. The door to his study pushed open, revealing a pair of soldiers, helmets clutched in their hands as they filled the door frame.

            "What is it, commander?" Avernus fairly growled, wanting to be left alone with his studies.

            "The man that you told us to remove from the tower has been removed, Baron. But there were complications."

            "What complications?"

            "He injured several of the men in our attempt to ambush him. Hector was seriously damaged, Baron. I don't think that he will last the night if proper care isn't made to help him."

            "You bumbling fools! How many men would it take to kill one man? I suppose it's well enough to know that he's dead. This will make controlling those little waifs a might easier," Avernus stopped speaking, noting the despondent looks on the faces of his guards.

            "What are you not telling me?"

            "The man, sir. The captain thought it would be good if we brought him to Garrodine. The captain thought that Garrodine might like someone with a pain threshold, sir."

            "The captain thought that, did he? I don't recall paying the lot of you to think, only to act to commands that I give you. When I told my scribe to be rid of him any means necessary, I didn't want the fool to still draw breath. First thing in the morning you will go to the dungeon and inform Garrodine that the first torture session will be the last. I want Cameron Reol dead before the sun is full in the sky. Is that understood?"

            "Understood well, sir."

            "Then leave me. You have interrupted my studies." The soldiers were quick to exit his study, closing the door behind them. Avernus paced back to his desk, letting his hands trail over the cracked cover of the tombs. It was time for him to retire, he thought, as a pronounced yawn escaped his lips. There would be time for study in the days to come. Yes, time to study, time to rule. With a smile he couldn't erase from his face, he made his way off to his bed.

            "Where is Cameron?" Kirstin asked the chamber maid again. She had come looking for him that morning, earlier than usual, hoping that she could continue her lessons even in the tower. But when she left the fifth floor and ventured down to where Cameron had been brought to stay all she found was an empty bedroom and a chamber maid no older than her making the bed proper. Cameron Reol was gone, and his things with him.

            "What happened to the man staying here?" Kirstin questioned, feeling a touch of anger rising in her at the maid's reluctance to answer the questions she asked. The chamber maid stammered out that she didn't know where the man who stayed here last night had vanished to. All she knew was that the head mistress told her to come here and fix the room for future guests.

            "Is there a problem here?" Trost Lefield asked as he came walking in from the door that lead to the stairwell. Kirstin smiled when she saw him, cloak swaying behind him, dragging off broad shoulders. He had just shaved, she could tell. He had a smell around him, like a pine scent, that her father always had when he shaved his stubble off. She blushed with the thought of her father, not wanting to have Devlin's image in her mind at the moment. It made her heart ache to think of him and the cold way that he let her go.

            "Trost. Thank you for showing up. This woman won't tell me where Cameron went to. I was going to train with him, but he's not here, and his things are gone like he left. What's going on?"

            "Kirstin, Cameron is gone. He left even before the sun rose. He had other places to be at, since he was able to bring the lot of you here. He is a wanderer, Kirstin. Did you really expect him to stay once he finished what he needed to do?"

            "He's gone?" Kirstin blurted out, putting more emotion into that statement then was proper for a young lady, "He didn't even come to say goodbye to me, to any of us. Why wouldn't he come to say goodbye?"

            "I don't know. I can only tell you that he did leave. I'm sorry if that upset you."

            "It wasn't your fault, Trost. I just thought that Cameron was different than that. I thought...Oh, it doesn't matter. Trost, will you share breakfast with me?"

            "I would be happy to," Trost informed her with a smile. He held out his hand and she placed hers on it, walking off together, leaving the chamber maid to stare after them with a puzzled look coloring her face.

            At the breakfast table Kirstin sat close to Trost. The others gathered there, Ferrin being the last to enter. The youth had a drawn out, tired look on his face, like he hadn't slept all night. Damien padded a chair beside him for Ferrin to take and he slumped into it, almost sliding right out.

            "Couldn't sleep last night?" Damien asked.

            Ferrin shook his head and waved his hand around the tower, shrugging his shoulders after he dropped his hand.

            "You feel uncomfortable around here?" Ferrin nodded, "So do I."

            "Cameron's gone, father," Kirstin told the priest from where she sat over the breakfast table, "He left very early in the morning, not even bothering to say goodbye."

            "Was that really surprising Kirstin? I mean Cameron has wanted freedom from this burden for some time. He told me that the only thing keeping him here was the fact that he was being paid coin. I just hope that wherever he has gone that the gold he was paid made him happy."

            "I'm sorry to hear that his leaving has made such an impression on you all," Avernus told them sympathetically, "He had his roads to travel. But that doesn't change the fact that you all may stay here for as long as needs be."

            Damien had the sudden impression that Avernus had just spoke a lie. It was a part of him that his faith always spoke from. Was it the One God trying to warn him of deception? Or was it the simple fact that he hadn't had a decent night of sleep since he had begun this journey? But the look that Ferrin shot him, one of distrust and anxiety, told the father that there was more to his feeling than a lack of sleep. Damien opted to say nothing then, just wait until he could speak with Ferrin where the others couldn't see them.

            Kamil sat at the far end of the table, holding the place opposite of the Baron. Diela Shar sat on his right side, looking radiant in a morning gown of pink silk and lace which nearly touched the floor. Her hair was pulled away from her face and she sported earrings, small diamonds that glittered in the light of the open windows. When Kamil looked at her she smiled and he in turn blushed. Trying hard to make his face cool, he added his two cents into the conversation.

            "Does it really matter where Cameron's gone? What the question really is is this; how long are we going to have to stay here? I mean no disrespect, Baron Cromley, but I miss my father and would like very much to see him again."

            "Your father?" Benmont laughed at him, "You miss the king of Dagoth that much do you? I'm sure he misses you just the same, Kamil."

            "I don't mean him, you big ox! I was speaking of Andor, the man who raised me since I could remember! The king is no father of mine!" Benmont shrugged, not caring to hear Kamil's heated words. Instead he picked up his fork and went about finishing the spot of eggs that were left on his plate. He and the young maiden Tandy shared quiet words while he ate, making Kamil brood even more.

            "I would think you might see the benefit of having a father as the king," Avernus approached the subject with an air of casualty, seeming not to care too much about the matter of who Kamil's father was. Ferrin knew different. He could suddenly smell the deceit in the Baron's voice, thick and unmistakable. A snarl crossed the youth's face, but it quickly changed to one of surprise when he felt a sharp kick to his shin. The good father had deemed it necessary to kick him, and the stern look that he shot him was enough to make him smooth his expression, for the moment, anyhow.

            "I want nothing to do with him! He tried to kill my father! He killed Kirstin's brother, and Sara! No, there's nothing I want from him. He can rot as far as I'm concerned."

            "Kamil!" Kirstin shouted at him, "Mind your place! He is the master of the tower and our host."

            "You're right," Kamil spoke lowly, "And I apologize for saying such harsh words, Baron. I am still sore about the whole thing."

            "I'm sure that you all are," Avernus added, looking from Kamil to Kirstin then to Benmont, "I have heard the stories of your tragedies from Father Alohm, and they are all grievous. I can only empathize with what you have gone through. I apologize for stirring up something that I'm sure you would rather not dwell on."

            "I'm not dwelling on it," Benmont told the Baron, "I don't feel the sting of grief any longer. I seek only vengeance for what they did to my mother. I will see the king fall before I die, even if it is that act that kills me."

            "Spoken like a true nobleman, master Grimnight. You do the memory of your mother proud." Benmont beamed at the words and Damien shook his head. He didn't want anyone, not even the Baron of Cromley Tower, filling Benmont's head with notions of vengeance. The boy had enough of them as it was.

            Breakfast ended shortly after, with the Baron offering them free exploration of the tower, save for the lower level and the dungeons, where he told them that it would be dangerous for them to be wandering around in. One of the Baron's servants, a wiry young man with a nervous twitch on his left side, came into the dining hall and requested a private audience with him. Trost just nodded to his employer and asked Kirstin if she might be interested in another walk. It turned out that she was. Tandy said that she had to go to the stalls and check on her horse. She turned bright blue eyes in Benmont's direction and fluttered them. The large youth licked his lips, and making sure that no one over heard him, he told Tandy that it would be his pleasure.

            "Thank you for the meal, Baron," Kamil bowed his head to the master of the tower before he and Diela Shar made their way to the tower's grounds. Damien was barely congenial to the Baron, bidding him a good morning before making haste back to his room with Ferrin in tow. The pair climbed stairs until they were at the fourth floor, one under where the Baron had the children sleeping. Damien closed the door to his chamber and locked it. The room was little more splendid than Cameron's had been but he was used to far worse, being a man of the faith left him little time for the luxuries of the flesh. Damien stepped past Ferrin and opened the small window that he had against the wall, just above the bed, letting fresh air flow into the stagnant stone chamber.

            "You were thinking the same thing that I was in there, weren't you, Ferrin?"

            The youth shrugged, not sure what the good father was playing at. Damien pulled his shirt off and dropped it to the floor, rummaging through his clothes for a travel shirt. Ferrin noted a lacing scar on the priest's shoulder that ran the length of both shoulders, made by some clean cutting instrument. Ferrin tapped Damien on the shoulder and stared quizzically at the old wound. Damien turned his gaze down and smiled.

            "Wondering how I got that scar, are you?"

            One of your church sermons get out of control, father? Ferrin signed to him, making him laugh out loud. Damien slipped a different shirt on and buttoned it around his collar.

            "I was young when I received that scar. My brother and I were playing in the fields near my father's home. It was growing late and he had called us in, but like all children, we were disobedient and failed to come home when he called." Ferrin gave him a shocked look, putting a hand to his head for emphasis. Damien chuckled again, slipping a vest over an arm as he continued to tell his tale, "Saul and I, that is my brother's name, we were playing near the hay bales, climbing them and pushing each other off. It was Saul who got the drop on me, and he shoved my chest, knocking me straight off one of the larger bails. I fell on my back, but a wheat cutting scythe was kind enough to catch me as I fell. I found the bladed edge. It cut me deeply. Saul thought that I was going to die right there, and when our father got there I found myself wishing that I would have. He wasn't pleased with us."

            You could have died.

            "I could have, but I didn't. The wound healed, like all of them tend to do. But let us talk of the Baron, Ferrin. Did you think he was lying to us when we spoke?"

            When he spoke of Cameron leaving he was not telling us the truth, I could smell it on him. Then again, with the mention of Kamil's relation with the king of Dagoth, he was pushing at something. I know he was.

            As do I. Avernus Cromley is hiding something from us, Ferrin. My God made me aware of this. It is my belief that we should leave here as soon as we can, and head to the north, where my God has been trying to direct me for some time now.

            To the north? Why? Ferrin looked at him with a questioning expression. A hint of fear crept over him at the mention of treading north. Damien failed to notice it, however.

            I'm not sure, to be perfectly honest, Ferrin. All I know is that these dreams of mine will haunt me if I fail to obey them. As for Cameron, I fear that he may be dead. If he is not dead then death can't be far from claiming him. Ferrin, I think that dead or alive, he has been taken to the dungeon.

            Ferrin nodded agreement, sitting down in a chair, already thinking of how he was going to steal in there and free the man. Damien sat on the bed, rubbing several fingers through his beard.

            "Ferrin, I would ask you to do something dangerous. I want you to find Cameron. We may need him when we leave this place, his fighting skills may prove valuable. Would you do this for me?" Ferrin only nodded agreement, his mind racing with how he would break into a dungeon. It would be a first for him, wanting to get into the dungeon, instead of making his way out of them. He smiled at the prospect. It certainly would challenge his skills. Cupping his hands together, a slow grin crossed Ferrin's face.

            "Midnight. After midnight you should try your luck. I will pray for your safety, my friend."

            Ferrin exited the priest's room, leaving the father to his thoughts, troubled as they were. Outside he could see Kamil running in the front yard with the young noble woman that was staying on the same floor the father was. Damien suddenly was stricken with the weirdest thought. Diela Shar was nobility, a lordling from the more northern city of Fahl. Kamil and Benmont were peasants, never having the luxury that nobles were accorded. Why was it that they had rooms, more lavish then the nobility below them? Avernus was trying to placate them; that was painfully obvious. But why? To what end? Damien wracked his mind, trying to divine why the Baron was heaping such hospitality on them? And what would removing Cameron have to do with it?

            Shaking his head, Damien dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together, losing himself in prayer. He prayed to the One for the connection to the Baron's erratic behavior. The light filled him, enhancing his senses far beyond those of any mortal man. The One showed him the answers to the questions that plagued him, what the Baron had in mind for the children and for the king of Dagoth. Damien reeled from the truth, but thanked his God for the enlightenment that came with it. Standing, dusting his knees off, Damien could only wait until night fall for Ferrin, to see if he could liberate Cameron, or if it was too late. Either way he had to gather the children and make haste from the tower. The day waned without end for Damien Alohm.

            "What did you just say?" Avernus Cromley screeched at the guard that called him from the dining hall. The guard paled from the rage that that Baron vented but held his ground. He knew well that the Baron didn't like displays of cowardice in his men.

            "The scout you sent with the letter for His Majesty never made it. Spies have placed the scout's body in a ravine that runs the cliff side south of the Torvana Mountains. And even now an army masses north and east of here."

            "An army? Deep God's alive! How in the world did they come so fast? How many days before they can reach here? What does the strength stand at?"

            "Uncertain, Baron. There could be as many as two thousand men. Rumors have it that members of the Honor Guard lead the army. There can be no doubt, lord Baron. They march on Cromley Tower. They come to siege Twin Port."

            "Fool!" Avernus Cromley spun on his heel pacing the study, jaw quivering with a rage he couldn't contain. He balled up his fist and punched the side of a book shelf, over balancing it and tipping it over.

            "He could have bargained! The loss of his land would have been nothing to one that stood ready to gain the world as his kingdom! Still he battles against me! Sound the alarm for combat! I want all of my markers back into the tower and combat ready."

            "The army of Dagoth will be here in two days, lord. They march quickly, leaving us only a path to the west for escape. Shall I send scouts to Cantam or Debla for reinforcements?"

            "No, it will be too late. I want you to send word to the leaders of this army. Tell them that I am ready to hand over the children if that is what he needs from me. There is no need for battle."

            "What of the negotiations, lord Baron?"

            "There will be no negotiations if Darius Steelbreeze brings my tower to its foundations! I will give that madman what he wants if it keeps my tower standing! Let those bastard children rot if it pleases him. There will be other times to try my hand for the throne. I want an elite of men to bring those children to the Honor Guard, to appease them. You will march them first thing in the morning. Take them before the sun even rises, do you follow me?"

            "Understood, sir. What of the gangly looking youth and the priest that came with them?"

            "They mean as little to me as the warrior that brought them. Kill them, and report to me when you have accomplished this. Understood, captain?"

            "Understood, sir."