Shield Knight Third's Tale Read online

  SHIELD KNIGHT: THIRD'S TALE

  Jonathan Moeller

  Table of Contents

  Description

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1: The Killer In The Dark

  Chapter 2: Khaldurmar

  Chapter 3: Haggling

  Chapter 4: The House Of Mirrors

  Chapter 5: The Harvester

  Chapter 6: Blood Without End

  Chapter 7: Bare Your Soul To Me

  Chapter 8: A New Land

  Other books by the author

  About the Author

  Description

  For a thousand years, the woman called Third was an urdhracos, a slave of the dark elven lord called the Traveler.

  Now the Traveler is dead, and Third is free.

  But when she undertakes the quest to find the missing Shield Knight of Andomhaim, Third must face the bloody shadows of her past.

  Because if she does not, those shadows will devour her...

  Shield Knight: Third's Tale

  Copyright 2017 by Jonathan Moeller.

  Published by Azure Flame Media, LLC.

  Cover image Copyright Lorado | istockphoto.com.

  Ebook edition published November 2017.

  All Rights Reserved.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.

  Author’s Note

  The novella SHIELD KNIGHT: THIRD’S TALE takes place between the events of SEVENFOLD SWORD: CHAMPION and SEVENFOLD SWORD: SWORDBEARER. Note that this novella contains spoilers for those books.

  Chapter 1: The Killer In The Dark

  Fourteen days after the quest of the Seven Swords began, fourteen days after the day in the Year of Our Lord 1488 when the cloaked stranger came to the High King of Andomhaim’s court, the woman who called herself Third walked alone through the darkness of the Deeps.

  The caverns of the Deeps were places of dread and darkness. Portions of it were ruled by the dwarves of the Three Kingdoms, the dvargir of Khaldurmar, various petty dark elven lords, and a constantly shifting array of deep orc and kobold and koballat tribes. And still worse things lurked in the caverns of the Deeps, urvaalgs and ursaars and the other war beasts of the dark elves of old. Undead haunted many of the caverns and ruins, and mzrokar prowled in search of carrion. And there were more powerful creatures in the blackness, urdmordar and malophages and Deep Walkers and creatures that even the urdmordar feared.

  None of it troubled the woman who called herself Third.

  She had been here before, after all.

  Third walked through a narrow tunnel of rough stone. It was gloomy, but she needed very little light to see. Patches of fist-sized ghost mushrooms clung to the walls here and there, throwing pale blue light across the rough stone. The straps of Third’s pack tugged at her shoulders, and her swords of dark elven steel rested in scabbards at her left and right hips.

  The bracer of blue steel that Antenora had forged rested upon her right forearm, over her close-fitting dark armor. From the magical bracer, Third felt a tugging sensation, almost like a lodestone rotating itself towards a steel cuirass.

  That was good. It meant she was headed in the right direction.

  Though Third thought she might have to make a few stops first.

  The tunnel sloped downward, more patches of ghost mushrooms providing dim light. It began to widen, and Third felt a cool breeze on her face that tugged at her black hair. The air was damp, and the familiar smell of ironstalk mushrooms came to her nostrils. Likely there was a large cavern ahead, one with both water and enough space to support ironstalk mushrooms.

  Such caverns were sources of food and water and were almost always defended.

  Another scent came to Third’s nostrils, a dusty, dry smell like the scales of a serpent or a lizard.

  She recognized that smell, too.

  Third slipped her swords from their sheaths and glided forward, her boots making no sound against the rough stone floor.

  As she had expected, the tunnel opened into a large oval cavern perhaps a half-mile long and a third of a mile wide. About a quarter of the floor was taken up by a rippling pond. The ripples came from the strange, glowing fish that darted back and forth beneath the surface. Clusters of ironstalk mushrooms, some of them standing over thirty feet tall, encircled the lake, and a carpet of ghost mushrooms covered the floor, giving off an eerie glow of pale blue and sickly green.

  Third went motionless, assessing the cavern.

  She spotted the two kobold sentries at once.

  The creatures were about the size of human children, but with spindly limbs covered in gray scales. They also had long, whip-like tails and narrow lizard-like skulls with black-slit yellow eyes. Crests of crimson scales rose from their heads, and tongues darted back and forth over their fangs, tasting the air. Beyond the sentries, Third caught sight of a score more kobolds prowling through the cavern. Likely they were a scouting party for a nearby tribe, come to see if the cavern could be held.

  She considered what to do. This cavern was one of the back routes to the dvargir city of Khaldurmar, and she needed to go to Khaldurmar. If she went to the main dvargir tunnels, that would add another two or three days to her journey, and Third did not want to lose that time.

  Which meant she needed to deal with the kobolds.

  There were too many of them for her to use her power to transport herself past them. Her initial impulse was to kill them all and be done with it. In the long centuries of her life, Third had killed more kobolds than she could remember, and another twenty would not trouble her in the slightest.

  Still…

  She wasn’t an urdhracos now. She was a baptized daughter of the church, a sister of Queen Mara, which Third supposed technically made her a noblewoman. Perhaps she could find a way past the kobolds without killing them all. Killing was what she did best, but she was no longer a slave of her father, but instead followed her own will and conscience.

  And her conscience urged her not to attack first.

  Third shrugged, sheathed her swords, and strode into view.

  “Greetings,” she said in the orcish tongue. Likely the kobolds knew it.

  Both creatures flinched and looked at her, raising short bows with arrows set to the string.

  “I wish to pass the cavern,” said Third. “Allow me to travel to the far side, and I will leave in peace and trouble you no further.”

  The kobolds glanced at each other. One of them turned and growled over its shoulder, and the other kobolds in the cavern turned towards them.

  “A human?” said the kobold on Third’s left.

  The kobold on the right barked a laugh. “Take her! We can sell her to the dvargir of House Tzanar. A human female slave will fetch a high price there!”

  The kobolds in the cavern hurried forward, two of them carrying a net.

  Third sighed and drew her dark elven short swords.

  Well, she had tried.

  The two kobold sentries started forward, and Third drew on the power in her blood, reaching for the fiery song that burned inside her.

  She was the daughter of the Traveler, the dark elven prince who had once ruled Nightmane Forest. The power in that blood had transformed her into an urdhracos centuries ago, and the Traveler’s will had dominated her heart and mind. But the Traveler was dead, and Third was no longer an urdhracos. The power in her blood tha
t had once enslaved her was instead hers to command.

  Third drew on that power, and blue fire swallowed the world.

  She traveled six yards in an instant, disappearing from her previous location and reappearing behind the two kobold sentries. The kobolds hurrying through the mushrooms flinched in sudden surprise, and the sentries looked back and forth in bewilderment.

  Third moved before any of them could recover.

  She stepped forward, her right-hand sword plunging into the back of a kobold sentry. Her dark elven heritage gave her strength beyond normal for humans, and her blade found the creature’s heart. Before the kobold even finished dying, Third wrenched her sword free, stepped forward, and attacked with the sword in her left hand. The blade slashed across the second sentry’s throat, and blood flew from the kobold’s gashed neck.

  Third was already moving before the dying kobold hit the ground. The other creatures rushed at her, and two of them hurled a weighted net. She waited until the last instant and drew on her power, transporting herself a dozen yards in the blink of an eye. The net fell empty to the ground, and Third reappeared behind the kobolds who had thrown it. She killed them both with quick stabs of her swords, their blood falling to the ground to water the ghost mushrooms. Another kobold came at her with a yell, jabbing with a long spear. Third deflected the spear with a sweep of her left sword, stepped into the kobold’s guard, and opened its throat with a slash of her right blade.

  Two more kobolds came at her, stabbing with short swords of their own. Third dodged to the right, deflecting a thrust that had been aimed at her belly. The second kobold slashed at her legs, and Third parried the blow and stabbed, her sword finding the kobold’s heart. The first kobold attacked again, and Third caught its sword in a cross-parry. She twisted to the side, releasing her blades, and stabbed with both weapons. Her blades caught the kobold in the chest, and the lizard-like creature fell dead to the ground.

  There was a flare of blue light, and a harsh voice rang out.

  Third whirled and saw a kobold with a staff standing a dozen yards away, half-hidden behind a boulder. This kobold looked older and thinner than the ones she had killed, and its scaly hide had been adorned with swirling blue tattoos. A pair of kobold skulls hung from the end of the staff, clicking and rattling as the kobold gestured, and ghostly blue fire was beginning to play around its claws.

  A kobold shaman, then, and likely a wielder of dark magic. The other kobolds began hissing and jeering, no doubt expecting their shaman’s spell to strike her dead.

  The shaman hurled a blast of blue fire at her, and Third called on her power.

  She disappeared and reappeared behind the shaman. Before the creature could react or cast any defensive spells, she drove her blades into its back. The shaman shuddered, shrieked something in the kobold tongue, and then collapsed.

  Third wrenched her swords free, blood dripping from the blades, and turned to face the remaining kobold warriors.

  They had seen enough. The kobolds scattered and fled, some of them retreating up the tunnel that Third herself had just used, while the reaminder fled towards other tunnels in the cavern walls. Perhaps she had scared them off. Or maybe they had gone to find reinforcements or more powerful allies.

  Either way, she wanted to be long gone by then.

  Third drew on her power and traveled to the southern end of the cavern in two jumps. Another large archway opened in the wall there, leading to a tunnel that wound its way further into the vast maze of the Deeps.

  She paused for a moment to check the tugging on her bracer. Antenora had enchanted the bracer to follow the Shield Knight, to seek the power of his soulblade Oathshield. It was like a compass, albeit one that she could feel with her mind instead of seeing with her eyes.

  Third was still on the right path.

  Of course, in the tangled maze of the Deeps, one could never be entirely sure of the right path.

  Which was why Third was going to Khaldurmar.

  She left the cavern and headed down the tunnel.

  Chapter 2: Khaldurmar

  It would have taken three days to travel on foot from the cavern where Third had killed the kobolds to the gates of Khaldurmar.

  Thanks to the power of her blood, Third did it in one day.

  She moved through the wild tunnels of the Deeps, through caverns and galleries claimed by no power. Third walked through narrow tunnels, a few of them so narrow she had to turn sideways to get through them. Some of the caverns were vast cathedrals, filled with stalactites and stalagmites and pools of clear water. Others had pools of bubbling mud, toxic gas hissing from cracks in the floor, and still others had lakes of glowing lava, the air in the cavern hot and sharp.

  Third knew the dangers of the Deeps and avoided them all. Twice she had to conceal herself and wait for dangerous creatures to pass – a pair of hunting urvaalgs, and then a basilisk. But they didn’t notice her, and step by step and jump by jump she moved closer to Khaldurmar.

  And as she entered the territory controlled by the dvargir, Third realized that she was being followed.

  Truth be told, she had been followed for some time. Not that it was surprising. She was close to Khaldurmar now, and the dvargir knew everything that went on in the Deeps near their city. They had withstood attempts by the dark elves and the urdmordar to conquer them, and they had warred with their dwarven cousins for millennia. That, and the minds of the dvargir inclined naturally to paranoia.

  No one could approach Khaldurmar without detection.

  Third walked through a large cavern filled with ironstalk mushrooms, an eerie blue glow rising from the clusters of ghost mushrooms dotting the floor. She glanced around, nodded to herself, and made up her mind.

  This was as good a place as any.

  She came to a stop, glancing around once more.

  Could she remember the dvargir tongue? She had learned it long ago, carrying out her father’s tasks. Sometimes he had liked an escort of his daughters when he had negotiated with the dvargir mercenaries and merchants who came to Nightmane Forest. Third was surprised that she remembered it.

  Then again, she remembered all of it.

  The Keeper’s apprentice Antenora had lived for fifteen centuries, yet she had forgotten vast swathes of it. A human mind could not hold such a span of years. But Third was only half human.

  She remembered everything.

  Sometimes she was jealous of Antenora.

  “There are seven of you that I have spotted,” said Third in the dvargirish language. “Two of you behind that ironstalk mushroom, three of you behind me in the ghost mushrooms, and two more of you over there behind those boulders. You might as well come out. I am going to Khaldurmar to speak with the dvargir, with or without you.”

  Her words echoed through the cavern, and nothing happened.

  Then the deep orcs emerged from their concealment, moving in utter silence.

  As Third had deduced, there were seven of the creatures. Most orcish men of the surface world stood seven feet tall, with green skin and black hair. The deep orcs were shorter and thinner, their skins a sickly yellowish-green. Their huge ears, bigger than Third’s palms, clung to the side of their heads. The deep orcs were eyeless, yet a strange band of knotted, veined flesh encircled their heads like a blindfold. The peculiar organ allowed them to see heat the way that the dwellers of the sunlight saw daylight. The dark elves had created the deep orcs long ago, using their magic to make them more effective slaves in the Deeps. The urdmordar had crushed the dark elves, but the deep orcs remained, living in independent tribes scattered throughout the Deeps.

  And many deep orc tribes had been enslaved or hired by the dvargir.

  They wore close-fitting dark armor of similar design to Third’s, armor that seemed to merge and flow into the shadows.

  Third waited, calm and relaxed, and one of the deep orcs approached. This one seemed older than the others, his hands and face marked with faded scars.

  “You are human,” said th
e deep orc leader, his voice watery and deep at the same time.

  Third lifted her hand and started to call on her power, making the veins shine with blue fire beneath her skin. “Do you think so?”

  She wondered if the deep orcs could see it. Evidently, they could, because they recoiled, though the leader remained motionless.

  “No,” agreed the leader. “No, you are not human. Then what are you? You look human, but are not, and speak the tongue of the masters.”

  “I am an emissary,” said Third. “I come to Khaldurmar to speak with the Dzark of the Outlanders’ Market. Conduct me there at once.”

  “And if we do not?” said the leader.

  Third shrugged. “Then I will go to Khaldurmar anyway, though I will have to explain to the guards at the gate what happened to their outer sentries.”

  A tense silence stretched between them.

  At last the deep orc leader let out a sound that was almost a snort. “I would hardly wish to inconvenience such an august visitor. Very well. Follow us to the Gate of the Outlanders. We shall be happy to escort you.”

  “I am certain,” said Third.

  The leader growled a command to his warriors, and they spread out in a loose ring around her. No doubt they intended to keep her from escaping, but she would not find it hard to break free of them.

  They left the cavern in silence, and an hour later, Third found herself approaching the Gate of the Outlanders of the dvargir city of Khaldurmar.

  It was as grim and as imposing as she remembered.

  A wide cavern, large as a cathedral of Andomhaim, stretched before the gate. The floor had been leveled and smoothed, all the stalactites and the stalagmites hacked away. Third had no doubt that there were countless hidden traps concealed in the floor and the walls, waiting for their dvargir masters to activate them. At the far end of the cavern, the wall had been worked and fortified. A high rampart rose a hundred feet off the ground, lined with black engines of dvargir steel. Below the rampart rested two huge gates of black dvargir steel, a metal that seemed somehow to drink the light and to reflect it at the same time. Magical symbols had been worked into the metal, carved by the skill of the dvargir shadowscribes, and they seemed to bleed and drip shadows into the air.