Lord Soth

Chapter 28

The roar of the flames was deafening.

Every stick of wood in the keep seemed to be alight, crawling with orange flames that licked at the walls like the tongue of some great serpent.

And then, in the midst of the fire, a voice.

"Father!" came the cry.

The call of his son, Peradur.

Soth ran through the burning keep, his eyes stinging from the smoke, his clothes clinging to his damp skin.

"Peradur!" he called into the midst of the flames.

"Father, over here!"

Soth moved forward.

Suddenly he felt an intense heat burning his back. He spun around and saw his cloak trailing behind him, burning as brightly as a tallow-soaked torch. He tore the clasp from his neck and threw the cloak to the ground where it was immediately engulfed in flames.

"Father! Where are you father?"

"I'm here!" he answered. "I'm coming!"

He drew his broadsword and used it to cut a swath through the flames and burning timbers that had fallen from the ceiling.

Finally he reached the nursery. It billowed with smoke the flames chewed their way across the rafters supporting the room's ceiling.

"Father, save me!"

Soth was in tears from the smoke and could barely see more than the few feet in front of him.

"Father, help me! Please!"

He moved forward, being drawn by the sound of his son's voice.

Suddenly, there it was-the cradle. He had made it. He took a final few steps and looked inside the cradle.

The hag-like face of the witch smiled up at him.

"Father, help me!" the witch cried out, the young boy's voice suddenly sounding hideous coming from such an Ugly, gap-toothed mouth. She laughed wickedly, the cackle cutting through the roar of the fire like a sword through the leg of an ogre.

Soth recoiled in horror and screamed from the utter depths of his soul.

"No!"

She was floating.

Light shone all around her, a soft glow warming her from the inside out.

And a voice.

A beautiful voice was speaking to her.

Isolde heard it not with her ears, but with her mind.

It was telling her softly, so softly, what must be done.

And she understood.

And then there came a sound so loud and sharp that the dream shattered around her like glass. Isolde looked sleepily around the room, certain that the ground had shook and that the walls were about to topple.

"No…"

The shout contained a measure of sorrow along with terror. Isolde rolled over and realized the cries had come from her husband.

"Loren, wake up!" she said, placing her hands on his shoulders and shaking him.

No effect.

She shook him harder. "Wake up!"

Soth's eyes blinked open and he gasped for air. His face was a pale shade of white and damp with sweat. His wide eyes darted around the room as if he were familiarizing himself with his surroundings.

"It's all right," said Isolde. "It was just a dream, a bad, bad dream.

Like before."

"No," whispered Soth. "No. This was worse. This was terrible, horrible."

"What was it about? What happened?"

"No." He shook his head. "It was too horrible. I'd rather forget it than have to go through it again."

"Perhaps that might be best," Isolde nodded. She looked at him for the longest time, drying his face with a bedsheet as she gathered the strength to say the words. Finally she took a deep breath and said, "I had a dream as well."

"I hope to Paladine it was less disturbing than mine." "It was," said

Isolde. "In fact, it was a revelation."

"Really?" Soth rolled onto his side to face her. "Tell me."

Isolde smiled. "You know I have been praying to Mishakal to show me a way in which you can redeem yourself," she said.

"Yes," said Soth. "You have told me of your prayers."

"Well, tonight I believe they were finally answered."

Soth looked at her for several seconds. She smiled at him again, but remained silent. At last he prodded her, "Please, tell me more."

"It wasn't a nightmare at all," Isolde began. "It felt warm and comfortable and wonderful. And a voice spoke to me, a female voice. I'm sure it was Mishakal herself."

Soth was skeptical. As benevolent as Mishakal was- she was called the

Healing Hand, after all-he doubted that she would trouble herself to speak directly to a mere mortal. But as he studied the countenance of

Isolde, the absolute conviction in her expression was too strong to be so easily dismissed. He decided to open up his mind and listen carefully to her account. "What did the voice say?"

"I didn't understand it all." She shook her head. "Some parts didn't make any sense to me."

"If you could repeat exactly what the voice said, then perhaps I might be able to make sense of it."

"I suppose I could try." She closed her eyes and concentrated.

Her eyelids fluttered and her thin lips trembled as they parted slightly. Suddenly her eyes opened and she began speaking as if someone or something was speaking through her.

"The former Knight of Solamnia named Soth," the voice said, "can redeem himself and his followers by journeying to the Temple of the Kingpriest in Istar."

Shocked but nevertheless intrigued, Soth leaned closer to Isolde so he might hear her better.

"Once there, he must confront the Kingpriest and order him to abdicate from the position or suffer the wrath of the gods."

Isolde's mouth closed and for several seconds she was still and quiet.

But then after a deep breath she-or whoever was using Isolde as a messenger-began speaking again.

"The Kingpriest will refuse and will strike down Soth with a bolt of lightning. But that will not be the end of Soth's quest. By the grace of the gods Paladine and Mishakal, he will rise again in order to continue the fight.

Each time the Kingpriest dispatches him to the netherworld, Soth will rise up again, more powerful than the last time until his strength and power are sufficient to finally lay the Kingpriest to rest."

Isolde seemed to grow tired, but Soth knew enough not to disturb her until she was done.

"When that is accomplished, when the Kingpriest is gone from the face of

Krynn, only then will Soth be allowed to pass in peace from this world to the next."

Soth drew in a long breath.

"If he fails, all of Krynn will suffer for the arrogance of the

Kingpriest. The skies will burn, the land will heave Life as we know it will be changed forever. This event will come to be known as the

Cataclysm."

Isolde's eyes closed again, but this time she fell back onto the bed, exhausted.

Soth gathered her in his arms and held her tight, stroking her hair and face until she awakened.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I think so," said Isolde, putting a hand to her head. "I remember hearing a strange voice, something about the Kingpriest and forces of great destruction…"

Soth nodded.

"Then it's true," Isolde said, suddenly gaining strength.

"Mishakal has shown us a way to redemption. After you've completed the quest you can rejoin the knighthood and everything will be the way it was before." She shook her head as her eyes grew wide. "No, even better than it was before."

Her smile slowly faded as she realized that Soth wasn't sharing her excitement.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "What is it?"

"It's the nature of the quest."

"What about it?" Soth sighed. Obviously Isolde had simply acted as a messenger of the gods and was unaware of what was contained in the message.

"I must battle the Kingpriest of Istar," said Soth in a tone that suggested he was doomed.

"What is the problem? You are a Knight of the Rose, a great warrior."

Perhaps, but I am no match for the likes of the Kingpriest."

"Then you can prepare yourself for the battle, undergo special training."

Soth shook his head. "You don't understand." He still didn't want to say it, but he was finding it more and more difficult to avoid the inevitable. "If I accept this quest, the only time my soul will ever be allowed to rest in peace is when I finally rid Krynn of the Kingpriest."

"I still don't understand," said Isolde. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that the only way I can successfully complete this quest and save the world from destruction is to sacrifice my own life in the process."

Isolde's lips moved, but she was unable to make a sound.