The Sentinel

CHAPTER 18

The goat reared up on his hind legs, then dropped his head and slammed his horns into the castle gates. A hollow boom echoed through the entryway, and the goat staggered back, bleating and shaking his head. It was the fifth time the beast had rammed the gates, and Kleef saw no sign that he intended to stop until he had battered them down.

“There is something wrong with that goat,” Malik said. “Surely, even a stupid beast can see that the only thing he is cracking is his own skull.”

“Determination is a virtue,” Kleef said, glancing around. “Besides, he has the right idea. That looks like our only way in.”

After a long, arduous flight across dozens of bridges and sagging earthmotes, the companions had finally reached Sadrach’s Spire and were now stalled inside a small entrance grotto. The walls and ceiling had been carved from native stone, without any of the arrow loops or murder holes that would have lined the entry vault of a typical gatehouse. Beyond the grotto, a fierce fire-hail raged over the entire Underchasm, hammering the bridge they had just crossed with pellets of yellow flame-and forestalling any attempt to scale the castle walls.

Out on the bridge, only a few hundred paces distant, the orc horde was just coming into view through the fire-hail. They were advancing at a snail’s pace, crouched down low and creeping across the bridge with their breastplates held over their heads. Kleef was too far away to tell how well the makeshift shields were protecting them, but it would not be long, he suspected, before they saw the dark shape of the grotto’s mouth and grew eager to reach shelter.

Another boom echoed through the grotto, and Kleef turned to find the goat staggering back from the gate again. Deciding to take his cue from the beast and try something, Kleef drew Watcher and stepped forward to start hacking-then heard stone crackling beside him.

He turned to find a horizontal viewing slot opening in the grotto wall. A pair of large brown eyes appeared behind the slot and stared out at him. Rimmed in kohl and set into a face the color of alabaster, they were young and female-and so distant and expressionless that Kleef was not quite sure they belonged to a human.

“Well met,” Kleef said. “My friends and I beg leave to come inside. It’s important.”

The eyes flickered from Kleef to the goat to the front of the grotto, where Joelle was cleaning the four long slashes that ran down Arietta’s ribcage. Despite Joelle’s best efforts to heal them, the wounds had started to fester, and Arietta’s brow was beaded with fever. Malik claimed the purulence was because Gruumsh’s fury was stronger than Sune’s love, and Kleef was beginning to fear the little man was right.

A small voice arose from the other side of the viewing slot. “But she’s not dead yet.”

“No,” Kleef said, puzzled by the odd response. “She’s been wounded, but she’s a long way from dead.”

The eyes clouded with confusion. “Then why bring her here?”

“Because we weren’t about to leave her behind,” Kleef said. “We’ve traveled a long way to-”

“But you’re not dead, either.”

“Not yet,” Kleef said, glancing toward Malik. He was starting to think that there was something the little man had neglected to tell them about Sadrach’s Spire. “But that may change soon, if you don’t let us in.”

Again, the eyes clouded with confusion. “You want to come inside while you’re still alive?”

Kleef nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “We need to deliver-”

“No, that can’t happen.” The eyes vanished from view, and the voice grew muffled. “Come back when you’re dead.”

The goat hit the gate again, this time so hard Kleef could hear the boom echoing inside the gate tower itself. The kohl-rimmed eyes appeared again immediately.

“And make Peox stop that,” the woman said. “He’ll wake Grandfather.”

“Peox?” Kleef repeated. “You know this goat?”

“Of course,” the woman replied. “He was one of the wallbound, but now he makes too much noise. That’s why I left him for the tribes.”

Before Kleef could ask what the wallbound were-or who the woman was-the eyes vanished from the viewport again.

“Wait!”

Kleef rapped on the grotto wall-then cried out in astonishment as a stone hand emerged beneath the viewport and grabbed his arm. He tried to jerk free, only to have the hand clamp down and stop him. A heavy-jawed face formed out of the rock above the viewport and glared out at him.

“Quiet!” The voice was deep and grating. “Gingrid is right. You’ll wake Sadrach-and nobody wants that.”

Kleef resisted the urge to attempt freeing himself again. “Then let us inside,” he said. “We need to reach Grumbar’s Temple.”

The stony hand clamped down so hard Kleef feared his arm would break. “Your need means nothing to me,” he said. “And you are in no position to threaten.”

Kleef started to raise Watcher to free himself, but Malik was already at his side, pushing the sword down.

“We are here to threaten no one,” the little man said. “Please forgive the oaf his poor choice of words. He is a fool who will be dead soon enough as it is.”

The face continued to glare at Kleef for a moment, then finally said, “Until that happens, see that he stays quiet.”

The hand released Kleef’s arm, then it and the face melted back into the grotto wall.

Kleef whirled on Malik, forcing him back against the gate. “What is this place?”

Malik spread his hands. “How should I know?”

“Because they keep saying we can’t come inside until we’re dead.” Kleef caught Malik by his collar. “And you’re a Chosen of Myrkul.”

“I know only what my god has shared with me,” Malik said, repeating something he had told Kleef before. “That we would find Grumbar’s Temple in the catacombs beneath Sadrach’s Castle.”

“Catacombs?” Kleef had a sinking feeling he understood why Gingrid refused to let them inside alive-and why Malik had been so reluctant to share what he knew about the castle. “Is this some kind of charnel house?”

The goat hit the gate again. Another loud boom echoed through the entryway, then half a dozen stony faces and twice as many arms emerged from the grotto walls, demanding quiet and grabbing for any living thing they could reach.

Peox danced into the center of the grotto and stood bleating at his attackers. A pair of hands grabbed at Joelle, while a third caught Arietta’s shoulder and pulled her against the wall.

Kleef saved Joelle by using Malik like a club to knock aside the hands grabbing for her, then he slapped the flat of Watcher’s blade into the hand holding Arietta. To his relief, the sword’s magic was powerful enough to make the stony fingers flex open. He quickly spun around and, still using the flat of the blade, slapped aside a second attempt to grab both women. By then, Joelle and Arietta were retreating into the center of the grotto.

Kleef wasted no time stepping into the mouth, where he held Malik just inches from the bridge, turned so the little man could look out at the fire-hail bouncing and smoking off the thin metal decking. The orcs had crept to within two-hundred paces and were now more visible, a long line of stooped figures cowering beneath their breastplates and inching steadily closer to Sadrach’s Castle.

Malik’s eyes grew as round as coins. “Have you lost your mind?” he cried. “Think of the Eye!”

Kleef hesitated. The Eye was the problem, of course. They couldn’t retrieve it without Malik, and that meant Kleef couldn’t drop him into the Underchasm or toss him to the orcs-no matter how badly the little man had betrayed his companions.

But Kleef still needed to know what they were walking into.

“The Eye won’t matter if we don’t survive to deliver it.” He brought his arm back, as though preparing to toss Malik out into the fire-hail. “And you were warned. I told you what would happen if you lied about this place.”

“But I spoke no lies,” Malik said. “Once we are inside, my god will protect us. I swear!”

“Sure he will,” Kleef said. “Once we’re all undead.”

Hoping to scare Malik into blurting out the rest of the truth, he started to bring his arm forward-only to have a hand catch him beneath the elbow.

“Kleef, wait.” Arietta’s voice was weak, but still strong enough to make it clear she was giving him an order. “We need to hear him out.”

Joelle caught Kleef’s other arm. “Please.” She spoke in a soothing tone, and the anger began to drain out of him. “Sune wouldn’t have sent us here to die. Give him a chance to explain.”

“What’s to explain?” Kleef demanded, fighting to resist her charm magic. He nodded back toward the grotto wall. “You heard them. They won’t let us into the castle until we’re dead-and Malik is a Chosen of Myrkul. He’s been planning to turn us into undead from the start.”

“Not so!” Malik said. “I am here to protect you from the undead.”

“Then why won’t they open the gate?” Kleef demanded.

“How am I to know?” Malik turned to Joelle. “Perhaps this is why Sune sent the oaf to us in the first place. He has certainly brought nothing but trouble otherwise.”

It took an act of will for Kleef not to bring his arm forward and send Malik tumbling down the bridge. He settled for knotting the little man’s collar tighter, then he turned to Arietta and cocked an eyebrow.

Arietta sighed. “He’s trying to shift the blame. I see that.” She paused, then added, “But I believe him-at least the part about not planning this.”

“You do?” Kleef asked. “Why? He tried to kill you once himself.”

“And then he risked his life to save me from Hadarog,” Arietta reminded him. “If Malik was just planning to let me die here, why would he take a chance like that?”

Kleef frowned. “I don’t know.” He had already heard a description of the orc chieftan’s death, so the only thing that came as a surprise was the part about the little man endangering himself. He looked to Malik, then asked, “You risked your life?”

“Indeed,” Malik said. “There were a thousand orcs coming from one direction and a dozen shades from the other, but when I saw the danger that had befallen Arietta, I did not give a second thought to putting my own life at risk.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Kleef said, more suspicious than ever. “And what about the Eye?”

Malik’s expression turned wary. “What of it?”

“You didn’t worry about putting the Eye at risk?” Kleef asked. “Because that, I just can’t imagine. The one thing you do well is protect the Eye.”

“With no thanks to you,” Malik said, too quickly. “After you revealed its hiding place to the Shadovar, it is a wonder I still have shoulders for my robe to hang on.”

“And now, you’re just trying to change the subject.” Arietta removed her hand from Kleef’s elbow, then asked, “You’re hiding something again. Why did you save my life?”

When Malik did not respond quickly enough, Kleef started to pivot his hips around, as though preparing to send Malik tumbling out onto the bridge.

“Because Joelle needs your love!” Malik cried. “It is the only way to tie Grumbar to this world.”

Kleef stopped midpivot and drew Malik back into the shelter of the grotto. He didn’t understand what the little man was implying, but he did know the ring of truth when he heard it. He glanced over and saw a gleam of recognition creeping into Joelle’s eyes. He turned back to Malik.

“Joelle needs Arietta’s love why, exactly?” Kleef asked. “And don’t even think about dodging the question. We have no time for guessing games.”

To drive home the point, he pointed his chin down the bridge. The orcs had crept to within a hundred and fifty paces, close enough that he was starting to see red eyes and gnashing tusks.

Malik turned to Arietta. “It will be a great honor,” he said. “You will be the one who stops Shar.”

“By doing what?” Kleef whipped Malik toward the fire-hail, then pulled him back at the last second. “Final chance.”

“I think Malik is referring to the binding ritual.” Joelle’s voice was warm and kind-a sure sign that she was trying to use her charm magic. “When the Eye of Gruumsh is placed on Grumbar’s altar, it must be done by someone utterly devoted to her beloved.”

Knowing how his resolve would weaken if he turned to address Joelle, Kleef was careful to keep his attention on Malik. “And then what happens to her?” He brought Watcher’s tip up and pressed it beneath Malik’s chin. “Be truthful.”

“I know only that she must die for her lover,” Malik said. “It is the only way to make Sune’s magic work-and since you were too selfish to accept the job yourself, the duty has fallen on poor Arietta.”

Kleef felt a dark ball of rage forming inside his chest. He had already guessed from Malik’s evasions that there was a sacrifice involved, but something inside him had not wanted to believe Joelle capable of such treachery.

Something naive and foolish, he saw now.

It was the same mistake Kleef had been making his whole life-placing his trust where it wasn’t warranted, honoring duties no one else valued. He had wanted to trust Joelle because of her beauty and charm, been eager to believe in her because he was desperate to find someone else devoted to a greater cause. But she had turned out to be no different than Malik, just someone trying to manipulate others for her own purposes.

A cold bitterness seeped into Kleef’s heart. He tossed Malik into the back of the grotto, then whirled on Joelle.

“Is it true?” he demanded.

Joelle did not flinch from Kleef’s anger. “As far as it goes,” she said. “Love is sacrifice, and love is the only way to bind Grumbar-”

“And you didn’t tell us?” Kleef interrupted. He shook his head, the bitterness inside him building into cold fury. “You’re worse than Yder. At least he was honest about what he wanted. At least he offered something in return.”

Joelle reached for his arm. “Kleef, I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen.” She was using her warm voice, the one that made others want to please her. “There needs to be a sacrifice, but whether that’s-”

“Don’t.” Kleef jerked his arm from her grasp. “Don’t try to charm me. Don’t even talk to me.”

He stepped to the edge of the grotto and looked out onto the bridge, where the orcs had drawn to within a hundred paces. They still cowered beneath their breastplates, trying to stay out of the fire-hail, but he knew it would not be long before the orcs were close enough to risk a charge-and once that happened, there would be no question of delivering the Eye to Grumbar’s Temple. The companions would be dead, and the Eye would be returned to Gruumsh.

Kleef peered down into the Underchasm. The Shadowfell was less than fifty feet below, so close he could almost feel Yder inside it, looking up and watching them, waiting for his opportunity to snatch the Eye.

Kleef turned back toward Malik, who cowered against the gate with a small black dagger in his hand, and he felt his bitterness become a physical thing, a cold throbbing tumor where once there had been a heart.

Perhaps the time had come to stop believing in dead gods, to live in the world as it was instead of as he wished it was-to do what was practical instead of what was right.

Kleef started across the grotto.

Malik glanced toward the walls, looking for an escape that did not exist.

“There’s nowhere to run,” Kleef said. “Just give me the Eye, and we’ll get out of this alive.”

“Kleef!” Arietta said. “What are you doing?”

“Saving us,” Kleef said. “We’re never going to reach Grumbar’s Temple anyway.”

“So you want to do what, exactly?” Arietta stepped to his side and grabbed him by the arm. “Strike a deal with Yder?”

“No choice,” Kleef said. “The orcs have us cornered. They’ll never agree-”

“No.” Arietta slipped in front of him, blocking his way. “This is wrong.”

“There is no wrong.” Kleef glanced over his shoulder toward Joelle. “I’ve finally learned that.”

“Because Joelle didn’t tell us someone might have to die?”

“Because she used us,” Kleef said. “Because she used you.”

“Tell me how that matters,” Arietta said. “This isn’t about me, and it’s not about your hurt feelings. It’s about stopping Shar.”

Kleef raised his brow. “You don’t care?”

“Not at all. In fact, if I must die at the end of this, I’m glad she didn’t tell me.” Arietta turned to Joelle and said, “That was very kind.”

Tears welled in Joelle’s eyes, and Kleef began to feel a little petty in his anger.

“Then you’re willing to be the sacrifice?” he asked.

Arietta nodded. “As I know you would be, were the situation reversed.” She paused for a moment, then glanced back toward the Underchasm. A mischievous smile crept across her face, and she said, “Besides, look at what’s happening out there. You’d have to be a damned fool to think any of us are going to survive.”

The goat slammed into the gates again, and Kleef broke out chuckling. He could not help himself. Arietta’s selfless courage was both a call to duty and an admonishment to rise above his own petty anger, and her easy humor was an inspiration to him, a reminder that their lives were less important than the cause they served. He felt the cold drain from his heart, and just like that, his bitterness was gone. Arietta was the one he had been waiting for his entire life, a noble who honored her vows and served a cause greater than herself. She not only deserved his trust, she was entitled to it-and to his loyalty, as well.

Kleef dropped to a knee in front of her, then laid Watcher’s hilt across his forearm-and was nearly blinded as a blue radiance blossomed in Helm’s Eye. For an instant, the agate seemed to become a window into a realm of pure, shining light-and then the light was outside the stone, flooding the grotto with a fierce blue heat that made their hair stand on end and set their blades to humming.

The goat bleated in alarm, and his fur crackled with tiny forks of dancing static. His eyes began to shine with the same blue light that had arisen from Helm’s Eye. Blue haloes formed around his horns. He reared up on his hind legs, and for just an instant he seemed to take the form of a gauntlet with a blue eye on the back. Then he hit the gates again.

This time, there was no boom, only the crack of splintering planks and the bang of a snapping crossbar. The gates swung open, revealing the cramped confines of the small bailey beyond. The goat dropped back to all fours and stood between the gates, shaking his head from side to side and watching the yellow pellets of flame pelt the cobblestone courtyard ahead.

The light in the grotto swirled along the walls, drawing itself into an ever-tightening spiral that finally coalesced into the shape of a knight in blue plate. The knight stepped out onto the bridge and swelled to the size of giant. Paying no attention to the fire-hail pinging off his armor and helmet, he stood looking out on the world, his eyes moving from the orcs cowering on the bridge ahead, to the Shadowfell seeping up from below, to the raging fire-filled sky. Finally, the blue knight squared his shoulders and spread his arms, expanding his chest and drawing in a long, hot breath of brimstone-laced air.

If the knight ever exhaled, there was no sign of it in his shoulders. He simply took a step forward, then turned to look back into the grotto.

It was impossible to see the face behind the helmet’s lowered visor, but Kleef could feel Helm’s gaze upon him, boring down into his very soul, taking stock and passing judgment. He found himself trembling at the memory of the bitterness that had ruled his life for so long, of the doubt and resentment that had nearly led him into Shar’s darkness, and he wondered how such a weak man could ever be worthy of being one of Helm’s Chosen.

The hidden face continued to study Kleef for what seemed both an eternity and the mere blink of an eye, and a single word rang off the grotto walls.

Vigilance.

And with that word, Helm’s power came flooding into Kleef, filling him with strength and magic and a perception beyond anything he had ever imagined possible. He could smell the orcs out on the bridge, a cloud of sour leather and rotten breath less than a hundred paces away. He could feel the Shadovar watching from the shadows in the corners of the grotto, a cold patient malice awaiting their next chance to strike. He could hear the wallbound moving through the stone around them, a long lingering whisper filled with loneliness and despair.

Kleef dipped his head in the blue knight’s direction, acknowledging both the gift and the obligation, then repeated, “Vigilance.”

The knight nodded once. He stepped over the bridge cables into the Underchasm and started to walk across the Shadowfell, heading toward a distant curtain of lightning.

Kleef was still on a knee in front of Arietta, who was staring after the knight, her mouth gaping as the giant warrior faded into the raging storm. Her wounds had stopped festering and were closing before his eyes, no doubt healed by the divine magic that had filled the grotto.

Once the blue knight had vanished completely from sight, Arietta turned back to Kleef. “Was that …” She paused, perhaps too awestricken to speak the god’s name aloud. “Was that who I think it was?”

Kleef nodded, then added, “You can say his name. After all, Helm has you to thank for his return.”

“Me?” Arietta asked. “How?”

“By restoring my faith.” Kleef presented Watcher’s hilt to her. “I will always be yours to command.”

Arietta arched an eyebrow, then looked back out into the fire-hail. “Don’t you have a higher master now?”

“I do,” Kleef said. “And his first law is to serve those who are worthy.”

Arietta smiled. “In that case, I accept.” She touched Watcher’s hilt to formalize their bond, then motioned for him to stand. “Now rise, Sir Kenric, and let’s go find Grumbar’s Temple.”