The Tomb of Theragaard by Kenneth Cromwell

Author:Kenneth Cromwell [Cromwell, Kenneth & Cromwell, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-09-01T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 44

The Hideout

"Wulfric, I am exhausted. We should rest. We need to have a measure of strength to defend ourselves should we have cause.”

Tryam agreed with Brother Kayen. After making their decision to return to Arkos, they had marched for three days without sleep. They’d eaten sparingly and only on the move. It would take four more days to be in sight of the white walls of Arkos, but they would not survive that long if they continued at this exhausting pace.

Wulfric shrugged his broad shoulders. “Perhaps you are right. I shall gather wood for a fire and scrounge us some food.”

Something other than fatigue was weighing on Tryam’s mind. The young acolyte waited until Wulfric was out of earshot before he shared his feelings with Kayen. “I sensed a presence last night. It was similar to the feeling I experienced under the abbey’s vaults but different and more troubling. Something hostile, malevolent.”

Kayen leaned his staff against a tree and placed his backpack on the muddy ground. As he watched the orange sun fall toward the western horizon, he stroked his beard. Then he glanced warily about the darkening forest. “I am glad you told me of your concerns; however, you should not have waited so long. Do you sense anything now?”

“No. Nothing.”

Kayen beckoned Tryam to sit beside him. “I want you to try something.”

Tryam imitated the missionary and rested his sword against a nearby tree before sitting on his backpack. “What is it you want me to do?”

“Something I have longed to show you. The paladins of old spoke a devotion called the Warding Prayer. Those brave warriors oftentimes traveled to bleak places controlled by the minions of hell. In such places, it was sometimes necessary to seek out spirits from other realms, to see if they were friend or foe, to see where they were hidden.” He slapped Tryam’s back. “I want you to try it. I think you may have the rare ability to peer into places that others cannot.”

Thoughts of the paladin Saint Lucian came into Tryam’s mind. He recalled the saint’s words, his deeds, and his faith, but also the suffering he’d had to endure. Lucian had often been tormented by the voices of the dead, haunted by men he’d killed and by the loved ones he’d lost. “I shall try, but the ancient days were filled with great men. Their like has not been seen in hundreds of years!”

“True, but there are paladins to this day who can recite the prayer just as they did. We may not celebrate men today like they did in the past, but that does not make today’s paladins lesser men because of it. Remember, time has a way of polishing tarnished men into perfect gleaming heroes.” He reached into his robes. “Now watch and listen.”

Kayen stood and then hovered over Tryam, the cross of Aten now out of his robes and displayed on his chest. “I shall say a verse. Then I want you to repeat it. Once

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