ZIHAEN, The Shadow of the Revenaunt, Book 2

CHAPTER 7 - DERIVALL (Part 3)

The great hall was truly impressive: large and high, with pillars of gray stone and a floor of dark red tiles. Dozens of battle banners hung down from the rafters, as witnesses of a turbulent past. The walls displayed antique weapons and at the back of the room stood an immense wooden throne on a raised dais. Ghyll looked at it with lifted eyebrows. Made of dark wood with blood-red lining, and adorned with grinning skulls, it exuded threat and intolerable arrogance. The thought that he would have to sit on it, filled the young king with disgust. He looked around and saw the senior sergeant of Davall's troops. He beckoned and the man marched forward.

'Sergeant...?'

'Redrill, lord.'

'Sergeant Redrill, do me a favor. Take that thing outside and chop it into firewood, will you?'

The man inspected the throne and nodded. 'Will do, lord,' he said, slamming his fist on his armored heart in salute. He called six soldiers to him, who carried the colossus hurriedly out of the hall, and a moment later came the sound of chopping axes.

Ghyll looked around and discovered in a corner of the hall a solid chair. 'That one,' he said. 'Seems more suitable.'

Before anyone could come into action, Torril had already lifted the massive seat off the ground and dragged it along to the dais. The thing was apparently heavier than he'd thought, but he said nothing and slid the chair into its place with a grimace of effort. 'Have a seat, Sire.'

Ghyll solemnly thanked him and sat down. He looked over the breathlessly quiet hall and his face tightened. 'Amdal Baron Ridaud.'

Leaning on the arm of a servant, the nobleman entered. At a sign from Ghyll, someone pulled a bench forward, but the man shook his head. 'I prefer to stand.'

Ghyll examined Ridaud from head to toe. He must have been a powerful, broad-shouldered man once, this emaciated shadow. Someone had given him one of his own robes and it hung around his body like a collapsed tent.

'Baron Ridaud,' Ghyll said. 'What happened here?'

Ridaud looked up; his dark eyes were sharp, as if his body but not his mind was affected.

'Treason happened, my lord. I betrayed my king and I was betrayed in turn. Where is that cursed sorcerer? Has he escaped? Make sure you catch him; he is evil itself.'

'Begin at the beginning, please.'

The baron nodded. 'After the death of Prince Ranolfe I got the impression Rabogst had fallen into disgrace. I needed to be sure, so I hired a few people to test my suspicions.'

'What people?' Ghyll asked.

Ridaud looked confused at the question. 'No Rhidaunans, my lord. I don't know where they came from. Someone had recommended them to me. A fat man, who worked for a prominent nobleman at court.' A violent bout of coughing forced him to stop.

'Where is the steward?' Ghyll asked impatiently.

'My lord?' Apparently, the man had been nearby all the time, but for some reason he dared not help his old master.

'Do what you're appointed for, man. Get the baron a drink.'

Moments later Ridaud sipped a cup of wine.

'Don't be hard on him, my lord,' he said with some difficulty. 'When those bastards were in charge, he wasn't allowed to do anything without orders, lest it cost him his head.'

With a trembling hand, Ridaud wiped a trickle of wine from the corner of his mouth. 'To make a long story short, the tests were successful. A barn burned, then a farm, and all those frightened farmers were looking for help. It was clear they had nothing to expect from Rabogst, so they came to me, without realizing the bandits who harried them were in my service. Unfortunately, I was as blind as they were. I did not see how the bandits I paid didn't actually serve me, but that cursed sorcerer Kirogall.