Amber and Ashes - Margaret Weis [24]
The god did not answer.
Krell did not despair. The gods were busy, hearing a lot of prayers. He made the same prayer daily, but he still had not received a response, and he was starting to lose hope. Sargonnas—the father of Zeboim—was gaining in power. No other god in the dark pantheon was likely to come to Krell’s aid.
“Now this Mina—this killer of death knights—is on her way to finish me off,” Krell growled. His voice rattled inside his hollow armor with a sound like gravel rolling about the bottom of an iron kettle. He added gloomily, “Maybe I should just let her.”
He toyed briefly with the idea of ending his torment in oblivion, but quickly decided against it. His conceit was such that he could not bear to deprive the world of Ausric Krell—even a dead Ausric Krell.
Besides, the arrival of this Mina would relieve the monotony of his existence, if only for little while.
Krell left the Tower of the Skull and crossed the parade ground, which was wet and slimy from the endless salt spray, and entered the Tower of the Lilies. The Tower was dedicated to the Knights of the Lily, the armed might of the Dark Knights, of which august branch Krell had been a member. His quarters had been in this Tower when he was alive, and although he could no longer find rest in sleep, he would sometimes return to his small room in the upper chambers and lie down on the vermin-infested mattress just to torture himself with memories of how good sleep once felt. He did not return to his room today but kept to the main floor on the ground level, where Ariakan had established several libraries filled with books written on every subject martial, from essays on the art of dragon-riding to practical advice on how to keep one’s armor rust-free.
Krell was not much of a scholar, and he had never touched a single book except when he’d once used a volume of the Measure to prop open a door that kept banging. Krell had another use for the library. Here he entertained his guests. Or rather, they entertained him.
He made hasty arrangements to receive Mina, arranging everything the way he liked it. He wanted to receive this important guest in style, so he hauled away the mutilated corpse of a dwarf, who had been his last visitor, and deposited it in the bailey with the others.
His work complete in the Tower of the Lily, Krell braved the whipping wind and driving rain of the courtyard to return to the Tower of the Skull. He peered into the scrying ball and watched with eager anticipation the progress of the small sailboat, heading for a sheltered inlet where, in the glory days, the ships that furnished Storm’s Keep with supplies had docked.
Unaware that Krell was watching her, Mina looked with interest on Storm’s Keep.
The island fortress had been designed by Ariakan to be unassailable from the sea. Built of black marble, the fortress stood atop steep black-rock cliffs that resembled the sharp spiny protrusions on a dragon’s back. The cliffs were sheer, impossible to climb. The only way on or off Storm’s Keep was by dragon or by ship. There was one small dock, built on a sheltered inlet at the base of the black cliffs.
The dock had served as an entry port for food for man and beast, weapons and armaments, slaves and prisoners. Such supplies could conceivably have been hauled in by the dragons, dispensing with the need for the dock. Dragons—especially the proud and temperamental blue dragons favored by the knights for mounts—strongly objected to being beasts of burden, however. Ask a blue dragon to cart about a load of hay, and he might well bite off your head. Bringing in supplies by ship was much easier. Since Ariakan was Zeboim’s son, all he had to do was pray to his mother for a calm voyage and the storm clouds would dissipate, the seas grow calm and gentle.
Mina had known nothing about the art of war when Takhisis had placed the girl—age seventeen—at the head of her armies. Mina had been quick to learn and Galdar had been an excellent teacher. She looked at the fortress and saw