Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [3]
Krell figured out after a horrifying moment that this was no ordinary bug. There was a god mixed up in this somewhere, a god who didn’t much like him. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Krell had managed to offend several gods during his lifetime, including the late and unlamented Takhisis, Queen of Darkness, and her chaotic, vindictive daughter, the Sea Goddess Zeboim, who had been outraged when she found out that Krell was the one responsible for the betrayal and murder of her beloved son, Lord Ariakan.
Zeboim had captured Krell and killed him slowly, taking her time. When there was finally no spark of life left within his mangled body, she had cursed him by changing him into a death knight and imprisoning him on the isolated and accursed isle of Storm’s Keep, where he had once served the man he had betrayed, there to live out his eternal existence with the memory of his crime always before him.
Zeboim’s punishment had not had quite the impact she had hoped for. Another famous death knight, Lord Soth, had been a tragic figure, consumed by remorse and eventually finding salvation. Krell, on the other hand, rather liked being a death knight. He found in death what he’d always enjoyed in life—the ability to bully and torment those weaker than himself. In life, the spoilsport Ariakan had prevented Krell from indulging in his sadistic pleasures. Now Krell was one of the most powerful beings on Krynn and he took joyful advantage of it.
Just the sight of him in his black armor and helm with the ram’s horns, behind which blazed red eyes of undeath, struck terror into the hearts of those foolish or daring enough to venture onto Storm’s Keep in search of the treasure the knights had supposedly left behind. Krell enjoyed such company immensely. He forced his victims to play khas with him, livening up the game by torturing them until they eventually succumbed.
Zeboim had been a bother, holding him prisoner on Storm’s Keep until he’d attracted the notice of Chemosh, Lord of the Dead. Krell had struck up a deal with Chemosh and gained his freedom from Storm’s Keep. With Chemosh protecting him, Krell had even been able to thumb his rotting nose at Zeboim.
Chemosh had in his possession the soul of Lord Ariakan, the beloved son of the sea goddess. The soul was trapped in a khas piece. Chemosh was holding that soul hostage for Zeboim’s “good behavior.” He had designs upon a certain tower located in the Blood Sea, and he didn’t want the sea goddess meddling.
Zeboim, incensed, had sent one of her faithful—some wretched monk—to Storm’s Keep to rescue her son. Krell had discovered the monk snooping about and, always happy to have visitors, had “invited” the monk to play khas with him.
To be fair to Krell, he had not known that the monk was sent by the goddess. The thought that the monk might be there to steal the khas piece containing Ariakan’s soul never entered Krell’s brain—a brain that admittedly was not all that large to begin with and was now further hampered by being encased in a ponderous and fearsome steel helm; a brain on which a giant bug, sent by a god, was now feasting.
The god belonged to this blasted monk, a monk who had not played fair. First, the monk had brought in an unlawful khas piece; second, that khas piece had made an illegal move; and third, the monk—instead of writhing and moaning in agony after Krell had broken several of his fingers—had physically attacked the death knight with a staff that turned out to be a god.
Krell fought the mantis in a blind panic, punching, kicking and flailing at it until, suddenly, it disappeared.
The monk’s staff was a staff again, lying on the floor. Krell was prepared to stomp it to splinters when a fifth thought came to him.
Suppose touching the staff would cause it to turn back into a bug?
Keeping a wary eye on the staff, Krell made a wide detour around it as he took