Fistandantilus Reborn - Douglas Niles [32]
But it was in fact the bloodstone that caught his eye, that held him rapt, almost hypnotized. He could see flickers of light, like tiny magical fires, bursting into brightness within the pale, greenish depths of the polished gem. Despite himself, he felt that cadence calling to him, drawing him to the stone with powerful allure.
And he knew that he would have the gem-he had to have it!
“Fistandantilus was a great man,” Cantor declared seriously. “He had many enemies, and they have smeared dirt and garbage upon his name.
But he was strong and true. He would have been a light in this dark age of the world but for the treachery of his enemies.”
“You know all this? You have learned it from the stone?” Kelryn tore his eyes from the gem, staring intently at the addled dwarf. “Tell me!” he insisted, his voice taut with impatience as Cantor hesitated.
“Yes. It speaks to me, guides me.” The Theiwar spoke eagerly now, clearly anxious that the human understand. “It brought me here a month ago and bade me wait. And so I do, though he has not told me why.”
“You were waiting for me,” Kelryn asserted, once again looking deep into the stone, hearing the summons, knowing the will of the one who spoke to him from there. Cantor had been brought here by the will of the bloodstone, put in this place so that Kelryn Darewind could find him. The man was utterly convinced of this fact.
“But why you?” asked the dwarf, puzzled.
Kelryn made no reply, except to grasp the hilt of his sword in a smooth, fluid gesture. In an eyeblink, the blade was out, silver steel gleaming red in the firelight, the weapon striking forward before Cantor could move.
The man lunged, cursing the awkward posture of his attack but unable to postpone his response to the presence, the irresistible summons that he felt within the enchanted gemstone.
As it turned out, his clumsy attack was more than adequate. The Theiwar waited, as still as a statue, as if he himself had been commanded or compelled to do so. Only after the sword cut through the bristling tangle of the beard, sliced into the throat, and the dwarf slumped with a gagging burst of air and a gush of blood did the man understand.
Like Kelryn himself, Cantor Blacksword had only been doing what he had been told.
CHAPTER 11
A Cult of Darkness
314 AC
Fourth Misham, Reapember “Bring in the new supplicants,” Kelryn Darewind declared, leaning back in the thronelike chair he had had installed in the nave of his ornate temple.
“Aye, Master!” Warden Thilt snapped to attention, bringing the claw of his baton upright beside his face. Kelryn smiled, knowing that his lieutenant clearly understood his wishes and his intentions.
Thilt stalked down the aisle of the temple. Rows of golden columns rose from the floor to either side of the man, pillars that were lost in the heights where, so far above, arched the marble ceiling. Two acolytes-dressed, like the warden, in golden kilts and chain-mail jerkins-pulled open the huge silver doors and barked commands.
Standing to the side of the entry, Thilt called out numbers, and one by one the recruits to the Temple of Fistandantilus dropped to their knees and began to crawl toward Kelryn.
The high priest, for his part, leaned back in his seat and watched as the file crept forward. A nice lot, he thought, counting a dozen men and a few women. They would swell the ranks of his congregation nicely, adding still further to the influence of the sect of Fistandantilus in the Seeker-ruled city of Haven.
The first supplicant was a man, and even though the fellow knelt at his feet, Kelryn could see that he was a strapping specimen, broad-shouldered and sturdy. When the man raised his face, the high priest saw that a jagged scar, crimson and angry, slashed down the side of his face, giving him a perpetually menacing scowl.
Finally Kelryn rose, standing before the kneeling supplicant. The priest lifted the golden chain from around his neck, allowing the crimson-speckled bloodstone to dangle before the man’s eyes. His eyes lit with hunger at the sight of the gem, fixing