Prophet of Moonshae - Douglas Niles [42]
"What task is this?"
"There is a thing I have made-an iron golem. It is completed, hidden in a cave in the hills not far from here-and not far from the Moonwell."
"What is it? What can it do?"
"It is a mighty creature, more powerful than a dozen giants. It is immune to weapons and capable of killing with a single blast of steaming breath. But more than this, it is capped with the horned helmet of the northmen. It will be taken, by whoever sees it, as a great icon of the raiders, sent to inflict harm upon the Ffolk."
Blackstone scowled more fiercely than ever. "Why should I seek war with the northmen? My manor sits astride the border with Gnarhelm. We would be the first to feel the scourge of battle!"
The deep hood shook slowly back and forth. "There need not be war, but there will be suspicion. If the golem continues its rampage, perhaps destroying one of your own mine shacks, that suspicion will fall away from you. The princess will be an unfortunate casualty to an arcane threat, that is all."
"Can this… creature accomplish this task tonight?"
"It is not a creature. It is a thing, created by myself!" snapped the visitor somewhat peevishly. "And, yes-within two hours of my leaving you, it can reach the Moonwell."
Blackstone sat back and looked upward, uncomfortable. He contemplated doing a thing he recognized as monstrous treachery. Though he had always been ambitious, he had come to his position honestly-by an accident of birth, true, but nonetheless the earldom of Blackstone was rightly his.
Now, with the failure of crop after crop of the Ffolk's harvest, the wealth of his holdings had made him foremost in influence among the king's advisers. This position was his, regardless of the activities of tonight.
Yet deep within himself, the Earl of Fairheight admitted that he wanted more… much, much more. This princess of Callidyrr, a mere babe, would stand in the path of his ambition, and his anger seethed.
And, the truth be known, Blackstone worried more about escaping the blame for his treason than he did about any moral qualms of his action. This concern was mollified by the promises and the plans made by the hooded visitor whose name the earl had never learned. Yet always before, the man's counsel had proved profitable. Had he not been the one who had first encouraged him to begin the excavations in Granite Ridge?
"Very well," he grunted, in the end reaching the decision that had been inevitable. "Go now and awaken your golem."
* * * * *
"This is the place," suggested the one-eyed pirate called Kaffa.
"Right you are," agreed Larth, for the isolated coastal farmstead matched up perfectly with the map given to the two outlaws by the nameless cleric.
Indeed, a brief search revealed Kaffa's longship, concealed amid a dense coastal thicket. A sail was carefully furled alongside the mast, and the ship was provisioned with food and water for a long voyage, as well as an assortment of fine steel weapons.
"As soon as the tide's high, we can put out to sea," muttered the grizzled, one-eyed northman with a snap of his fingers. He pointed to the prow of the sleek-hulled vessel. "Aye, and look: She's got a right proper name, at that!"
"The Vulture" read Larth. "She'll carry you to some ripe carrion, I'll bet!"
Kaffa gestured to the mast, where a triple-bolted image of lightning, made of steel, was fastened. "And here's our proof against sorcery," he noted, well pleased.
Already the coastal towns of Callidyrr seemed to beckon the piratical captain, offering the promise of plunder and other amusing diversions to the unscrupulous captain and his crew. The ship was long and sleek, easily capable of carrying a seventy-man complement.
"And here," added Larth, a few minutes later. "This will outfit a steadfast company of knights." He had discovered the barn where the unnamed cleric had collected armor and weapons, as well as horses, for Larth's thirty-man company. Heading north, Larth knew, they would soon enter the kingdom of