“Save me from my torment,” Krell promised Chemosh, “and I will serve you in any way you ask.”
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 the brilliance behind its concept and design.
The dock was easily defensible. The inlet was so small that only one ship could safely enter it and then only at low tide. Narrow steps carved into the side of the cliff provided the only means of gaining access to the fortress. These stairs were so slippery and treacherous that they were little used. Most of the supplies were hauled up to the fortress by means of a system of ropes, winches, and pulleys.
Mina wondered, as did historians, how different the world might have been if the brilliant man who had designed this fortress had survived the Chaos War.
The wind died as she sailed into the inlet, forcing her to row across the calm water to the dock. The inlet was in shadow, for the sun was lowering into the west, and the inlet was on the eastern side. Mina blessed the shadow, for she hoped to take Krell by surprise. The fortress was enormous. The dock, located at one end of the island, was far from the main living quarters. She had no way of knowing that Krell was at this very moment observing her every move.
Mina dropped the small anchor and secured the boat by looping the rope around a rocky protrusion. There had once been a wooden pier, but it had long since been smashed to kindling by Zeboim’s wrath. Mina climbed out of the boat. She gazed up at the black rock stairs, frowned, and shook her head.
Narrow and rough-hewn, the stairs wound precariously up the face of the cliff and were slimy with seaweed and wet with salt spray. As if that were not bad enough, the stairs looked to have been gnawed by the tooth of the vengeful Sea Queen. Many steps were split and cracked, as Zeboim’s ire had extended to shaking the ground beneath Krell’s feet.
“I need not worry about facing Krell,” Mina said to herself. “I doubt if I will make it up the stairs alive,”
Still, as she had told Chemosh, she’d walked in darker places. Just not as slippery.
Mina kept on the cuirass—black steel, marked with the lightning-struck skull. She tied the helm onto her leather belt, then regretfully unbuckled the rest of the armor. Climbing would be dangerous enough without being hampered by greaves and bracers. She carried on her belt her favored weapon—the morning star she had used in battles during the War of Souls. The weapon was not a holy artifact, nor was it enchanted. It would be useless against a death knight. No true knight would go into battle unarmed, however, and she wanted Krell to see her as a true knight of Takhisis. She hoped the sudden astonishing sight of one of his former brethren appearing unannounced on Storm’s Keep would give the death knight pause, tempt him to converse with her, rather than simply kill her outright.
Mina checked the rope, making certain the boat was secure. The thought crossed her mind that Zeboim could very easily smash her boat and leave her stranded in the Keep, imprisoned with a death knight. Mina shrugged the thought away. She had never been one to fret or worry about the future, perhaps because she had been so close to a goddess, who had always assured Mina that the future was under control.
Having learned that even the gods can be wrong had not altered Mina’s outlook on life. The calamitous fall of Takhisis had strengthened Mina in her belief that the future stretched before her like the treacherous stairs carved into black rock. Life was best lived in the present. She could only climb one step at a time.
Saying a prayer to Chemosh in her heart and speaking a prayer to Zeboim aloud, Mina began her assent up the cliffs of Storm’s Keep.
Having watched Mina land in the inlet, Krell left the keep proper and ventured out onto a narrow, winding trail that twisted and turned amidst a jumble of rocks. The trail led to a jutting granite peak known jestingly among the knights who once garrisoned here as Mt. Ambition. The island’s highest point, the peak was isolated, windswept and sea spattered, and it had been Lord Ariakan’s custom to walk here of an evening—weather permitting. Here he stood, looking out at the sea and formulating his plans to rule Ansalon. Thus the name Mt. Ambition.