"My lord," he said. "I regret that I have no squire to ride forward and give notice of my coming. Forgive my intrusion at this unseemly time of night."
"Welcome to Whitsund Manor, Sir Knight. I am not lord of the manor, but its lady. I am Nikol, daughter to Sir David Whitsund. Dismount your noble steed and give yourself rest and ease this night. I regret I have no groom to lead your horse to stable, but that task I will take upon myself and count it an honor."
The knight, who traveled in full armor, the breastplate decorated with the rose that marked his high standing in the knighthood, removed his helm. Shocked, Michael moved a step nearer Nikol.
"Forgive me, my lady," the knight was saying. "I can only plead dusk's shadows as an excuse for having mistaken noble lady for noble lord."
Nikol accepted the compliment with a smile and a nod, turned her attention to the man's fine horse.
Michael could not take his eyes from the knight's face. The strong and darkly handsome visage was gaunt and haggard. He looked exhausted to the point of falling. But it was the knight's eyes that arrested Michael, caused the words of thanksgiving that had been on the cleric's lips to die. The black eyes burned with a strange and terrible fire that seemed to be consuming his flesh. So fey was the knight that Michael feared they were dealing with a madman. Nikol had not noticed. Her attention was for the fine horse, which was accepting her overtures at friendship with gracious forbearance.
"My lady," Michael began, licking dry lips, not certain how to proceed. "I think perhaps…"
"Now it is I who ask forgiveness," Nikol said, glancing up. "I present our family chaplain, Brother Michael."
The knight bowed.
"I am honored to meet you. Brother Michael. My name is Lord Soth, of Dargaard Keep. Lady Nikol, I thank you for your kind offer of hospitality, but it is an offer that I regretfully must refuse. Urgent need carries me back on the road this night. I will not even dismount, by your leave. I only stopped to ask for water for myself and my horse."
The knight's words were cool and courteous, but they were tinged with the crackling of the flames that burned in the eyes. Nikol gazed up at him in admiration. Perhaps night's shadows blinded her as well.
"Gladly, Lord Soth. I will fetch the water myself."
The daughter of a knight, Nikol recognized the knight's need for haste and did not waste time in further niceties. She left immediately to find water. Michael went to find a bucket and some straw for the horse. He returned to find the knight drinking slowly and sparingly from the iron dipper. Michael placed the bucket down before the horse, who drank more deeply than its master.
"I would not have disturbed you at all, my lady," said the knight, "but would have stopped at stream or pond. I could find no pure water in these parts, however. Goblins attacked you, I take it." He glanced about the ruined castle with the air of an experienced warrior.
"Yes," said Nikol softly. She stroked the horse's neck. "They fell upon us about a fortnight ago. My brother died, defending the castle and our people."
"He was not the only one who defended it, seemingly," said Lord Soth, the burning eyes fixing upon the sword Nikol wore easily and confidently at her side.
Nikol flushed. "It is my home," she said simply.
"Your home. And a blessed one, despite all," said the knight. The flames in the black eyes blazed higher. The countenance grew grim, scarred by bitterness and regret. He stirred restlessly in the saddle, as if in pain.
"I must be on my way." He handed the dipper back to Nikol.
"I would not hinder you on whatever urgent business takes you out into the night," said Nikol, "but I repeat again, you are welcome in my home, Lord Soth."
"I thank you, Lady Nikol, but I may not rest until my task is complete. I ride to Istar and I must be there in four days' time."
"Istar!" cried Michael, shaken. "But you should not go there! In four days time — " He paused, uncertain of what he was going to say, not sure how he knew what he knew or how he would explain it.
The knight's burning eyes seared Michael. "You know, then, Brother. You know what terrible fate hangs over this world. Then I leave you with this hope: With the help of the gods, I will prevent it, though it cost me my life."
The knight bowed again to Nikol. Replacing his helm, he turned his horse's head out into the night and soon was lost to their sight.
"Though it cost him his life," said Nikol softly, gazing after him with shining eyes. "He is a true hero. He rides forth to save the world, though it cost him his life. And what do I do? What have I done?"
She turned, stared at the castle, perhaps truly seeing it for the first time since they had returned.
"The Measure. The Oath. 'My honor is my life.' I came near forgetting that, came near failing the memory of my father, my brother. This knight has reminded me of my duty. Perhaps Paladine sent him for that very reason. I will always honor his name: Lord Soth of Dargaard Keep."
Michael would have added his own fervent blessing on the knight, who had brought Nikol back to life, but a shadow drifted across the cleric's heart, like smoke from a distant fire. The effect was chilling. He could not speak.
Part II
Nikol's melancholia vanished, borne away by the Knight of the Rose. She began to believe, once again, in a future, to find hope in it, and threw herself into preparing for it with her usual energy. It was a future of promise she believed in, a future unscarred by the terrible calamity foreordained by the gods.
Michael, whose fears were growing, not receding, sought to gently temper this newfound hope.
"I have had dark dreams of late, Nikol. I see the Kingpriest confronting the gods. He does not approach them in humility, remembering that he is man and mortal. He makes demands of them. He has come to think of himself as equal to the gods. I feel their wrath. This strange wind…"
Nikol interrupted him, placed her hand upon his with a patronizing air, "Brother, be at peace. A Knight of Solamnia rides to Istar to stop this. HE goes with Paladine's blessing."
He knew she did not mean to hurt him by adding that unconscious emphasis on the word. Perhaps she wasn't even equating the two of them — the knight who rode with Paladine's blessing, the cleric who had given up the favor of his goddess by choosing to stay in this world — but the pain burned. He said nothing, however.
She might think he was jealous of the knight, but Michael wasn't, not really. Nikol was not in love with Lord Soth. She saw in him what she had been raised to see — the epitome of honor, godliness, nobility. The Oath and the Measure placed the knights above the faults and foibles of other, lesser men.
Michael left the castle for a few hours, until his hurt subsided. Catching fish, wading up to his shins in the stream, helped him rationalize, understand. Her faith was touching, childlike. Who was he to destroy it?
"Perhaps, if more had believed as she does, we would not be facing this dreadful fate," he said to the strange wind and the cloudless, lead-colored sky.
The night before the Cataclysm, Michael woke from dreams of fire and blood to find himself prostrate upon the floor, shivering and sweating. The gods' anger crackled in the air, rumbled in the empty sky. A timid knock at his door roused him.
"Are you all right, Brother?" called Nikol.
Michael flung open the door, startled her. She stared at him, backed up a step. He knew he must look wild, disheveled — thin from lack of food, bleary-eyed from sleepless nights. He caught hold of her.
"We must go somewhere, somewhere safe."
"It's a storm, that's all," said Nikol, uneasy, nervous. "Michael, you're hurting me."