with his son, Peradur. One reason was that he had the time to spend, another was that he felt if he spent time with the child now, he might be able to prevent his sins from being passed on as his father's sins had been passed onto him.
He wasn't sure how being with the child might prevent this, but because
Soth's father Aynkell had spent very little time with him as a child,
Soth felt that doing the opposite might produce the opposite result-a young man whose soul was free of the black marks incurred by the previous generations.
Whatever the outcome, it was worth the effort given that Soth felt he couldn't make things any worse for the boy if he tried.
'There's a good boy,' he said, the soft tone of his voice sounding strange coming from such a big man. 'A good boy who will one day grow to be a good knight.'
The child smiled.
'A great knight.'
The child giggled.
Soth took a small wooden sword from a chest full of toys and noisemakers. The sword was made of soft fir wood and rounded at each on all sides in order to prevent the child from accidentally hurting himself. Soth placed the hilt of the sword in the child's tiny hand and instinctively his fingers curled around it, holding the sword tightly.
Soth smiled approvingly, his quiet, hissing laughter sounding like steam from a cauldron. He let go of the sword, allowing Peradur to hold it by himself. For several seconds he held it aloft as proudly as any champion knight, but then the blade began to waver until it fell back against the child's chest. Then, taking hold of it with both hands, Peradur brought the soft wooden sword to his mouth and began chewing on it.
Again Soth laughed, but his joy was shortlived.
He wanted nothing more than for his son to follow in his footsteps and become a Knight of Solamnia, keeping the Soth legacy alive for yet another generation. But now it seemed that dream would never be realized.
And he had no one to blame but himself.
First of all, the Knights of Solamnia had never accepted a half-elf into the knighthood. To the best of his knowledge, Soth couldn't even remember a half-elf serving as a squire. Secondly, while at one time the
Solamnic Knights might have accepted a half-elf whose name was Soth, those days were over. Because of his deeds and heinous violation of the
Oath and the Measure, it was highly unlikely that any young man carrying the taint of the Soth name would ever be allowed to join the knighthood.
The boy was barely a few months old and he'd already been judged because of his father's deed.
Because of the sins of his father.
Soth watched Peradur chew on the sword, his pink gums gnashing against the wood. As he did so, Soth wondered how could it be that something as innocent as a child, something that was supposed to bring him such joy, had only brought him more remorse, greater shame, and above all, such heartfelt pain.
No sword had ever hurt him like this.
And worst of all, it would be a pain that would never fade with the passage of time. For what might the child feel toward him when he finally came of age?
Anger?
Resentment?
Disgust?
Shame?
The thought of it made Soth shiver.
'Excuse me, milord,' said a soft voice.
Soth turned and saw the young maid, Jenfer Clinyc, who had been entrusted with Peradur's care ever since the dismissal of Mirrel. She stood in the doorway in a way that suggested she knew she was intruding.
Soth liked the girl; she was good with the child, unassuming and unpretentious around others, and most importantly, was absolutely devoted to both Isolde and Peradur.
'It's time for the young knight's bath,' she said with a smile.
Soth nodded, touched his son's head gently, then rose to his feet. He took one last look at the child, then turned and left the room.
He walked down the hall and through the keep, heading toward the chapel.
When he arrived, he eased the door open.
He was surprised to find Isolde there, but let none of it show. Instead he quietly stepped into the chapel and knelt down by her side.
Whispering under his breath, he began to pray to Paladine, patron of the
Knights of the Rose and spiritual father of the Knights of Solamnia, to bring some light and hope into his life.
Chapter 28
The roar of the flames was deafening.
Every stick of wood in the keep seemed to be alight, crawling with orange flames that licked at the walls like the tongue of some great serpent.
And then, in the midst of the fire, a voice.
'Father!' came the cry.
The call of his son, Peradur.
Soth ran through the burning keep, his eyes stinging from the smoke, his clothes clinging to his damp skin.
'Peradur!' he called into the midst of the flames.
'Father, over here!'
Soth moved forward.
Suddenly he felt an intense heat burning his back. He spun around and saw his cloak trailing behind him, burning as brightly as a tallow-soaked torch. He tore the clasp from his neck and threw the cloak to the ground where it was immediately engulfed in flames.
'Father! Where are you father?'
'I'm here!' he answered. 'I'm coming!'
He drew his broadsword and used it to cut a swath through the flames and burning timbers that had fallen from the ceiling.
Finally he reached the nursery. It billowed with smoke the flames chewed their way across the rafters supporting the room's ceiling.
'Father, save me!'
Soth was in tears from the smoke and could barely see more than the few feet in front of him.
'Father, help me! Please!'
He moved forward, being drawn by the sound of his son's voice.
Suddenly, there it was-the cradle. He had made it. He took a final few steps and looked inside the cradle.
The hag-like face of the witch smiled up at him.
'Father, help me!' the witch cried out, the young boy's voice suddenly sounding hideous coming from such an Ugly, gap-toothed mouth. She laughed wickedly, the cackle cutting through the roar of the fire like a sword through the leg of an ogre.
Soth recoiled in horror and screamed from the utter depths of his soul.
'No!'
She was floating.
