THE DIRGE OF ECQUARTE GWYNGHYDE by Louis W.

Gresham

The banquet hall was in shambles. There was more food spattered on the table than in the plates. Pools of spilt wine ran across the floor. Dogs fought over scraps in the corners. At the head of the table lords fondled serving girls and threw ill-aimed punches at each other. At the foot of the table sodden retainers stumbled around a massive demijohn of ale. The rest of the assembly was no better. The fumes were strong enough to set a head spinning. Smoke from the great hearth fire mingled with the scent of rare delicacies and the occasional waft of vomit. The hunting trophies on the walls looked down disapprovingly. Such was the scene that greeted Ecquarte Gwynghyde. Armed only with his lute he was supposed to tame it. The seneschal responsible for paying his fee was nowhere to be seen. Probably as far gone as the rest of them, he thought. The sensible route was obvious. Call it a night, sleep in the stables, tell the fool in the morning that he had played to great acclaim. No one would remember what happened tonight anyway. The Almagne grapes had bred a stronger vintage than usual this year, but there was little need for the extra fuel. For this day was a grand occasion. Baron Almagnes pretty daughter was due to marry the son of his liege lord within a sennight. The evenings festivities marked the arrival of the grooms party to Castle Almagne. Fat old Ethelbert Almagne was happy as a clam and drunk as the lord he was. His men had followed suit. So had his daughters suitor and his retinue. Prince Gottfried Sanz sat at his future father-in-laws side and matched him drink for

drink. Slender and dark, the Prince looked like a hunting dog next to the overfed bear that was Almagne. Aaricia Almagne was conspicuously absent. Ecquarte knew all about her, as did any minstrel within a hundred leagues of the Almagne lands. Her beauty was renowned and her suitors legion. There had been much speculation about her choice. It ended when the elder Sanz proposed the match with Gottfried. The rumor was that Almagnes estate was crumbling under the weight of its debts. Gustav Sanz, the story went, was rich enough to fill his moat with gold. He also commanded the loyalty of ten barons like Almagne. It had taken little deliberation to strike the bargain. Ecquarte owed his presence to the sudden illness of the minstrel engaged for the feast. Almagnes seneschal had heard him play in a tavern the night before and hired him on the spot. Several hours before the feast, Ecquarte had hitched a ride to the castle with a local brewer. His luck did not hold. One of the axles on the brewers cart broke and dumped his wares into the road. Fourteen gallons of ale, a commission, and one cart poorer, the furious brewer turned right back to town and left Ecquarte to fend for himself. To make matters worse a torrential downpour began moments later. Ecquarte thus arrived at the castle soaked to the skin and two hours late. Enough drink had flowed in that span to render his services moot, but he had come to play and play he would. He loved his craft and plied it with skill. The dexterity of his fingers matched the power of his voice. Few indeed were the minstrels who could strum a lute or sing a note like him. Fewer still were those who could do both. He held halls like this one spellbound night after night. Men who looked upon him said he would have made as good a warrior as a bard. Six and a half feet he stood, with thews enough to swing the heaviest greatsword. Women said he would

make a great lover. His unlined face was tanned and the long copper hair he wore tied back was bleached light by long days of travel under the sun. His features might have been carved from stone by an artisan from a bygone age. Eyes as blue as the sky shone atop high cheekbones. But there was nothing for him but his songs and his lute. He traveled far and wide. Anywhere people would pay for music. Word spread quickly when he was in town and he seldom had difficulty finding his next engagement. With nothing but the clothes on his back and the lute in his hand he had played his way across the realms of Sancterre. Home was so far behind him he wondered if he would ever return. Ecquarte had noble blood in him and house Gwynghyde was rich, but he had been the youngest son. The gift of song was his only inheritance. Every time he stood in front of an audience to play he felt a tingle of anticipation mingled with apprehension. This time it was worse than usual. The din in the hall would make it next to impossible to be heard. Even if he broke through the noise, there was no guarantee that anything would resonate on the spirit-soaked ears of his audience. He took a deep breath and began. The dogs were the first to notice but human ears perked up soon enough. It shook some out of their stupor, and others out of their revelry. Fists and tankards were lowered. Wenches laid aside. Ecquarte sang of the heroes of old. Their victories and defeats, their loves and losses. He took the company from joy to sadness and back again. By the time he finished the song the hall was dead silent and every eye was fixed on him. * My boy, Ive never heard anything quite like that before. Ecquarte was sitting by himself at a table in the retainers mess eating. Without looking behind him at the speaker he mumbled his thanks. He was exhausted and hungry, and had no

desire to talk to any more drunks. He had been paid. He would eat his fill, sleep, and be on his way. Ive heard many minstrels play. Youre head and shoulders above them. In both art and height. The voice chuckled. The voice sounded sober enough. Ecquarte turned around. The being before him was unlike any he had ever seen. It was rather like a satyr, though it wore a fine doublet and well-tailored breeches covered its goat legs. In the legends satyrs usually did not wear clothes. Its horns also seemed longer than Ecquarte would have imagined. Aside from the slight red tint of its skin its goateed face was human enough. You have my thanks, Sir--" Lamadas. The chuckle again. I am a fellow artist. Something of a connoisseur as well. May I join you? Ecquarte gestured to the bench opposite his place. Lamadas sat. As I was saying, you are very good. So good, in fact, that I have a proposition for you. Thank you, Im flattered. But Im due to play at another banquet very far from here in a fortnight and Ill need some rest. Ecquarte went back to his food as politely as he could. There was something off about the creature. Like a note played in the wrong key. Lamadas grinned. His teeth were long, immaculately white, and sharp. No, no, my friend. I have no wish to engage you. I have a far better proposition. Im sorry. If youll excuse me-- Hear me out, boy. I can give you anything. Anything at all. You want power? The real kind, not just the ability to entertain? Riches? Women? Im fine, thanks. Ecquarte was slow to anger but this was getting on his nerves.

Listen, boy. Im from one of the Divine Planes. I visit the mortal plane from time to time. Im an immortal, and I command powers you can only imagine. I can make any wish a reality. His grin was gone. Ecquarte rose. No thank you. I dont need anything. Ill be leaving now. Lamadas rose with him. Just hold on a second. Hear me out. Ive heard enough. Ecquarte picked up the bag with his lute in it and made for the door. Lamadas stepped in front of him. I can make things very bad for you, boy. I could just take what I want from you, but Im no thief. All I ask is that you hear me out. Ecquarte was about to push him aside when a sinister gleam in the satyrs eyes gave him pause. For a moment they flickered with a green light and their pupils narrowed like those of a snake. If listening was all he needed to do then why not. Fine. What do you want? Lamadas eyes reverted back to normal and he grinned again. I know my intrusion is unwelcome, but my intentions are good. All I propose is a simple bargain. At midday tomorrow you will find something you desire that you cannot have. That desire will be so potent youll be willing to do anything to possess it. Ecquarte started to protest but he remembered the eyes. He also remembered what the legends said about satyrs. Masters of arcane powers and capable of serious malice. He held his tongue. All I ask is that you remember me when that desire comes to you. Ill be at your side ready to satisfy it. And what will I need to do in return for this generous service? Only a fair trade. Your voice and your skill, in return for the power to satisfy that desire. Trust me. It will be well worth it.

* The morning came and along with it a legion of hangovers. The castle was full of aching heads and upset stomachs. Ecquarte himself had underestimated how tired he was after the slog through the rain and the nights performance. He put everything he had into his art and it always left him exhausted. This time more so than ever. For the first time in as long as he could remember he had slept past first light. The results of his performance had gone far beyond what he had hoped when he first arrived. When he finished, the entire host had risen from the benches and clamored for more. The seneschal appeared with twice the payment he was due and begged him to stay for another night. Ecquarte would have taken the money and resumed his travels if not for the satyrs cryptic prophecy. It surprised him. He lacked for nothing. All he desired was to sing epic poems and strum his lyre. He counted himself fortunate to be able to subsist on his work. The dust of the road, the sky for a roof, and the occasional banquet hall to play in were all he wanted. Then Lamadas had come along. A demon, Ecquarte decided. Satyrs no longer walked the earth, but a demon from one of the Divine Planes could easily take the form. There was no telling if Lamadas was a major or minor one. He might be nothing more than an imp who had stumbled upon a gateway to the mortal plane. On the other hand he could be many levels higher. Not all major demons manifested their power in their physical form. Either way Ecquarte figured he had nothing to lose waiting for noon to come. If the demon spoke falsely he would be no worse off. If he spoke true, Ecquarte might find something wondrous. He burned to know what it might be.

He spent the morning pacing across the courtyard of Castle Almagne. The walk did nothing to dampen his curiosity. By the time midday neared he was bursting with anticipation. Several of his listeners from the prior night, having finally shrugged off the ill effects of their revels, hailed him but he did not respond. Nothing shook him out of his contemplation. Neither the bright pavilions being erected for the afternoon fair nor the thousand tantalizing smells of baking pastries and roasting meats. When he tired of the courtyard he took to the battlements. The servants, bakers, victuallers, and peasants below looked like ants scurrying about. He gazed out over the walls at the Almagne domains. The road he had walked the day before snaked among rolling green hills that grew into towering snowcapped mountains on the horizon. Ecquarte thought absentmindedly that he would soon need to begin looking for a lord willing to put him up in for the winter. Perhaps someone in the Almagne or Sanz houses. Last years blistering cold had nearly claimed him several times on the road. Overhead the sun rose ever higher and Ecquarte turned back towards the courtyard. Still nothing. The demon must have been playing games with him. Enough foolishness, he thought. Time to get back and practice for tonights performance, go for a stroll outside the walls, get a bite to eat. He began walking towards the stairs. The view will be better from here, Master Gwynghyde. Ecquarte stopped and turned round. Lamadas was leaning against the parapet grinning at him. So Im still going to find out what I desire more than anything else but cannot have. Of course. That was no jest. I wanted to be here when it happened.

Ecquarte laughed. Fine then. Youve stoked my curiosity. But Ive seen nothing and it must be midday already. Patience, Lamadas said. Look at the entrance of the Almagne family apartments. Its almost time. The demon pointed with a clawed finger at the side of the keep facing them. Ecquarte obeyed. He saw a massive wooden door in the keep and a long stairway leading down to the courtyard. A great shield bearing the Almagne arms hung on the door and two burly guards flanked it. The stairs were covered in garlands and flowers. An arched lattice covered in roses had been erected at the foot of the stairs. As Ecquarte watched, footmen assembled around the lattice and unrolled a rich blue carpet that extended to the largest pavilion in the courtyard. The preparations for the afternoon festivities were finished and the denizens of the castle had begun to gather around the keep. The Sanz party made their way through the growing crowd and stationed themselves around the foot of the stairway. Prince Gottfried was resplendent in his burnished armor. Inlaid with gold, it glittered in the sunlight. His retainers wore bright purple jerkins embroidered with more gold. A squad of trumpets followed them and took their stations under the stairwell. The pomp could only mean one thing. The brides presentation to the groom. Ecquarte looked back at Lamadas. The demon was grinning ear to ear. Very soon now, my boy. Very soon. * The crowd milling about the stairwell froze when the trumpets sounded. A string of piercing notes echoed across the courtyard and then there was silence. Every man, woman, and child gazed up at the great oak door at the top of the stairs. Ecquarte did the same. Lamadas giggled.

Their position on the battlements was close enough for them to see the Prince fidget in his place. Not surprising, thought Ecquarte. He had likely never seen Aaricia before. Finally the door opened. Baron Almagne stepped out into the sun and stood there for a moment blinking. His bald pate glistened with sweat as he stepped aside and put out his arm. Aaricia Almagne emerged from the doorway. A murmur of admiration rippled through the crowd that grew into a cheer. Ecquarte stood transfixed. What he had heard of her paled in comparison to what he saw. Raven hair, unearthly clear blue eyes, and perfectly wrought features. Her dress accentuated a shapely figure that stopped just short of voluptuousness, and she carried it like a queen. If she was nervous she did not show it. Her hand was steady as she reached for her fathers arm. Overhead the sun finally reached its apex. Lamadas had been right. Ecquarte had seen what he desired more than anything else but could not have. He watched with bated breath as she slowly descended the stairs toward her betrothed. Lamadas slipped to his side. I told you, my boy, he whispered. I can give you what you need to get her. Without taking his eyes off of her Ecquarte responded. Anything. The demon rubbed his hands together with glee. Good. Tonight you will sing for the household and get a closer look at her. Well talk again afterwards. Ecquarte was silent. He devoured every movement that Aaricia made and did not notice the demon dissolve into nothing beside him. He watched her descend the stairs. Let go of her fathers arm. Accept that of the Prince. Walk with him through the cheering crowd. And finally disappear into the gaudy pavilion in the middle of the courtyard.

When he turned away his heart was beating hard. Desire for the girl infected him down to the marrow of his bones. Nothing mattered except for her. Every passing moment inflamed him further. For a fleeting moment he paused to consider what role Lamadas might have played in all this. How he knew that this would happen. But he soon forgot about the demon. Over and over again in his mind he replayed the image of Aaricia descending the steps. Walking through the crowd. He sat up against the parapet and closed his eyes. The memory of her face, her body, her bearing burned in his thoughts. The sun was down by the time he awoke from his reverie. He rose slowly and rubbed his eyes. They would be expecting him in the hall soon. He pulled his lute from his back and strummed a few notes. This would be a performance they would never forget. He would sing as he had never sung before. The lovely Aaricia deserved nothing less. He descended to the empty courtyard and listened to the songs of the many crickets about. Fellow minstrels courting their own damsels. Happy hunting, my brothers, he whispered. The keep loomed huge above him as he made his way through the empty pavilions. Windows alight with the glow of fires within glared down at him. He knocked on the halls door and waited. The footman who opened it was already drunk. They be expectin ya in the hall, mate, he stammered. As he walked down the passage to the hall he readied his lute and cleared his throat. Finally he reached the doors. After a moments pause to collect himself he pushed them open. The hall was packed to bursting with twice the people than last time. They all turned toward him and began to applaud. A raven haired figure at the head of the table did the same. * Ecquarte sang of beautiful princesses and great heroes. Legendary battles and bitter strife. Hearts won and lost. Almagnes hall was spellbound. No one there had ever heard anything like

10

it. His performance the night before was a simple prelude to this glory. When it was over every man, woman, and child in the hall rose up and applauded. Ecquarte hardly heard it. When he lowered his instrument he looked down the table at Aaricia. He had not dared during the song for fear of losing his concentration. The ovation had yet to subside when Almagnes seneschal came to his side and spoke. Master Gwynghyde, that was sublime. Is there anything I can do for you tonight to properly thank you? The best of my lords cellar and larder? He smiled. A good hearty wench? There is one thing. It would me my pleasure. The seneschal looked at Ecquarte expectantly, bursting with the desire to please. Allow me to pay my respects to the bride. The seneschal was taken aback. Of course. But is there nothing else that you want? We are in your debt, Master Gwynghyde. Nothing besides some food and a place to sleep, master seneschal. As you wish. The seneschal motioned for him to follow and they made their way toward the head of the table. The ovation continued. People clapped Ecquarte on the back and shook his hand as he passed but none of it registered. The cheers, the smells, the gaily attired diners, all of it faded into the background like watercolors running together. There was only one person in the hall that existed for him. Butterflies punched holes in his stomach as they reached the head of the table where Aaricia and her betrothed sat. The seneschal spoke in her ear and motioned towards Ecquarte. The slightest suspicion of a blush crossed her perfect cheek and she nodded her head. The seneschal rose and lifted his hands. The assembly quieted and waited for him to speak.

11

My lords, my ladies, Master Ecquarte Gwynghyde has done us all honor tonight with his art. On behalf of my ever generous lord Almagne I offered him anything he would like in recompense. But our bard would have none of it. He is a true artist. He asked only one boon of me. To pay his respects to the beautiful bride-to-be. Milady Aaricia, I present to you the greatest bard that Castle Almagne has ever seen. Master Ecquarte Gwynghyde. He clasped Ecquarte by the elbow and gently brought him forward. Master Gwynghyde, Milady Aaricia Almagne. The pride and joy of Castle Almagne. Ecquarte knelt before her chair and bowed his head. Then she spoke. The dulcet tones of her voice caressed him. Rise, Master Gwynghyde. Thou hast done my house, my betrothed, and me a great honor this night. You have our thanks. Ecquarte thought he heard the tiniest tremor in her voice. When he lifted his eyes and stood the blush on her check had grown. Without missing a beat he responded. Twas but a poor song to honor beauty like yours, milady. The pleasure has been all mine tonight. Swiftly he took up her hand and planted a kiss on it. To look upon you is to receive a great gift. I am the richer for our exchange. He turned to the assembly. Good people of Castle Almagne, lords and ladies, please accept my humble thanks and gratitude. It has been a privilege to play for you. Finally he turned to an uncomfortable Prince Gottfried. Sir, you may count yourself the most fortunate of men. He finished with a bow and exited the hall to another thunderous ovation. * The hall doors shut behind him. Ecquarte breathed a sigh of relief and longing and slowly paced down the torchlit passageway to his quarters for the night. He was mad with desire, mad with the urge to burst into the banquet hall and spirit Aaricia away. It took all of his restraint to keep from turning back.

12

With a start he remembered Lamadas. The demon had fallen out of his thoughts ever since he looked upon Aaricia. He picked up the pace and wondered feverishly how to contact him. No matter what the bargain he was ready to trade. Anything for even the slimmest hope of having the girl. We have much to discuss. Ecquarte wheeled round and saw Lamadas strolling casually behind him. I told you, my boy. You would find the object of your desire today. How fortunate for you that Im here to help. His sharp toothed grin was wider than ever. Lets adjourn to more private quarters. Ecquarte followed him blindly down the passage. Lamadas apparently knew Castle Almagne well. The demon negotiated several turns and staircases without hesitation. Soon Ecquarte was completely disoriented. All he knew was that they were descending deep into the bowels of the castle. Finally they arrived at their destination. A small metal door nestled in a wall of moss covered stone. Welcome to my apartments, Master Gwynghyde, Lamadas said. Ive had dealings with the Almagne family in the past. Old Ethelberts great-grandfather was a close acquaintance. He built this for me. The family forgot about it long ago. Lamadas whispered into the keyhole and the door swung inward. Come in. Youre a most welcome guest. Ecquarte silently obeyed. He stooped inside and Lamadas followed him. The darkness inside was black as pitch. When the door clicked shut behind them a burst of green light illuminated the chamber. Ecquarte shielded his eyes from the glare.

13

Your eyes will adjust. Give it a moment, Lamadas said. Ecquarte squinted into the glimmer and began to perceive the outlines of chamber. The green light emanated from four ornate frames hanging on the walls. The room was no more than twenty feet to a side, but it had no ceiling. The walls kept on rising higher and higher until they reached a tiny aperture far above. My chimney, Master Gwynghyde. Some of my work here generates quite a bit of smoke. The opening lies behind a hillock outside the walls. Ecquartes eyes finally adjusted to the light. The walls were bare aside from the picture frames. A variety of furniture littered the floor. Dilapidated chairs, several desks, and a worn couch. Flasks, alembics, and other glass vessels, some empty and others full of a kaleidoscope of potions, sat on every flat surface and much of the floor. The frames are portals. Very convenient for all the traveling I do. Please excuse the disorder. My experiments take up a lot of room unfortunately. The light came from the lurid swirling mixes of thick green vapor inside the frames. It made Ecquarte nauseous to look at them. He turned back to face Lamadas. As he did, his eye caught a familiar shape in the furthermost corner of the room. A lute. He walked over and picked it up. Above it hung a small lever affixed to a wall. Curiosity got the better of Ecquarte. He reached for it. Lamadas scurried over with hands outstretched in protest but he was too late. * Five foot sections of wall on either side of the corner swung inward to reveal another chamber as large as the first. The floor was bare. The walls were covered in shelves full of every manner of musical instrument and a seemingly infinite number of tiny glass bottles. Each corked and labeled. Ecquarte crossed the threshold to find Lamadas barring his way. The demons eyes blazed green and snakelike as they had before.

14

Im happy to explain, Master Gwynghyde. But I cannot let you into this chamber. Ecquarte shrugged. Very well. Man and demon sat down in the first chamber. The walls swung back to their original position, sealing away the second. Today you discovered that which you must have above all else. I did. I can give you the key to fulfilling your desire. Only a simple trade is required. Yes. It all felt like a murky dream to Ecquarte. Like they were speaking underwater. Allow me to explain. I told you that I was a connoisseur of your art when we met. I am that and more. I am also a collector. I collect the ability that sets you and the others with whom I have dealt apart from other men. I prize it above all else in this plane and the others in which I have traveled. I want that power that rivets your audiences night after night. I want the dance of your fingers, the call of your voice. I want the essence that pulses through your soul and flows forth when you stand in front of your audience. I want your gift of song, Ecquarte Gwynghyde. You are not the first to deal with me. Your gift will have good company. It will enjoy a place next to those of the greatest bards through the ages. The demon gestured towards the corner that hid the second chamber. You have seen my library. All I wish is to add your gift to its shelves. When Ecquarte finally summoned the strength to speak again his voice was little more than a whisper. What will I get in return? A weapon more powerful than your lute and your voice. A weapon that will allow you to take the object of your desire.

15

I am no warrior. The heart that guided the strumming of your fingers will do the same for the blows of your hand. Show it to me then. Of course. Lamadas rose from his chair. Ecquarte did the same. Follow me. The demon barked an incantation and leapt into the greenlit picture frame behind him. Ecquarte took a deep breath and did the same. * The demon landed on his feet. Ecquarte fell in a heap next to him. He scrambled to his feet and looked around in shock. Behind them a rectangular opening filled by the same swirl of green vapor through which they had passed hung suspended in midair. Everything else was different. Ecquartes eyes rose from the blank landscape of carmine sand and rock in front of him to the dazzling purple sky overhead. Meteors shot across the horizon every few minutes and exploded in a storm of fragments when they hit the ground. He and Lamadas stood on a flat plateau of rock that looked down on similar formations in the landscape. There was no sign of any construction as far as he could see. The heat was stifling. Lamadas scurried over to a boulder nearby and beckoned. As he approached, Ecquarte saw the hilt of a sword protruding from the rock. This is what I can offer you, my boy. A weapon powerful enough to take anything you want in the world. Go on, pull it out. Ecquarte did not hesitate. He placed both hands on the grip and wrenched with all his might. To his surprise the sword slid free as if from a well-oiled sheath. The moment the five foot blade of red-tinted steel tasted the air Ecquarte heard what sounded like a sigh of relief. As he held it in

16

his hands it began to murmur softly. Vibrations coursed along the blade that grew in intensity. Lamadas appeared at his side with a scabbard. Best sheathe it, Master Gwynghyde. He giggled. Its a mischievous blade, it is. Ecquarte complied. Whats so special about this? Look at the gem embedded within the hilt. Ecquarte examined the sword. The scale of the hilt, grip, and pommel matched that of the blade. The hilt was the length of his hand and more, covered with carefully wrought figures. He recognized angels, demons, and a variety of fantastic creatures locked in battle. A griffon gouged a snarling dragon. A manticore gored a unicorn. In the middle of the carnage shone a bright emerald. Ecquarte peered close. The gems depths seemed infinite. What looked like a black swirl of smoke flitted frantically from side to side within. See it? Thats a major demon, imprisoned within that gem for all eternity. Shazz Naradak was his name. He was defeated in battle by the angel Bartolomeos, who imprisoned the demons spirit in that gem. Perhaps he could not kill him. Perhaps he thought death was too good for Naradak. Either way, the demon ended up in there. Bartolomeos buried the gem on this plane, thinking no one would ever find it. To make a long story short, he was wrong. It passed through the hands of several lesser demons until I came upon it. None of the previous owners figured out what to do with poor little Naradak. I thought it would be worth trying to channel his power through a weapon. In exchange for a favor, I had an especially talented human smith cast this sword. Sure enough, the gem imbued the weapon with the essence of Naradak. The weapon is sentient. Naradaks strength flows through it and into the wielder. There is one catch. The demons power is limited in his imprisonment. It does not take long for the power of the sword to deplete.

17

Naradak thrives on the vitality of others. In his true form he was a parasite. The sword is no different. It replenishes its power from its victims. First it takes their strength, then the very substance of their characters. Some would say that it steals the souls of those whom it strikes down. It is a Leechblade. The only one Im aware of in any of the planes I frequent. Ecquarte stared at the weapon in his hands with horror. Its murmurings seeped into his mind and he felt a demonic strength course into his veins. Though he knew it to be vile there was a seductiveness to it. Almost as if it knew what he wanted. He felt his desire for Aaricia inflame all the more. With every moment that passed the sword became a more attractive solution. Lamadas looked on with satisfaction. You two seem to like each other, he giggled. Come, lets adjourn to my apartments to seal our little trade. He leaped back through the suspended green window. Ecquarte followed, the Leechblade in hand. * It was all over so quickly. One moment the grinning demon was shaking his hand. The next he was standing on the same battlements from which he had seen Aaricia. For the first time he realized the enormity of what he had done. Somewhere among Lamadas shelves the gift that had carried him through life was stored away. As was his lute. It could all have easily been a dream if not for the great sword hanging on his back in its scabbard. Until he tried to sing. Little more than a strangled croak escaped his lips. He spoke his name. It came out normal enough, with a slight rasp. But he would sing no more. Anguish bubbled up inside of him and hot tears slipped from his eyes. What have I done, he thought. What am I now. I have given up that which made me who I was. For a moment he considered casting himself off the wall. Then the sword moaned. In a flash the mad passion that had prompted him to deal away his abilities returned. There was nothing for him here but Aaricia. He forgot about his gift of song.

18

Lamadas. The life he had led. There was only the girl. And the sword. His hands trembled as he reached over his shoulder and unsheathed it. The light of the full moon played upon the red steel. Ecquarte stood transfixed for a moment and then took a swing. As the sword cut through the air he could have sworn he heard it hum. He tried a thrust, then an overhead stroke. The sword was light in his hands. Ecquarte had never wielded a weapon beyond the occasional stick or club. Nevertheless he found himself falling into a pattern of carefully sequenced attacks. His body became one with the sword and they danced together on the battlements. Little did he know that the weapon had absorbed the essence of far greater blademasters than he. Naradak himself had not been a mean swordsman either. Coupled with the minstrels natural strength and reach, they made a dangerous pair. The Leechblade hummed ever louder in evil anticipation. There was no mistaking the sound now. It had waited ever so long for new blood. Ecquarte progressed into increasingly complex sequences of attacks and defenses. Intoxicated by the power of the blade he paid no heed to the nearby guard hailing him. When he finally paused the man was upon him with his own blade drawn. What in blazes do you think youre doing? The battlements are off limits at night. The guard was an old veteran of the Almagne household. It had been years since Almagne had waged war and his men were rusty at best. To make matters worse the guard was half gone with drink. Ecquarte looked up from his sword like one entranced. Upon seeing his face the guard relaxed. Master Gwynghyde. You gave me a start. We wondered where youd disappeared to. Theres many a man hoping to drink to your health before the nights out. What are you doing out here? Ecquarte did not reply.

19

Are you quite alright, Master Gwynghyde? The guard was a touch nervous now. He saw the sinister blade in the minstrels hands. Better come along with me, son. Get some ale in you. Youre liable to catch cold out in this night air. We wouldnt want you losing your voice now, would we? At the mention of his bartered voice Ecquarte snapped out of his reverie. He looked at the guard as if seeing him for the first time. What did you say? he rasped. The guard stepped back and raised his weapon slightly. Why, your voice, Master Gwynghyde. Better safe than sorry, I always say. The man never saw the lunge. By the time he realized what had happened the full length of the Leechblade had passed through his stomach. He felt an awful sucking sensation, as when one steps into thick mud. And then he died. The sword shivered with ecstasy and Ecquarte felt a pulse akin to a heartbeat pass through the blade. A shot of energy shuddered through his sword arm. Ecquarte planted his foot on the mans stomach and yanked the sword free. The body slid to the ground in a pool of blood. For a moment Ecquarte simply stood there looking at him. Then he realized what he had done. Before this moment he had dealt out his fair share of bruises to anyone who tried to do him injury but it had always been in self-defense. He had also never killed a man. In disbelief he stared at the guards glassy eyes. Soon enough he found himself vomiting over the wall. When he recovered his composure he looked at the sword. What have I done, he asked himself again. I have traded a gift for a curse. Have you, whispered a soft voice that sounded from inside his mind. Perhaps you have only bartered one gift for another. You would never have won your fair Aaricia from the arms of her betrothed with a lute.

20

At the suggestion of her name Ecquarte forgot his horror. Again she dominated his thoughts. The blade in his hand would have smiled if it could. * By the time the body was found Ecquarte was long gone. He heard the cry of alarm from atop the roof of the castles chapel. The feast was still in full swing and he had no intention of making his move with Aaricia surrounded by a crowd of revelers. Light blazed through the banquet halls windows and sounds of mirth echoed across the courtyard. Unless more bodies showed up he knew that the guards would not risk disturbing the feast. No one inside was in any condition to do anything about the incident anyway. He watched as the guards convened around the body. After a brief discussion they paired off to resume their patrols. Undoubtedly crossing their fingers that their fellow had been the victim of some private grudge and nothing more. One of the pairs dragged the body into a barbican. Everything returned to normal. Only a dark stain on the battlement bore witness to what had happened. The next two hours passed quickly. Ecquarte crouched motionless on the spine of the chapels roof, his cloak billowing about him like wings. His gaze never wavered from the windows of the banquet hall. He listened as the sounds of revelry slowly died down and watched the lights dim. Finally guests began to stagger out from the keep. The well-to-do among the visitors made for the gaudy pavilions waiting in the courtyard. Everyone else scurried off to the servants quarters, the stables, and every spare cranny in Castle Almagne. The place would soon be full to bursting with snoring drunks. Inside the keep the Almagne household and their retainers would be stumbling off to their beds.

21

When the exodus thinned out Ecquarte stalked to the back of the chapel roof and leapt to the nearby battlements. Castle Almagnes walls extended in a half league ring around the keep. The section of wall where Ecquarte now stood was directly across from the section that accessed the keep. A single bridge spanned the gap between wall and keep. The last warrior Almagne several generations back had been fond of walking the battlements during sieges. Ecquarte would use the door he had installed. With only the moon watching he made his way across the walls. The first two guards he encountered slept happily against their posts. The next two were hardly sober enough to walk straight. Ecquarte ignored the humming of his sword and hid in the shadow of a barbican. They passed without incident. The third patrol was made of sterner stuff. Both men lacked the paunches of their fellows and bore their halberds like soldiers. The mail under their tunics was polished to a shine. Ecquarte strode towards them without hesitation. Clouds obscured the moon as he advanced. The guards only saw a dark figure with a cloak swirling about him. One of them bellowed a challenge. Ecquarte did not respond. They stopped and brought their halberds to bear. He broke into a run. They waited. Without breaking stride he swung the Leechblade in a wide arc before him that sheared both halberds in half. When he closed the gap Ecquarte smashed the hilt of his weapon into one guards face and his fist into that of the other. Two cuts later and both men were down. The sword murmured as two more pulses of vitality flowed along its length. Ecquarte felt a thrill pass through every fiber of his body as he absorbed them. Only a quarter of the walls perimeter was left. He had passed three patrols unscathed. Uncanny strength coursed through his body. The sword glowed red in the moonlight. Ecquarte

22

was consumed with twin impulses. Find Aaricia. Slake the thirst of the blade that had consumed him. Nothing else mattered. Ahead loomed the somber mass of the Almagne keep. Ecquarte shivered with anticipation. The final two patrols he encountered never had a chance. The men fell before the Leechblade like wheat before a scythe. The ecstasy only grew within Ecquarte as each fell. * He beheaded both sentries guarding the bridge. By the time their heads fell to the courtyard below he had already kicked in the oaken door to the keep. The sound roused half the keeps occupants. Ecquarte was soon assailed by a motley rabble of guards and retainers in varying degrees of undress. The Leechblade wove a deadly pattern of cuts, parries, and ripostes through them all. Man after man fell groaning before Ecquarte as he made his way down the hallways toward the keeps central stairwell. The upper floors housed the Almagne family and the more distinguished of their guests. And Aaricia. At the foot of the great spiral stairwell Ecquarte met with his first real resistance. Alain DuBarrie was Gustav Sanzs personal bodyguard. The grey haired knight was years past his prime but still in fighting shape. As soon as he had heard the chaos that accompanied Ecquartes entrance he had thrown on a mail shirt and grabbed his mace. His room was the last before the stairs. When he emerged into the hallway he was greeted by the sight of Ecquarte tugging the Leechblade free from yet another corpse. The sight froze the blood in DuBarries veins. Ecquarte was spattered in gore from head to toe and his sword gave off an unearthly red aura. His face had a strange pallor to it and there was a vacant stare in his eyes. It took DuBarrie a moment but the knight rallied his courage before Ecquarte mounted the stairs. He threw all his strength into a sweeping cut that Ecquarte easily

23

slapped away. Though he blocked Ecquartes riposte the force of the blow threw him backwards against the wall. DuBarrie would have been skewered right then and there if not for the intervention of Almagnes sergeant-at-arms. Burthol Mewls was a salty veteran of countless wars and even more brawls. A former mercenary, he had settled into a comfortable rhythm in Castle Almagne minding the weapons of the guards and leading the occasional exercise. He had seen too many fall beneath Ecquartes blade already to think of attacking him head on. Mewls preferred to strike from a distance anyway. Ecquarte did not hear the click of the crossbows trigger, nor the snap of its release. He was readying the coup de grce for DuBarrie. The bolt sped across the hallway toward his back. Mewls never missed his shots. With blinding speed Ecquarte pivoted and spun the Leechblade into a guard. The bolt clattered harmlessly against the blade. The look of surprise on his face was mirrored by Mewls. The sergeant-at-arms could have sworn he heard a cackle come from the weapon. It was his last thought. Ecquarte was upon him in the blink of an eye. When he turned back for DuBarrie the sergeant lay crumpled on the floor. The knight scrambled to his feet and attempted a desperate lunge. Ecquarte parried the blow and slit his throat from ear to ear with a backhand stroke. Yet another pulse passed through the blade. Ecquarte was drunk on power. The sword felt as light as a wand in his hand. The members of the Almagne and Sanz households staying on the floors above were now armed. Ecquarte heard their shouts as he mounted the stairs. A parade of armored men wearing the livery of both houses rushed him. The Leechblade sliced through them indiscriminately. One after another brothers, cousins, and uncles of the bride and groom hurtled down the stairs behind Ecquarte. Their armor clattered loudly on the stone.

24

After Ecquarte cleaned out two more floors in similar fashion the occupants of the keep gave up on any thought of resistance. Those still alive cowered behind tapestries, in closets, under beds. Gustav and Gottfried Sanz had joined Baron Almagne and his daughter on the top floors landing. Two of Sanzs vassal knights stood with them. Every other member of the households and their retinues had descended the stairs not to be seen again. The silence that descended on the floors below wore their nerves to the breaking point. Gottfried and the vassals had taken a step towards the stairwell with swords drawn to investigate when Ecquarte appeared. All three froze in their tracks. Aaricia screamed. * Ecquarte looked like Death itself. His cloak and minstrels garb were covered in blood, both dried and fresh. His hands, face, and hair as well. The Leechblade in his hand glimmered with an awful red shine. The pallor in his skin had become a ghastly hue. But it was his eyes that inspired the most dread. Empty. Lifeless. No evidence that the carnage had even registered in his mind. They passed slowly from the Prince to the vassals to the older men and finally Aaricia. They blazed when they lit upon her. She stumbled backwards when he stretched out a blood caked hand toward her and began to advance. To their credit each man before Ecquarte stood his ground. Even old Almagne, who still wore his nightrobe and had grabbed his war axe off of its mount in his bedroom. Before Ecquarte closed the gap Gottfried spoke. His voice only wavered slightly. Master Gwynghyde-- how have we wronged you? At least tell us what our houses have done to deserve this onslaught.

25

For the first time since confronting the first guard on the battlements Ecquarte spoke. I only want her, he rasped. His hand still reached for the terrified Aaricia. Gottfried frowned. She cannot be yours. But anything else in this castle can be if you leave us in peace. Ecquarte replied with a massive swing of the Leechblade. The knight to Gottfrieds left fell to his knees groaning. Gottfried spun away from the next stroke and executed a textbook thrust aimed squarely at Ecquartes heart. The speed with which Ecquarte turned the blow aside stunned him. As did the blow from Ecquartes fist that followed. It lifted Gottfried up into the air and sent him clattering to the floor. The second vassal turned tail and ran. Ecquarte bounded after him. His long strides brought him even with the man. Ecquarte reversed his grip on the Leechblade, raised it high, and brought it down squarely into the vassals back. Gottfried looked up in a daze and watched Ecquarte close his eyes in ecstasy as yet more power flowed through the sword. The elder Sanz and Almagne gaped in horror. Aaricias eyes were wide with shock. By the time Ecquarte pulled the blade from the knights body the Prince was back on his feet. He brought his weapon to bear and faced Ecquarte. A full foot of height separated the two, and the Princes weapon was little more than half the length of the Leechblade. Nevertheless he was able to hold off Ecquartes onslaught longer than any of the others. They danced across the landing as the two old men and Aaricia watched. Ecquarte was tireless. His strikes never wavered in speed. Gottfried soon wore down. The Leechblade cut ever closer to him as he dodged its strokes and his parries grew weaker. The onlookers knew that it was only a matter of time before he fell.

26

It was an upward slash that did it. Gottfried had just barely slipped under a stroke when Ecquarte followed with a rising stroke that caught him from stomach to shoulder. The Prince fell to a knee. As Ecquarte raised his sword to dispatch him the elder Sanz rushed forward and clutched him to his chest. Ecquarte did not miss a beat. He brought the Leechblade down with enough force to cleave through both of them. Ethelbert and Aaricia Almagne stood huddled against the far wall of the landing. Ecquarte rose from the bodies of the Sanzes and hurled the Leechblade like a javelin. The sword impaled Almagne on the wall. Aaricia clutched at her fathers arm as he gasped his last breath. The moment the Leechblade left his hand Ecquartes mind began to clear. The vitality that the sword had funneled into his body remained and the bloodlust was far from gone, but he became conscious of what he had done for the first time. The light returned to his eyes as they darted frantically from one body to the other. With a start he noticed the blood that spattered him from head to toe. Then he saw the sobbing Aaricia. She still held her father in her arms. Ecquarte struggled to keep his grip on his sanity. Images of the carnage that had brought him here assailed his mind like half-remembered nightmares. His bargain with Lamadas was a distant memory hidden behind a red fog. He did not know how long had it been since he gave up his gift for the curse that now protruded from Baron Almagnes chest. Why? Aaricia had let go of her father. Her voice trembled but she kept her composure. Why have you done this? *

27

Before Ecquarte could respond, peals of mocking laughter echoed up the stairs. Lamadas. The demon appeared on the landing attired as fastidiously as ever. Barely able to contain his mirth. Ecquarte shook with rage. The monster had played him for a fool. You deceived me, demon. What have you done? Lamadas chuckled. Kept up my end of the bargain. I gave you the Leechblade. Now theres nothing left to keep you from taking that which you desire most in the world. He winked at Aaricia. Ecquartes fury boiled over. I dont know how you managed to bewitch me, but you will pay. Lamadas nearly choked he laughed so hard. Ecquarte only realized why when Aaricia spoke again. Youre mad, Ecquarte Gwynghyde. Who are you talking to? Why havent you killed me along with the rest of them? What? You cant see him? Who? Lamadas laughed ever louder. The powers I command are beyond your comprehension, Master Gwynghyde. I chose only to reveal myself to you. Ecquarte groaned and turned back to Aaricia. Aaricia, this has all been a terrible mistake. Ive been tricked by a demon. I never meant any harm- What? You say this after making the halls of my home run red with blood? Tears streamed down her cheeks but anger burned in her eyes. I dont know what manner of madness this is, minstrel, but I swear that you will be punished for this. No matter what it takes.

28

You dont understand. This is the work of a demon. You see that sword over there? Its possessed. I was tricked. Ecquarte stumbled over his words. With each passing moment he hoped that this was just a terrible dream. Aaricia buried her face in her hands. If youre not going to kill me just leave. Leave me to my grief. Aaricia- Leave! Her voice rose to a tremulous scream. Lamadas was gone. There was nothing else for Ecquarte to do. He slowly shuffled toward the staircase. Aaricias voice rang out again. Monster! Take your hellsword with you! Ecquarte looked at the blade. It still hung in Baron Almagnes chest, pinning his body to the wall. Time for a choice, he thought. He could leave it here and wait to be hunted down like a dog. Or he could try to take back what he had lost from Lamadas. He would need a weapon. At least there was hope in the latter course. Perhaps the cursed blade could eventually be controlled. He averted his eyes from Aaricias furious gaze and walked over to Almagnes body. When he put his hand on the grip he felt the weapons influence seep into him once again. He shuddered. At least now he knew what was coming. The anticipation allowed him to retain control. Barely. Violent impulses sparked in his mind all the same but he kept them contained. He slid the blade back into its scabbard and walked away from the sobbing Aaricia. At the head of the stairs he looked back. She looked up from her tears and screamed. You will pay for this, Ecquarte Gwynghyde. Mark my words. Ecquarte looked into her eyes and saw unadulterated hatred. For a moment he

29

hesitated at the top of the stair, hoping that something might come to him. Anything that might help explain the calamity. Nothing did. With head hung low he slowly descended. * Six months later a tall hooded figure ducked into a tavern in the sleepy hamlet of Wallenstowne. A massive sword with an odd gem in its hilt and a travel pouch hung on his back. He made for the bar. Curious glances followed him. He sat down and beckoned to the barman. And what might be your pleasure, sir? Otto Frankel had run the Sodden Shepherd for the past twenty years and knew a troubled soul when he saw one. The strangers face was ashen under his hood. There was a faraway look in his eyes. A daydreaming wanderer at best, a mekhtra addict at worst. A tumbler of jenever. And some information, rasped the stranger. Frankel poured the liquor and pushed the tumbler across the bar. I aim to please. What are you looking for? The stranger took a swig. People have been talking about some strange happenings in this town. Something about a satyr causing mischief. Frankel raised a bushy grey eyebrow. Weve had a few disturbances here and there recently. Some say that there are supernatural forces at work. He picked up an empty tankard and began to wipe it clean. But Im a skeptical man. People have always enjoyed blaming their problems on anything but themselves. I might have said the same not so long ago. Circumstances have shown me otherwise. To each his own, I say. Ill wait until a satyr prances in here looking for a drink to believe it. Frankel chuckled at his joke.

30

The stranger did not. Anyone about who might be less skeptical than you? The matter is of great interest to me. In the corner of the tavern a minstrel began to pick at his lute. The notes wafted to the bar. Frankel noticed a light flicker in the strangers eyes. It died quickly. He opened his mouth to respond. Only a choking noise came out. The stranger drew back. Frankel blinked. When he opened his eyes their pupils were gone. Vertical slits surrounded by green light replaced them. Lamadas, growled the stranger. Ecquarte. Frankels voice twisted into a syrupy hiss. No need to bother the good people of this fine establishment. Im right here. What can I do for you? Ecquarte Gwynghyde slowly got up from his seat. You can join the other poor souls imprisoned within this hellblade. Frankels face cracked open in a parody of a laugh. Give me your best shot. In a single fluid motion Ecquarte pulled the weapon off his back and swung it at Frankels neck. A gasp passed through the tavern patrons. Followed by an exclamation of surprise when Ecquarte checked the blade a hairs breadth from Frankels skin. The barman looked back at him with frightened eyes. His own. Until Lamadas returned. I know better than that, Lamadas, Ecquarte said. A flash of disappointment crossed the reptilian eyes. Well played, Master Gwynghyde. I thought I had you there. Im going to get you, demon. Its only a matter of time.

31

Wishful thinking. Youre not the first toy Ive played with and discarded. I needed someone to clean out House Almagne and House Sanz. I owed them. But thats behind us now. The best thing for you to do is forget about it. You cant touch me. Funny. Thats exactly what Rakhar said. Frankels brow wrinkled. My brother? How did you find him, let alone know of him at all? I lost my voice but not my command of legend. Even a monk is hard pressed to outclass a bard when it comes to stories, demon. I did a little digging. Built on what I knew already. Suffice it to say Im on your trail. You and your entire house. Ill pick you off one by one. Rakhar was the first. Bah! You bluff. No mortal since Elgar Demonbane has harmed a hair on the head of a divine. Ecquarte ignored him and unloaded the pouch from his back. Think again. He dropped it on the bar. It opened. Out rolled a massive rotting head. It sported a pair of massive horns and a mask of twisted fury for a face. A barmaid shrieked. Several tumblers crashed to the floor. One onlooker fainted. The possessed Frankel stood there, his mouth agape. Im coming for you, Lamadas. Its only a matter of time. You gave me a weapon capable of doing a lot of damage to your kind. Frankel spat in his face. Ecquarte dodged it and traced a sign in the air with his hand. Leave this man alone. Well settle our business later. Frankel groaned and braced himself on the bar. When he looked up his eyes were back to normal. His features lit up with surprise when he saw the severed head. Ecquarte smiled. What were you saying about the supernatural?

32

****

33