With the early evening came a distant, mist-enshrouded surprise.

Darius was the first to recognize it as more than just another indistinct speck on the horizon. Only he made the connection between where they were and the relative size of the thing.

The one word he uttered was barely more than a whisper. “Vingaard!”

Kaz narrowed his eyes and tried to make out anything more than a blur. “Are you certain?”

“What else could it be?”

‘True.” Even though they had made far better time than Kaz would have thought possible, the citadel of the Knights of Solamnia was still a goal they would not reach until tomorrow. Kaz hated the thought of stopping when they were so close, but reminded himself that this land had both goblins and some great unnamed beast wandering about. Let the enemy come to them. Better that than walking into an ambush. Besides, although they had not as yet seen any Solamnic patrols, who was to say there was not one nearby even now?

It was an uneasy group that made camp that night. Both Kaz and Darius searched the skies continuously. Delbin, as moody as before, fell asleep almost immediately after finishing his meal. Tesela, having slept the least the night before, soon joined him.

Darius offered to take first watch. Kaz argued with him briefly, but gave in. It turned out not to matter very much. Neither one could sleep well that night, and each spent the other’s watch period waiting impatiently for the dawn.

The night was so uneventful that Kaz had to wonder if he, too, should carry a blank book, much like Delbin’s, to record such rare nights. Yet despite the calm of the evening, the minotaur rose at dawn with such anxiety that his hands were quivering in anticipation of… what? He could not say for certain. It was the same feeling that had been growing inside him for days. He both needed and loathed the impending confrontation with Lord Oswal.

They passed a few more poor settlements where ragged people lived phantom existences. One or two hardy souls cursed at them, but no one attempted to do them any harm. Kaz could not say what disturbed them more, his presence or that of the knight, Darius. It was apparently evident to Darius as well that some of the folk were glaring at him. He gave Kaz an agonized look. For one who had decided to devote his existence to the glory of Paladine, this was a slap in the face. The Knights of Solamnia were supposed to be the benefactors of the people, not their cursed enemies.

Vingaard Keep grew ever larger on the horizon, seeming to take on a slightly different form as they neared. There was something ominous about its appearance, not to mention the fact that they still had not been intercepted by a single patrol. Such a thing was unheard of. Kaz began to fiddle with his axe, eventually pulling it out of the harness completely. He noted that Darius had his hand on his sword, and even Delbin stroked one of the daggers he wore. Tesela, weaponless, was muttering prayers under her breath.

‘The banners are missing,” Darius pointed out.

Kaz shrugged. “Perhaps they only lie limp because of the lack of wind.”

It was true. There was no wind, no sound. Even the chatter of the carrion crows would have been preferable to the oppressive silence overhanging the land.

They passed more buildings, some of which showed signs of needing repair, but all were empty. It was as if the people had simply abandoned them.

“No one wants to live too near Vingaard Keep, it seems,” Kaz grumbled.

In some places, attempts at farming caught their eyes. Sad-looking cornstalks, no higher than Delbin, and wild patches of oats dotted the landscape. Being so close to the knighthood, this area had gone the farthest toward recuperation. Had something not occurred to bring that revitalization to a halt, there might have been tall fields by now.

“Will we have any trouble gaining entrance at the gates?” Tesela asked Darius.

Kaz, who had been wondering the same thing, stared at the gates. He blinked, thinking that his eyes played tricks. The vision did not change. He snorted in puzzlement. “I don’t think we need worry about being barred from entering.”

“Why is that?”

They were now close enough that Vingaard could be given more scrutiny. Kaz pointed at the gates. “Unless I miss my guess, the gates are already partially open.”

Darius froze in his tracks and squinted. It was true; even from here, it was possible to tell that the gates stood wide open.

“Impossible!” the knight muttered. “This is a dereliction of duty!”

“It may be more than that,” Kaz grunted. “It may be much more than that.”

Their pace had been as swift as possible, considering that two of their members had to walk. Now, however, the group slowed, uneasy about the odd signs. Tesela brought up another observation, one that-they had all noticed, but feared to mention.

“Where are the sentries, Darius? Where are all the knights? Shouldn’t this place be brimming with activity?”

The knight nodded uneasily. “It should, but it may be that they are in a war situation somewhere, or perhaps they are at prayer.”

Neither of his suggestions satisfied anyone in the least. Vingaard continued to loom. Its walls seemed impossibly high and long. There were slits for archers, but little else marked the walls. The two massive doors, more than twice the height of Kaz, were the only decorated parts that they could see. They were each emblazoned with the symbol of the knighthood, the majestic kingfisher that stood, wings outstretched, holding a sword in its talons. A rose was centered on the sword, and a great crown seemed to float above the kingfisher’s head.

“I see someone!” Delbin suddenly cried, lifting himself up and down in his saddle and pointing in the direction of the battlements of the keep, much to the annoyance of his tired pony.

The other three all looked up but saw no one. Kaz turned and glared at the kender. Delbin shook his head in protest. “I did see someone, Kaz. I think it was a knight; that is, he wore armor, and who else but a knight would be in Vingaard Keep?”

Kaz waved him silent. “Don’t explain. If you think you saw someone, then you saw someone.”

“Then the keep is not abandoned,” Darius said with some relief.

“Which doesn’t mean it’s the knighthood that now controls it,” Kaz added darkly.

‘True.”

As they drew closer and closer, the vast, silent keep grew, like some patiently waiting predator. Despite their utmost vigilance, they spotted no other inhabitants. Nevertheless, Delbin insisted that there had been someone.

Gazing down at the ground, Darius studied the tracks of the many animals that had traveled to and from the keep. There was something amiss with the prints in the dust, and he asked Kaz about them. The minotaur stared at them briefly, recognizing what was disturbing the knight.

Kaz kicked at some of the prints. The dust scattered, obliterating several prints. He put one foot down so that his toe touched the front of one of the unburied hoof-marks. ‘This horse-all these horses-are riding from Vingaard Keep. With this dust, these prints should not have lasted if they had returned. We should see signs of horses entering. I only see a couple.”

“And there are so many departing.” Darius said nothing more, but his eyes swept across the plain before them. It was covered with tracks, nearly all leading away from the keep. Kaz could see that the knight was trying to convince himself that his fellows had entered from some other direction, or that the tracks meant nothing whatsoever. That was always possible.

When at last they stood at the gate, they were somewhat confused as to what to do. No one had hailed them, and there was an open gate. The space was wide enough for the horses to pass through with ease.

“We will announce ourselves,” Darius said stiffly. He stepped in front of the others and looked upward.