“Darius of Trebbel, Knight of the Crown, assigned to the keep in lower Wystia, requests entrance into Vingaard Keep, most noble home of the fighting arm of Paladine and residence of the Grand Master-”

Kaz snorted in frustration, leaned his battle-axe on his shoulder, and stalked toward the open gate. After a moment’s hesitation, Delbin urged his pony after the minotaur. Behind them, they heard Darius break off as he realized what the two were doing.

Feeling somewhat like an offering to a quiet, cold god, Kaz led the way through the gates and into the keep itself.

South of Vingaard Keep, near where Kaz had rescued Darius, a group of riders paused while one of them climbed off his horse to investigate something on the ground. After several moments, he looked back toward the others.

“Two sets of footprints… this way, milord.” A visored figure clad in the armor of a Knight of the Rose joined the ranger. The ranger, a man preferring the woodland regions to the southwest, shivered. Like followed the Solamnic Order, especially here in the war-torn north. Worse yet, the knight kneeling beside him was a lord of the Order of the Rose, and at his beck and call were nearly two hundred other knights-two hundred knights and one nervous ranger.

“A survivor of the massacre and his rescuer.” The knight’s helm gave his voice an echoing quality. “At least, that seems likely, considering someone went to the trouble of destroying this filth.” He indicated what remained of the goblin whose arm Kaz had completely severed. The goblin had crawled away and eventually died.

The knight rose and the ranger quickly followed suit. Gauntleted hands removed the helmet, revealing a handsome, somewhat arrogant man with fine, hawklike features. As was the custom of the knighthood, he wore a tremendous mustache. Dark hair flowed loosely now that the helm was gone. Despite an air of command and experience, he was young for one in his position.

“Young but getting older by the second,” Bennett, Lord Knight of the Order of the Rose, would have replied. He noted that the pair of tracks moved northward, the same direction his band was even now headed. Vingaard Keep lay that way. Vingaard Keep, home to the knighthood itself. A place where he had virtually grown up, being the son of one Grand Master and the nephew of another.

He shivered at the thought of returning to that place now that the curse had been lifted from his mind.

‘Two days,” he muttered. The ranger looked at him blankly. Bennett explained. “In two days, I want us in sight of the keep. Not there, but in sight of it.” What is the range of that… whatever it was? he wondered. Will we fall prey to it immediately? Will it strike us in stages, one by one, until we are mad once more?

The memory of one knight, a good knight, turning mad without warning and running himself through with his own sword made Bennett almost reconsider. They could not turn back now, however. Not while Vingaard Keep was becoming warped and twisted, a mockery of its own tradition.

Not while his uncle, the Grand Master, a victim of the spell of madness that seemed to linger over Vingaard, sat in his chambers and fought a war against enemies who likely existed only in his own mind.

Great Paladine, is this a test of our faith? Of mine?

A flash of white in the distance caught his attention. He wiped the dust of a long journey from his eyes and looked again. Has the madness returned so soon?

“What is it, milord? Did you see something?”

“No.” Bennett disliked the lie, but he liked the truth even less. An albino wolf? Am I seeing memories?

He quickly replaced the helm, the better to hide his uncertainties, and turned toward those who had put their lives in his hands. Not all were of the Order of the Rose, but all were his to command as senior knight in this crisis situation. Six years ago, he would have accepted that fact with no anxieties. Likely, he would have also led these men to their deaths-if indeed they were that fortunate. Times changed. Outlooks changed.

May I have your strength, Huma of the Lance.

At Bennett’s signal, they mounted up. Nearly all of them had suffered through the same madness as he had. There was the elf, too. He wondered what had become of him.

Mounted, he turned to the ranger, who was staring uneasily around them. “What ails you?”

“The goblins did not attack the party from the southern keeps, milord. Whatever it was, it was huge.”

“The days of dragons are long past us, man, and I know of no creature so large and vicious in this part of the country. Rest assured, our danger lies in Vingaard Keep, not in the skies or in this desolation around us.” Bennett believed that wholeheartedly. Goblins and raiders were incidental compared to what lay in-under?- Vingaard Keep.

As the column began to move, his thoughts drifted to the two who had taken the time to give the dead knights a decent pyre. At least one, he was certain, was a knight. The other? The footprints looked inhuman, more like an ogre or goblin, but neither of those races would have any respect for human dead. It was not an elf, either. Could it be… Hardly. Only a fool would dare journey into the heart of a land that had named him villain. Even a minotaur was not that simpleminded.

Whoever they were, Bennett hoped they would somehow have the good sense to avoid Vingaard Keep.

Stepping into Vangaard Keep reminded Kaz of stepping into one of own his nightmares. There was an unreal quality to the place, encouraged by the lengthening shadows as the day slowly died. Every second, Kaz expected some ghastly figure to leap out from a hiding place.

“Where is everyone?” Tesela whispered. There was no real need to whisper. Darius’s shouts should have alerted any within these walls that the party was there. On the other hand, it still seemed somehow proper to whisper.

“Paladine preserve us,” the knight muttered. He was staring at the refuse scattered about the courtyard. Several great piles, taller than Kaz, were spread about the open areas of the keep. They appeared to be lined up in some sort of pattern, but for what purpose no one could say. Everything seemed to have been included: chairs, armor, tools, and much more.

Kaz narrowed his eyes as he scanned the interior of the keep. Lack of maintenance had taken its toll on the buildings. Moss and ivy grew unchecked. Everything had a thin layer of grime and dirt.

Darius took the reins of Tesela’s mount-and Delbin’s, as an afterthought-and led both animals to the stable. After peering inside, he tied the horses to a post rather than leading them into the stable itself. When he returned to the others, he explained. “As near as I can see, no one has cleaned that place in months. There are no horses in there, and I would never forgive myself if I put ours in that sty. It’s a breeding ground for disease.”

“Evidently it’s seen recent use, then,” Kaz commented.

“A month, perhaps two months ago. The cleaning stopped long before that, though.”

The minotaur leaned lightly on his battle-axe. “Delbin saw someone-or something-while we were riding up to the gate. A knight, possibly? I say we continue to look around.”

“I don’t think I’d like to separate, if it’s all the same to you,” Tesela said quietly. Her right hand had not left her medallion. No matter the powers bequeathed to her as a cleric of Mishakal, Kaz knew that she was no trained fighter. Bravery counted only so much against what they might find lurking in the keep.

“We’ll stay together.”

“It will take longer to search,” Darius pointed out.

“And if one of us falls into trouble, it’ll take forever to find that one. Better to stay together. Vingaard Keep is no longer what I would consider a safe haven. Goblins might have very well set up camp in some part of it.”