Free The Tomb of the Dark Paladin by Tom Bielawski Page B

puppet of the Arnathians. So it was that one day he discovered a passageway hidden behind a bookcase. This tower had been sealed off from the rest of the castle by the Arnathians long ago and Cannath doubted that they had known of the existence of the secret passages. As he explored the passageway, he found that there were many hidden rooms and passages that led outside his prison-tower to other parts of the castle. The most amazing discovery he made, however, was an ancient throne room. It was so deeply hidden within the massive presence of Castle Hybrand that Cannath thought perhaps that it was part of a long forgotten castle, and built upon many times over. It was so old the dust on the floor was a hand-breadth deep. Every step he took into the room stirred an unbearable cloud of choking dust and he was forced to wrap a cloth over his face and wait for the dust settle enough for him to see what was in the room.
    But this room had not been completely forgotten, as the thayne had found. There were two things in the room: a suit of leather armor with a blue tabard and a sword. The tabard, he recalled, had been in remarkable shape considering how long it must have been hidden there. It was a deep royal blue with a silver shield emblazoned upon the chest, and an ancient coat of arms not used in generations adorned the shield. It was a simple design, three golden legs extending out from a central point upon which was a castle.
    The armor seemed plain enough, a few inscriptions in an ancient language adorned the sleeves. Though he could not read the language of the inscriptions there was one word that he could read, and it sent a chill down his spine.
    And there was a sword. The weapon rested point down, with its hilt leaning upon the wooden stand that held aloft the armor. He lifted the sword and felt a surge of energy run from his hand up the length of his arm. The blade was incredibly light and felt as though it had somehow become part of own body. In keeping with its surroundings, the blade was relatively unadorned save for an inscription in the same language that adorned the armor. He recalled a tale told to him by his father when he was a young boy. Though the details of the story were lost to him, Cannath remembered his father talking wistfully of a sword of ancient Dwarvish make. That was an astonishing thing, as the dwarves had been gone from Llars for longer than even the elves could remember. Could this be it? The hilt was cool to the touch and calmed his nerves. The knowledge of the tragedy he inflicted upon his people blackened his soul, for he had repeated the bloody mistake his uncle had made in dealing with Arnathia. He didn't care about being thayne anymore. He didn't care about Hybrand, or Arnathia, or even the Hurkin Horde.
    Now all he wanted was revenge.
    Cannath strapped on the sword and headed downstairs. Even though relegated to impotence and bedraggled in appearance, the thayne was still an imposing figure. He was tall, strong and muscular. Now he was clad in the blue tabard over the leather armor. The thought of the power that these items would wield for him was sobering. He wanted revenge desperately. He marched grimly along the lengthy trek through the hidden world of Castle Hybrand into a room on the main level of the castle. From there Cannath walked out into the hallway that led to throne room. It seemed that the farther he walked, the clearer his mind became and the more confidently he strode.
    All he cared about now was revenge and he did not care if died in the process of obtaining it.
    #
    Cannath strode up to the door that led to the throne room and was ignored. The page, a hurkin whose job it was to announce important visitors, glanced vaguely in his direction before continuing his attempt at rolling a coin across his knuckles. Cannath opened the door, not deigning to address the paige and missed the horrified look upon the hurkin's face when the door opened. He surveyed the room,  his room, and