The Codex Lacrimae: The Book of Tears

Chapter 2: A Quarry Run to Ground

The two men rode great white Arabian stallions, and they restrained the wild-eyed, whinnying beasts from pursuing Ibn-Khaldun as the caravan made its way up switchback roads to the Krak des Chevaliers.

"Whether alone or with those merchants, the old man will reach Santini, Morpeth," the larger of the two riders said. "A member of that family line is in the castle. I can feel it now that we're this close."

A man of fair complexion, Farbauti wore a full golden beard and long hair bound by leather strips that reached past his shoulders. Both men seemed unaffected by the heat, even though they wore similar black Hospitaller cloaks over tunics and breeches, with the bulks of their gigantic frames accented by chain-mail ringlets visible at collars and wrists.

"Ja, Farbauti. Finally," Morpeth agreed, leaning forward and peering at the fortress whose walls presented an intimidating sight. He was the younger of the two men, his face clean-shaven and his blond hair cropped short. "Pathetic that we're the ones who have to correct a mistake that never should've carried the Codex this far. It's been a long time, even as we reckon such things, but now all is as it should be."

"Do you truly feel that way, Morpeth? Santini's awakening of the Codex Lacrimae will mean the beginning of the end game, and the chances of either of us ever holding it for our own have become slim to none."

Morpeth looked briefly at the other man, and then returned his gaze to the Krak des Chevaliers resting on the mountain, Hisn al-Akrad.

"We weren't ever meant to hold it, nor any other artifact, Farbauti," Morpeth said as he assessed the citadel defenses. "That's fine with me. I've no use for such things. We knew the rules and swore the Oath. I'm just pleased that Ibn-Khaldun's performed as predicted." He adjusted a brace on his forearm and squinted at the castle. "No, it's enough for me to know that Saladin's and Fafnir's armies are converging here."

"Let's not get overconfident," Farbauti cautioned, "warfare's first casualty is predictability. Still, I think we've done all the preparation we can." He stretched. "Whatever happens, we need to be efficient, Morpeth. There are matters that need tending in Svartalfheim and Nidaveller."

"We don't need to go over that ground again," Morpeth said, his tone insistent. "I told you earlier, we'll make the dwarves see the error of their ways, just as we'll see to the return of the druids and witches."

"I don't like leaving such things to chance," Farbauti said. He inhaled deeply, adjusting himself on the horse. "I fear that we've spent so much time on the Codex Lacrimae that events might outpace our plans."

"Worry not, old friend," Morpeth said. "I've been setting a snare for Santini, a back-up in case he eludes us after we awaken the Codex. The Sight foretells that he'll reach the forest of the Dark Elves. I see him in a glade where a madman roams. We shall capture him there."

"You've foreseen the Codex Wielder in a glade? In Svartalfheim?" Suspicion marked Farbauti's words. "I've seen nothing of this in the fires."

"It's the Sight," Morpeth shrugged. "Perhaps it shows you one thing and me another. Whatever the reason, it can't hurt the Hunt to have a contingency." He frowned while his eyes turned inward. "Ja, it's still the same, Farbauti. I've seen the vision five times. I'm getting sick of Santini's pretty face. Does it help settle your mind if I tell you that I think the dwarf who will help us in our work is Dietrich the Mad?"

"It might, but no one's seen him for centuries." He grimaced. "The same could be said of us. If he's returned, we may leave Santini to him. Arch-Mage Dietrich certainly had no love for codex users. Very well done. We're covered, then?"

"Ja, as much as possible. But, there is ..." Morpeth paused.

"There is was?"

"The Sight. It showed me more. Besides Santini in the glade, and the appearance of Dietrich, I've had visions of ... other places. Places that should no longer be accessible in the Nine Worlds."