Knight Watch

by Tim Akers

  With one hand I pushed against the fish’s snout. As it swung toward me, I rode the momentum farther up shore. It flapped toward me, dragging itself forward on spiny fins. I punched helplessly at its nose, the frilled veil of its gills, but my mailed fist bounced off its scales like a drum. Its jaws snapped shut once again. Teeth dragged along the mailed cuff of my sleeve, pulling me toward the gaping jaws. I put my naked heel against the squirming mass of its fin. It bucked up like a bronco and threw me to the ground. I barely got a hold of the stalk of its lantern. As it reared back, my feet left the ground. When the stalk whipped back, I landed heavily on the side of the fish, feet first, one heel planted on each side of the beast’s eye.

  “Shoulda left me alone,” I said, then jumped up, tucked my legs, then kicked them directly into the creature’s eye.

  There aren’t a lot of things less pleasant than burying yourself to the knee in recently burst eyeball. Jelly and red gore splattered across my chest. The monster howled, a terrible, gurgling sound that echoed through the trees. I landed with a thump on the shore, corkscrewing out of the monster’s ruined socket like a thrown shot. The beast flopped against the shore and then, still screaming, descended into the pool.

  I lay there for a long time, gathering my breath. Slick gel covered a good portion of my body. Chesa came to stand over me.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Uh huh,” I answered, very quietly.

  “Do you want to wash off?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe not here, though,” she said.

  “Yeah. Maybe not.” I extended a hand so she could help me up. Chesa stared at it for several heartbeats before I realized my glove was covered in varying shades of red and black. “Fair enough.” I scrambled to my feet and stood, arms extended, staring down at my clothes.

  “I’m sure that’ll wash right off,” Chesa said, without a trace of optimism.

  “Sure,” I said. “You know, I think the modern convenience I’m going to miss the most? Scotchgard.”

  “Just don’t bathe in inhuman ichor,” Chesa said.

  “Good call. Hey, can we find that other pond? For the washing?”

  “Right, sure. Absolutely.” She tried to hand me my boots. I waved them away.

  “Hang on to them for a minute,” I said. “Until my feet are a little less...eyebally.”

  Chesa looked at me skeptically. Finally, she shrugged and turned back into the forest. I followed, picking my way gingerly over the ground.

  We found our pond. It was one hundred percent less infested with gnashing teeth. I dipped myself, chain and all, into the water. Miraculously, the eye stuff washed off pretty easily. When I was done, I pulled on my boots and Chesa and I wandered back into the woods. My feet squeaked damply, but at least I was clean.

  “Thanks for your help back there,” I said after a while. “I was in a pretty tough spot.”

  “It’s what heroes do,” she said. “You know, you’re going to have to start doing that kind of thing. Hero stuff. You’ve spent a lot of time screaming and getting chased and so forth. We’re supposed to be finding our true mythic selves in here. Not sure what kind of hero is always running away.”

  “Running away is natural,” I said. “These are scary things.”

  “No, being scared is natural,” she answered over her shoulder. “Running away is mundane. Standing up and giving a good account of yourself...that’s what heroes do.”

  I opened my mouth to answer, thought about it for a long moment, then shut it again. She was right. I shoved my hands into my pockets.

  “Easy for you to say,” I grumbled. “Look at you. The eyes, the bow, the clever armor. You’re halfway there. Easy to be brave when you’re already magical.”

  “Don’t blame me, John,” she said. “This is your problem to solve.”

  We marched in silence for a long time. The forest whistled and chirped around us, growing louder the farther we got from the stream. But nothing else tried to eat us. That was an improvement.

  Finally, we saw a dim light through the trees. The forest grew quiet, and the air took on a still quality. It reminded me of libraries and churches, though without the walls and judgment. Chesa slowed down.

  “If there’s anything I’ve learned about this place, it’s that lights are not worth checking out,” I said. “We should probably just go around.”

  “It’s...calling to me. I think this is it,” Chesa said.

  “Yeah, the pond called to me, too. There are probably teeth involved.” I plucked at her shoulder. “You can tell by the way the insects have stopped singing. Always teeth after that.”

  “Quiet, John. This isn’t for you.” Chesa pulled free from my grip and slipped through the trees, chasing after the light. I hesitated. She was the one with the fancy bow, not me. If this was another trap, there wasn’t much I could do other than fall down. But I couldn’t let her just disappear.

  The forest changed in short order. Up until now, the trees had been tall and thick, with rough bark and gnarled, twisted roots that grabbed at my feet. The trees we passed now were aspens, their pale bark as smooth as butter, golden leaves fluttering in the breeze. Golden light filled the air, replacing the harsh silver of the moon. Birds chirped in the distance. We came to a clearing. There was a single tree in the middle, as tall and straight as a tower, with steps cut into its side, spiraling up into the boughs. A constellation of golden leaves filled its canopy, the source of all the light in the clearing. Soft music came from the tree, a cross between windchimes and angel song.

  Chesa and I stood in awe. The terror of the forest retreated behind us. The world was full of glory and light and joy. I cleared my throat.

  “So, uh...this is your thing, huh?” I asked.

  “This is very much my thing,” she said.

  She started walking toward the tree. The ground underfoot was soft grass and wildflowers. Wherever she stepped, fresh blossoms sprouted, twinkling like fireworks before fading away seconds later.

  A figure appeared on the stairway. It was a man, or an elf, or an elf man. He was dressed in silver clothes and a deep green cloak. His hair hung in golden waves across his face, a face that was chiseled to within striking distance of perfection. His shirt hung open to the middle of his chest, a chest that rippled with muscles. He walked with unearthly grace, dancing down the stairs. When he reached the clearing, he took a couple steps toward Chesa and then went to one knee, flourishing exquisitely with cloak and palm.

  “My queen,” he said. His voice rumbled like thunder, sang like silver bells, echoed like a dream on waking. I almost threw up on the spot.

  “So, hey...who’s this guy?” I asked. “Kinda cheesy, don’t you think? Do they not make top buttons where he’s from? Right? Chesa?”

  Chesa strode toward the kneeling elf-god-man and held out her hand. The vision of beauty took it in both his fists (large, strong, but soft as velvet. I could tell even at a distance) and pressed it to his face. Chesa shivered.

  “This is what traps look like, Ches,” I said. “I’m just saying.”

  “Quiet, John. Just...be quiet.” She pulled the man to her feet, their hips touching briefly as he stood. The elf backed away, gesturing to the tree.

  “Your realm awaits,” he said. Chesa looked over her shoulder at me.

  “Good luck with your domain, John,” she said. “I can’t save you anymore.”

  Together, they processed (no other word. It had all the glory and ceremony of a royal wedding) to the tree, climbing the stairs with gentle grace. Higher and higher they went. I watched until the glow from the leaves was too much for my mundane eyes and I had to look away. The music continued for a little while longer, rising into a crescendo as Chesa reached whatever secret door was nestled into those glowing boughs.

  When they were gone, the music faded, and the light with it. The clearing grew dark, and the sounds of the forest imposed themselves on the calm that had reigned just moments ago. Just before the golden light wi
nked out completely, the tree withdrew into the sky. Roots burrowed up out of the ground, tearing apart the soft turf, reeling back into the trunk. The tree shriveled up, growing thinner and thinner, finally spooling into the canopy. The golden leaves closed like an umbrella and then disappeared.

  The forest was back, and dark, and full of terror.

  Chapter EIGHTEEN

  THE WORLD DOG

  I lingered in the remnants of Chesa’s clearing as long as I dared. When it became clear that she wasn’t going to pop back out of her newly found domain anytime soon, I turned and walked back into the forest.

  It was still a terrifying place, made more so by the knowledge I was absolutely, utterly alone among the trees. I began to wonder what it would look like when the entrance to my domain opened up. Would it be a sun-dappled path among the trees, like that of Clarence? Some kind of gate? Maybe just a swirling tornado of stress and disappointment. Who knew? I certainly didn’t.

  And that was my problem. I didn’t really have a clear sense of my mythic self. I knew what I wasn’t...particularly brave. Notably handsome. Unrelentingly...relentless? What kind of hero is that? Chesa was right. I wasn’t much of a hero. Maybe Knight Watch screwed up in picking me up at the faire. Maybe it was supposed to be Eric, and they got me by mistake.

  My pitiful reverie was interrupted by yet another disaster. A horrific growl filled the air, echoing off the trees and shaking my bones. In the midst of the forest’s cacophony, it was a piercing, terrible sound. I nearly jumped out of my skin. To my left, I could see the tops of the trees start to shake and heard the dull thump of a heavy body brushing against their trunks. The earth hummed under my feet with each resounding crash. At first, I thought it was tree-friend, but no, even it hadn’t made this much noise. Whatever this was, it was bigger than big. It was enormous. And it was coming straight at me.

  I’m kind of tired of running through the darkness, I thought. Maybe I should stand. Maybe I should do what Chesa suggested, and find my hero. Maybe I should—

  On the next ridgeline, the forest parted like a curtain, and revealed a beast larger than the Caneville Valley Mall. I didn’t get a very good look at it, but it was look enough to stop my heart.

  “So, to my right, then,” I said, turning away from the shuddering forest. I hurried into the darkness, as fast as I could without risking a tree to the face, or a misstep over an unseen cliff. The growl sounded again. It was getting closer.

  “What’s a little tree to the face?” I mused, picking up the pace. I held my arms in front of my head, wincing as branches whipped against my hands, lashing my cheeks and drawing blood from my scalp. The crashing sound was now distinctly footsteps, giant loping paws. The creature howled, and the whole world shook. “Kyle?” I shouted hopelessly. “Please be Kyle!”

  Another howl, and now the beast was running. Its breath filled the forest, thrashing the underbrush and nearly leveling me. Its eyes appeared, huge and red, thirty feet off the ground. It saw me. I ran.

  Judging by the sound of its passage, I was being pursued by three school buses welded together and then strapped to the top of a herd of stampeding elephants. The trees behind me crashed aside, trunks as wide as houses shattering like kindling. The beast’s growl turned my knees to jelly and the air into a humid funk. I looked back only once, to see those red eyes and the slick glint of slavering jaws, framed by matted black hair. I didn’t dare to look back again.

  I crested the hill I had been climbing and vaulted down the opposite slope. It was steeper than I anticipated, and my medieval-chic boots were not designed with parkour in mind. I hit the ground heels first, and had to pinwheel my arms to stay upright, my boots clomping into the loose earth. My descent was more of a fall than anything, but it got me down the hill good and quick. When I got to the bottom, I went down like a sack of potatoes. I am the best at falling, I thought.

  The footsteps of the monster boomed through the ground. But as it got closer, it felt like each step got less distinct, like a single drumbeat diffusing into a concert of smaller instruments. They washed into a steady roar of tramping paws. I lay at the bottom of the hill, staring in horror at the ridgeline above.

  A single wolf appeared at the top of the hill. No, not a wolf at all, but a dog. A husky, its bicolored eyes flashing in the moonlight, the majestic floof of its tail wagging noncommittally. It was joined by a schnauzer, then a German shepherd, and finally a whole wave of dogs of every size and variety. The husky licked its enormous jaws and then strolled down the hill in my direction. The rest followed, a rolling, bouncing, yammering tide of dogs. A pug tripped and rolled ahead of the others, ridiculous mouth smiling as it bowled the husky aside. They played as they ran, nipping at flanks and pouncing at tails. A low carpet of puppies swept down from the side, a squirming mass of wild eyes and lolling tongues, their too-large paws flailing in the air as they fell, jumped, ran, tackled, and romped.

  As they approached, something strange happened. Stranger than a pack of a million dogs, which is very strange indeed. The dogs began to merge. The husky and the German shepherd ran together for a bit, and then the husky jumped, colliding with the shepherd. But instead of knocking the other dog aside, the husky disappeared into the shepherd’s fur, and a new dog emerged; more wolf-like, and larger.

  This started to happen all over the hill. The pack of puppies swarmed into a single bulldog, which grew into a wolfhound, and then into something larger and more feral. Soon the woods around me were haunted by a dozen enormous, slavering wolves, with black fur and red eyes. They flowed around me like an inky whirlpool, dodging between tree trunks and appearing a dozen yards away, or simply hiding and letting another of its brethren take up the prowl. I struggled to my feet, turning slowly in place in an attempt to keep them all in my sight. One brushed past my leg, a dog the size of a horse, its fur tangled with twigs and dry leaves. Just that casual contact was nearly enough to knock me down.

  “Guys, guys...I’m a dog person, okay?” I said, hands up. “I’ve had dogs. I love dogs.”

  A rumbling growl filled the forest. The beast was down to four incarnations, each one as big as a soccer mom’s SUV. They loped around me in a steady orbit. Red eyes burned at me from all directions.

  “Let’s not do this. We can both just walk away. Look, I don’t even want to be here. I don’t even know where here is,” I said. Two of the dogs merged right in front of me. The resulting beast was the size of a truck. It padded to the top of the hill and loomed over me. Filtered moonlight turned its black fur into silver down. Lowering its head, the beast raised its hackles and let free a long, rumbling growl that shook my bowels.

  “Ah, shit,” I muttered. “I knew I should have brought a sword.”

  My hand brushed my belt where a sword should be, and it was. Believe me, no one was as shocked as me. Mythic self, kicking in! I thought. I drew the blade and held it up. Steel sang from the scabbard, drawing sparks.

  The blade gave light to that place. A shimmering vein of golden fire ran down the runnel, like lightning frozen in steel. After the dim silver of the moon, the illumination coming from my sword was like a flare at midnight. The wolf squinted at it, then turned his enormous head to stare at me.

  “I...I claim dominion over this realm,” I declared. It seemed like the kind of thing Esther would expect me to say, might even have been what I was supposed to say, if she had given me even a moment’s instruction. I held my left hand in front of me, still trying to placate the wolf. “This is my domain now. I don’t want to fight you. But I will, if I must, and I’ve slain dragons before, so—”

  There were three dogs. See, that’s what I forgot. I was talking to the big one, but the other two were still out there somewhere.

  Jaws closed on my sword hand, sharp teeth pricking my skin through the chain of my mitt. I yelped and tried to jerk away, but that only drove the teeth tighter into my wrist. I whirled around. One of the dogs was holding my arm in place. It stared directly into my eyes. I yelled again, panicki
ng as terror filled my head, then reached for my dagger with my other hand. Rather than grabbing the hilt, though, my hand slid smoothly into the third dog’s waiting maw. Hot breath hissed up the cuff of my sleeve as the dog’s mouth closed gingerly on my hand. I could feel teeth pressing into chainmail, steel links cutting into my skin. I tried hard not to move.

  When I looked up, the largest wolf was only feet away. It lowered its head, coming closer and closer. I tried to pull back, but its companions held me pinned in place. Its breath smelled like fresh meat and excitement. I didn’t like the look in its blood-red eyes. The wolf huffed at me. Its face was less than a foot in front of me, then inches, then its furry head was pressed against my body. It spoke.

  “This is not your world. It never will be. We serve no master. Do not threaten us again.” Its voice growled through my bones, felt in my lungs and the hollow places of my belly. It backed away, and the anger in its eyes faded into dismissal. “You are welcome to cower among us. But never to rule.”

  The wolf turned and loped away, back up the hill. Shortly after its haunches passed me by, the two dogs pinning me in place dropped their holds and scurried after. They ran like puppies chasing a ball in the park, exactly the same except for their size and the pain throbbing in my wrists. I watched until they had disappeared over the hill, then dropped to my knees and had a nice, peaceful breakdown. When it was done, I examined my wrists. There was no blood, only the swollen indents where they had held me fast, and a slick coat of drool that covered me from the elbows down.

  I shook off my hands, splattering saliva all over the place, then tried to wipe the rest off on my pants. When I was as clean as I could be, I sheathed my sword and turned back to the forest.

  “World of bloody dogs,” I muttered. “Clarence gets a castle and a dragon, Chesa walks a stairway into heaven, escorted by Ranger Pectoral, and I get dogs.” I let out a long sigh and shook my head. “At least they seem friendly. And maybe he’ll make a good pet, someday.”