The Knight's Blade (Realm of Lords Book 1)

by RG Long

  When he awoke, he saw and felt that it was morning. The cold damp of the night gave way to a falling warmth of the sun and the sogginess all around the floor of morning dew. He could still feel the heat of Oldrum burning around him and still felt the ever-building shame of flight he endured when they ran away. He was the last to see the Red Knight and the only one who saw Garis try to fight him off.

  He dreaded to think of the conclusion. It seemed obvious deep down what could have happened. There was no way the old man could have won. It would have been an uncontested besting in the Red Knight's favor no matter how much he valued his old mentor. Such a man, such a being was beyond the skill of a militiaman. It was even beyond the royal guard stationed with them. He was more than the stories foretold. He was more than any of them could handle.

  When the others awoke, they both began their own morning rites to shake the fear and face the new day. Rosha had risen and wandered a short distance away where she mourned her parents alone.

  Neither boy felt like they could help her at all. The horse grazed as it pulled on its rope tied to a nearby tree. The relative silence of birds and the wind left Darrion and Aladorn with nothing but time to fill with talk.

  "I've heard many things," Aladorn began, "studied many things as well. Not just of the spirits and their affinities and the ways to engage them. I've deeply studied the workings of the world and a wizard's place in it, both on and off the battlefield. Of course, I studied less for the battlefield. That was never my first choice of vocation when my powers developed."

  "What does the world say?" Darrion asked. "About this Red Knight. Where does he come from, and where will he go?"

  "Only rumors about the first," Aladorn began. "That he is an avatar of destruction, a magically infused soldiers blessed by the gods or cursed by demons. Made in secret by one of the rival houses as a weapon toward their plot to dethrone and delegitimize the Grannitewatch rule from exceeding its fourth cycle."

  "Then who will shoulder the blame for all my hatred," Darrion asked, "now that I have the freedom to pursue it?"

  "Hold onto that," Aladorn said. "House Grannitewatch has too many enemies to properly list, even in priority. The nearby Ravenmere, whose territory your humble little... well, that your former home, Oldrum once belonged to has plenty reason to send him out to demolish the place, but the bandits claimed they were hired to frame them on behalf of another party. Do you recall that?"

  "The Red Night," Darrion repeated.

  He shook his head slowly and clenched his fist.

  "Bloody awful redness everywhere, in the fire and in each wound. What the hell compels a man to agree to host such evil carnage?"

  "A man like Edrich would do it for money," Aladorn assumed, "or if he were more forward-thinking and practical sovereignty. Banditry is very easy when all you have to do is take taxes, after all. Less murder, less chance of uprisings. Through all my travels, one thing has remained consistent within rumors, even more so than the Red Knight and his ilk. Talks of rebellion."

  "Against the Lords of the Realm?" Darrion asked.

  He'd been taught his whole life the very thought of rising up against the ruling house, even in words or as a motion of candid expression, was ridiculous. It was akin to cursing the sun for rising so early in the morning. It was the way of things which common folk like Darrion could never change.

  "If the Red Knight is one such extension," Aladorn reasoned, "of a rebellion's power, I wouldn't dismiss their cause too lightly. They have force behind them, obvious but powerful force which they've gathered up to wield across the Realms. Enough force to organize bandits and engage in a theft as a mere cover to excuse this heinous deliverance."

  "And for most of the people in the Realms," Darrion said, "They can't do anything but sit by and watch, and hope to be away from it all when the fires start so they can live to watch their lives burn down around them. All our lands are worth to these rebellious lords abroad are fence posts on property lines worth bashing and breaking to show the true owner what they think of their lines in the dirt. All nothing of it."

  "Pawns in a proxy battle," Aladorn said. "That'd be the more accurate, sort of accepted vernacular, I think."

  Darrion looked to the distance where Oldrum was. The light of the sun mixed over the lights beyond the trees to the point where he couldn't tell if the village was burning anymore.

  The woods hadn't caught fire, at least.

  All they had to do to leave was ride downhill and meet up with the main road that split toward Ravenmere to the east or ride on through a rushed week of travel to reach Grannitewatch in the desperate hope of being accepted and believed.

  "Aladorn," Darrion began, "how did you react to being cast out and made a rogue wizard by your school?"

  Aladorn paused at the question. It was a deeper story than he seemed willing to reveal. Darrion could tell it was a sensitive subject by the way, he shifted in his place.

  "Well," Aladorn began, "a bit foolishly if I do say so myself. I decided, verbally, to the faces of those who turned me out, to go seeking knowledge that would upset their brash assumptions of me and return as an uncontested champion wizard the likes of which they'd never seen before."

  "Did you feel free?" Darrion asked.

  Aladorn thought for a moment and shrugged.

  "As free as any man divorced from his village would be, I suppose," he said.

  Darrion looked at his hands. They no longer trembled. His whole body, after his rest, was relaxed.

  "I feel free," he said. "I should feel horrible and trapped, shouldn't I? Like Rosha does, bound back by the remains of my past still fresh as cinders. But I don't. I feel like I can go anywhere. Even against the threats of the world, which I've faced and fled from twice now, I truly feel like I can go anywhere and do anything as I am. I feel closer to my goal than ever."

  "I wonder if she will feel the same way," Aladorn said.

  He tilted his head up as Rosha came through the woods. She'd been crying by herself for most of the morning and sniffled her last. Her eyes were puffy and dried up, and her cheeks were red from the constant catching of tears with her soggy sleeve.

  Darrion stood up immediately.

  "Hey," he greeted.

  "Hey," she said back.

  She took a long sigh before she had the nerve to speak again.

  "So, I thought for a while to myself, and I think I'd like to make our next move."

  "What move will that be?" Darrion asked.

  "To flee to Grannitewatch," she said, "as quickly as possible. If we stick to the road, with this horse's speed, it will take five days to the week as normal. If we can eat from the woods, all the better, and we may just pass over these corsairs before they can hunt us or chase us down."

  "Three riders to one horse," Aladorn spoke, "seems like it will slow us down too much."

  "I'd rather not leave you behind," she said, "if that's what you're suggesting."

  "Oh Gods no," he said. "I'd rather take my chance on one of those other horses we lucked upon if they're still nearby."

  "If the Corsairs found them," Darrion added, "they'd be dead, most likely."

  "They are as evil as that," Aladorn admitted.

  He got up from the forest floor and brushed off his rear end. There was a frustrated realization of how dirty his robes had become. Nothing could be done about it at this moment.

  "That's the wisest choice," Darrion said. "Even if they are outriders all, they will have to outride together. Their numbers will slow their movements down, if just by a bit."

  "A bit is all we'll need," Rosha said.

  "Are you prepared, though?" Darrion asked. "You know, once we arrive in the city, there's only one thing left for us to do."

  "That's right," she said proudly. "We can return to reclaim our lands as King's Guards."

  She smiled, finally, in what felt like such a long time. From the fret of the bandit fortress to the despair of Oldrum in flames, her heart wavered through nothing but terr
ible despair. She smiled with Darrion, and they locked eyes, sharing one another's determination as a heated wind blew across their unmarked campsite.

  They saddled up in a row and rode out of the forest together. Their path was straight ahead to the east, and their obstacles were unseen. The fires in Oldrum had died down, but the heat of their making remained close by.

  Chapter 23

  THE HORSE WITH THREE riders broke out from the forest as it was trained to do and reached a sprinting speed down the pasture and onto the road. They road east toward the sun, with Oldrum at their backs. Grannitwatch was still days away.

  Rosha led the steed with her caring instructions and carried her spear across her back. Aladorn stayed on the rear of the saddle, clutching around her waist for his life as the horse bounced and rattled him on its back. At the rear was Darrion, who gave a parting glance to Oldrum in the distance.

  All that remained was a pillar of smoke that simmered out from the long night of burning. While they slept, dozens died, and the Red Knight completed his sacking of the town.

  He held no regrets, no burdens of guilt or doubt or sorrow. Oldrum was a prison to him for too long, and he was free. That method worked to keep him grounded in their current state. They had a far way to travel and nothing but dangers to avoid on the way. Aladorn still had at least half of his arcane tincture and a full night's rest to rely on. He was their best bet to stave off any threats that came their way, but he could only do it once reliably.

  Rosha and Darrion both knew they would be the last line of defense for their lives if the time came for it. Their hearts still wavered. Darrion had all the conviction but lacked discipline. Rosha was shaken by grief and could not find it within herself to redirect her sorrow into rage.

  Still, they forced themselves forward.

  Both of those problems could be fixed if they made it to Grannitewatch. The King's Guard would accept them on their plight, and with Aladorn's testimony of the Red Knight's terror, they could make their way into the Guard as they dreamed of.

  But fortune did not simply favor them for their boldness. Their trials began when they left the tawdry peace of their qauint farmstead village. Once their order was disrupted, there was nothing that could repair it. Instead, they fell to the grief of the outside world and crumbled under the pressure of a greater power. They were defeated by retreat once, but that option was removed.

  Once again, they were forced to stare down the Red Knight.

  The Crimson Corsairs blocked their path. They had already advanced after the pillaging and were on their way eastward across the plains in a wide unflankable pattern. The length between each horse was just wide enough that they could not be passed without riders on either side, collapsing in on them together, and their heavy blades were carried in the open and ready to swing. Even on a peaceful country morning, they moved like they were at war.

  Only four stood in the road as the rest ran in a line to the east. Four, and one was the Red Knight himself. He dismounted his horse and stood in the road. The other four followed suit and their horses departed. Only one steed stayed vigilantly behind. The villain’s horse pawed the ground, waiting for his master. The Red Knight took his sword and rested the tip to the ground like a cane.

  The very air around him seemed darker and more red. The grass nearby lost its color entirely. His presence created a horrible vision of death wherever he could reach, and his guards basked in that unholy glow with their blades drawn and angled ready for attack.

  "Ride up fast," Aladorn said, "and veer away."

  "And keep running?" Rosha asked.

  "If you can," Aladorn said.

  Rosha nodded and prepared her flanking maneuver. She faced down the horror ahead with her heart steeled for the encounter. She would be the assistance that gave Aladorn his precious opening while he prepared his spell with his hands pressed together.

  Once they got closer, still many lengths away, the guards charged forward. Rosha veered away then, just as they started their mad dashes ahead, and Aladorn shifted his attention to them. He held his hands out, palms forward, and the heels of his wrists held together. With his silent spirit language, he conjured a vortex of flames to shoot out and swirl through the air in a far-reaching spray. Like the fire of a dragon from the old fairy tales and myths.

  "Now, burn!" Aladorn shouted.

  He caught all three guards in the spray, and they struggled as the fire caught against what lingering elements of cloth that were still on their person. Rosha gave a wide berth to the Red Knight himself, who was unmoved and unfazed by the attack, not even watching as they turned away.

  "Make another pass," Darrion said.

  "What!?" Rosha exclaimed. "He's not chasing us. We can..."

  "We can't outride the flanks ahead," Aladorn said. "Better now to take him out and leave his band leaderless without direction in lands that will take them as hostile. Bring me around. I want to turn his red coat redder!"

  Rosha was uncertain but followed through. She steered the horse around, on and off the road again, in a sharp turn to make a second pass. She armed her spear in an attempt to ward off any coming attacks. The guards had recovered and were covered with smoke, but they moved regardless and spread out to avoid the same result.

  The Red Knight was on their right side. He picked his blade up out of its place under his palms and brought it up in preparation to swing. Aladorn balled his hands together and held them up. Fire swirled and swelled in them until it formed into a spiraling ball of light and heat overhead. Before they got too close, he lurched his body forward to throw it. Darrion grabbed the wizard's robes to catch him from falling.

  The Red Knight spun on his heel and swung his sword in an arc. He caught the fireball in place, and it exploded out against him, covering the Red Knight with force and fire, countering the deft swing of his heavy blade. The explosion rocked them back as well and sent the horse in a brief stumble that it hobbled out of and returned to a trot.

  They were riding right into one of the guards. Rosha stuck her spear out like a lance and tried to stab the guard down, but it escaped her unprepared grip when it hit the guard's helmet. Her spear was stuck in the faceplate of the fallen guard.

  "Go back!" Darrion said. "I'll grab it!"

  "Eat, breath, and drink my fire, you fiend!" Aladorn shouted.

  He turned back with a smug, victorious expression at first, then spun around to look past Darrion at a different angle to check what he was seeing was real. In the remains of the fireball, as the flames subsided and the smoke cleared, a figure stood, undeterred and unharmed.

  The Red Knight was undamaged. His fire-treated armor was already resilient to the flames sent his way, and his unnaturally strong presence simply sloughed off whatever damage the blast was meant to cause. He held up his sword and pointed it dead at them. The other two guards swarmed around to catch them as they passed again.

  "Aladorn!" Rosha exclaimed.

  "R-right," he said.

  He was shaken but still had power remaining. He conjured up more spirits and blew into his hands, then clutched them both and held them out to the sides. They rode between the guards, and he unleashed a flurry of fireflies upon them that all exploded in rapid succession, knocking them down and lighting them ablaze once more.

  Darrion reached down and nabbed the spear out of the faceplate of the fallen guard. The tip was barely blood, and the guard was still alive, but the spearhead lost one of its flanges. It became L shaped from the hilt out. The spear was in Darrion's hand as they approach the Red Knight, and the fiend was on his armed side. He reached down to prepare to lance the pillaging leader right in the face.

  The Red Knight swung his blade. The force alone sent Rosha’s horse off balance and onto its side. All three fell off and tumbled to the ground. Aladorn rolled onto his back and slumped to a stop as dead weight. Darrion and Rosha rolled and protected their heads as they fell. The spear flew away and landed near Rosha in a clatter.

  Darrion got up f
irst and looked over their situation. The guards were preoccupied and mostly disabled. Aladorn wasn't moving, but his eyes were blinking, and his mouth was moving. He was stunned and incapacitated, and most likely burnt out from using his magic. That just left the Red Knight, who was approaching with loud steps.

  Darrion heard something from under the armor. With a voice like the roar of a stoked fire.

  "Burn," he said. "All of it."

  He held his sword out and turned the flat side out. Something dripped from the blade, and when it touched the ground, it made a small fire in the grass. Then he aimed the sword at Darrion. He could see the heat waving off of its surface. He could feel it even from this distance.

  Darrion drew his armor breaker and took a low, sprinting stance. He challenged the Red Knight, and by the swing of the fiend's blade, his challenge was accepted. A wave of blazing hot wind went right past him and scorched the grass between them.

  Darrion gritted his teeth and grunted with wordless determined fury as he sprinted forward. The Knight wound back to make another attack but heard another shout from behind. Rosha was up and charging with her spear, both hands tight and blade forward.

  He changed the angle of his swing and made a wide, fast arc from his front to his back. The wave of wind knocked Rosha back, but Darrion kept his ground by crouching even lower. He put his free hand to the ground and resumed his sprint with animalistic fury. He reached the Red Knight and charged with his full body weight pushing behind the hilt of the stiff, straight piercer. It found an weak spot in the armor and stabbed into something. But that something resisted and caught it.

  The Knight grabbed Darrion with his left arm and pushed him away. The dagger remained within his armor, tangled up in the chainmail underneath, but blood slowly dripped down the length of the blade. It was a shallow cut, less than an inch deep, but he made the Red Knight bleed. For that, the villain prepared to conclude their fight. He held his sword up high and readied to swing it down hard.