Knights End

by Brad Clark

Glaerion let the corners of his lips curve into a smile.

  Conner realized that he had taken the bait that Glaerion had tossed out. For as humorless as Glaerion had seemed when they first met, he had a dangerously dry sense of humor.

  “Where are you heading, right now?” Conner asked, quickly changing the subject.

  “I was going to talk with the Sir Olynn and his scouts, but I was waiting for Sir Marik to finish his temper tantrum. They might have observed a clue without knowing what they saw. A proper debrief would be much better than the tongue-lashing that Sir Marik is delivering.”

  “He’s just anxious like we all are. We all expected the battle to have started by now, and with each passing hour, it seems as if the weight on our shoulders increases.”

  “I know. I’m not sure what is worse. The battle or waiting for it to start.”

  “Can your chat with the scouts wait? They already told me they didn’t find any sign of the army.”

  Glaerion looked over at the group of Elven scouts who were already walking away with their horses towards the stables. He could catch up with them later. Turning back to Conner, Glaerion asked, “You need something?”

  “Have you seen Hargon lately?”

  Glaerion shook his head.

  “I saw him and Marila walk by a few minutes ago. He was acting strangely, though.”

  “He’s Human. He’s always acting strangely.”

  “Not what I mean. He was practically dragging her across the courtyard.”

  “Marila? You sure it was Marila and not some other pretty girl? He seems to have an eye for them.”

  “No, it was clearly Marila. She did not look like she wanted to go with him.”

  “You think he’s going to hurt her?”

  Conner starting walking and Glaerion fell into step next to him.

  “I don’t know,” Conner said. “Whatever it is, we need his head focused on the coming battle. And if it is a pretty girl that is going unwillingly, well, we need to stop that from happening, too.”

  They walked briskly towards the castle, dodging men and boys training with swords, spears, and bows. Conner knew where Hargon’s chamber was located, so it did not take them long to reach it.

  Standing in the corridor, pounding furiously on the door, was Lord Martin. Behind him stood four men. Only one of them, a large man that he knew by the name of Rufus, looked the part of henchman. He was big and strong and seemed to hold a military bearing. The other three were scrawny and desperately tried to look rough and tough.

  “What are you doing here?” Conner demanded.

  Lord Martin stopped in mid-pound and looked at Conner. He put his hands on his hips and replied, “I should ask the same of you.”

  “Our business is none of yours,” Glaerion snapped back sharply.

  Conner replied with some diplomacy. “Hargon is a friend of mine, and I came to talk to him.”

  “Well, Hargon and I have business,” Lord Martin said with an upturned nose. “So why don’t you go back to where you came from.”

  He turned and pounded on the door once more. “Hargon! I know you are there! Answer this door immediately.”

  Glaerion stepped forward, nudging Lord Martin out of the way. Rufus and the three ruffians gave Glaerion a menacing stare, but they did not move.

  “It is a spell,” Glearion said. “A powerful one, too. There are many simply locking spells that Hargon could have chosen, but this is one of the most powerful. It not only locks the door tight, but it also creates a barrier that sound cannot travel through. You can bang on the door and scream all you want, but whoever is inside will not hear you.” He turned his head towards Conner and added, “Hargon did not want to be disturbed.”

  “Marila?”

  Glaerion shrugged. “There’s no way to know if she’s safe or not until we break through the door.”

  “It’s too strong,” Lord Martin said. “Nothing can bring that door down.”

  Ignoring the lord, Glaerion said, “It’ll take magic to defeat magic.”

  “You can do it?”

  “Of course. It’s what Elves do.” Glaerion turned to Lord Martin and his henchmen. “You might want to take a step back.”

  Lord Martin, trying to act courageous, did not move, but the other four took several steps back.

  Conner felt the familiar tingling sensation that started when magic was used around him. Although it was familiar, he was still not quite used to the feeling. He wanted to take a step back as well, even though he knew that his Hurai blood kept the Elven magic from directly affecting him. His mind knew and understood, but his body wasn’t convinced that the magic would not harm him.

  Glaerion touched the door as the words of the spell crossed his lips. Sparks exploded in the netherworld that connected the Web of Magic to reality. He could feel them, but they were not visible even to his eyes. Tendrils of power connected to the door, binding the wood in a lock spell that sealed it shut tight. To release the spell, he needed to either cast a counterspell that would reverse the results of the spell, or he needed to use up his anti-magic spell that he had memorized some time ago and saved for just the right time. Since he had no way to reverse the locking spell, his only option was to use his anti-magic spell. There was always a third option, to use a powerful offensive spell whose brute force would rip the spell to shreds, but the strength of such a spell would also bring down the castle. Plus, he was not sure his mind and body were ready for such power.

  The anti-magic spell used much of his strength, as it was a potent spell. Once cast, thread-by-thread it separated the tendrils of the spell that connected the Web of Magic to the real world. In his mind, it took a long time, but in the reality of the real world, it only took seconds.

  When the last of the words crossed Glaerion’s lips, the locking spell was undone. He put out a hand and touched the door not only to ensure that the spell worked, but also to steady himself. He wasn’t completely drained of energy, but he would need a good night’s sleep to recover. Then, he would need several hours to memorize the spell again. It was a unique spell that was useful when needed, so he always wanted to keep it ready to be cast.

  Feeling only the hardness of the wood, Glaerion said, “It is done.”

  Then they heard the scream. It was ear-shattering and drove Conner to immediate action. He pushed on the door, but it was still locked by conventional means. As the screams continued, he put his shoulder into the door, testing the wound that Hargon had healed. Fortunately, the lock was weak and gave on the first collision. He stumbled through the doorway and was stunned at what he saw.

  They all thought it had been Marila that had been screaming, but it was Hargon. He was on his knees, hands covered in blood, held up in front of him. Standing over him was a hairless humanoid creature with gray skin stretched over a tall and lithe frame. Both of its hands were outstretched, covered with blood. It had piercing yellow eyes that were staring straight at Conner. Streaks of dirt covered its cheeks. At first, Conner thought they were tears, but he knew they couldn’t have been. An evil creature such as this would have no feelings and certainly would never cry.

  His thoughts passed in an instant and Conner drew his swords, thankful that he had taken to wearing them strapped to his back at all times.

  The creature took a step backward and bared a mouthful of sharp teeth at Conner.

  With a guttural voice that cracked, it said, “He forced me!”

  “Kill it!” Hargon screamed. “Kill it now! It is of the Deceiver! It is one of its spies!”

  Conner hesitated. Glaerion was at his side an instant later, his long dagger out and ready.

  “Use your power!” A voice called from behind them. Lord Martin stood behind his four men, pointing at the creature.

  Hargon snapped his head towards Lord Martin and cried out, “You think I didn’t try!”

  To prove his words, he thrust a hand out at the creature and tossed a fireball directly at its chest. The beast ducked away, holding up its arms
, but the fireball simply exploded around it, as if it were protected by a shield. The back of the room was charred from many fireballs, also proving that he had already tried to kill the creature with magic.

  Conner took a step forward.

  “There’s only enough room for one of us to attack it,” Glaerion said.

  “I know,” Conner replied, taking another step forward. “You better move back.”

  Glaerion, knowing the reach of Conner’s swords was better than his dagger, took a couple steps back. His mind churned through one of several spells that he could cast to help Conner.

  Conner slowly stepped forward until he was in front of Hargon. He expected the creature to attack, but it never did. It kept its yellow eyes on Conner, following each slow step.

  “Move,” Conner said to Hargon.

  Hargon tried once to stand, but then with a cry of pain fell back onto his knees.

  “What’s wrong! Move! Before it attacks again.”

  “It cut me!” Hargon snapped back.

  “Heal yourself and get out of here!”

  “I can’t!” Hargon screamed back in a blubbery, tear-filled voice. “I tried! It cut me deep, and I’m bleeding. It won’t heal. I don’t know what to do!”

  “Glaerion! Get him out of here!”

  “Already on it,” Glaerion replied. Seeing that Hargon was having trouble moving, he was already moving towards Hargon. Eyes on the creature and expecting it to launch an attack at any moment, Glaerion helped him to his feet and dragged him to a far corner of the room, out of harm’s way.

  Conner twirled his swords in his hands. It was a nervous habit that he always did before he prepared to attack. The nails on the creature’s hands were long and sharp, which meant they needed to be the first to go. In an instant, he developed his battle plan and was about to jump forward and attacked when Hargon called out from the far corner of the room.

  “Wait! Don’t kill her!”

  Hargon’s words not only paused his attack but caused him to finally think through the situation. He recognized those eyes, even if they were yellow. The shape of the face was familiar, and its movements were athletic and feminine. He had seen Hargon walk through the courtyard with Marila, and she was nowhere to be seen. Either she was hiding in a dark corner, or she was hiding in plain sight.

  “Marila?” Conner asked.

  Marila blinked back more tears. She didn’t know what to do now. She was exposed for what she truly was, and although she hadn’t tried to kill Hargon, his anger had forced her into action. At one point it was going to be either him or her. It was fortunate that the other Humans and Elf had arrived when they did. Hargon would have been dead by now.

  She tried to turn her illusion back on, but it wasn’t staying. Her emotions and mental anguish were keeping her from focusing on the illusion.

  Conner noticed the flicker and for an instant, saw the creature as they all had. Marila, with her long hair and pretty looks, appeared and then the gray creature flashed back.

  “You are a spy of the Deceiver?” Conner asked.

  She turned her head slowly left, then right. “Not anymore.”

  “Is this your true form?”

  She nodded, and more tears came down her cheeks. It made her angry that her emotions were controlling her. For a moment, she liked it much better when she was an emotionless servant of the Deceiver.

  “If it is a spy, it must be executed!” Lord Martin called from the doorway.

  “No!” Hargon countered desperately.

  “A moment ago, you called for us to kill it!” Conner shouted back. The thought of killing Marila kept him from immediately attacking. He waited for Hargon to continue talking.

  “I was in pain and desperate,” Hargon said. “She has value. What is the only weapon that we have that can kill the Deceiver?”

  “The Spear of Salvation.”

  Hargon opened his mouth to tell Conner his answer was wrong when his quick mind churned through a new idea.

  “Yes! The Spear of Salvation.” Hargon’s mind swiftly switched gears from desperately trying to survive to trying to figure out how to accomplish his plans. “We’ll need to get close to the Deceiver to use it, right? Marila can do that. She can help us get close. In exchange for her life, she helps us.”

  Marila shook her head. “I won’t go back to him. I would rather die. If you send me to him, he will kill me. Slowly, and with his own hands this time.”

  Conner lifted his swords. “If you don’t help us, you will die. I guess it’s your choice. Death by us now, or death by him later. If you chose later, maybe you’ll be able to figure out a way for him not to kill you. But that’s not my concern.”

  She lowered her hands to her side and closed her eyes. “I have no reason to keep living. Kill me now.

  “She is a spy!” Lord Martin shouted from behind them. “In times of war, the punishment for being a spy is execution!”

  “Not here,” Conner shouted back. “And not by me.”

  Conner felt despair coming from Marila. She might look like a vile creature from the Deceiver’s realm, but he also knew her to be a pretty young lady. Even with all that he had seen over the past couple of years, he had a hard time wrapping his head around this same creature being two different creatures.

  Rufus leaned down to Lord Martin’s ear and said, “Why do you want to kill her? I thought you wanted her alive?”

  Lord Martin gave Rufus a harsh hush and stern look. Fortunately, they were in the corridor, and no one else heard Rufus.

  “Just keep your mouth shut,” Lord Martin added in a whisper. “And keep your thoughts to yourself. You will never understand politics and what it takes to rise to the top.”

  Rufus took a step back and crossed his arms. He was beginning to seriously consider whether hanging his rise to power on the back of Lord Martin was the best move.

  Glaerion moved back to Conner’s side and said, “We have to do something with her.”

  “Does this castle have a dungeon?” Conner asked.

  “I have not seen any,” Glaerion replied.

  “Deep under the mountain,” Rufus replied, to Lord Martin’s dismay. “The cavern where our people are living has a well-hidden stairwell that leads deep into the mountain. There are a handful of cells down there.”

  Conner didn’t ask why Rufus knew that information, although it was on his mind. “Lead us there,” Conner ordered. “We’ll chain her up until we can figure out what we’re going to do with her. She won’t be able to do any more spying locked up.”

  Chapter Ten

  Nikki jumped up, heart racing. Moments ago, she was in a deep sleep, dreaming of sleeping in her warm and comfortable bed. In that dream, something was nagging her senses, telling her that she was not where she thought she was, yet she was comfortably settled under warm blankets. The door burst open, and four large men dressed in furs and bearing spiked clubs raced at her. She watched them come at her, unable to move or defend herself. She really wanted to, but the warmth of the blankets was so inviting that she didn’t want to get up. In unison, all four spiked clubs crashed down on her.

  That was when she woke up. She was on her feet, swords in hand, fur pelts falling off her shoulders, ready to defend herself. There was no one to defend against.

  Kile was still asleep, wrapped up in fur pelts taken from dead Bargoroth warriors. Between them was a shallow pit where a fire had burned most of the night. It hadn’t done much good keeping them warm, but it had been hot enough to cook rabbit for dinner. The sun was peaking above the eastern horizon, a small orange ball of fire set against clear skies. Daylight would soon arrive, and then they would head towards the Bargoroth army, who had taken over the Taran’s camp.

  Their camp was in a small grove of trees, about a mile away from the battle that had devastated the Taran army. The battle had raged on through the afternoon and evening. The Centurions fought valiantly, but their demise was inevitable. From the safety of their camp, they had watched the end c
ome. They knew it when it happened, as the entire Bargoroth army suddenly started cheering and hollering. Even from a mile away, they could hear the joyous celebration. To ensure their safety, Nikki and Kile traded off standing watch, just in case a patrol came near, but the victorious Bargoroth did not send out any patrols. After their fire died, they both pulled thick furs around their bodies and fell asleep.

  Kile had sensed Nikki’s movements and awoke slowly, first observing his surroundings before standing up. He stretched muscles sore from fighting and sleeping on hard ground.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Nikki said.

  Kile’s stomach grumbled. “You think they’ll be in such a good mood they’d share breakfast with us?”

  “Truthfully, I think we should be thankful not have them kill us on sight.”

  “You think this is a bad idea?”

  She shook her head. “The screams of the dying Tarans lasted late into the night. They are not merciful. It seems that they enjoy listening to their enemies die.”

  “In truth, don’t we all?”

  Nikki looked back at him but didn’t respond.

  “We have no enemies like the Bargoroth have,” Kile explained. “For generations, the Tarans have been trying to kill them for their gold and other treasures. Can we really imagine what it would be like? We are also trained and disciplined warriors. It is in our creed to be merciful to our foes. Clearly, it is not in theirs. You don’t have to like it, or even respect it. But, understand it when you come face-to-face with their chieftain. You cannot push your warrior mentality on him. You must accept who they are, else we will have wasted our time. And our lives.”

  Nikki said nothing and just gave a sharp nod. Diplomacy had always been her father’s best trait and not hers. She began walking toward the Bargoroth army encampment. Kile quickly gathered his swords, shrugged off the fur pelt, and joined her.

  They passed the line of headless Bargoroth bodies that they had left as a deterrent. There were more muddy footprints leading up to the bodies, which meant a group of Bargoroth had indeed chased after them but went only so far as the dead bodies. It made Nikki feel better that Kile was with her, as he did seem to understand their culture more than she did. Hopefully, that meant they would be able to get out of this day alive.