The Black Knight Box Set

by Christian J Gilliland

  "I do hope that we shan't be sitting all day," Eon whined to Rubaan, "Do we not have a great deal of work to do?"

  "Your slaves might." Rubaan spat.

  Eon dismissed the sarcasm and returned his attention to the fight.

  The Maas'Eon stared curiously at Heklaar for a moment, and then took an awkward step forward. He walked with a seemingly unbalanced stagger, not unlike that of a drunk man, and occasionally one of the blades on his arms would scrape against the cracked ground beneath him.

  Heklaar moved backward in response to the Maas'Eon's advance. He tightened the grip he had on his weapon, and a bead of sweat dripped from his hairline into the handkerchief wrapped around his forehead. He watched the Maas'Eon drawing ever closer and waited for an attack.

  The Maas'Eon stopped nearly ten feet in front of Heklaar. It stood silent and unmoving. Heklaar, through his bucket helmet, watched as the monster examined him. Its eyes moved rapidly up and down as it analyzed its opponent, and occasionally its head would twitch to one side or the other. Finally, the Maas'Eon moved. It rattled its blades together, and let out a shrill screech as it stepped forward.

  Heklaar's armor had not once been penetrated, and he had never lost a battle. He attributed a portion of his victories to his armor, but most were because of his great strength and his immense will to win. His discipline, drive, and the sheer number of foes he had vanquished were the attributes that compelled Eon to employ him as a Judge.

  Heklaar took pride in his blood and heritage as he was a Gaian born of the Humaan race, the people from the stars. His parents were, of course, Humaan and he had been fortunate enough to have been born Gaian, the pinnacle of the Humaan form, slaying his mother as she birthed him. His father, a pain-induced widower who drank himself to sleep every night, despised Heklaar for taking his wife from him. At the age of twelve, Heklaar reunited his father with his mother by way of a bullet to the head.

  The Maas'Eon lunged forward and thrust both blades directly at Heklaar's abdomen. Heklaar quickly sidestepped and swung his hammer at his opponent, making contact with its ribs and knocking it to the ground. Heklaar quickly raised his weapon and swung it again at the Maas'Eon.

  The Maas'Eon, with great speed, rolled backward and onto its feet just as Heklaar's hammer crashed into the ground, where the monster had been only moments before. Heklaar tried to recover, but the Maas'Eon quickly charged him, swiping ferociously as he did. Heklaar reeled backward, hammer in hand, just missed by the crazed swipes of the Maas'Eon.

  He looked for an opening, though it seemed nearly impossible. The beast was moving too quickly. It was too dangerous to get close. He knew he didn't have time to think, so he shut off his thoughts and let his instinct take over as he had done in many battles prior.

  The Maas'Eon swiped again at Heklaar. The mighty Judge spun out of the way, swinging his hammer down at the back of its legs. Again, he made contact and knocked the beast to the ground. Quickly, without hesitation, he used the momentum from the first swing and crashed the hammer into the Maas'Eon's chest, caving it in. The Maas'Eon opened its mouth in what one would expect a scream, but only its breath came out. Heklaar wasted no time and slammed his hammer into the Maas'Eon's head, splattering it on the orange ground beneath it. The Maas'Eon's body went limp, and Heklaar turned and knelt in Eon's direction.

  "Astonishing," Eon stood from his seat and clapped his gloved hands together, "Such prowess. Verily I say unto you, your place at my side is well deserved." Eon gleefully hummed as he returned to his seat and crossed his legs. He leaned back a bit and gazed in Heklaar's direction.

  "Though…" Eon paused as he raised a finger, "the battle did feel a bit... one-sided perhaps? Unrealistic even. Why, how frequently will my Maas'Eon engage in combat with one so heavily protected as you? The advantage was on your side, dear Sir Heklaar, and I wish to level the field of battle for our next round. Please, remove your armor."

  Heklaar felt a wave of anxiety spread over him as he stood to his feet. His heart pounded, and he removed his helmet, revealing his short salt and pepper hair and scarred lips. He tossed the bucket helm aside and proceeded to remove the gorget from his neck, and then the pauldrons and cuirass from his shoulders and chest. Finally, he stripped off his arm and leg armor until he was adorned in nothing more than his boots, breeches, and tunic. Even in such simple clothing, the giant of a man would have still been a terrifying encounter on the battlefield under normal circumstances.

  "My dear Heklaar," Eon smiled, "Do not forget you are Gaian, Humaan… I cannot intervene and save you if the tide of battle turns in favor of my Maas'Eon. For that reason, I prithee, show great care! Your boots will be difficult to fill."

  Heklaar nodded in Eon's direction and turned to face his foes. He again tightened the grip he had on his hammer and watched as the remaining two Maas'Eon stepped forward.

  Heklaar gasped as he realized he was fighting two enemies instead of one. He felt his heart drop into his stomach, and a cold chill spread over his body. He looked at Eon and gritted his teeth.

  The first swipe was quickly deflected. The sharp ping of metal on metal rang in Heklaar's ears as he darted out of the way of the second Maas'Eon. He avoided the attack but stepped directly into the path of one of the curved blades.

  The weapon ripped through his tunic and sliced his chest open from shoulder to ribs. Heklaar reeled but did not hesitate. With his hammer held tightly in both hands, he spun, driving as much energy as he could into the head of the weapon. As he struck down one of the Maas'Eon, he turned to face the second just as two blades skewered his chest. The hammer fell from his hands and clattered to the ground as his eyes shot open with surprise.

  For a moment, Heklaar hesitated. He grunted and stared into the black, glossy eyes of the Maas'Eon and watched a devilish smile creep across its face. Sharpened, jagged teeth, protruded from its tongueless mouth as it hissed at its foe.

  "The Gaian will perish now," Eon said to Rubaan, "For the NaNe do not heal the aliens. If his heart has not been punctured, then his lungs surely will collapse, and he will die, writhing on the ground for air…" Rubaan remained silent.

  Heklaar bellowed a mighty cry and suddenly began pounding on the sides of the Maas'Eon's head. Each strike was mightier than the one before it, but the Maas'Eon would not relent. He punched and slapped but yielded no result. Grunting, he felt his energy begin to fade, and so too did the force behind his attacks. The Maas'Eon made a clicking noise with his mouth and violently ripped the blades from Heklaar's chest.

  Heklaar fell to a knee, to a point where he was eye level with the Maas'Eon. Weakly, he looked over at Eon for a moment before he realized that the second Maas'Eon had gotten to its feet. Heklaar lowered his head in defeat, and within moments, both Maas'Eon were on top of him, cutting away at the flesh and bone that once held him together.

  "Delightful," Eon rose to his feet, "Truly I say unto thee, dearest Rubaan, you and I shall accomplish great things together, but now I fear our personal ambitions must be put on hold." Eon silently stared at the minced meat that was once Sir Heklaar, and pressed onward, "For the final Demon is risen, and we have much ground to cover…"

  "He was your strongest soldier," Rubaan could not fathom what had just happened, "Why would you ever let him just be killed like that."

  "Was my strongest soldier," Eon reflected as he stopped walking for a moment, "My strongest… living soldier perhaps, but clearly you now see that my Maas'Eon are the mightiest. Soon, I will have an army of them, of things you have yet to see, things that will make other soldiers turn and flee the field of battle before the fighting even begins!"

  Rubaan watched in silence as the Maas'Eon began devouring the flesh of what was once the mighty Sir Heklaar. As a warrior and faithful servant of Eon, it was not the fate Heklaar had deserved. Rubaan thought of the atrocities Heklaar had to have committed as a Marauder, however, and decided to save his pity for another time.

  "Beautiful," Eon sang as his creations ripped the hear
t from Heklaar's chest. He stood and turned away, for he had much to accomplish before he went to war. His body gently lifted from the ground, and he floated toward the motor pool.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Crinnan VII

  22nd of Ramlia – 346AG

  19:00 – Pado Village – Belhaasi Weald

  "Behold!" Sage announced with opened arms, "The village of Pado! I should say that I do not recall whether I am welcome or unwelcome here at this moment. So do not be offended if any sneering or sudden shouting comes across our path!"

  Pado was a welcome change of scenery for the group. The ruined urban setting was left behind in place of something that at least resembled civilization. The village sat on a completely leveled surface with trees all around the perimeter. The surrounding forest hid the Ancient ruins from view; as a result, the village seemed completely isolated.

  The actual layout of the structures of Pado was simple enough. It was organized in an "L" shape, with the entrance being at one end, and a two-storied log building with a metal roof on the other. There were probably ten or fifteen other log buildings, with large cured leather tents scattered about as well. It looked like the town probably housed a total of maybe a hundred or more people.

  "I have seen this place before," Garb commented as he walked alongside Crinnan, "from a distance of course. I have never actually been in the town. The people here are not overly fond of the… people like me."

  "I think they have reason not to," Crinnan plainly remarked, "Your people did enslave and sell their children… among other things."

  "Repulsive things," Eshan added.

  "They are not my people," Garb quickly corrected, "I do not claim responsibility for their actions, nor did I ever condone them. I was enslaved by them and did as they requested so that I would not die. I neither consumed nor touched these babes. And I most certainly never left any of the children for dead like you did back there on the road." Crinnan felt uncomfortable by the jab.

  "Look…" Crinnan began to explain himself. Garb shook his head and held out a long finger.

  "I can imagine multiple reasons why you did not stop running; to fear is to live. I was merely putting things into perspective for you."

  "You think me leaving a child behind is the same as raping, butchering, and eating one?" Crinnan snapped, "I cannot help anybody if I am dead. Unlike you, I cannot simply push bullets out of my skin when I get shot."

  "No," Garb replied patiently. "I am trying to make you understand that I care for these children, that I would risk everything to make sure that they were safe. I am not like the other Toraan; thus, they are not my people." Crinnan shushed himself and silently nodded his head as he walked onward.

  "Look, I am sorry. I didn't mean to…"

  "Oh ‘tis quite alright my boy!" Garb declared and slapped Crinnan on the back, "I do look a bit of an abomination. Your prejudice is perfectly natural."

  "Okay," Crinnan felt a bit confused by Garb's strange and sudden emotions. The Toraan nodded and turned toward the children.

  "You are safe babies," he announced with the same amount of glee in his voice, "You are finally free."

  "Free," Eshan sounded a bit sullen, "Life is freedom, breathing… freedom. Hugging your child is freedom. But you would understand none of that."

  "I am as free as a being can be," Crinnan refuted. He felt a bit insulted that a Govian of all people was trying to lecture him on freedom, "I do not follow your Empire."

  "Whose do you follow then?" Eshan questioned, "Whose slave are you Crinnan?

  "I am my own man if you only knew…"

  "You are no man," Eshan quickly and bitterly interjected, "I do recognize the error of the ways of the Govian Empire Crinnan, but you must understand nobody in this world is right; nobody is free. Truth is only perceived from one angle, but there are an infinite amount of perspectives in which to analyze everything. Guard your heart friend."

  "We’re not friends," Crinnan insisted.

  "Crinnan… I know you more intimately than I ever even knew my wife. I have seen and felt every tear that has ever fallen from your eye. The same tears you tell nobody about. I have felt your shame in moments you wish you had made better choices; I have felt the joy that you withhold from even those closest to you. To say I am not your friend may be true. But you cannot ignore that I am now an extension of you."

  "You can't just simply become an extension of me or whatever just like that," Crinnan scowled and swiped his hand through the air, "I am sorry for your death. But that doesn’t mean I am willing to keep you in my head for the rest of my damn life."

  "Oh good," Eshan gleefully declared, "Then let me out."

  Crinnan opened his mouth to argue but found no words. Eshan was right; neither of them wanted to be in the situation they were in. He wanted to return to his family, to be able to live and Crinnan wanted to be left alone. He decided to leave the situation alone.

  Freyja, the Lycaani boy, picked up his stride and walked up alongside Crinnan. He looked up at the soldier next to him with dull, yet mildly curious eyes, "Yay." He emotionlessly declared, "Freedom. What a joy."

  Crinnan curiously looked over at Freyja and smirked. The boy with his furry Lycaani knuckles moved his broken tail out of the way and slumped down onto a rotten stump. He hunched over and ran his fingers across his bald brown head, "What a wonderful change." he mumbled to himself.

  Crinnan ignored the boy and his overall emo attitude and continued walking toward Sage. Freyja, for some reason, wanted his attention though.

  "Hey, Crinnan," he called out. Crinnan reluctantly stopped walking and glanced back at him.

  "What."

  "Come over here," he looked around to see if anyone was looking, "I want to ask you something."

  "What do you need, kid?" Crinnan begrudgingly asked with an uninterested sigh. Despite feeling sorry for the boy, he was not wholly invested in actually talking to him.

  "Just come here," he repeated. Crinnan turned around and walked towards the Lycaani boy. Freyja sat up straight when Crinnan stood in front of him and looked up at his face.

  "Can I have one of your cigarettes?" he asked, "I'm really stressed out."

  "You smoke?" Crinnan snickered as he glared down at him, "How old are you?"

  "No, not really. I mean, I never have before." He drolly replied, "And I think I'm thirteen or so."

  "Smoking doesn't really make you less stressed unless you are used to them. They are not medicine, more like comfort food, something familiar to calm the mind down into thinking straight again."

  "I don't know what comfort food or medicine is," Freyja quipped, "Can I have a cigarette or not?"

  "I guess," Crinnan pulled the pack from his pocket. He didn't feel bad about it; he had started smoking when he was about Freyja's age, "You're going to cough a lot if this is your first one."

  "Well maybe it will get my mind off of things," Freyja replied, "You know?"

  Crinnan shrugged dismissively and passed the kid a cigarette.

  "Do you have something to light it with?" Freyja asked.

  "No," Crinnan looked eager to get away from the boy. "Sage has been lighting them for me," Freyja smirked and looked back at the ground. He raised the cigarette to his lips and took a bite out of it. As he chewed, Crinnan shook his head in bewilderment and looked around to see if anyone else noticed.

  "Spit that out, you moron." He said, "What the fuck do you think you are doing?"

  "This does not taste good," Freyja's face wrinkled up with disgust, and he spit it out. Crinnan rolled his eyes and turned to walk away, but heard the boy's voice again.

  "You know, life is… really weird," his eye twitched as he spoke. The boy looked tired, nervous… unable to concentrate.

  Crinnan stopped and looked back at Freyja, who stood up and approached him, "I mean… I have spent basically my whole life as a prisoner." His eyes looked glazed over and hard, almost like marbles instead of actual eyeballs, "Now here I am, free or whatever, and I k
now nothing and have nowhere to go. What am I supposed to do?"

  Crinnan did not know what to say.

  "I don't even remember what my mom and dad look like…" He ticked again and nervously looked around, "The monsters took me when I was about five. I have been there for eight years I guess… I never really thought about it too much. I have no clue what to do with myself."

  "Why are you telling me this?" Crinnan asked impatiently, "I can't tell you what to do with your life, and I do not have time to make your worries my own."

  Freyja shrugged and looked away from Crinnan, "Good. Nobody can tell me what to do anymore," he clenched his hands into fists and narrowed his eyes, "I think I'm better off on my own anyway. Well, just me and the voices that is…"

  "Well, it sounds like you have it figured out then," Crinnan looked around and tried to find a reason to end this conversation. He knew the boy didn't mean voices like Eshan, that he meant something more of a psychological nature.

  "What do you mean?" Freyja got up and moved his body back into Crinnan's line of sight, "Are you saying that it is fine for someone my age to be all alone in these woods with no place to run to?"

  "Stop being dramatic," Crinnan told him, "You will find your way if you try."

  "I don't even know where to start though." Freyja's face wrinkled up again, and he looked like he might cry, "I have nothing. These poopy rags I'm wearing are all I own. I have no friends, no family. Just myself, my fucked up pitiful self."

  "Look, you're young," Crinnan reassured, "You have plenty of time to heal and find where you belong."

  "Well, that'll never happen," Freyja kicked a rock on the ground, "This world seems to hate me. I'll probably be dead soon."

  "Oh shut up," Crinnan rebuked the boy, "You may very well die soon if you keep talking to people like that. Nobody likes a whiny little bitch. You need to learn how to handle your life if you want to know how to live it. If you cannot live past your problems, then you are probably right. You will end up dying sooner than you should."