The Black Knight Box Set

by Christian J Gilliland

  “We can rest soon,” Eryc assured her. He pursed his lips together and gently placed the palm of his hand on the side of her head, “I wish things were not like this. I wish we were on our way back to Cidroska right now… but that just, it is not how things are meant to be. We must get to the roof my lady; we need to start our new life.” Sarasin nodded in agreement and took a deep breath.

  “Right,” She said as she exhaled. She shifted her focus from worrying about her energy drain to getting up the stairs and hurried to join the others.

  “We will make it!” Eryc shouted as he followed behind her, forcing his legs to move. “We are almost there. One more flight to go.” The four of them hurried across the platform they stood on until they reached the foot of their final flight. They clamored up the steps with what energy they had left, and all of them stopped to catch their breath once they reached the door that led to the roof.

  “We are here!” Eryc declared between breaths. He proudly looked at each of the members of his team and smiled as he nodded at them, “Good job everyone, we are almost free.” He pushed up against the door, and the light from the brothers blinded them all. They shielded their eyes and hurried outside onto the roof.

  “We made it!” Quint shouted with a desperate laugh; he spun around in place with his arms extended and looked up at the Brothers above, “We…” He stopped, and his eyes grew wide, and his mouth went silent. He stared ahead, toward the other end of the roof and realized they were not alone.

  “A noble effort!” Prince Lazarus announced as he clapped his hands together and stepped toward them. He still wore his dark blue suit from earlier and held a rapier in his hand. His trademark smile was plastered on his face, and he brushed his hair back as he stepped forward.

  “What an amazing show of strength,” He declared, as he strutted toward Sarasin and her guard, “That you could best the might of the Govian Empire. The fact that you still stand is a testament to our power, a true display of raw Govian strength.”

  The wooden heels of his shiny brown leather shoes tapped against the concrete of the roof beneath him as he walked. It was all that Sarasin and her guard heard as they stood and faced the Imperial Prince and his guard. He elegantly held a cigarette between two fingers in his left hand and spun his rapier in his right as he walked.

  “To the top of the most magnificent structure in all of Redodra!” He proclaimed, tapping the hilt of the sword against his hip as he walked. He took a drag of his cigarette and flicked it toward Sarasin and her group, exhaling a plume of smoke in their direction, “What a feat indeed! When all of the city came down on you, you still managed to escape. I nearly regret having to kill you all.”

  Eryc stepped in front of Sarasin and pointed his sword at Lazarus. He knew his own NaNe abilities were no match for the Prince’s, but he also knew that he was the sworn protector of Lady Sarasin and he had to at least try.

  “Loyalty like yours is a hard thing to come by Captain,” Lazarus declared as he stepped closer, “Why, even in the face of imminent death you hold true to your vows. Perhaps I assigned you to the wrong Bishop General!” Eryc remained silent and held his ground. Lazarus merely cackled in response.

  “Gerard,” Quint whispered as he inched closer to his comrade, “Can we take ‘em?”

  “No,” Gerard grimly whispered back, “Not with those rifles.”

  “I still have a few SUPs,” Quint optimistically informed him, “Should I throw one?”

  “Wait,” Gerard instructed, gently easing his hand down his side. He grabbed a fragmentation grenade and stepped up alongside Eryc, keeping it held behind his back for Quint to grab, “Keep him talking.” He mumbled to Eryc.

  “My devotion has not been misplaced!” Eryc shouted, looking Lazarus square in the eye, “For once your judgment is not clouded.”

  Lazarus threw his head back and belted out a loud single-syllabled laugh. “Oh, the wit!” He delightedly called out, “The charm, Captain, the charm! You truly are the best of Govia.” Lazarus stopped and straightened his vest. “You three guards shall be commended for your devotion to your oaths. You stood by your Lady until her bitter end. Fortunately for you today is her end, and as the son of the Emperor, I hereby release you from your oaths. Join my guard, and no harm will come to any of you. This will be my only offer.”

  At that moment Quint painfully realized what it was that he had to do. He reached out and grabbed the grenade from Gerard and promptly armed and clipped it to his belt. Likewise, the boy armed the SUP and clipped it to the other side of his waist. He untucked his jerkin and allowed the fabric to fall over the grenades, hiding them from view. He gave Gerard’s shoulder a squeeze and walked around him. “Thank you for everything,” He solemnly whispered as he walked by.

  “My prince!” Quint shouted. He threw his sword to the ground and waved his raised hands, “Will you take me?” Lazarus grinned widely and beckoned Quint over.

  “You little shit!” Eryc roared as Quint walked by, “You are nothing but a traitor, you bring shame to your parent’s good name!” Quint remained silent despite the angry cries being hurled at him. He wished he could tell Eryc his master what he was about to do.

  Sarasin watched Quint with saddened eyes. He briefly turned and looked at her as he walked. She gave him a smile and a nod, for she did not blame him. She did not want any of them to die for her, and as he turned back away, she sighed. She felt a slight amount of strange happiness that at least he, the youngest and most vibrant of her guard, was going to live.

  Quint approached the prince of the Govian Empire and fell to a knee on the ground before him. He lowered his head and kept his arms at his sides. Lazarus stood silently and looked down at the young soldier for a moment.

  “A traitor to a traitor,” He grinned, looking back at his own guard with a gleeful look in his eyes. “Unfortunately, you see. You were never actually welcome. I only wanted Eryconius and the big one. We do not have any vacant positions for insignificant whelps like you.” Quint looked up at him fearfully, and Lazarus swiped his rapier at Quint, cutting his throat before he knew what was happening. “Especially traitorous whelps who flee at the first sign of danger.”

  Quint grabbed his throat and fell to his side as he gasped for air. He could feel his hot blood gushing out onto his hands and pooling beneath him. The feeling of his inevitable demise was heavy; it spread over him like a lead blanket which he could not escape. Lazarus stepped over his body and continued to draw nearer to what remained of Sarasin’s squad.

  “Not even loyal to the bitch he died for,” Lazarus tsked as he stepped toward Eryc. Despite the overwhelming feeling of defeat, Eryc stood tall with his head raised and sword at the ready.

  “We will not fall so easily,” Eryc cautioned, speaking through his teeth. To his left, Gerard readied his own blade and Sarasin walked around the right side of him. All three of them knew that they would not survive the encounter; Lazarus was too strong and too skilled. He had been around since the church turned into the Empire after the Messiah Wars. Regardless, they were intent on going down fighting.

  With what remained of his strength, Quint pushed himself up until he got to his feet. He felt dizzy and tired and was growing colder by the second, but he knew he had to finish what he set out to do. Fear was no longer a variable to him; he took a step toward Lazarus’ guard and was met with a bullet in his gut.

  “The little shit’s got a bit of life in him!” One of the guards laughed as he took aim with his rifle. Quint took another bullet, this time to his knee, and tumbled forward, landing on his wound. He clenched his teeth together in pain and began to crawl, dragging his injured leg behind him.

  The soldiers approached Quint and encircled him. He became the target of all their weapons and the thrust their blades in and out of him and howled as they did so. Quint gasped in pain and could feel his life quickly fading. He rolled onto his back and stared at the faces above him. They were faces he may have once called brothers, people he may have once died
for. Quint stared at them and scowled.

  “What do we do with this one your highness?” One of the guards shouted, “Shall we…” Quint reached down under his tunic and clenched each of the grenades he had armed earlier. He closed his eyes and smiled. The guards took notice of what he was doing but were barely able to get out a shout before both of the grenades detonated. The blast tore Quint’s body apart and ripped through Lazarus’ guard. Their bodies were tossed in all directions, some flew over the side of the building, while others landed nearby, screaming. Nothing, however, remained of Quint.

  “No,” Sarasin whispered as she witnessed the sacrifice of her youngest guard. Her heart sank into her stomach, for he had just given his life for hers, and even though she was in the midst of perhaps the most important fight of her life, she felt a sudden wave of depression come over her. She never wanted to see another person die for her again.

  Lazarus looked slightly over his shoulder and hummed. He returned his gaze to his three-armed enemies before him and took a quick step backward just in time to miss Eryc’s attack.

  “What a wonderful feeling it is,” He parried another blow from Eryc and sidestepped a mighty swipe from Gerard, “When the tables turn in your favor.” He somersaulted backward out of reach of Sarasin’s guard and what remained of his own hurried to join the fight.

  “Draw your swords!” Lazarus shouted at his four remaining guards, “The runt detonated a SUP!” Gerard and Eryc each took up a defensive stance and Sarasin stood behind them with her own rapier in hand. She turned her eye to the sky and wondered where the Black Knight transport was.

  “Kill them,” Lazarus ordered just as Sarasin saw the transport approaching in the distance. It was coming in fast, though Sarasin did not feel it was fast enough. She said a small prayer for Gerard and Eryc and waited.

  The four soldiers charged forward. Eryc looked at Gerard and then back to Lazarus’ guard and started to run toward them. Sarasin watched as Gerard, having found strength in spite of his wounds, followed behind Eryc.

  Sarasin kept a close eye on the transport which was flying straight towards them. She watched one of Lazarus’ men fall and saw his sword slide away from his dead hand. She looked across the roof at Lazarus and charged forward to join the others.

  Gerard cut through another of Lazarus’ men and leveled the battlefield. It was two on two, all four of them brandishing swords. Only the day before they had been comrades, brothers in arms… never again would that be true. They had become enemies, and each side was ready to rip the other’s throats out.

  “Stand down, children,” Eryc growled, “I could cut you both down before you knew what happened.”

  “No chance, old man,” One of them replied. He darted forward and swung his sword at Eryc. Eryc parried and stepped to the side. The soldier ran past Eryc, and he quickly rotated his sword and plunged it into the back of the soldier’s skull. The blade penetrated the bone and emerged through his face, and the Captain pulled it free, flinging blood and brain off the side of the tower.

  Sarasin passed by the smoking mess of gore and soot that once was Quint and took a deep breath. The young Elf had given his life for her… she had enjoyed the boy, enjoyed his youth and his humor. He wasn’t the first person that had died for her she thought, but hopefully, he would be the last.

  Eryc and Gerard both planted their swords in Lazarus’ final guard, and as he fell dead, they turned toward their former prince.

  “You’ve lost Lazarus!” Sarasin shouted as she arrived at her protector’s sides, “Give up!”

  Lazarus stood and silently lit another cigarette. He took a drag and exhaled a brilliant cloud of smoke in their direction. He stared at the trio and smiled.

  “Behind you!” Little Sarasin shouted as she suddenly appeared in front of Sarasin. Sarasin quickly turned around just in time to watch the door they had initially come through burst open. Quickly, Gerard threw another SUP at the door, and as the squad of Govian soldiers poured onto the roof, they were forced to drop their rifles and draw their swords.

  “I do not lose,” Lazarus gushed as he walked forward, “I am the son of Emperor Govia Cidro, the grandson of Dura’Ana herself, you think you could ever come close to defeating me? I have the might of my father’s empire at my disposal!”

  The Black Knight transport was nearly on them. Eryc looked at the flyer and back to Sarasin and then finally to Gerard.

  “You two, the transport is here!” Eryc shouted as he reached out and squeezed Gerard’s non-injured shoulder, “Sarasin, go live your life. Find happiness, do not let my death be in vain… Gerard, it has been an honor, my friend. Always serve and protect our lady!” At that, Eryc clenched his sword and charged toward the soldiers.

  “Fuck!” Gerard growled. A tear formed in his eye and he wrapped one of his massive arms around Sarasin’s waist. He heaved her up off the ground and ran toward the edge of Dauid’s tower.

  Sarasin could not move. She watched and wept as Eryc leaped into his final fight, thrusting his sword through the chest of one of the soldiers. As he pulled the sword free, the rest of them surrounded him and began stabbing their own weapons into his body.

  “Go!” He screamed, “Live!”

  Gerard tossed Sarasin into the open hatch of the Black Knight HAPT and briefly looked back at Eryc. He growled as he watched his friend fall and then hurried into the HAPT himself. As the vehicle quickly ascended, the two looked down at Lazarus who could only flick his cigarette away and silently turn toward the door into Dauid’s Tower behind him.

  “Sayraa Jamiso,” one of the Black Knights said to her. She had forgotten such a name existed. She looked to the Lycaani knight to see that he had his rifle trained on her.

  “I am Centurion Pancho Lopaaz, a friend of your brother’s,” he said with a thick eastern accent, “You are safe with me; however, you are being detained. Do you resist?”

  “No…” Sarasin replied, looking down at her lap, “I am prepared to face your Commander.”

  “You needn’t worry of him,” Pancho laughed, “You should be more concerned to face your aunt, Emerald Fyres. Please, give me your hands,” He looked to Gerard, “You too big guy.”

  Sarasin and Gerard presented their wrists, and Pancho placed a set of cuffs on each of them. “It is a long ride; we will stop tonight somewhere in the wastes. I look forward to getting to know you.” He smiled another sharp-toothed smile and sat down, resting his rifle against the wall next to him.

  “Get some rest in the meantime,” He said, “You look like you need it.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ema’as I

  23rd of Ramlia - 346AG

  08:00 - Canruusi Wastes

  The truck bounced and sputtered as it traversed the dry and rocky wasteland that was the vast plains of Canrom. The once lush green sea of grass would ripple in the wind that blew in from the infinite horizon sending waves of brilliant emerald in all directions. That was no more. The world around them had died, the WMDs that had fallen from the sky so many years ago had left naught but dust and rock in its wake. Fortunately for Ema’as and Yarik, that was all they knew.

  “How long have we been driving?” Ema’as asked as her eyes opened. She looked out the windshield to find that nothing had changed. It seemed like the suns had only recently risen; apparently Yarik had driven through the night. She looked over at him, and he licked his fangs and smirked.

  “I don’t know,” He groaned as he thought of the food in the back, “The pain is setting in though, the Thirst is coming back. I need to feed soon.”

  “How much of him is left?” The Vampress asked as she rested her head on the window to her right. “Will we need to find more food soon?”

  “Not much and yes,” Yarik replied. He groaned at the thought of having to hunt, “Though I haven’t seen a warm body since we left. We will have to make do with the last of the guard.”

  Ema’as whimpered and clenched her fists. She too was beginning to feel the effects of the Thirst r
eturning. Her muscles were aching, and her mouth was parched. She could feel a hunger migraine coming on, and it made her grumpy.

  “I have to eat,” She finally said, “Before I go crazy again.”

  “We will stop soon,” Yarik promised, not moving his eyes. She snarled at him, and the truck bounced, worsening her pain.

  “Where are we even going?” She impatiently asked, annoyed with the pain and boredom, “I doubt we have much fuel left…”

  “Don’t fucking worry about the fuel,” Yarik snapped, he was clearly getting grumpy as well, “We are heading West, I am trying to get us to North Barus. There are High Vampre there; people we can join who know what they are doing.”

  “Why the fuck would they want us?” Ema’as looked at him, and he shrugged, “We are as weak as they come.”

  “We aren’t,” Yarik sighed and rolled his eyes, “Just shut up will ya?” The sunslight shone through the windshield and hit him in the face. He hissed and jerked the wheel, slamming on the brakes as he did so. The truck spun ninety degrees, and the sunslight hit Ema’as. They felt a sudden jerk, and both bounced up out of their seats. As they landed, she squealed with pain and crawled over toward Yarik’s side of the truck.

  “Drive asshole!” She shouted, pounding on his chest, “Get this light off of me!”

  “Get your ass off of me first!” He hissed, throwing her back to her own side of the cabin. He pushed on the gas and truck’s wheels spun, but they did not move.

  “Fuck!” He barked, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He slammed his fists on the steering wheel and looked to his companion.

  “We are stuck,” He growled angrily, “No thanks to you!”

  “Not my fault,” She yapped back, “You’re the one driving you moron.”

  Yarik bared his fangs and threw his door open. “We have to get in the back. We have to get out of the light, or it will cook us alive within an hour.”

  “Great!” Ema’as moaned, “Fucking stuck in the back of a truck with your dumb, ugly ass.” Yarik’s eyes narrowed, and he snarled again, his lips trembling as he did so. He wanted to reach out and rip her throat out, but he resisted and jumped outside into the blazing light. Ema’as quickly joined him.