“Yes.”
“I am sorry she had to see that. This whole story fills in around all the small pieces I have learned from the people who have recently died. Part of me worries about the scope. Now, what happened in Halvard?”
“Not far from the city, Mikha’el and I were separated from Morion. The trees themselves blocked our way, bursting forth to try and restrain us. When we attained freedom, we only found a broken and shattered house.”
“Edna’s. Morion’s home outside the castle.”
“I instructed Mikha’el to fly overhead while I assaulted the city. I came across only minimal resistance and quickly found Morion in the throne room, along with Edna and Amelia, acting as Lucius’ personal guard. Lucius revealed to Morion that he and I were brothers just to spite me, and on top of it kept making allusions to Amelia and myself to Morion, though of course your daughter did not have the vaguest clue what he was actually saying. We dueled before being interrupted by Hector.”
“How could that pathetic wretch get the two of you to stop?”
“Having a blade to Morion’s throat while Amelia was watching on was enough to get me to stop. Lucius stopped simply because I had.”
“Hector... I should have killed him myself when Gallahad died,” Gawain says to himself with a low snarl.
“Hector thought he had the upper hand. I offered up myself in exchange for Morion. Hector thought it was a joke, but Mikha’el came down, sword drawn and then Edna became Morrigan, who was - ”
“The Ice Fairy from Judeheim?”
“Very well... how did you know that one?”
“Who do you think I first met after I died? Morrigan explained that she had been masquerading as ‘Edna’ for an extremely long time, moving me in line with what Eoin was doing. I was upset at first to learn this, but in retrospect, it makes sense. Again, I do not blame you for never telling me.”
Alastor smiles appreciatively before continuing.
“The best part was that Morrigan had convinced Amelia to aid us, and she was then the one holding a blade to Hector.”
“I always knew I liked that girl, even though I never met her.”
“All appeared to be going so well... until I was struck down.”
Gawain now is the one that struggles.
“Knowing what I know now, I find it extremely hard to accept that you could be killed. I thought the bracers prevented that?”
“That is the problem. I am not dead... not entirely.”
“What!?”
“Waking up here, in Cain’s prison, Lucius explained that he poisoned me in such a way as to keep my body in an endless cycle of death and rebirth.”
“How is that possible?”
Alastor raises his arms, showing Gawain the bracers. Gawain coming to understand their meaning.
“Lucius figured out that I was wearing them. He talked about how ‘what is wrought by Samael is his’ and that since he served Samael, he had the ability to trap me here, since I wore these.”
Gawain’s eyes become very cunning and introspective.
“What reason did Lucius give for bringing you here, Alastor?”
“To unlock Cain’s bindings. Apparently, they exist in both realms at the same time. He needed a ‘key’ that could do the same.”
Gawain stands, his mind racing. He paces as the pieces start to fall into place.
“Alastor, I do believe I know now why you were allowed to be brought here ahead of schedule.”
“Ahead of schedule?”
“Yes.”
“Pray tell.”
“When I died, Morrigan led me to what you would call heaven, and the first thing I did was look for someone. Unable to find this person, I spoke with God himself. There, in His presence, I was told of what is to come, and my place in it. I begged to be allowed to search among the dishonored not only for those who might aid Him, but for my friend, whom I believed far better suited to the times ahead than myself.” Gawain stops, turning to Alastor slowly, methodically continuing. “Do you know of whom I speak?”
Alastor, watching Gawain with a sharp eye sees in Gawain’s face almost too clearly the answer.
“You came here, gave up paradise, to find my father?”
“Yes. I have even mustered an army to aid me in this task, which you saw but a portion, yet... Eoin is nowhere to be found.”
Alastor falls away from Gawain, his body going slack, panic gripping his heart of hearts. An imagined smell filling his nostrils.
“I know what you are saying now. You cannot find father, because he was never here to begin with.”
“No one of your blood is, Alastor, not as long as the curse brought upon it by Cain lives on. I only recently learned this. I had hoped to find a way to him, but I am unable to make the descent.”
“But I can.”
Gawain nods apologetically.
“Eoin was a far better man than I. The very thought of him being in that place... I cannot endure it.”
“I know. That thought has haunted me since his murder.”
“Alastor, I will not ask you to do this.”
“You know you would not need to ask me, Gawain.”
“So, you will...?”
Alastor looks deep into his soul, making sure that its answer is the same which his mind has come to. Regretfully, it is.
“I shall descend into the fiery abyss of the Madness and free my father.”
Chapter Fifteen
Reunited
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Amy and Morion walk over yet another hill. A smile passes on the Queen’s face as she comes to realize where they are. It fades away in roughly the same moment.
“This is the city where we first met,” Morion says.
“But then Lucius had it destroyed,” Amy softly adds.
“Why did he do that? Alastor told me what he thought, but I want to hear from you why the Necromancer did it.”
“You do not want to know.”
“I need to know, whether I want to or not.”
“He thought it would be amusing to hurt you and Alastor. He revels in causing that sort of pain. It was why he sent me in the first place.”
“The monster...” seethes Morion.
They walk through the ruins, both mournfully. For Morion, the buildings constantly fade between the two versions she saw. One moment they are burned out husks, the next they are back to normal.
“Are you seeing what I am seeing Amy?”
“Yes. You want the city to be as it was, but it is at odds with what those who died here saw.”
“That is why I saw the black castle collapsed one moment, and then whole?”
“Probably.”
“That would mean someone who saw the castle whole wants it to remain?”
“Yes.”
“I see.”
The woodcutter town is quiet, as every place they have walked through has been. The lack of wind or sound increases the feeling of dread. Amy and Morion wander the streets, looking for some sign of life, or unlife, as the situation might deem. Coming to the tavern, Morion is brought to a halt.
“Morion? What is it?”
Morion does not speak, but her unmoving gaze is all Amy needs. From within the tavern, orbs of light like eyes can be seen carefully watching the two women.
A shriek breaks the stifling silence.
Creatures more hideous than any seen yet spring forth from all directions, their hissing and gurgling growls filling the city. Amy and Morion summon their weapons, defending themselves against the snare. It does not take long for it to become apparent that the creatures are not there for them both. The foul things only notice Morion, and they attack her with relentless tenacity. Amy does her best to aid Morion, but it is practically in vain; Morion has found an inner wellspring of strength, fending off her attackers with such ease and savagery that Amy is reminded of watching Alastor.
Morion moves swiftly and decisively, almost feeling where the next attack will come from. The y
oung Queen dodges attacks while viciously counter attacking, letting out snarls of anger and irritation. The fight moves along the city’s main street, creatures continuing to pour forth from the buildings.
Amy forces herself into the fray, felling one foe after another and finally earning her the attention of the monsters.
With each creature Morion sends back to the black pit of the void, her weapon changes, grows, eventually looking similar to Alastor’s own claymore, but it does not change her ability to fight. If anything, it increases her lethality. Her mind begins to wander, her attention drawn elsewhere, yet she remains all but invincible.
A sadness falls on her like a veil, and she recalls Alastor, in the catacombs of Judeheim, the description he gave of that battle, the sensations he felt. The very same sensations she now feels. What this means, Morion cannot grasp. She simply defends herself.
The battle grows at a perpetual rate.
Morion and Amy defeat the creatures as fast as they appear, causing their rage to increase, which in reciprocation causes more creatures to ooze from every shadow and every crack with evil intent. Neither side has any desire for this to end, but at that moment a single voice cries out, bringing all to an instantaneous halt.
Morion and Amy set their attention skyward, seeing there a winged woman, like one of Mikha’el’s race, wearing beautiful golden armor. Four more such women fly with her, two to each side, all wearing silver armor. In their hands they all wield fierce looking spears. The creatures grimace and howl at these winged women before scurrying away into the darkened corners of the buildings and into the trees. The soldier in gold catches sight of Amy, not hesitating to swoop down in an attempt to attack her. Morion dashes to Amy’s aid, catching the soldier’s spear on her blade.
“Stand down!” the soldier demands. “This is one of them!”
“She is not!” declares Morion. “She is my guide here. And my friend.”
The soldier backs off, carefully examining the two women with confusion on her face.
“You are not dead. Either of you...”
“Well, I was dead at one time,” Amy chortles.
“You. You are one of Lucius’ lieutenants, are you not?” the soldier asks sharply.
“Not any more. My alliance rests alone with the one she seeks,” Amy answers, gesturing to Morion. “None other in all of creation can claim it.”
The gold clad soldier faces her compatriots briefly, then looks back to Morion. Morion’s heart still races, the sword in her hand remaining. The Queen stares down the soldiers, woeful of heart and wary of soul. The face of the gold clad soldier changes a bit as she looks into Morion’s eyes.
“You are looking for Alastor, are you not?” the soldier asks in a gentle tone.
“I am,” Morion answers as emotionless as possible.
The silver clad soldiers look for some sign of deceit in Morion, but the one in gold becomes almost compassionate.
“You are Morion, daughter of Gawain?”
Both Amy and Morion are somewhat dumbstruck.
“How could you have known that?”
“Lucky guess, based on a description given to me.”
“Who here could have possibly given you such a description?”
“I think it best for us to leave this place before continuing this conversation.”
“Why?”
“This territory has become the spawning grounds for creatures such as the ones you just faced.”
“Where is there to go? And, more importantly, who are you?” Amy sternly asks.
The golden soldier gestures to those in silver, sending them away.
“I am Rachel, general of the forces of Valkyr.”
“Valkyr?”
“The Holy Refuge, for those dishonored who have repented of their sins.”
Morion looks to Amy, Amy has become crestfallen and removed, stunned and confused all at once at this claim.
“How can a holy place exist here?” Morion meekly asks on Amy’s behalf.
“There was a man of the highest order of honor that spoke on behalf of the dishonored to God himself. God found wisdom in the man’s words and set up Valkyr.”
“Will you take us there?”asks Amy, her heart downcast, eyes focusing on nothing, but still aware of the mission at hand.
“I shall.”
Morion and Amy allow their weapons to vanish. Rachel smiles then motions for the two women to follow her. She leads them north, leaving the forsaken city behind. Rachel guides Amy and Morion along paths neither has ever traversed. The Queen watches as Rachel folds her wings over her armor, forming that natural cloak that their race has been gifted with. She is reminded bitterly of Mikha’el, and thinks on how much she wishes he was with her in this wretched place. Morion turns to Amy, finding her still depressed.
“Amy? What is bothering you?”
“I think... maybe I made a mistake in coming here.”
“But, without you, I could not have come here.”
“I know, and understand that I wanted to come here just as much as you did, but that does not stop me from feeling like I did something very, very wrong.”
Rachel looks over her shoulder, but says nothing.
“Is Alastor in Valkyr?” Morion asks Rachel.
“I am not sure. He should be by now.”
“You mean to say that you do not know where he is?”
“Last I heard, he was in Halvard. I was on my way to help, but I then received orders to search for anything or anyone out of the ordinary.”
“Halvard? So he was still there?”
“Yes and no. From what I understand, Lucius was keeping him bound in Cain’s prison.”
“Cain’s prison?”
“Yes.”
Morion recalls her dream from the night before, Rachel unknowingly confirming the location of that chamber she was in. The chamber that held Cain within a coffin of metal.
“Why is his prison under my castle?” Morion asks angrily of no one in particular.
“A question best asked of someone else, My Lady,” Rachel answers dryly.
~-~~-~
Alastor steps to the shrine at the far end of the temple. It is little more than a table made of gold, and on both sides flanked by silver lamp stands.
“Alastor, what you are about to do, no one has ever done and it should not be taken lightly. If you need more time to prepare, time is the one luxury we have in ample supply while you are here. As much as I wish to have the aid of my friend, I will not risk his son, who has become like my own.”
The Knight stares unblinking at the golden table, the symbol of sacrifice.
“This very moment has long been in my heart and mind. Morrigan has known this day would come, and she has tried to prepare me for it... only now can I see that. I will descend, and I shall liberate Eoin, my father, the best our family blood has ever known.”
Gawain stands beside Alastor, reflecting.
“Then the choice is made, but so much has happened in so little a time. Rest for a while, please, for as real a dream or vision might feel, it will pale in comparison to the real thing.”
“Of that, I have little doubt.”
Gawain takes Alastor out of the temple. The soldiers have dispersed, going about their duties, sitting in prayer, studying or talking amongst themselves.
“Funny, is it not?” Gawain remarks with a smile.
“I fail to see what you mean.”
“Not even death has kept either of us from engaging in yet another little adventure. Men like us, we are raised to believe that death is an ending. We do as much as we can while alive to be remembered. To help others. To right wrongs. To leave a legacy. In reality, life was little more than a sparring session for the true battle yet to be fought.”
“It has to end eventually. Surely good and evil cannot simply go on for all eternity?”
“That is what all this is, Alastor... a means to an ending, as it were.”
A stirring moves through the people. R
ushed words, pointing and running. Alastor and Gawain stop walking, unsure of what has happened. Up in the air, four armored soldiers are seen flying into the city. They land before Gawain.
“Where is Rachel?” Gawain asks as he looks over the four.
“She is coming,” one of the winged females answers, “and she brings with her two others: Lady Morion and her guide.”
Gawain turns to Alastor, confused, but Alastor keeps his eyes on the winged soldier.
“Morrigan is here?” Alastor asks.
“No, sir,” she replies. “The guide looked like a Lucian lieutenant, yet her heart was innocent, I believe.”
Gawain’s heart slinks away from him as the dark of sadness overtakes.
“She has died... I failed utterly.”
“Archgeneral,” the soldier speaks up, “Lady Morion is not dead. She is here, very much mortal.”
“Are you certain?” responds Gawain.
“There was no question, Archgeneral.”
“How long until they arrive?”
“We had stayed just out of eyeshot, as per Rachel’s orders to watch for enemies. They should arrive momentarily, sir.”
Gawain nods and dismisses the four with a look of gratefulness. He glances back to Alastor both heartened and dismayed.
“First you, now Amelia and Morion, and still alive on top of it all. Lucius’ meddling with this realm is weakening it. Why Samael would allow this, I cannot fathom.”
“Since when would Samael care about the natural order?” asks Alastor.
“When that order is actually in his favor. This realm is for the dishonored, which was the sole domain of Samael until the foundation of Valkyr.”
“Maybe it is Valkyr itself that has Samael using such desperate measures.”
A shout rings out from the direction of the gates. Gawain sets his helmet back on, and the two men go to investigate.
~-~~-~
Rachel stands inside Valkyr, beside the open gates, but Morion and Amy are outside; the two keepers barring the way, their scythes crossed.
“She is my guide!” Morion shouts. “My friend! I told you this already!”
Gawain walks up to Rachel authoritatively. Alastor remains behind Gawain, trying to stay out of sight.
“What is this?” the Archgeneral asks gruffly, trying to mask his voice.
“They will not allow the other one to pass,” Rachel answers the Archgeneral.
“Their kind is not permitted here,” both keepers respond. “She belongs to the enemy.”
“But she has recanted, abandoned Lucius!” Morion argues.
“One can never recant their blood, child. You would do well to remember this.”
The Black Knight Page 29