by T. S. Ryder
“I shall free you, lass, lest my rival’s lance pierce my breast,” she vowed in a whisper.
Of course, she had known little of family for some time now. She’d never known her father and her mother had never borne another child. The closest thing she’d had to a family after her mother had passed was the captain of the guard in a southern Grizlenzadian province and the stable owner of Rostlecastor, Flannigan.
“Many knights of the province of Rostlecastor have participated in this so grand of tourneys and now, we have come down to two final suitors. Sir IsekFlanory from the northern reaches of Grizlenzadi.”
A cheer erupted from the crowd as the fan favorite urged his horse into a canter down the tourney field and back around. Everything from his armored form to the molted mare he sat upon was smaller than Karina and her charger, to the point it was almost amusing.
“And, the nomadic renegade, known only as the Black Knight.”
Not a cheer was to be heard as Karina squeezed her knees together, wordlessly urging Tarron into a charging, powerful sprint. Indignant sounds met her ears and a few stones were hurled towards her, though none so much as glanced across her armor. She was used to such poor receptions as this, simply because she was unorthodox in the way she accepted winnings. The Black Knight was notorious for letting free a hand, rightfully won, for marriage and giving lands to serfs of the various provinces she’d jousted in.
Yet, she found her eyes drawn towards the riled crowd as she pulled Tarron to a halt. They’d once more reached their end of the field, and her eyes drifted towards the peasantry. Her green irises stayed locked onto the form pressed close to the field. The hooded figure stared at her with an intensity and rapture she’d never seen before.
The Duke had taken to his seat as Karina brooded over the stranger. Why did he stare? She shook her head impatiently. What did it matter? The same chill rolled down her spine as her soul all but split wide open under the golden gaze she was met with. It took all her willpower to look away again. The trumpeters had stood with their horns at their lips and should she continue her stare, she’d miss the fanfare signaling her charge.
Everything faded in the background, from the crowd to the stranger in the purple robes. There was a job at hand, a lady to set free. No distractions, merely Sir Isek, his mare, Tarron and her lance. Then, the trumpeters sounded the horns, signaling both Karina and Sir Isek to prepare to charge.
With a four-note fanfare, she kicked Tarron into a canter, her lance pointing high to the sky. It took mere seconds in real time, but to her, the entire world slowed. She seemed able to focus on every aspect of Sir Isek’s charge from the way his horse stumbled a step and a half before actually cantering forward, to the way he sat with his lance holding arm. His hold was too wide and his posture leaned too far to the right. It rendered his left shoulder almost fully exposed. That was her target.
She grinned as she leveled off her lance and struck the rival rider in the shoulder. The man was thrown backward from his saddle and onto the dusty ground while her lance splintered from the blow. Together with Tarron, they reached the other end of the tourney field and turned around to check on Sir Isek, who’d yet to move from where he lay sprawled on the ground. His horse, the skittish thing that it was, had raced away and was nowhere to be seen.
Angry shouts greeted her as Karina dismounted and walked over to her fallen rival. How hard had he fallen that he was still so dazed?
“You killed him!” a particularly hysterical woman shouted from the stands, but as Karina nudged Sir Isek with her armored boot, he gave a plaintive moan, but slowly sat up.
“I shall not ride again,” he croaked, shaking his head as he got up on unsteady legs.
Karina stared at him, surprised such a prestigious jouster would relinquish the tourney victory to her after a single pass. The trumpeters’ music once more filled the air as Sir Isek made a show of shaking his head, solidifying his forfeit.
The Duke didn’t look pleased in the slightest and his daughter Allyson looked even less so, as she had once more burst into tears. Yet, Karina made a show of approaching her despite her distress and the Duke’s obvious irritation. Slowly, she knelt on one knee. “M’Lady Allyson,” she began, forcing her voice deeper until it barely passed as masculine. “I have no desire to strip your honor from you by forcing you into wedlock. I grant you, as my prize, the freedom to do as your heart desires and not be trapped as a coveted possession.”
Briefly, Allyson’s tearful eyes stared straight through her helmet and locked her gaze on Karina’s own. A look of awed wonder crossed her features, but quickly her gaze broke as she offered Karina a deep bow.
“Sir Knight. You honor me with your chivalry,” she whispered as she stood once more. Dabbing at her eyes with an embroidered kerchief, she blew Karina a kiss before turning around to speak with her father.
It was only once Karina’s attention was freed that she felt the eyes of the stranger boring into her from behind.
Chapter Two
“I require your assistance, Sir Knight,” he spoke, hood covering all but his eyes. The strange, golden color of his irises was captivating and Karina felt as though the stranger could see straight to her very soul as he looked at her. Shivering, she turned away from him and snagged onto Tarron’s reins, refusing to speak.
Just because she was captivated and intrigued by the mysteries this stranger presented, didn’t mean she was willing to blow her cover as the Black Knight.
“Please.”
Apparently, the stranger wasn’t to be deterred so easily. She could hear his boots crunch as they fell against the dirt of the path as he followed behind her.
“I need your help. I speak truthfully. If I thought I could handle my own troubles, I wouldn’t be stooping to such levels as to beg,” the man said, still following Karina all the way out of the village and into the forest where her small, stone home sat, nestled among the trees.
He spoke strangely, as though his words were but riddles for her to unravel. She looked back over her shoulder at him, briefly, but as soon as she realized her actions, she jerked her gaze back forward with a soft spoken curse. Frustrated, Karina tied Tarron to the tree she used as a hitching post and she raised her armor’s helmet until her eyes were visible to the stranger.
“There are other jousters more suited,” she growled in as low and manly a voice she could muster. “If it is sport and tourney you want, consider me disinclined to participate.”
“You misunderstand,” the stranger said, his tone desperate as he lowered his hood. Long blonde hair, the longest Karina had ever seen, was tied in a bun on the back of the man’s head and a dangerous, proud air surrounded him. His golden eyes pulled her in, until she felt him searching her soul once more. Magic clung to this man and she couldn’t help but allow herself to be pulled into his eyes. Perhaps she could listen to him plead his case and see what it was he wanted.
“A man such as yourself, with the battle prowess to end a joust in one pass, must be something in the eye of true battle. The favor I ask is not to be taken lightly, but the payoff will be lavish and grand until you are decorated and free to live a life of leisure. Once you and I succeed, you will live more grandly than the Queen herself.”
This caught Karina’s attention. Rich living? Lavish clothing? Money to actually enjoy life? It all sounded so good. It sounded too good to ignore, assuming this strange, beautiful man spoke truth. Perhaps he was one of the few gifted with elven blood? Karina wondered.
“What is your favor?” she asked, sounding skeptical. “And, so as not to bind you with lies,” she began, tearing her helmet from her head to reveal her strong, but painfully feminine jaw. Copper curled hair fell down her back in a waterfall of ringlets. Her eyes were a bright, leaf green and they pierced him where he stood. “I am no man.”
The stranger, if he was startled by her femininity, showed little surprise, and merely nodded at the reveal. Clearly, he was an outlander, one where femininity was seen in equal l
ight as its masculine counterpart. The only thing that seemed to change was the sudden spark of interest that colored his golden gaze.
“Might you invite me in?” he asked, looking suddenly weary now that Karina had agreed to hear him. “I have traveled long and far to find a champion with such gift as you, Lady Knight.”
For a moment, Karina thought to reject him. She didn’t enjoy the thought of a stranger in her home. Yet, the man’s golden eyes were hard to refuse, especially when he seemed so genuine.
“I invite you, stranger,” she agreed slowly, moving to open the thick, wooden door to her home and ushering the stranger inside. “But know, should you try anything, I am not only trained in the arts of the lance, but the sword as well,” she threatened lightly with a wave of her hand as she gestured to the sheathed weapon that lay against the table. She’d keep within reach of it at all times, just to be sure she could guard against the man should she need to.
To her surprise, the golden-eyed man merely chuckled as he followed her in and gratefully sunk into a wooden chair at the table. He truly looked weary and exhausted, as though he’d been traveling on foot for a long time. A warm meal was in order for this man, whether she agreed to assist him with whatever this favor turned out to be.
“Fear not, Lady Knight. I have no desire to harm you.”
Karina didn’t look terribly convinced, but she didn’t say so and instead stoked the hearth with pine needles and kindling to get a fire started.
“Here Allow me,” the man said, once more getting up from his chair in order to move to her side. Slowly, he breathed out and a flame flickered to life at his lips, growing darker and darker until it was a purple-blue in color.
Within moments, a fire that would have taken her half an hour to build properly, was crackling merrily.
“Magic user,” Karina admired, respect in her gaze. She had sensed it on him before. This only served to confirm her suspicions. This man had even more to hide than she did and that made him all the more interesting. “Where do you come from, stranger? How have you learned to harness magic in such a way?”
The stranger merely snorted at the questions and shook his head. “Why don’t we begin with a form of introduction before I reveal my life’s story? All information will come to be known in time, Lady Knight.”
For a moment, Karina considered protesting. After all, he was the one who’d followed her home, practically invited himself in, and was requesting some unknown favor from her. Still, this stranger was different. There was a serious air about him that begged to be acknowledged and it made it easier to want to listen. For now, at least.
“I shall speak first,” she ended up relenting. “I am known in this province and all throughout Grizlenzadi, as the Black Knight. But at birth, I was Karina McLeed,” she said softly. Her name sounded weird in her ears. It had been too long since anyone, save Flannigan, had known her as such.
“My Lady Knight, Karina,” the stranger hummed, bowing his head respectfully. “I am, in your human tongue, called Carmichael Lorraed. In my native speech, I am called Caichmiorral,” Carmichael explained lightly, a sad smile playing at the corners of his lips.
The strange name Carmichael shared, his true name, left Karina’s head swimming, as though the word and name itself held true power. A power that belonged to the very earth itself rattled her brain. In an instant, she knew exactly who he was. She stood before the lost Dragon King.
“Caichmiorral as in...” but she changed her mind mid-question. “What are you?” she dared to challenge, her tone awed as his golden eyes pierced through her. She wanted to hear him say it out loud and to know he was truly what he claimed to be.
“Ah... This is why I need your help, Lady Karina,” Carmichael sighed. A sorrowful look glazed over his eyes and a single tear, like liquid gold, rolled down his cheek. “Lady Karina, I am a creature of the air and of the sea. Fire resides in my belly. A hunter, most intelligent and mighty, I am feared and admired by all. My beauty and grace know no rival...” he trailed off wistfully, a second golden tear rolling down his cheek.
“Your Queen is a witch who has robbed me of my real form. Of my true form! And she’s killed my unhatched children, as well as my mate!”
Karina listened to Carmichael’s lamentations, her heart growing heavier with each sentence he spoke. The dragon king truly stood before her, bound in his human guise, and it broke her heart to see such a majestic creature grieve so deeply.
“The witch Danasi has enslaved my brethren in tombs of rock, beneath lakes and inside volcanic mounds. She sentenced them to remain imprisoned until her death, wasting away in a dormant state as if dead or sleeping heavily. She’s crushed our eggs or stolen them. I escaped her at the height of her power, but even still, I was affected and enslaved in my own way. I am stuck for an eternity inside my human form unless her curse is broken with love or with death. For so long, I have thought there to be no hope and that no mere human could possibly captivate me so. I thought no human ever could stand chance at besting her, but word of your presence in the land reached me as if in a dream. I had to find you and ask, no... beg you for your assistance.”
“Dragon King, are you asking my permission to mate me?” she whispered finally, a flash of indignation in her gaze. “For I am not willing to sell my love to even one such as you. I am free to stand as my own person!”
Carmichael grimaced as he trailed her movements with his eyes. “I... am not certain that mating you is my intended course of action,” he admitted slowly, though upon finding her true gender, he’d certainly felt a spark of yearning lust, like fire, deep in the pit of his belly.
Briefly, Karina stared, a battle of incredulity and understanding in her eyes. “What, then, are your intentions, Dragon King?”
“Until learning of your femininity, my plan was but to have you help me defeat the Witch Queen with your telltale battle prowess, nothing more.”
“Still, you ponder now of mating me?” Karina asked suspiciously. As Carmichael struggled to answer, she narrowed her eyes. “I give to you my service, but hear this—I am not some piece of meat or finery to be forced into any form of courtship.”
Carmichael dipped his head in agreement, his golden irises locked onto her form. Such independence and grace clung to this human female, the likes of which he’d never seen. It was as though she somehow had dragon blood in her veins that gave her such dignity. “I accept your terms, Lady Knight.”
“Then I accept your quest, Dragon King,” she said, kneeling in a low bow that brought her down to a knee. “As long as your word is held, I am honored to have been sought out by such a creature and will do what I can to free your brothers and yourself.”
Carmichael chuckled deep in his chest and slowly reached out a hand to his chosen champion, waiting for her to take it as he helped her to stand once again.
“Lady Karina. I am the Dragon King Caichmiorral,” he confirmed. “But I deserve no such special treatment. Not now, not in this pitiful form. You are an equal. You are as equal as a human can be to a dragon. I am comfortable in my human form, but I long to reach for the heavens once more and spiral through the sky on wings of gold,” he sighed.
“Then we are agreed and now must return to town for supplies on this upcoming journey,” Karina said, as she slowly got up to her feet and extended a hand to Carmichael, much in the same way as he had to her. The Dragon King took her hand, his golden eyes sparkling gratefully as she led him back outside.
“Let’s leave at dawn,” Carmichael agreed as he allowed for Karina to pull him forward.
“Come,” she said, tugging him forward as she headed down the path back towards the village of Rostlecastor.
“Where are we going for the supplies you speak of, Lady Karina?” Carmichael asked as she led him up the worn path.
“If we are to make it to the Queen’s castle, you will need a horse. We shall go to Flannigan, the town’s breeder. Tarron is strong, but not strong enough to travel for days on end with two full
grown humans on his back,” Karina explained.
“A dragon riding a horse? Whoever heard such a thing!” Carmichael grumbled, an expression of pure disgust on his face.
Chapter Three
The village stables were familiar and smelled as stables do—of horse and dirt and manure. A row of stalls with five horses faced out toward the street and the portly faced stable owner sat napping against the hitching post.
Karina talked to this man, Flannigan, often and had even allowed him to breed Tarron with a few of his mares. At night of course and in the forest, lest Tarron be recognized as the Black Knight’s jousting steed. He was perhaps her only true friend and thus was the only one, other than Carmichael, who knew of her secret life as the Black Knight.
“Hail Flannigan!” she called out to him, a smile quirked at her lips as he jumped and peered over at her with first confused and then delighted eyes. He tottered up onto his feet and waved a pudgy hand with a wide grin.
“Hail! It’s been far longer than I’d like since you’ve come to see me, Karina!” he scolded lightly though he gave her a hug and pressed a kiss to both of her cheeks in greeting. “What a splendid joust! That Black Knight, freeing the Duke’s daughter and abandoning the field with a stranger! Such a bold move,” he hummed, winking at her as they walked back towards the stable.
“Flannigan, this meeting is not one for jest,” Karina explained, apologetically. “This is the same stranger. His name is Carmichael,” introduced Karina.
“Ah. So this is who you left the field with,” Flannigan whispered, his voice hushed as he looked from side to side, making sure not to be overheard. He knew very well that Karina enjoyed her secrecy as the Black Knight’s true identity.