Swan Knight's Son

by John C. Wright

Gil looked, but the blood was evaporating. On his hands and knees, wishing for brighter light, he saw one grassblade bent double with a red drop dangling from its tip. He wiped it onto his finger and then into his left eye. It stung.

  Gil ground the heel of his palm against his eye, yowling in pain. “What does this do again?”

  “By its virtue, your eye will pierce deceptions, and elfin glamours fail. Now, find that wolf you slew, for there is virtue in the first battle you fight, and this was all one. Go! You have yet to anoint your ears!”

  Gil stood, walked across the common green to the street, and crossed the empty street. The corpse of the vast beast was missing. Kneeling down, Gil could find only a small puddle, which had spread and seeped into the macadam. There was only the tiniest amount of blood left. He touched it to his finger and put one drop in one ear, then in the other. It stung and caused a humming noise for a moment. Then, he heard, or thought he heard, a strange, beautiful noise in the distance like crystal chimes ringing and receding.

  “This won’t damage my hearing, will it?” he asked the bird in annoyance, wincing at the hot, stinging sensation in his ear and wondering if that noise he heard were real.

  The cardinal said, “The songs of elfs and sirens have lost their power over you. You now will speak the truth, see the truth, and hear the truth.”

  “And what is that ringing noise? No, it is gone now.”

  “Was it pleasant or unpleasant?”

  “Very pleasant.”

  “That was the armor and harness of your guardian angel, who protected you during this battle, carrying your prayers to a high and hidden tabernacle in the stars, where there is an altar stone.”

  “I didn’t say any prayers.”

  “None?” said the cardinal in surprise. “The knights of Constantine prayed ere the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, as did those of John of Austria ere the Battle of Lepanto. Do you suppose knights of yore defeated the powers of the Night World without aid? When next you encounter battle, first be shriven, lest you die.”

  And with a flap of his bright red wings, the little bird flew off.

  The Christmas tree was burning rather brightly now, and Gil thought it was time to take his leave. He whistled for Ruff, who came trotting up, still lugging the shield behind him. “We won! We won! I helped! I helped! I ran off with the shield just like you wanted! Did you see me bite him? I bit him good!”

  Gil petted him fondly, shaking with fatigue, and hot with sweat. “Good boy!”

  “And I guarded the shield! Did you see that?”

  Gil said, “Is the mom still at the rest stop? I told her to wait, but she does not even know the baby was kidnapped.”

  Ruff said, “I think she knows now. Look!” For there were red and blue lights flashing and waving through the trees. Gil could see a police cruiser and a paramedic vehicle had pulled up to the rest stop.

  Gil grinned. “Let’s go give the mom her baby back!”

  And despite all his wounds and weariness, his step was light as he marched through the woods, baby in his arms, shield over his shoulder, and helm hanging from one side of his belt, sword from the other, and a white swan blazing on his chest.

  Chapter Eleven: Truth and Consequences

  As they walked, Ruff said, “Good job killing those Wild-Men-o’-Wood. But boy, are the Cobwebs going to have it out for you! Wow. You’re a dead man. I think you made a better bear than a knight. Whoa! What is that?”

  There was a crowd of curious onlookers gathered around the loading dock of the mini-mall. To one side were police officers. Gil heard the voice of the mother, shouting and screaming in agony and confusion.

  Gil stepped closer. The mother and a medic in white were bent over what looked to Gil like a giant turnip root lying on a pad on the open tailgate of the white vehicle. The medic was trying to give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to the inert root, but was only blowing raspberries against the upper knob of its gray and wrinkled skin.

  Closer, Gil heard her words. “That is not my baby! That is a vegetable!” Gil nodded, realizing that the price asked of Erlkoenig must have been granted. The baby’s family was immune to elfish illusions. That included the mother. “That is a vegetable! Where is my baby?”

  It was with immense satisfaction that Gil stepped forward from the trees and said in a loud, clear voice. “Here, ma’am. The baby is here. The baby is safe. I have her!”

  There was a shout from the onlookers, but it was not a shout of triumph, but of horror. Gil stepped forward to hand the baby to the mother. She rushed to him and snatched the baby fearfully out of his hands, giving him an odd look.

  As promised, the baby came awake in the mother’s arms and began keening and wailing.

  Gil then saw himself in the reflection caught in the window of the police cruiser. He had blood wiped all over his face, in his hair, and all over his hands. More blood, his own, was leaking down his shoulder and arm where his armor was rent. Pine needles were clinging to every part of him. His gear was sticky with sap, sweat, soot, and blood.

  And the light from the burning Christmas tree in the town square was visible through the woods behind him.

  The police officer said, “Son, can you tell me your name and explain why you took this baby?”

  Gil sighed and said in a sad voice, “No, officer, I cannot tell you my name. My mother told me not to. An elf stole the baby, not I. You must believe me!”

  The officer said soothingly, “I do. I am sure the judge will believe you, too. Now, I’d like you to come down to the station and make a statement. But first, would you please undo that sword, drop it to the ground, and kick it over to me?”

  “I cannot do that either; it would forswear me. Listen, sir: You should hear the truth in my voice from the blood of the woses in my mouth!”

  The officer stared at him. “Sorry? What was that about blood?”

  Gil explained, “I was fighting a monster. His is the blood in my mouth. The tree I burned too, but all is well. A little bird assured me that noble pine volunteered himself for the flames.”

  Later, alone in a jail cell in the North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation facility in Asheville, devoid of both sword and shoelaces, Gil wondered if perhaps he should have answered the policeman differently.

  ***

  Here ends SWAN KNIGHT’S SON

  Book One of The Green Knight’s Squire.

  A Tale of Moth & Cobweb

  continues in

  Book Two of The Green Knight’s Squire,

  FEAST OF THE ELFS

  Fiction

  Brings the Lightning by Peter Grant

  The Missionaries by Owen Stanley

  Loki's Child by Fenris Wulf

  Fantasy

  One Bright Star to Guide Them by John C. Wright

  The Book of Feasts & Seasons by John C. Wright

  Iron Chamber of Memory by John C. Wright

  Moth & Cobweb 1: Swan Knight's Son by John C. Wright

  Moth & Cobweb 2: Feast of the Elfs by John C. Wright

  Moth & Cobweb 3: Swan Knight's Sword by John C. Wright

  A Magic Broken by Vox Day

  A Throne of Bones by Vox Day

  The Wardog's Coin by Vox Day

  The Last Witchking by Vox Day

  Summa Elvetica: A Casuistry of the Elvish Controversy by Vox Day

  The Altar of Hate by Vox Day

  The War in Heaven by Theodore Beale

  The World in Shadow by Theodore Beale

  The Wrath of Angels by Theodore Beale

  Science Fiction

  Awake in the Night by John C. Wright

  Awake in the Night Land by John C. Wright

  City Beyond Time: Tales of the Fall of Metachronopolis by John C. Wright

  Somewhither by John C. Wright

  Back From the Dead by Rolf Nelson

  Big Boys Don't Cry by Tom Kratman

  Hyperspace Demons by Jonathan Moeller

  Mutiny in Space by Rod Walker

  Alien Game
by Rod Walker

  QUANTUM MORTIS A Man Disrupted by Steve Rzasa and Vox Day

  QUANTUM MORTIS Gravity Kills by Steve Rzasa and Vox Day

  QUANTUM MORTIS A Mind Programmed by Jeff Sutton, Jean Sutton, and Vox Day

  Victoria: A Novel of Fourth Generation War by Thomas Hobbes

  Military Science Fiction

  There Will Be War Vol. I ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. II ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. III ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. IV ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. V ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. IX ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. X ed. Jerry Pournelle

  Riding the Red Horse Vol. 1 ed. Tom Kratman and Vox Day

  Non-Fiction

  4th Generation Warfare Handbook by William S. Lind and LtCol Gregory A. Thiele, USMC

  A History of Strategy: From Sun Tzu to William S. Lind by Martin van Creveld

  Equality: The Impossible Quest by Martin van Creveld

  Four Generations of Modern War by William S. Lind

  On War: The Collected Columns of William S. Lind 2003-2009 by William S. Lind

  Transhuman and Subhuman: Essays on Science Fiction and Awful Truth by John C. Wright

  Astronomy and Astrophysics by Dr. Sarah Salviander

  Compost Everything: The Good Guide to Extreme Composting by David the Good

  Grow or Die: The Good Guide to Survival Gardening by David the Good

  SJWs Always Lie: Taking Down the Thought Police by Vox Day

  Cuckservative: How “Conservatives” Betrayed America by John Red Eagle and Vox Day

  On the Existence of Gods by Dominic Saltarelli and Vox Day

  On the Question of Free Trade by James D. Miller and Vox Day