Kingdom's Call

by Chuck Black

  Gavin’s analysis proved to be true. The village people were quite willing to reveal the Followers, especially when their families were threatened. Within a short time the knights had gathered another thirty Followers for the prisons of Chessington. There was an occasional fight, but the Noble Knights prevailed in every instance. The captives’ hands were bound one to another, and they began their march back to Chessington in the misery of a cold drizzling rain. Gavin was satisfied that the Followers’ haven in Cartelbrook had been eradicated.

  On the journey home, not far out of Cartelbrook, Gavin led the procession by a farm that was set off the road a fair distance. The house was barely visible through a row of trees that bordered the property.

  As they passed, Gavin heard a faint scream and looked toward the farm. An older girl, perhaps a young woman, was running frantically across the field toward the procession of knights and prisoners. She was barefoot and constantly looked behind her as if some horrid beast was about to pounce upon her. Although the rain had now stopped, the ground was wet and muddy. Midway across the field, the girl tripped and fell just as the source of her fear broke through the trees behind her. Two men on horseback pursued the lass at full gallop. The girl screamed hysterically and rose up to continue her flight. Her face, arms, and the front of her dress were covered in mud.

  Gavin halted his procession and wondered at the scene unfolding before him. The girl was nearly to Gavin and his men, and the men on horseback were close behind.

  “Help me, please—help me!” the girl screamed.

  Her eyes were wild with panic. She did not hesitate as she ran straight to him and clutched onto his leg. Triumph spooked slightly, and Gavin tried to settle both his steed and the girl. He looked at the approaching riders, who had slowed their pace since the girl had reached the knights.

  As the distance between them closed, Gavin became aware of their daunting size and the manner in which they were arrayed. There was a dark and ominous look about them that he had never seen before. Their horses were large black warhorses that seemed to carry the load of these huge men with ease. The men wore strange armor with broad straps of leather that crossed their breastplates and partly masked an emblem Gavin had never seen. He noticed that the pommel of their swords bore the same mark. Gavin immediately recognized the long handles of the swords still within their scabbards. They were sinister-looking weapons with extra edges that protruded forward from the hilt and base of the blade. Gavin did not wonder any longer at the fear that obviously gripped the girl.

  “Please, sir, don’t let them take me!” she pleaded again. Tears streamed down her face.

  “Why are they after you?” he asked.

  The horsemen were nearly upon them, and the girl spoke quickly. “My father owes them money, but when they came to collect, he could not pay.” She began to sob. “They have killed my parents and are taking my brothers and my sister to sell as slaves. Please help us … please!” She clutched Gavin’s thigh and tried to hide behind his leg as the massive warriors approached.

  The men slowed their steeds to a halt just a few feet from Gavin. He felt small in their presence. They stared at him with disdain and then at the girl beside him.

  “What is your business, sirs?” Gavin asked.

  The two men did not reply. One of the men moved his horse a few strides off to the right, apparently to get a better look at the knights. Gavin watched the man closely, and he could feel Triumph’s hide twitching beneath him. Even Triumph seemed to feel the tension created by these brutes.

  Gavin stared into the eyes of the man before him, but his gaze was unnerving. Of all the marauders and powerful men of war he had fought against, he had never seen such daunting warriors as these. He had heard the legends of the existence of such men but considered himself too intelligent ever to believe them.

  “It looks like we are in the same business.” The warrior spoke in a deep raspy voice.

  “These are not slaves; they are criminals,” Gavin replied.

  “So I’ve heard,” the man said and smiled wickedly at the other warrior. “Chains will suit them well,” he said wryly. “Give us the girl, and you can be on your way.”

  “Please … please … no …” The girl whispered to Gavin.

  “Where are you from and what is your business with the girl?” Gavin asked.

  The other man had rejoined his partner. Both men stared fiercely at Gavin.

  “That is not your concern,” the leader said. “It would be well for you to do as I say, or your ride to Chessington will end here!”

  The other warrior’s hand came to rest on his sword. Gavin was amazed at their arrogance, for he commanded a force of fifteen brave knights and there were only two of them. However, he could not deny a sense of insignificance both in stature and in force. He wondered if perhaps more warriors were waiting in the trees. As the tension mounted, he remembered Kifus’s words of warning and his responsibility. Additionally, he was in no position to battle any sizable force with his prisoners under guard. If he chose to fight, he could very well lose not only some of his prisoners, but also the lives of some of his men.

  “I am bound by the Code to protect the citizens of Chessington.” He looked down at the pleading eyes of the girl momentarily, and he felt even smaller. “The affairs of Outdwellers are not the affairs of the Noble Knights,” he said and turned his eyes away from the girl.

  One of the warriors dismounted and walked toward the girl. She screamed and clutched Gavin’s leg, pleading all the while. Triumph turned his head toward the girl as if to shelter her. Something was wrong and Gavin felt sick. Fear, duty, humiliation, and responsibility pulled his heart in all different directions as the dark warrior grabbed one of the girl’s arms and ripped her away from Gavin’s leg.

  “No!” she screamed, reaching for something—someone—to grab on to.

  The warrior dragged her to his horse and threw her onto the front of his saddle facedown. He mounted behind her and turned back toward the farm. The other warrior lingered a moment, again seeming to evaluate Gavin. He smiled in a way that gave Gavin chills, then turned to follow his companion back to the farm.

  Gavin resumed their march to Chessington.

  “Who were they?” one of the knights riding next to Gavin asked.

  Gavin only shook his head. He did not speak the rest of the journey home, for he could not overcome the sickening feeling that emanated from the pit of his stomach and filled his whole body and spirit with sorrow. All that had once made him a proud and gallant knight seemed to be vanishing. He blamed the Followers for destroying his life, for all the evil that had befallen him.

  The dark clouds above released another load of rain upon them as they rode, and Gavin ached for peace in his heart … a peace that now seemed so elusive.

  That evening, Leisel came to Gavin and soothed his tormented heart with soft words of assurance and a gentle touch upon his arm. But every time he closed his eyes, the desperate, dirty face of a peasant girl was pleading with him to save her. He looked for the temporary peace that sleep usually held, but even his dreams refused to give him solace.

  DARK STEEL

  Gavin continued to pursue the Followers like a prowling lion, and his methods became more harsh with each passing week. In his quiet moments, however, the seed of doubt grew. The more it grew and plagued his mind, so grew the fierceness of his persecution of the Followers. The sheer momentum of his actions would not allow a different course now, and his crusade to exterminate every Follower turned into an obsession. They feared Gavin more than any other knight, even Bremrick. It was a passion that overwhelmed him, yet with each step the gnawing teeth of doubt tore at his heart. His sleep became filled with restless fits of fragmented visions … visions of a man hanging on a tree and of a peasant being pierced by the swords of enraged men.

  Gavin’s visits to the Chamber of the Code no longer brought him peace as they once had. But he could not—would not—turn aside from what he knew to be right, for
he was Sir Gavin, defender of the Code, servant of the King, and judge of the traitorous Followers. He believed that his peace lay at the end of his successful crusade to eliminate the memory of the imposter and his Followers from Chessington.

  On this day, Gavin was leading an entourage of Noble Knights out of Chessington to the east toward Denrith, another haven for the Followers. The journey would take most of the day, and he hoped to arrive before nightfall. At midday, Gavin halted his men in the shade of some towering trees that seemed to stand guard over a small forest ahead. It was a welcome reprieve from the humid heat of the day.

  “Sir Hanan, dismount the men. I will survey the road ahead,” Gavin commanded.

  “Yes sir.”

  Gavin galloped ahead into the beauty of an intriguing forest. After a few moments, he slowed his steed to a trot and finally to a walk. The air was much cooler here, and Gavin felt the burden of his task lift slightly as he enjoyed the splendor of vibrant forest flowers, the smell of evergreens, and the lilting sound of a brook not far off. The main road pressed on through the forest directly ahead, but a less traveled path diverted to the left, and Gavin assumed it ended at the brook he heard. It was a peaceful invitation away from the drudgery of a long journey. Triumph instinctively followed the path toward the water, and Gavin allowed the diversion.

  Within a short time, he arrived in a clearing at the brook and dismounted to allow his horse time to quench his thirst. Gavin did the same, for the water was cool and refreshing.

  A moment later, Triumph became startled and Gavin instantly felt the tension in the horse. He grabbed the reins to keep the animal from bolting.

  “Easy, Triumph,” he said to calm the animal, but the horse’s fear only intensified. Gavin looked about and saw nothing unusual, but he thought it best to mount and vacate the area for Triumph’s sake. As he did so, his steed turned to face the north, and Gavin could not seat his foot in the stirrup.

  “What’s wrong with you, Triumph?” He was becoming agitated once again with the horse. “Keep this up and you’ll be pulling a plowshare. Now settle down!”

  He pulled hard on the reins and grabbed the saddle. As he placed a foot in the stirrup, the steed reared up. Gavin was thrown clear of the frightened animal and landed a few paces to the side. Triumph bolted back up the path, leaving Gavin bruised and angry.

  I am through with that horse! Gavin thought. He would find a new mount by week’s end.

  Gavin stood and was thankful for no broken bones, for it was a violent throw. In an instant, however, he realized the source of fear that his steed had perceived. Five fierce-looking warriors broke through the forest wall into the clearing, riding massive warhorses. He had seen their like only once before in his life, on the road from Cartelbrook.

  Gavin was in awe once again at their size and form. He became overwhelmed with dread. The massive black steeds were not too large for their riders. They approached Gavin with an air of authority, power, and arrogance. One of the men walked his horse straight to Gavin and stopped just short of overrunning him. Gavin did not dare back away lest he show his mounting fear. The hot breath of the knight’s beast permeated the surrounding air, and Gavin was forced backward one step as the animal shook his head up and down near Gavin’s face. The other riders slowly moved to flank their leader.

  Gavin knew that these men were not mere thieves or marauders. There was something distinctly unnatural and evil about them.

  “What have we stumbled upon here?” the man asked with a wry grin. His voice was raspy and deep. There was not a hint of relief in this picture of evil that stood before Gavin.

  “Perhaps a frightened forest squirrel, eh, Sir Devinoux?” replied one of the men with a guttural laugh.

  Gavin wanted desperately to draw his sword for some security, but he was sure the action would bring death, so he stayed his hand. He needed to discover their intention before he succumbed to his instinct to fight these brutes.

  “No, Sir Vicis, this is not a forest squirrel.” The leader’s face showed a moment of enlightenment. “This one I know. He does the bidding of our commander. This is Sir Gavin of Chessington—our ally!”

  The roar of laughter from the circle of brutes echoed through the forest and brought its inhabitants to silence. Gavin was disgusted and insulted.

  “Who is your commander?” Gavin asked.

  The five men slowly dismounted. Gavin was a full head shorter than any of the warriors.

  “Don’t you know?” the leader replied. “Your work is highly praised by him, Gavin.” He spoke Gavin’s name with such disdain that Gavin shuddered.

  Gavin’s hand moved toward his sword.

  “Lord Lucius is pleased with your work, Noble Knight!”

  Gavin could refrain no longer, even if it meant his death. The insult to his honor was more than he could bear. He quickly unsheathed his sword and held it before the brute. None of the men responded or even seemed the slightest bit alarmed.

  “Withdraw your insults and stand aside!” Gavin commanded.

  The leader glared at Gavin for a moment with eyes of dark steel. “You are an ignorant fool, Arrethtraen knave! Draw your sword on Devinoux, and you will die!”

  The blurred motion of the warrior’s sword stunned Gavin. His sword was nearly blown from his hand on the first clash, and it was all Gavin could do to maintain his grip. There was no offensive counter, just defense and retreat. The warrior’s attacks were powerful and relentless. One dominant blow slammed into Gavin’s sword and moved its protection clean away from his chest. The warrior seized the opportunity to recoil and thrust his blade clear through Gavin’s right shoulder until the shorter edges of the sword began to penetrate his chest as well. Gavin screamed in agony and instantly lost the grip on his sword. His body convulsed from the steely invasion and his legs began to buckle, but the warrior held his sword up—still lodged in Gavin’s shoulder—to prevent Gavin from falling.

  Devinoux grabbed Gavin and pulled him farther onto the blade and close to his face. “Lord Lucius will be disappointed to lose such an effective puppet, but he will find another. The kingdom is full of fools such as you!”

  Gavin barely noticed the stench of the warrior’s breath, for he was edging close to unconsciousness in this excruciatingly painful position.

  The warrior abruptly withdrew his sword, and Gavin collapsed to the forest floor beside his useless weapon. The five warriors encircled Gavin with drawn swords to kill their victim in a semiritualistic sacrifice. Their faces held the sadistic and dark smiles of evil souls.

  Gavin was afraid, confused, and powerless. The purpose of his life and the quest of his journey seemed all wrong here at his final moments. My King … I have given my life for Your honor. Why am I so empty in the end?

  The evil warriors held their swords high above Gavin, and he readied himself for his final breath.

  The neigh of a horse echoed through the forest trees. Although Gavin could not see the steed or his rider, he could see the stark fear that lit upon the faces of his executioners. Has an army come to save me? He was sure that only an army could frighten these brutes.

  The dark warriors abandoned their execution of Gavin and took defensive positions to face the apparent threat. One man rode into the clearing atop a gallant white steed. The horse reared, and the streaks of sunlight that penetrated through the forest trees gleamed off the shining silver armor of this nobleman.

  “Not Him!” Gavin heard one of the warriors say.

  “He is alone,” the leader replied sharply, but this did not seem to assuage the warriors’ obvious fear.

  The rider dismounted and walked toward the gruesome line of dark warriors. The guard on His helmet was raised, and Gavin wondered if perhaps this was their leader, for He had not drawn His sword and did not appear fearful at all. He soon realized this was a false assumption, however, when the warriors raised their swords and began to spread apart to form a semicircle about the man.

  “Leave at once!” the powerful voi
ce commanded.

  The leader of the dark warriors sneered. “You are severely outnumbered, fool. If I were to kill You, my power would become great.”

  There was a moment of silence as the five brutes finalized their positions around the gallant knight. They all attacked Him at once. In the blink of an eye, the man drew His sword, defended a cut from the nearest threat, and thrust His sword through the chest of one of the warriors. In a blur of motion, His sword flew to meet the onslaught of powerful blades.

  Gavin was in awe. After the first warrior fell, he could see that the others were hesitant to fully commit to the fight, as though they knew that the next closest would fall as quickly as the first. After another quick parry and thrust, Gavin heard a scream as the man’s majestic sword penetrated another warrior’s upper arm, causing him to drop his grisly weapon and back away from the fight.

  The fight paused, and the leader looked at his wounded comrades. The other two warriors took a step back.

  “Fight Him, you cowards!” he yelled.

  They lowered their swords. “You fight Him,” one of them replied.

  The leader cursed and stepped back. “Get them on their horses!” he said and pointed to the two wounded warriors lying on the ground.

  “We are not finished with You!” the leader said.

  The man raised His chin slightly. “Of that you can be sure!”

  After a few moments, the dark warriors disappeared into the forest, and the clearing became peaceful once again. Gavin’s pain seemed to increase as the tension of the situation abated.

  The man came to Gavin and stood over him. “Gavin, why do you fight against Me?”

  “Who are You that I have offended, my Lord?” Gavin looked on the noble form of his deliverer and felt ashamed and insignificant, for this man was clearly of royal blood that transcended any man born in Arrethtrae.

  “I am He whom you persecute daily. I am He whom you wounded and killed,” the knight said as He removed His helmet. “I am the Prince, the Son of the King of Arrethtrae!”