Knights Without Kings (Harmony of the Apostles Book 1)

by J. M. Topp

  ‘Stand back, Bertrand.’

  The knight rushed the creature, but before she could get close enough to land a blow, the wyvern took a deep breath and spit a flood of fire. Elymiah raised her shield at the last moment and tensed her arms and legs. Fire enveloped her, scorching the toes of her boots. Her shield began to glow hotly as it absorbed the wave of heat, but she held it high. The wyvern quickly ran out of breath, and Elymiah lowered her shield and jabbed her halberd with all her might at the giant creature. Her halberd hit the head of the wyvern, cracking its horn. The wyvern, stunned by the blow, leapt wildly into the skies. It flapped its large wings awkwardly but didn’t make it very far. The wyvern crashed into a parapet with a squawk, breaking old brick and stone. Its efforts to rise into the air again hurled stones at the knight. Elymiah raised her shield rapidly and absorbed the blows from small rocks. A large stone smashed into her shield, which forced her back a few steps. Even then, she held her shield high. The wyvern screamed and raised itself above the parapets, struggling to fly away. Small tongues of fire danced around Elymiah’s boots. She stamped them out quickly.

  Elymiah checked her armour to make sure that nothing else was on fire. She breathed heavily, still not sure how she was in once piece.

  ‘We have to follow it. Come, Bertrand, we must hurry—’

  She froze, staring at her shield bearer who was lying on the ground. A small jagged rock had embedded itself into Bertrand’s skull. He lay on the ground, his arm twitching slightly. Blood seeped from his wound onto the cracked tiles.

  ‘Bertrand…’

  Elymiah gasped and ran to his side.

  ‘Bertrand, no…’ Elymiah whispered. She let her smoking shield and blood-covered weapon fall to her side as she knelt beside him. Elymiah cradled his neck, searching for a pulse. Bertrand’s lips trembled beneath his rag as his last breath escaped him. Elymiah placed her hand on his shoulder, breathless and in shock. She removed the rag from his face and tossed it onto the ground. Blood seeped from the small stone and began to fall over the side of his face and down over his eyes. Bertrand stared at the skies above.

  The knight held her faithful companion in silence. He was the closest thing she had ever had to a father. It was almost as if it were a dream, ss if at any moment, he would take the stone from his head and give some allegorical lesson about its sharp edge.

  But it was not to be.

  Elymiah stared at his silent face. Years of wisdom, experience, and learning were gone in an instant, his loving face cemented into itself as he ceased to breathe. Elymiah closed his eyes and picked up her broken halberd. The wyvern had to die. It was either the beast or her. She ripped the rag from her face, tossing it beside her in anger. Tears began to blur her vision, but she wiped them quickly with a gloved hand.

  Elymiah gripped her halberd and stood slowly, absorbing the weight of her weapon and shield. As anger filled her soul, she rushed back into the destroyed halls, climbing over crumbling rock. Her knuckles were white as she held the halberd, poised, ready to strike. Some of the cages on the roof of the castle had fallen during the wyverns attempt to escape. The cages were lying cracked on the floor, spilling their corpse innards onto the cold stones. Elymiah put the sight out of her mind immediately. The wyvern couldn’t have landed far. The blow to its head must have disorientated it. A scream echoed through the long hall, confirming her suspicions. She ran through the halls, jumping over body bags and fallen stone. The weight of her armour began to burn her shoulder, but she ignored the pain. The floors quaked as she neared the inflamed beast.

  Elymiah entered a long, tall church hall. Splintered wooden benches were lined across the floor, with chandeliers dangling from the tall roof. They swung back and forth from the pounding of the wyvern’s wings on the floor below. The roof itself had a large hole in it where the wyvern had crashed through moments before. The wyvern lay in the center of the church hall, struggling to lift its wings. The frustrated wyvern spotted Elymiah and screamed at her. Elymiah raised her shield and prepared for another barrage of fire, but it never came.

  The wyvern had its spiked back turned to her, but its neck was craned, and it was staring directly at her. It squeaked pitifully as small embers seeped from its jaws. The wound in its neck seemed to have been exacerbated from flying and crashing through the roof. Elymiah clenched her teeth and advanced with the halberd held above her head and shield raised high. The holy knight stepped into its wingspan and was about to jab her weapon in-between its scales, when a soft voice echoed into her mind.

  -I saw him…and it scared me.-

  The child-like voice caught her off guard, and for a moment she glanced to her sides, almost expecting a child to be standing close by. She realized that the voice came from the only other thing in the room. The wyvern’s eyes were closed. Its chest rose and fell rapidly, as if the beast was out of breath. Perhaps this was the effect of breathing fire for a dragonling.

  -If you kill me, there will be no more. I am the last of my kind.-

  Elymiah was too shocked to speak, but she held her shield up, with halberd raised above her. Instantly, the wyvern opened its red eyes and pierced into her mind. Elymiah winced as she felt a wave of heat within her head. It singed her consciousness for a moment. Then it cooled mysteriously. The wyvern’s forked tongue lashed from its mouth as it studied her. Then it turned its head away from her, as if giving up interest.

  -I lie and tremble. Kill me and not one thing will change. Do what you will. You hunters have earned it.-

  The wyvern relaxed its body and collapsed onto the stone floor, breaking a few wooden benches as it did so. Elymiah noticed a tall statue of Oredmere behind the wyvern as it lowered its neck to the stone floor. The image of a horse on fire, with neck craned to the floor and front leg raised had been encapsulated in marble. In its mouth, the statue held a white cloth talisman. The talisman was a symbol of mercy that Elymiah had studied throughout her young life. Elymiah shook her head as she stared at the statue.

  Is Oredmere giving me a sign through the statue? A sign that I am to give mercy to this young wyvern? Her breath caught in her throat as if the statue were speaking audibly to her. She hesitated and glanced back at the wyvern. If she did not kill it, her final trial would not be complete. She would not be named perfect.

  -Hunter, why do you hesitate?-

  The wyvern craned its neck back at Elymiah, its sad eyes staring at her. The voice shook Elymiah with surprise.

  -You would let me live?-

  Elymiah had never heard that wyverns could speak. The hint of hope in the wyvern’s voice struck a chord in her heart. She let her halberd go suddenly, jumping at the sound it made as it clanged to the stone floor. She thought of Bertrand’s body lying on the cold ground. Yet the idea of sparing this beast’s life, with the clear sign from Oredmere, wasn’t something she could ignore.

  The wyvern raised a clawed hand to its snout and grabbed its red cracked horn. In one motion, it ripped the horn from its head, screaming in anguish. Elymiah quickly put her hands to her ears to shut the scream out. The pillars of the church shook at the shrill noise. For a moment, it held the broken horn in its claws. Then it tossed the horn at the holy knight’s feet. Elymiah leaned down and picked the broken horn up, holding it cautiously. It was warm to the touch. Elymiah placed it in her pouch behind her and stared at the wyvern. Oredmere was giving her an opportunity to show the beast mercy and still complete her final test. Maybe it wasn’t the act of killing but the act of mercy that would complete her trails.

  But Bertrand…

  The thought pierced the knight’s mind. Anger surged like fire through her body once more. In order to complete her trial, she had to kill a terrible beast. But the foundation of their teachings was mercy and forgiveness. Oredmere was revealing himself to her through the statue.

  Elymiah closed her eyes and let out a sigh, leaning down to pick her halberd up. She placed her shield on her back, hanging it by a clasp beside her half-cloak. She held her bloodied hand
over her chest and bowed, retreating from the church chambers without another word.

  Outside, in the courtyard of the olden castle, she stood over Bertrand’s dead body. In silence, Elymiah began to dig a grave for him. She moved rock and stone easily with the broad side of her halberd. Anger began to pour through her again as her shoulder burned with pain. She dug harder and deeper through the mud before finally tossing the weapon aside. Tears streamed from her eyes and she fell to her knees.

  ‘Bertrand...’

  A sheet of mist fell over her as rain began to fall from the skies. The cold, thunder-less rain fell softly and soaked through her. Elymiah looked up at the skies as clouds began to collect overhead. Bertrand’s memory would not be forgotten. She wiped the tears from her eyes, but they were lost amidst the rain.

  A soft growl made the tears freeze on her face. She gasped and saw the wyvern behind her. She jumped up with halberd in hand. She did not know how it had exited the castle without her noticing. It stood beautifully in the rain. Water trickled from its dark scales onto its clawed wings. A thin trail of black blood seeped from its snout. Its transparent teeth were bared for a moment, but then it relaxed.The wyvern stared at her, motionless.

  Elymiah lifted her shield and grabbed her halberd, prepared if the wyvern decided to attack, but the beast made no such move. It looked at the skies and closed its eyes as the rains fell over its face.

  -You have my gratitude. I won’t forget this, hunter.-

  Then, without another word, it spread its majestic wings and filled them with air. Higher and higher it rose in the sky, until Elymiah could no longer see the beast. She felt warmth behind her and noticed that the horn was glowing red from within her pouch. She pulled it out and held it in her gloved hands. It felt like a stone as she inspected it, but the jagged edge of the horn made small cuts into her gloves. She looked up at the skies once more.

  ‘Neither will I.’

  SHADOWS ENCROACHED UPON the room as Elymiah knelt on the stone floor. She was no longer wearing armour. Instead, she wore a clerics’ brown burlap shirt and pants. She missed the weight of her armour she had gotten so used to. Rain poured outside the small prayer room, pounding on the roof. There was a leak somewhere, judging by the perpetual dripping.

  Three men in long, white robes stood before her in front of a table. Their sleeves were embroidered with gold-and-silver-coloured frills. No hair was found on their heads nor any emotions on their blank faces, and their hands were folded before them. Each one stared intently at Elymiah. She was in an entirely dark room with only a candle to shine light around them. The candle rested on a wooden table, but no chairs or any other furniture was in the room.

  Darkness enveloped them.

  Elymiah had been kneeling in the dark room for hours, awaiting the arrival of the Hallowed Masters. Elymiah didn’t know when they entered, for they appeared before her without warning, almost like ghosts. She bowed her head and awaited their commands.

  ‘You have been summoned, Faithful One.’

  The Hallowed Masters were patrons of Oredmere’s teachings. They were interpreters of his will and enforcers of his punishment when needed. Elymiah looked up at the three priests.

  ‘I am Elymiah Artus Farnesse. I have obeyed the summons and kneel before you in humble adoration,’ Elymiah said. She had spent two days in solitude since her arrival at the capitol. Her journey from Khoryl Castle in the southern reaches of the country to Aivaterra had taken almost three weeks of rigorous travel. The end of her trail had left her exhausted, but there was no time to rest. Oredmere was weaning her off of the weaknesses of the flesh and sin. Exhaustion surely was one of them. If she was to be named perfect, she would indeed have to follow the final rites of the Aivaterran Holy Trials.

  ‘Daughter of Lord Artus Lewelynn Farnesse, rise and stand before us.’ The Masters spoke in unison and raised their palms to their chests. Elymiah stood and calmly picked up her broken halberd from the ground. She placed the base of the halberd to the floor and held it in front of her with both hands. She closed her eyes and awaited the Hallowed Masters’ questions.

  ‘Your seventh Trial of the Cherub was at Khoryl Castle in search of an Eastern Coalback wyvern said to reside there. Was it a successful trial?’

  ‘It was, my masters,’ Elymiah said as she opened her eyes to look at the inquisitors. The one on the right was known as Ortengryyn the Chastiser. His holy duty was to oversee executions and mete out punishment where Oredmere would deem necessary. The one on the left was Yngerame, the Soother, whose holy duty was that of healing and mercy. The one in the middle was only known as The Protector. His duty was that of silence and enlightenment. It was said that if one prayed to Oredmere using the Protector’s true name, angels would flood to protect whoever uttered it. Sadly, since the Protector had made a vow of eternal silence, no one would ever know his true name.

  The Protector’s eyes pierced Elymiah’s as if he were searching her mind.

  ‘Your mentor and now shield bearer, Bertrand of Yorveth, has not returned with you. What was his fate?’

  Elymiah considered her words carefully. She knew she should not misspeak or hesitate in front of the Hallowed Masters. She maintained her silence for a moment and then looked at Ortengryyn. Though sadness permeated her thoughts, Elymiah steeled her mind.

  ‘He fell at the claws of the Coalback I hunted. I buried him there, amidst the rubble of Khoryl Castle. I performed the burial sacrament, and his soul now treads alongside Oredmere.’

  Ortengryyn’s face twisted into a deep frown. It was the duty of the shield bearer to report to the Hallowed Masters. The shield bearer’s story would bring validity to the events of whoever was to be named faithfully Perfect. Without Bertrand, their decision was based solely on Elymiah’s recounting of events. They were not lied to often, but when they were, the woeful man or woman would be stripped of all rank and skinned alive to be paraded through the streets atop an oxcart.

  Elymiah swallowed hard and closed her eyes, trying to maintain her composure.

  ‘We assume that if a grave is not found, you will be guilty of equivocation. The horror of the punishment of lying to us is not lost on you is it, Elymiah?’ Ortengryyn’s deep, harsh voice carried through the room. She thought of the statue. Oredmere’s marble eyes reminded Elymiah of his holy will. The white cloth talisman was truly an indication of it. It wasn’t a lie she was speaking to them—simply an enlightened form of truth.

  Oredmere’s sign was clear. Mercy had achieved perfection, not death.

  ‘You will find the grave, Hallowed Masters, at the center courtyard of Khoryl Castle ruins. Yet, I have more proof of my victory.’

  ‘Show us this truth.’

  Elymiah put her leather gloves on, pulled the broken wyvern horn from her pouch, and held it in front of the Hallowed Masters. It was still warm to the touch. Elymiah held it proudly before them.

  ‘This horn is all that is left of the wyvern. Its body was consumed by the castle as it collapsed on its body. It is as I have said. The progress of my seventh holy trial has come to an end. Will you name me Perfect?’

  Ortengryyn glanced at Yngerame and the Protector. Yngerame gave a quick nod and smiled at Elymiah. ‘Your completion of your seventh trial pleases us and in turn pleases Oredmere. You have been found perfect, Elymiah Artus Farnesse. Rise now as we anoint you.’

  They walked around the table and surrounded Elymiah, hands folded together. Yngerame produced a bright-green phial from within his white robe. Elymiah bowed, and he poured the oily liquid over her head. The scent of the ointment rapidly permeated the room with pine and oak smells. The potent odour filled Elymiah’s nostrils, and she began to shake. Excitement enveloped her. Bertrand had talked about the Anointing, but nothing he could have said would have prepared her for this moment. Silent tears began to trickle from her eyes, but she tried to stop them. It would not be wise to sob in front of the Hallowed Masters.

  Yngerame raised his hands above his head.

 
‘It is finished. Your trial is complete, Elymiah Farnesse. But it is Oredmere’s true will that has begun. It will be a long road ahead, but with this Anointing, you will find the burden easier. Rise, faithful and perfect one.’

  Yngerame held his hand out to Elymiah and helped her to her feet. Ortengryyn and the Protector bowed without another word and opened the door to exit. Light from the outside blinded Elymiah, but the door was quickly closed behind them, leaving Yngerame and Elymiah alone in the dark room. Elymiah could contain her emotions no longer, and she embraced Yngerame.

  Yngerame was the one who had chosen Elymiah to be adopted by Lord Artus Farnesse. Yngerame had always kept an eye on Elymiah, asking about her progress and testing her understanding of truths Bertrand would give her. Yngerame did this with all children adopted by knight-captains, but Elymiah held a certain soft spot in his heart. Elymiah looked up at Yngerame with tears in her eyes.

  ‘My heart quivers with happiness at the sight of joy,’ Yngerame said with a smile as he wiped the moisture on Elymiah’s face. ‘You are now named Knight-Captain and will lead the Holy Silver Angels Platoon wherever Oredmere would lead. Do you accept this holy command?’

  Elymiah sniffed, wiped her nose and let go of the Hallowed Master. She stood tall and strong before Yngerame.

  ‘I do.’

  Yngerame had not only the role of Soother, but also that of Commander of the Holy Platoons, answering to no one but the king himself. Yngerame would give the missions to be completed and tasks to be carried out. Elymiah had been waiting for this moment since she was a child. She cleared her throat and composed herself, looking into the eye of the Soother. His eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

  ‘You are an interesting vessel, Elymiah. I have enjoyed studying your progress since you were inducted to the trials. I look forward to keeping up with your progress. You surely will gain prestige as your father did before you. I named your father faithful and perfect years ago. I am honoured to name his daughter as well.’