Knights Without Kings (Harmony of the Apostles Book 1)

by J. M. Topp

  Blood.

  Elymiah jumped up and went to the side farthest from the pool of blood. Tears burst from her eyes, and she saw no point in hiding it now. Her stomach twisted, making her crouch over as she cried. She tried to do so silently, but there was too much sorrow and confusion. Elymiah coughed once, and her tears turned to rage. She hit the side of the cell with her fists and tried to wrench herself free from the bonds holding her hands behind her, but they had been tied too expertly. She stopped for a moment, out of breath. She could feel that raw bits of skin had been rubbed off from her wrists. It hurt to even move them. Elymiah decided to rest her back on one side of the cell, but the birchwood dug into her back. That was the way the cell was designed—to break her mentally and physically.

  What did they mean by heretic?

  A soft rattling of the birchwood cage made Elymiah awaken from her tormented slumber. The sun was beginning to go down behind the trees of the forest surrounding the Kingsoul. Elymiah’s cage rested in the shadow of the broken statue that once stood there long ago.

  ‘Why are you in there?’

  The soft voice came from a corner of the cell. At first, Elymiah couldn’t make out who was speaking, until a small shadow moved. It was a little girl—the same girl who had accompanied Bendrick into the encampment. Her black curls spilled from her head and were almost a hood to the black robe and cloak she was wearing. Her blue and green eyes sparkled in the setting sun as she stared at the knight behind bars.

  ‘Did you not hear me?’

  Elymiah gasped as she stared at the little girl. She had seen that look thousands of times before. Men, women, and children would gawk at her atop her horse in full armour. Elymiah enjoyed the stolen glances and outright stares from the common folk. She usually ignored it, but secretly she loved the admiration. Women wished they could be her. Men wished they could be with her. But to have this little girl see her in a cell like this was more embarrassment than Elymiah could handle.

  ‘You’re a knight, aren’t you? I’ve never met a woman knight before.’ The little girl touched the wooden bars of the cell and glanced at Elymiah. ‘Did you do something wrong to end up in here?’

  Elymiah stared at the floor of the cell. The blood stains were still visible, but she had already gotten used to the smell. She didn’t even notice it anymore. Suddenly, a cold wind blew into the camp. Elymiah’s clothes were light and were meant for the summer months. Even though winter was in decline, its winds still bore the nasty bite of the cold. Elymiah rubbed her shoulders, and before she could stop herself, she coughed. It wasn’t a cough like when you try to clear your throat. It was more like when you want to stop yourself from crying. Her stomach twisted, and she doubled over in anguish, yet she could vomit no more. She dry-heaved as the young girl looked on.

  ‘It’s not right for a knight to be caged like this.’ Her eyes lit up, and she poked her face into the cell. ‘I’ll find the keys and save you. I’m going to save a lady knight.’

  Before Elymiah could respond, the little girl disappeared into the fog, whispering quietly to herself. Elymiah sat on her legs in the cell, holding her shoulders and rubbing them. Shadows writhed in the night around the cage. A face materialized from the shadows. It was the face of…Bertrand.

  Elymiah stared at the serious face of her old mentor. If she still had tears, they would have spilled down her cheeks anew, but she had none left. The somber face turned and seemingly stared over Elymiah and her cage.

  ‘You were a father to me,’ whispered Elymiah, unsure if the vision was due to the vomiting or being held in a cage—or something worse. Someone approached her cell, making Elymiah’s head turn to the sound. Could the little girl have retrieved the keys so soon?

  But it wasn’t the little girl. Yngerame took his hood off to reveal his bald head. He stared at Elymiah with dismay.

  ‘You were never meant to be in this place.’ He ran his fingers across the birchwood of the cage.

  Elymiah could only stare. The words she had prepared all escaped her. Her eyes were steeled onto the Hallowed Master’s face.

  ‘You didn’t think your sin would discover you, Elymiah Farnesse?’

  ‘I…I don’t.’

  ‘The healer confirmed his suspicions. You committed the worst possible violation any knight-captain can commit. You have fornicated—and with your lieutenant no less. It seems that Oredmere’s justice is ever purveying.’

  ‘No, please—’ Elymiah knelt in front of the Hallowed Master.

  Yngerame slammed his fist into the thick birchwood. ‘You picked up the plague in your travels—Khoryl Castle most likely. It must have been a dormant strain within you. You gave into your lustful desires and fornicated with Robyn. You gave him the plague, and for some unexplainable reason, it’s burning through him, and yet you seem unscathed.’ Yngerame’s nostrils flared as his face flared in anger. ‘But Oredmere has granted your punishment to me to make sure you become scathed.’

  Yngerame slammed his fist into the thick birchwood and turned his back on Elymiah, but before he walked down the hill, he stopped and turned his head ever so slightly. The wind wasn’t blowing strong in that moment, and she could hear his voice as if he were in the cell next to her. ‘I had great plans for you once we returned to Aivaterra. You were supposed to be our most glorious knight. Your virginity was precious to me. I was supposed to—’ But he cut himself off and shook his head, smiling. ‘You have disgraced yourself with your lieutenant. You will be executed in the morning.’

  ‘What of Robyn?’ asked Elymiah.

  ‘He will be punished accordingly and banished from Aivaterra, never to return again.’ Yngerame straightened the wrinkles in his robe with a light pat to his chest and walked away from the crestfallen knight-captain. The top of his bald head disappeared beneath the steep hill, and all Elymiah could do was stare.

  THE CELL DOOR flew open, startling Elymiah. The moon had risen in the skies, and a chilling wind whipped at Elymiah and the men standing before her. It took her a while to understand that she knew the men. Trystrem stood outside the cell in full armour and visor down, but Elymiah knew that he was staring blankly at her. Yngerame stood beside him with eyes closed and hands inside his robes. The Protector was nowhere to be seen. A dozen of the Purple Rhinos stood behind them in silence. Joan was the one who had opened the door. She glared at Elymiah.

  ‘Joan?’

  ‘Do not speak my name, heretic,’ Joan said through clenched teeth. She entered the cell and yanked Elymiah from her sitting position. Her shirt tore, exposing her breast. She tried to cover it, but Joan yanked her hands behind her and tied them, leading her out of the cell onto the dirt road. Without another word, Trystrem, Yngerame, and the other knights followed as Joan led her down the narrow dirt path.

  The Kingsoul’s current was rough—faster and louder than it had been since their arrival. It seemed that Oredmere had commanded it to anger in Elymiah’s honour.

  ‘What are you going to do with me?’ asked Elymiah.

  The men with her didn’t respond. They simply marched behind her down a hill to the sandy banks of the Kingsoul. Torches were lit a few yards before Elymiah near the banks of the Kingsoul.

  Elymiah turned to see Yngerame walk up with hands in the air and eyes closed.

  ‘You have turned your back on your teachings, heretic. You, once named Perfect, will now face the Kingsoul.’

  Beside the torches lighting the small area near the river stood a tilted wooden cross in the shape of a Y, resting in the sand. Joan pushed her up to it and untied her hands, instead tying them to the edges of the cross. The air in her chest struggled to exit, and she was afraid that she was going to hyperventilate. She had to keep herself calm. Perhaps the Hallowed Masters would forgive her if she showed no fear in death.

  Then she heard the rustling of feet.

  Elymiah’s eyes opened wide in horror as she saw Robyn being led by The Protector down to the banks.

  ‘Robyn? No!’ Elymiah quickly turned to
the Yngerame. ‘He is innocent. He did no wrong. I forced myself on him.’

  ‘Be that as it may, he accepted your evil without question. He still sinned,’ said Yngerame, staring at Robyn.

  Robyn stared sickly into the sand. Though the plague was halted in Robyn’s body, his head hung from his shoulders devoid of any strength.

  Elymiah panicked. ‘Please, don’t harm him. I am the evil one. I am the one with sin!’

  Yngerame closed his eyes and walked before Elymiah. He raised his hand as if to hit her. Elymiah clenched her eyes shut, but when the Hallowed Master put his hands around her neck, her eyes shot open. Yngerame’s face took a form that Elymiah, even in nightmares, could never have imagined. His nose seemed twice its size, and his face was lined with veins popping from his neck, cheeks, and forehead. His teeth were filed to a point and overlapping like a shark’s maw. Elymiah’s breath burned in her chest, and her shoulders shook as she struggled to breathe through the viselike grip Yngerame had on her neck. He squeezed harder and harder. Elymiah’s eyes turned to the back of her head, and the world went black for a moment. Elymiah felt a sudden, stinging pain on her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open to see Trystrem staring into her eyes.

  ‘She’s alive.’

  Elymiah took in a deep breath and nearly heaved up a lung. She coughed violently and spit blood from her mouth.

  ‘Please, don’t…don’t do this,’ Elymiah begged.

  ‘Take a step back, Trystrem,’ said Yngerame as he placed a hand on Trystrem’s shoulder plate. His face seemed normal once more. He smiled warmly at Trystrem. ‘You don’t want to get whatever the heretic has.’ Trystrem took one look at Elymiah and took a step back from her. Yngerame then turned to the other Hallowed Master. ‘Protector, please teach us how Oredmere treats those who violate His holy laws.’

  The Protector cackled and pulled a branding iron from the bonfire. He held it barehanded and smiled at Elymiah as blood from his hand seeped from the superheated metal. He then put his lips to it. The Protector’s saliva hissed as it dripped from his mouth. He turned from Elymiah and walked to Robyn, blood spilling from his lips.

  ‘No! Get away from him. Don’t touch him with that!’

  But before Elymiah could protest further, the Protector plunged the red-hot branding iron into Robyn’s neck. Robyn screamed as the iron melted his flesh. Elymiah tried to shout, but her breath came out as a choke, and she flew into a coughing fit. The Protector pulled the hot iron from his neck, and Robyn’s eyes closed, and his body went limp. The Protector drew a sharp knife from his robes, and to Elymiah’s horror, stuck it into Robyn’s mouth. Elymiah didn’t have to see to know that they were cutting his tongue out.

  ‘Stop! Don’t hurt him anymore.’ Elymiah couldn’t see straight. She was angry, but she was powerless to do anything. The sickening sound of flesh being cut away resounded in her ears.

  Elymiah shouted over and over.

  Robyn didn’t utter a sound as the Protector threw Robyn’s tongue onto the ground. ‘And now, his eyes.’ For the first time in her life, Elymiah was shocked to hear the Protector’s voice. He jabbed into Robyn’s unconscious head twice, so quickly and efficiently that there was hardly any blood on his knife. He put the sharp knife back into his cloak.

  The Protector bowed his head and turned to the bonfire. He drew another hot iron from the fire and walked to Elymiah. The head of the glowing iron was in the shape of a double diamond with a snake in the center of the iron. The Protector, without a word, grabbed Elymiah’s clothes and tore them from her body, exposing her nudity to the surrounding knights and men at arms. Then the Protector plunged the iron into Elymiah’s neck. Maybe it was the lack of real sleep or death being so close, but the burning of the iron didn’t hurt her. She could smell the burning of her flesh. The Protector seemed confused that she didn’t scream. He pushed the iron deeper into Elymiah’s body, but all Elymiah could do was stare back into his cold, dead eyes.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the Protector finally withdrew the iron from her neck. He looked at Yngerame as if not knowing what to do. Perhaps he had expected screaming or passing out, but Elymiah wasn’t going to give it to him. The Protector turned back to Elymiah and swung the glowing iron at her face, smashing into her cheek. Her vision blurred as blood spilled from her wound to the ground. The Protector grabbed a dull blade and put it to Elymiah’s head. He began sawing her hair away. Elymiah could feel the blade, but she could not protest. The Protector cut her hair on all sides, and where the blade was not sharp enough, he simply pulled the hair out of Elymiah’s head. When he was done, a small pile of brown hair lay next to him. He smiled and sheathed his blade.

  ‘Take her to the Cage of Binding.’ Yngerame’s voice seemed far away.

  ‘Stop this madness!’

  Elymiah couldn’t see due to the swelling on her face, but it sounded like King William.

  ‘She saved my life. I command you to let that knight go!’

  ‘Halt!’ Yngerame’s voice boomed across the bank of the Kingsoul. ‘You and your servants are on hallowed ground, William Bhenhart. Do not forget, Oredmere is with us now. His will supersedes that of your royal place.’

  ‘What? Have you gone mad? No man can command me!’

  ‘Is that what you thought it meant to be king of the Aivaterrans? Poor planning it seems, William. Trystrem, please take the king back to his tent. Oredmere finds no place for him among the innocent or the guilty.’

  ‘I forbid you to—No! Let that woman go!’

  It might have been Joan who untied her, but Elymiah couldn’t tell. She fell to the ground without the energy to move. The squeaking of a cage door opening made Elymiah look up with her good eye.

  The Cage of Binding was made of black metal with spikes pointing inwards. A crying steel face of Oredmere had been sculpted on the top of the iron cage. Elymiah didn’t know where the Hallowed Masters had found a Cage of Binding or if they had made one just for her. Elymiah didn’t see who picked her up, but she was shoved into the cage. The spikes dug into her back, and she pulled herself from them, leaving blood dripping on the spikes.

  ‘Let me out of here,’ Elymiah said, but her raw throat let it come out as no more than a whisper. There was no room to move without feeling the piercing point of the rusted metal poking into her body from all directions. The spikes dug deep into her swollen face and neck.

  Elymiah saw Yngerame hold the red wyvern horn in his hands. Suddenly, the horn began to glow bright and red hot, burning Yngerame’s hands as smoke began to rise into the air. With a surprised shout, Yngerame tossed the broken horn into the Kingsoul, massaging the palms of his hands. The horn was swallowed up, and with a sharp hiss, it disappeared instantly. Elymiah didn’t have enough energy to protest. Yngerame turned to Elymiah with tears streaming from his eyes.

  ‘Did you lie about that as well?’

  ‘Throw her into the Kingsoul!’ The words hadn’t come from Yngerame this time. Joan stood before the cage. Her fists were clenched, and she glared at Elymiah. Three purple knights lifted the cage and walked to the edge of the Kingsoul. Elymiah stared at them as she bounced atop the knights’ shoulders. The banks lifted onto a small cliff that overlooked a rough and torrential part of the river. Suddenly, Elymiah was thrown into the air. The cage splashed into the dark waters, surging over Elymiah. The spikes dug deep into her body, piercing her chest, abdomen, and neck. Blood pooled before her eyes, but it was the darkness that enveloped her.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  And the Snake Starts to Sing

  BENDRICK STARED AT Elymiah as she exited the tent. Though it had been more than a couple of weeks since they had last seen each other, she had changed somehow. Elymiah didn’t look as regal or composed as the day Bendrick saw her before the royal throne in Weserith, but who could blame her? The very fact that she was still alive was nothing short of a miracle.

  ‘Did you really save her life, Bendrick?’ asked William.

  Bendrick sighed. ‘I suppose I did,
but it was out of my control. She tore a spear from my leg, and in her mind, I was helping her out. I never told her that if our roles were reversed, I would have tried to kill her.’ Bendrick chuckled to himself and turned to William, who had settled into his steaming bath. He noticed the bloodied rags on a table and the knives. Ayda must have noticed the same thing.

  ‘Did they skin a deer in your tent or something?’ she asked innocently, staring at the blood on the floor. William gawked at the little girl for a moment and smiled.

  ‘The little girl doesn’t know who I am, does she?’

  Bendrick turned to Ayda. ‘This is King William Bhenhart. You address him as Your Grace.’

  Ayda looked up at Bendrick. ‘King? What is he king of?’

  Bendrick glanced back at William, afraid for the half-elf’s life, but William only leaned his head back and laughed. ‘Where did you find this one?’ he asked, wiping moisture off his forehead. ‘And where is Sieglinde? Off swinging her wooden training sword?’

  Ayda gasped and slowly put her hand to her mouth. The memory of burying Sieglinde was still very much fresh in Bendrick’s mind, but William would not have known.

  ‘Sieglinde is buried in the Uredor ruins, William.’

  William cleared his throat and turned his eyes to the dark waters of his bath.

  ‘Queen Gwendylyyn has fallen as well. Daemons hunted us down and killed her,’ he said somberly. Silence killed the conversation between the old friends. Bendrick stared at the ground, and finally, it was William who broke the silence.

  ‘How did you end up in Uredor?’