The Blackest Knight

by Michael S. Melendez

  A bolt of black lightning struck him. Now, standing where Vincent stood, was the Black Knight. The dragon took a step back as the fear that gripped Piña now gripped him.

  Vincent stood where he was for a moment, breathing heavily. “Ten years…” he said. “For ten years I have sought no need to use this…curse. The last time I used this I swore I’d never use it again, but now you have forced me to use! I cannot die! Not now! Not until I…well, I guess it doesn’t matter. You can’t understand me anyway.”

  The dragon, out of fear, opened it’s massive maw to try and eat Vincent. Vincent, using hardly any effort, punched him in his snout sending him flying back towards the end of the cavern. Hitting the rock wall at such a high speed resumed the cave in.

  The dragon weakly rose to his feet. Blood gushed from its mouth. Vincent walked forward and grabbed the dragon’s tail. Now, using both hands, somehow managed to lift the dragon and slammed him on the rock floor with incredible force. The cave it was getting worst, but that was the least of his worries. For it wasn’t just the cave that was coming down around him, but the very mountain itself.

  Piña, having made it out of the chasm, saw the very mountain she left Vincent in, come crashing down. She stood there in shock and awe. No one could survive that, she thought.

  She proceeds to gallop back to Avia with tears in her eyes.

  Chapter 6

  Piña road day and night back to Avia. All the while she was beating herself up about the entire situation. “He saved me! He saved me not once but twice and I left him to die! I should’ve listened to him when he said to turn back! How could I be so foolish!?”

  She ran her horse ragged for an entire day. She finally reached Avia just as the sun was rising. The horse collapsed and died of exhaustion as she reached the main gate. Seeing this, soldiers ran over to help her.

  “Lady Piña, are you alright?” one of them asked.

  She ignored them and picked herself off the ground. “Where is my father?” she demanded.

  “In his study, I believe…”

  She quickly stormed off to the castle. She ignored everyone in her path. Anger, frustration, and guilt plague her mind. Just as she reached her father’s door she collapsed.

  She wept. Her eyes were telling her something that her brain was trying to justify. Vincent Valentine died saving her. He saved her when her own soldiers tried to have her killed. He saved her not only from the dragon but from herself. She still doesn’t know what took over her mind when she touched that necklace. Vincent Valentine is dead and it’s all her fault.

  She slowly picked herself up off the floor and wiped her tears. She stilled herself and entered her father’s study. He looked up from his desk and saw that she had returned. “Piña.” He said with a dead tone. “You’ve return. I take it everything went well.”

  “Not even close.” She muttered. “They’re dead. They’re all dead.”

  Rodrick put down his quill. Piña had his full attention. “What do you mean dead?”

  “Dead. Deceased. No longer among the living. This whole expedition was a mistake. I should’ve listened to him. Why didn’t I listen to him!?”

  Seeing his daughter racked with guilt and on the verge of tears, Rodrick stood up to embrace his daughter. “Sit. Tell me what happened.”

  She sat down in the chair and told him. “When I told Vincent that the ruin was of the Old Religion, he snapped at me. Saying that it’s not worth. His father sent scores of men into these ruins and hardly anyone came back. I wrote him off. I didn’t understand how scores of men can die, but I was so wrong. There was a dragon waiting for us.”

  Rodrick was taken back. He was shocked. Dragons have been long since extinct. They went the way of the Old Religion. “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Am I…of course I’m sure. Hard to forget something that easily towered over me and breaths fire!”

  “Calm down, Piña. I just wanna make sure you aren’t mistaken. Dragons haven’t been spotted for centuries. You can understand why I’m a little skeptical.”

  “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “I’m just saying that anyone can be mistaken. That’s all. So what happened to Vincent?”

  Piña went quite for a moment. She clenched her hands together. “The mountain fell. He’s dead.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Piña gave her father an angry glare. “Yes, I’m sure! Unless he somehow managed to escape a dragon, move the rocks out of the way that blocked the only exit and survived and entire mountain dropped on his head. I can say for sure that he’s—”

  At that moment, a guard rushed into the room.

  “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking!” Rodrick yelled.

  “Sorry, my lord, but, it's, um…”

  “Spit it out already before I have you flogged alive.”

  “It’s the fallen prince. He’s returned.”

  “Vincent’s alive!?” Piña yelled.

  “Aye. But he is not alone. It’s best if you see this for yourselves.”

  There was a loud commotion at the market square. The soldier cut a path through the crowd so that Piña and Rodrick could see. The word shocking to compare what they saw, what all of Avia saw, would be an understatement.

  Sitting on top of a makeshift wagon was the head of the dragon. The very dragon Piña saw in the cave. Its head was severed from its body. Blood still oozed from its mouth. Its eyes were once orange are now pale white.

  And sitting on top the dragon’s head was Vincent. He was bloody, clothes shredded, his once white hair now stain red with his own blood. His right eye was closed shut, his knees ached. How in the world did he manage to drag this head back to Avia in his condition?

  He rose to his feet. “Quick question,” he said. “Is there any chance I can get this head stuff and put into my cell? I have the perfect stone wall to mount this thing on.”

  Vincent laughed as he rose to his feet. Soon he could feel the entire world spinning beneath him. He staggered and fell right off the dragon’s head. Piña narrowly managed to catch him. “You smell…nice.” He muttered just before he fainted.

  Vincent kept falling in and out of consciousness. He had no idea how much time had passed each time he awoke. Sometimes it would be sunny, other times it would be the middle of the night.

  A fever gripped him. Horrible dreams plagued his mind. More than usual. He would thrash about in his bed, screaming, he broke out into a cold sweat. It wasn’t any sort of herbs that calmed him, but rather a soothing voice. A song. He found it very nostalgic. He’s heard it before but just can’t place it.

  He opened his eyes. His vision heavily blurred from the fever brought on by an infection. He saw the figure of a woman. She was feeding him so sort of yellow liquid. It tasted like honey and pepper.

  He could barely make her out. All he saw was black curly hair. “Who…are you…?” he weakly asked.

  The woman turned to him. She held his hand. Her hand was soft. “Rest now. All will be well when you awake. I’m so happy to see you again, Vincent.”

  Vincent fainted once again.

  He awoke again. This time, his vision was steady, his fever was gone, and even better, he wasn’t in his cell. However, his wrists were chained to the bed. He may be out of his cage, but his wings were still fairly much shackled. That was, however, the least of his concerns. He was curious as to who that woman was. She seemed to know him but she didn’t see say her name. Then there was that song. Where has he heard it before?

  Piña entered the room. She didn’t show it but she was happy to see Vincent fully awake. “Glad to see you’re up. How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Like I’ve had a mountain dropped on my head. How long was out for?”

  “Eight days.”

  “Eight days!” Vincent yelled.

  “It couldn’t be helped. You lost a lot of blood, you had an infection, and on top of it all, a scarlet fever. A weaker man would’ve died having to go through all that. But you ar
en’t a weak man, are you, Vincent?”

  “Why does this sound like an interrogation all of sudden?”

  “Probably because it is. Thirty feet. That dragon was thirty feet tall. You were trapped in a mountain with it, glossing over the fact that very mountain collapsed with you in it, you somehow killed the dragon, survived thousand of pounds of rocks crashing down upon you, rip the damn thing’s head off, and bring it back here like some trophy.”

  “Is there a point to all of this?” He asked.

  “Yes. How in the world are you not dead?” she asked coldly.

  The two of them stared at one another. Vincent could see that she wasn’t going to back down. “You wanna know how I lived, right? Well, I’ll tell you. Come closer.”

  Piña stepped closer to the bed. Vincent looked around the room making sure no one was here. “The truth is,” he said in a whispered tone. “The truth is that secretly I’m the Black Knight. I managed to escape by cutting my way out of the rock wall just as the mountain fell down. Afterward, it was a simple matter of ripping the dragon’s head off with my bare hands.”

  Piña blankly stared at him. “Fine. I see your feeling better because you are in the mood for jest. Since you won’t tell me I’ll tell you this. There is a high chance you may be executed in the days to come.”

  Vincent’s heart fell into his stomach. “Why?” he demanded.

  “Civil unrest. Livia, Illya, hell even some parts of Blackfire are demanding for your immediate release and for my father to vacate the throne so that you may take your rightful place.”

  “Then you can tell your father he has nothing to fear. I have no intention or desire to ever sit on the throne of Avia.”

  “Perhaps but it doesn’t matter. They’ve already made their intention clear. If you are not released in the next moon cycle then it’s to be war.”

  “I don’t understand.” He muttered. “Why now? Why after all this time? It’s been ten years but now all of a sudden they decided to make their move. It makes no sense.”

  “While you were asleep, news of your exploit reached their ears. From here to the Dividing Line people are calling you the Dragon Slayer. How a single man managed to survive a dragon attack and cut off its head. Dragon’s haven’t been seen in thousands of years and now one appears and you kill it. It showed the strength of your bloodline. To be honest I’m quite jealous.”

  “Well by all means take the glory if it would mean that my head remains attached to the rest of me. But wait, if I’m to be executed, why am I still alive?”

  “There will be a meeting taking place to decide what to do with you. Though I won’t lie to you, the chances of you walking free are slim.”

  “And Avia can’t afford a war. It’s still recovering from ten years ago. You don’t have the forces. Which means the third option is to have me executed. With me being the last of my line the civil unrest would be quelled. Which would significantly reduce the chance of war but not eliminate it entirely. Meaning that the meeting is pointless.

  It’s just a show for the masses to make it seem like some serious thought went into`it. The fact is, your father has already made his decision. My days are number…I can’t believe I actually miss being locked in my cell right now.”

  Piña eyes began to water. “I’m sorry, Vincent.” She muttered. “I tried. I tried so hard to convince him otherwise, but his mind and so many other’s are made up.”

  “Just tell me when it’s going to happen.”

  “Tomorrow morning at dawn in the main square.”

  Chapter 7

  How does a man sleep knowing he’s going to die in the morning? Answer: He doesn’t. After spending ten years locked in a cage, and only two days as a relatively free man, Vincent is about to be executed in less than three hours. This cannot happen. He has unfinished business. “I cannot die.” He said to himself. “Not now. Not yet. Not until I beg for their forgiveness.”

  He screamed. No one heard him. Which was odd. He thought for sure Rodrick would have at least two guards stationed outside his door at the very least. It would seem he doesn’t deem Vincent a risk so long as he’s chained.

  Just as the first light touch the sky, the jailer soon arrived. “How did you sleep?” he asked.

  “Oh, quite well, but then I remember my head is literally going to roll on the floor today so I decided to try and touch myself. A feudal attempt given that my hands are bound, but I had to try. How do you think I slept?!”

  “Hey, if it was up to me I’d let you walk, I’m actually impressed by what you did. Vincent Valentine, Fallen Prince, Dragon Slayer. You have some weird titles. You should be honored that Rodrick isn’t going to strike your name from the history books. Anyway, I’m to ask for your last wish. What will it be?”

  “I suppose asking not to be beheaded would be a no, right? I suppose, how about just undoing this shackles. I’m sick of being chained up. At least let me have that for the little time I have left.”

  “Very well but I’m staying with you to make sure you don’t run.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  The jailer undid his shackled. Vincent immediately massaged his wrists out of pure soreness. He got up from the bed and stretch. It’s the first time he’s been comfortable all night.

  He walked over to the desk on the far side of the room and looked out the window. He placed both his hands firmly on the table, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the music the birds made first thing in the morning.

  “How long have we known each other, jailer?” he asked.

  “Making small talk, huh?”

  “Seeing as you’re the only one here, yeah I am. So, how long?”

  “Eight years, I think. I replaced the last jailer your father appointed. Why do you ask?”

  “Just wondering. Now that I’m about to die it seems like we’ve know each other for a lifetime. Weird, huh? I spent ten years in a cage, two days as a free man, eight days in a coma, and now my last day I’m spending it with you. I pretty much just summed up the last few days of my life in one sentence.”

  Vincent began to laugh. His laughter soon turned into sobbing.

  “Are you crying?” the jailer asked. “Come now, you need to face your maker as a man, not some—”

  The moment the jailer put his hand on Vincent’s shoulder, Vincent jammed the surgical scalpel into the jailer’s neck. Blood filled his throat and lungs as he began to gargle on his own blood. “I’m sorry,” Vincent said. “I am so sorry, but I cannot die now.”

  The jailer’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body went limp. Vincent dragged the jailer’s body and put him into the bed, throwing the sheets over him. He took his sword and opened the door leading out into the hallway very slowly. No one was outside guarding the door. How under staff is this castle? Vincent remembers that there was a guard at every door growing up. Now it just feels like it’s been abandoned. Though it does make moving around much simpler.

  Vincent knew this castle better than he knew the back of his own hand. He knows that this place is riddled with secret passageways. One just so happened to be nearby. He moved a bookshelf over to the side and felt around for a loose stone. Once he found it he pushed it in and the stone wall slid open. Dust poured out as he opened the door. It truly has been a long time since anyone has used these.

  Vincent’s father installed these passages because he never wanted to see the faces of the servants. A servant was never to be seen, he’d say, but rather act. When it was time for dinner food was already in prepared in the hall. When a wing needed to be cleaned it already was. If any servant was seen they were swiftly executed.

  As Vincent made his way down the deep dark passageway, the sound of alarm bells echoed throughout the castle.

  “He’s escaped!” he heard.

  The bells were for him. They knew he was free. He picked up the pace and moved faster down the passage. He ran head first into the stone wall, causing him great pain, but he shrugged it off and felt around of a
torch post. Once he had a firm grip on it, he pulled it down as hard as he could. The door opened up and Vincent found himself, for the first time in ten years, back inside the throne room.

  He felt short of breath. Not from exhaustion, but rather from anxiety. This is where so many tragic things happened in his life. This is where he became the Black Knight. And this is where he killed his family. He can still picture that day so clearly in his head. Those memories will never leave him be.

  He hid behind a nearby column just as the doors swung open. Rodrick stormed into the throne room with both his children. “Gone!” he yelled. “How could he be gone? A man doesn’t just vanish into thin air.”

  “I told you we should’ve killed him when we had the chance,” Zeke said. “But you just had to convince father that he was worth saving. Didn’t you, sister?”

  “He saved my life!” she reminded him. “It was the least we could do.”

  “Yes but now that same sentiment is what going to cause us to go to war. How long do you think we can hold out? A month? Maybe two? We wouldn’t survive a war. We should’ve just cut this throat and been done with it.”

  “Enough!” Rodrick yelled. “I’ve had enough of both your childish bickering! While we sit here and argue he’s getting further and further away! I want you both to find him. Now!”

  “You won’t have to look very far,” Vincent said as he stepped out from behind the column. “Never thought I’d actually step foot back in this place. I love what you did with the place. Much more…inviting. The flowers are new.”

  Zeke, being the hot head one of the three. Immediately charged at Vincent, sword in hand. He was slow. Sloppy. Vincent easily side stepped him. He grabbed him by the throat, lifted him in the air and began to strangle him.

  At that moment, hearing the commotion, a handful of guards rushed into to see Vincent chocking the prince with hardly any effort. Zeke's face was turning blue. He was still swinging his sword at Vincent trying to get him to let him go but the sword was just out of reach of his face.