Knightfall - Book 1 of The Chronicle of Benjamin Knight

by Robert Jackson-Lawrence

  “It is, honestly,” Ben promised.

  “Okay then,” Matthew agreed. “Can you imagine what someone like this new Regent could do with that kind of power. If he could show the people that he was in possession of electricity, he could command anything and everything he wanted to. The whole world would probably bow down at his feet just to get a piece of it.”

  Ben thought that over for a while, trying to get his head around the idea that in this world he could have made himself into a god. If Matthew was right, and Alexander was trying to gain control of the power source in the laboratory, why didn’t he just kill them and make his way to the laboratory as soon as he found out about it? Ben put the question to Matthew.

  “I don’t know, Ben,” Matthew told him. “Not yet, anyway. Something’s not right, with all of this. How we escaped, for example. There should have been no way out of that dungeon, no way at all, but still Carl and that sergeant, Peter, managed to break us out. And then you, finding you alive like we did.”

  “And the pager right outside, when Alexander would have known what it was from questioning me,” Ben added.

  “Can’t you see?” Matthew continued. “It just doesn’t make sense. Our escape, getting this far, it’s all been far too easy.”

  “So what do we do?” Ben asked.

  “Same thing I always do,” Matthew replied. “Follow my instincts. The fact remains, Ben, that whatever is going on, we need to get to Draxis and warn them about the army that’s about to come knocking at their door.”

  “But via the laboratory,” Ben reminded him.

  “Exactly.” Matthew stopped dead in his tracks and looked Ben in the eye. “If we stick to going south,” he said, “we don’t have a hope of reaching Draxis before the first wave of the attack, but if we go to this laboratory of yours, it might give us an edge, a chance, but I don’t know what we’ll be getting ourselves into, getting everybody into.”

  “Damned if we do and damned if we don’t?” Ben suggested.

  “That’s about the size of it,” Matthew agreed.

  “So, you figure they let us go so we could lead them to the laboratory?” Ben asked.

  “Maybe,” Matthew said. “Carl went back to see if there was anyone behind us, but what worries me the most is that the enemy isn’t somewhere out there; they’re already in here, with us.”

  Matthew continued towards the barn, but Ben found that he was rooted to the spot, unable to move forwards or back.

  Now it wasn’t only Matthew who felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  VII

  They left the farmhouse around midday.

  Matthew directed his team southwest, while Peter turned his team east. There were hugs and goodbyes, perhaps more than there should have been, but as they all knew but could not say, there was a very real chance that many of them would not see each other again.

  They set off in their respective directions, following Matthew’s lead as they had done so many times before. It was only Ben who looked back. He hadn't really noticed until that very moment just how much his newfound friends had changed in the short time that he had known them. They were no longer the happy-go-lucky traders that he had first met only a month or so before.

  They had all changed, some more than others, but changed nonetheless, perhaps forever.

  With that thought resounding in his head, Ben gave the others a final wave goodbye and turned to follow Matthew and his team towards whatever it was that fate held in store for them.

  Chapter 6

  I

  “Cheer up, Ben, it could be worse,” Carl said as Ben trudged along at the back of the group, head held low as he tried to ignore the constant trickle of water dripping from the tip of his nose.

  “How?” Ben asked, smearing his hair back on his forehead for the umpteenth time.

  “Well,” Carl said, rubbing his chin, “we could, well, oh come on, give me a minute.”

  Carl was still trying to be cheerful, but everyone else was content being miserable and depressed. The stories of Carl’s many conquests had quickly ceased to get a laugh, and even rubbing at the fuzzy stubble on Carl’s scalp had all but lost its appeal.

  They were heading directly south now, Matthew still at the head of the group, forever the leader, with Arian clinging closely to his side. They could not have been worse prepared for the weather they encountered, from their clothes and shoes to the hunting and catching of food. Most of the creatures had the good sense to stay well hidden undercover or underground. The small supplies that they had brought with them from the farmhouse had lasted only a few days.

  “Go on then,” Ben said, reluctantly continuing the conversation, “you’ve had your minute.”

  “Well, I could still be carrying you,” Carl suggested. “I don’t know about you, but that’d make this journey worse for me.”

  “If you think that’s bad, just imagine if I ended up carrying you,” Ben said as he jabbed his elbow into Carl's waist.

  “That's it!” Carl replied as he grasped Ben’s head in a mock headlock and pulled him towards the ground, grinding his knuckles into Ben’s scalp and causing droplets of water to fly everywhere. Ben resisted, but for both men it was the most fun that they’d had in what seemed to be a very long time.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Matthew bellowed from the front of the group. They stopped what they were doing and stared at him.

  “In case you haven’t noticed,” Matthew continued, “it’ll be getting dark soon and we need to find some shelter. And seeing as how you’ve both got so much energy, you can each take a watch tonight?”

  They both nodded as they tried to hold back the smirks from their faces. Ben wasn’t sure about how young people were educated in this world, but for him he felt like he was five again, getting caught talking at the back of the class.

  With that thought in his head, Ben rejoined the rest of the small group as they continued on their journey.

  II

  Peter and the others stood there, open-mouthed, their hearts beating in their throats as they got their first real view of the invading armies. Tom’s description hadn’t even begun to do it justice.

  From where they stood, they could see thousands of people moving together, like the flow of a river, as they began their trek on the Great Road southward. There were a few outliers, but the main throng of people moved as one along a road only forty metres wide, a huge crowd of people stretching southward as far as the eye could see.

  Interspersed throughout, they could see hundreds of carts and wagons, pulled by men or cattle, and loaded high with equipment and supplies. There looked to be enough to sustain the entire army for weeks or months, if need be.

  As Tom had described, there were soldiers intermixed throughout the civilians, but that looked to be more a matter of control than friendly interaction. Soldiers near the sides of the group seemed to be herding the people along like cattle, but the joy on the people’s faces suggested that they didn’t actually mind. The look on the soldiers’ faces suggested a slightly different opinion.

  The main bulk of the military could be seen nearer the front of the army, tides of dark green uniforms almost drowning out the ripples of civilian clothing that could be seen near the horizon. They were too far away to see what weapons they were carrying, but the carts at the front of the group didn’t look like they were loaded with food. Peter wasn’t sure, but the faint outline he could see through the beating rain suggested cannons at least and maybe a catapult or two for good measure.

  “Come on, before they spot us,” Peter said as he started down the rise towards the Great Road. They approached near the rear of the army, intending to duck into the throng before they were spotted. Unfortunately, they weren’t so lucky.

  “Hey, you there, where have you been?” someone shouted from behind them.

  A young soldier was running towards them along the side of the road, waving in an attempt to get their attention. The small group look
ed worriedly amongst themselves as he neared them, silenced with the fear that they may have lost everything at the first hurdle.

  “Just shut up and go along with anything I say,” Peter said under his breath as he took two steps towards the soldier who was almost on top of them.

  “I just saw you coming over the rise,” the soldier demanded. “Where have you been?”

  “I went to see my . . . my uncle,” Peter offered. “He’s got a farm not far from here, I thought maybe he’d want to tag along. He’s no love for those southerners, not after all they’ve done for him.”

  “Is that right?” the soldier asked. He was trying to give an impression of being professional and inquisitive, but the disinterested look on his face told a different story. He was already tired and fed up of being in charge of all the civilians, wandering off when they felt like it or just stopping when they were tired and felt like a rest. This was supposed to be a professional military operation; timing and precision were crucial and they couldn’t run the risk of blowing it all because a group of untrained, undisciplined hicks couldn’t be bothered to follow orders.

  He was about to say something to that effect when he realised that he didn’t really care. They could cope with losing a few here and there, they were only cannon fodder, after all. As long as he wasn’t the one who ended up getting shot at, he could probably learn to live with it for the next few weeks until they got to Draxis.

  “Yes, but they had already left. They’re probably already here, you know, somewhere,” Peter said, a sweeping gesture of his hand indicating the colossal crowd around them. A few people had already stopped at the side of the road to see what was going on, much to the young soldier’s disapproval.

  “Yes, probably. Well,” the soldier glanced at the soiled and torn stripes on Peter’s shoulders, “sergeant, you should know better than to wander off when you’ve been told to stay with your platoon. You can go look for your family later, but right now, you should keep moving. There’s still a lot of ground to cover before nightfall, and,” he turned to the small group that had gathered to watch, “that goes for the rest of you too. Come on, look lively.”

  Peter smiled at the soldier before the soldier turned and started back towards the rear of the army, shaking his head in disbelief. At that moment, he would have given almost anything to be at the front with his comrades, marching in perfect lines with his chest pushed out and his rifle balanced perfectly against his side.

  A few weeks, that was all, just a few, long weeks. Surely he could cope with it for that long, couldn’t he?

  Of course he could, he was a soldier, after all. But, for now, all he could do was shake his head.

  “That was close,” Donald said as the small crowd that started to gather around them slowly dispersed.

  Peter started to move south beside the rest of the group, indicating that the others should follow, but he kept them off the road for a while longer so that any conversation between them could not be overheard.

  “That was nothing, not really,” Peter began. “Everyone you meet is going to ask you something or other, and you can’t afford to mess it up.”

  “I know, Pete,” Donald replied in hushed tones. “It’s just that, you know, we didn’t expect it, not straight off like that. We weren’t ready, that’s all.”

  “Okay,” Peter said, “but I think we should all split up, see what we can learn separately, and just take a moment to think about what you’re going to say before you say it. Watch your accents, they’re a dead give away, and any trouble just make for the wastes, seems like the soldiers don't care too much about the odd straggler.”

  “Got it,” Simon said.

  “Right,” Peter told them. “We all meet up in two days, at sunset.”

  The three men nodded, but Catrina just continued to stare at the long line of people moving towards her homeland.

  “Catrina, meet up in two days, okay?” Peter said again.

  “Okay,” she replied, her voice, like her face, expressionless.

  “Right, where do we meet then?” Peter asked, trying to keep things running smoothly.

  “What about over there,” Conrad suggested, “by that wagon with the red labelled crates. They should be easy enough to spot from wherever we are.”

  “Good plan,” Peter acknowledged. “So are we agreed: two days, sunset, at the crates?”Again, all but Catrina nodded.

  “Well, let’s get back to the road then, shall we,” he suggested. “I don’t know about you, but I could do without that soldier coming and asking us any more awkward questions. I’m fresh out of answers this time.”

  They approached the road and blended easily with the crowds, nodding and smiling at everyone around them as though they had known each other all their lives, united by a hatred of a common enemy.

  They slowly separated, Conrad and Simon holding back near the rear of the group while Donald attempted to push his way forwards, intent on investigating the contents of the foremost wagons.

  Catrina made her own way forwards, forcibly pushing her way through the crowds of marching people, bringing her far more attention than she would have liked, had she been in the right frame of mind to care. Abiding by his promise, Peter stayed close to her, following her as she barged her way between throngs of people, attempting to pacify them as he passed.

  As night fell, the marching armies slowly disbanded from their lines and moved to the lands at the side of the road to start fires and prepare for the night’s rest. Soldiers collected sacks of food and supplies from the many wagons along the length of the road and distributed them fairly among the civilians, enough food to keep them all alive, but not so much so as to run into shortages later in the trip.

  Catrina found herself ushered into a small group surrounding one of the many barely burning fires. The damp conditions were making it hard on everyone, with dry wood being stockpiled at the head of the armies to fuel the advancing Road Trains. Each fire was barely hot enough to light the immediate space around it, so instead the people had to rely on the minimal light from the crescent moon shining overhead.

  A young man almost dragged her from the road as he attempted to impress her with his mindless banter and boyish grin.

  “Come sit by the fire with me,” he offered. “I can’t let one as sweet and innocent as you catch her death of cold from the rain.”

  “I’ll be fine over here,” Catrina responded, trying in vain to pull away from his grip. Had she really wanted to, she could have put him down and escaped, but until that was absolutely necessary, she was reluctant to draw the attention of the numerous soldiers all around them still distributing food.

  “No, it’s okay, really, I don’t mind,” he continued. “Besides, you’re not really dressed for this outdoor lark. I can see the icy bumps from here.”

  He reached down to stroke the rising goose flesh on her arm, but she pulled it violently away from him, shocking him into a momentary silence.

  “Okay,” he said slowly as his voice returned, the tone noticeably different as he began to realise that he was fighting a losing battle. “Fine, I get it, sure. You just go off and freeze to death. See if I care.”

  With his closing comment, he released his grip on her arm, muttering obscenity after obscenity under his breath as he met his friends around their fire. One of the older men laughed aloud as he approached, slapping him on the back as he passed. Helping himself to a mug of mead from a barrel on the food wagon, he sat at the fire with his friends and began to drown his sorrows.

  Peter had watched the scene from one of the neighbouring groups, along with those around him, though unlike his newfound comrades, he didn’t find the scene very amusing. It took all of his strength to resist intervening, to hold back and not beat the young man into the ground. He was glad for a moment that Carl or Matthew had not been around to see it, doubting that they would have been able to maintain a similar resolve.

  For a long while, Catrina sat by herself away from any of the fires, gazing
up to the stars as she nibbled on a piece of salted meat that had been given to her by a passing soldier.

  All this time, while her gaze was directed skywards, the young man and his friends were slowly emptying the keg of ale with their gaze fixed solidly on her. It was not until they had almost surrounded her that she even knew they had moved from their place around the fire.

  “Hey, girl,” the older man who had slapped his friend on the back said, “what you got against my good friend here. He’s a nice lad, really, ain’t no reason for you to treat him so bad. He only wants to be your friend.”

  The other men around her emitted a guttural laughter as the older man said “friend.” Catrina tried to stand, but was pushed forcibly back to the ground with a thump.

  The men were obviously drunk, the smell of ale overwhelming as they staggered and swayed as they moved, but even though they knew what was likely to happen, most people at the surrounding campfires chose to ignore the ongoing situation rather than get involved themselves. Fortunately, Peter was not one of them.

  He was already to his feet as the men moved to surround her, hands clenched tightly at his sides as he tried to suppress the growing rage and carry himself in a more dignified and professional manner.

  “Come on, he ain’t going to hurt you, not really,” the older man continued.

  The young man lurched forwards, hand reaching out to stroke Catrina’s face in a gesture of lustful wanting, unbalanced but still able to stand. Unable to bear his touch for a second time, Catrina reached forwards and gripped his hand tightly, bending it painfully at the wrist. Before he was able to pull himself free, Catrina had already rolled backwards slightly onto the small of her back, freeing her legs from supporting her, and kicked him squarely in the groin with all the strength that she could muster.