Knight Rising

by Jason Hamilton

  What troubled her more was the strange way in which she’d commanded those serpents, and the way George had been dying one moment, then fine the next. It almost seemed as though she had been the cause, though how...she could not say.

  9

  Archimago continued to watch from across the clearing. Judging by the decrease in smoke coming out of the cave, the knight and the girl must have gone to sleep. The appearance of the Error, the great serpent from the Otherworld, had been unexpected. It could have killed the two travelers right then and there, long before reaching their destination.

  But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Any man who could not survive an encounter with the Error was not worthy of serving his mistress. Though Archimago couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to scare off all the serpent’s children. From his distance, he had no way of telling. All he had seen was the girl shouting, at which point the little things slithered away. Most would probably die in the woods, picked up by random predators, or dying of exposure. These creatures were not suited to their world, and only the strong would survive, as was right.

  “Archi,” said a voice from behind him.

  He whirled to see who had spoken. But no one was there.

  “Archi,” came the voice again. A woman’s voice, and it seemed to come from all around him.

  “Who is it?” he called out into the forest.

  A form emerged from behind a tree as though materializing out of thin air. Yes, it was a woman, with long, straight black hair and pale skin. Her lips were a vibrant shade of deep red, like blood, and dark circles surrounded her eyes.

  His own eyes widened as he realized who it was. Immediately he averted his gaze and fell on one knee. “My mistress.”

  “You have served me well, Archi,” she said, her voice growing closer. “Your machinations have finally brought me into this world.”

  “I live only to serve you, my lady,” he said, keeping his head bowed.

  “Oh come now,” her hand reached for his face, tilting it upward to stare at her. It was only then that he realized that three others stood behind her, appearing like great knights with great suits of armor and shields with something written on them. Archimago tried to peer closer to read the inscriptions before his mistress spoke once again. “We both know you have greater ambitions.”

  “All of which can serve you, mistress,” he said, doing his best not to avert his gaze from her eyes. “I wish only to become the greatest warlock of the age.”

  “A lofty goal,” she smiled slightly. “There are few warlocks in this time I hear.”

  “Very few, my lady,” he confirmed. “But those that are, earn great renown. Merlin, for example…”

  “Ah yes, I know him,” his mistress pressed her lips together. “A formidable one, though not my greatest concern at the moment. First, we must remove Gloriana from the table.”

  “Is she really so much trouble?”

  “She is an obstacle to our plans, a thorn in my side. I’m sure you saw how she sealed the breach after I crossed over?”

  “Yes, my lady.” Archimago grew excited. ‘Our plans’ she had said.

  “With her out of the way, we can unleash hell on Earth, a first step to shaping it to our whim.”

  “So…” he hesitated. “You mean for me to be part of your plans?”

  She regarded him coolly, a slight smile on her lips. “Are you not already? You helped open the breach that brought me here.”

  “I could not have done so but for the previous work of your other servants.”

  “Yet they are not here anymore, and you are.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, and a shiver of delight ran down his spine. “Remain by my side, help me vanquish the Faerie Queen and her minions, and I will teach you magics that Merlin can only dream of.”

  With that, she leaned forward and kissed him. It was the greatest sensation he had ever experienced. It was more than a kiss. It was a promise, a bond that he would never break. He savored the moment, feeling her body grow closer to his, her lips pressing harder and harder. As she broke the kiss, a tear graced his eye. “Thank you, mistress.”

  She smiled again, seemingly satisfied with his reaction. Then her gaze turned to regard the nearby cave, where the knight and girl still lay sleeping. “Tell me of them,” she said.

  “The Faerie Queen has clearly shown an interest in both of them,” Archimago exclaimed. “The knight saw her in a vision and was directed to the girl.”

  “They defeated an Error,” the woman mused, staring at the serpentine corpse not far away.

  “Indeed, mistress,” he said. “They are more powerful than I anticipated. Shall I find a way to kill them?”

  “No,” she said, surprising him. “If Gloriana wants them for herself that means they hold great value. We must first decide whether we can take what they offer for ourselves.”

  “You mean, have them join us?” Archimago frowned.

  “Why fight your enemy’s minions when you can make those minions fight for you?” His mistress turned, as if preparing to leave. “I want you to separate them.”

  “My lady?”

  “Split them up, and I will deal with the knight myself. You will continue to follow the girl. When I am done with the knight, I will come for her.”

  “Yes, mistress.” He rubbed his hands together. This was exciting. If she said she would personally take on the knight, then the man stood no chance. He would either die by her hand, or succumb to her greatness. Either way, it would take a tool out of the hands of the Faerie Queen, and hopefully provide Archimago with more than enough knowledge and power from Duessa as his reward.

  “Archi,” she said, pouting her full, crimson lips and giving him a look that made his knees quiver. “No need to be so formal. We’re bonded together you and I. Call me Duessa.”

  “George...George.”

  The Red Cross knight stirred, his eyes blinking in the dim light. What had woken him?

  “George,” came the voice again.

  “Una?” he asked as a form came into focus. It looked like Una, though his head was still having trouble processing. Where was he exactly? Oh, he was still in the cave, where that thing had been. His vision swam. Perhaps there was still some lingering toxin in his blood.

  “I need you, George,” came Una’s voice again. “I need a man like you in my life.”

  Her image became more concrete. It was Una, though dressed differently than before. She had on a purple nightgown that bordered on indecency. Where had she obtained that?

  “I love you, George,” she said, smiling and wagging her finger at him. “Come with me and we’ll have some fun in the forest.”

  “Una?” he asked again. “What are you doing?”

  He shook his head. None of this made sense. Una had just told him to keep his hands to himself, and now she was leading him on? Were all women so fickle?

  “I want you to come with me, George,” she said, her smile widening. “Come, and I’ll show you everything that you desire.”

  For a moment, he was tempted. Una was beautiful, though that hadn’t been the reason why he’d touched her hand earlier. But no, something about this wasn’t right, though he couldn’t quite place it. His vision swam again.

  For a moment, Una’s smile faltered, and was replaced by something else, something foul, and an expression like anger or frustration. “Come now, George,” she said with some insistence.

  “I...don’t think so,” he said, clutching at his head. Why did it hurt?

  Then her smile returned. “Okay, I’ll just go for some fresh air.” And she turned to exit the cave.

  The headache persisted, and George pressed his fingers to his temples. “What is going on…”

  Suddenly, a scream sounded from beyond the cave entrance. Una was in trouble!

  Ignoring his headache, he scrambled to his feet and swayed on the spot. But quickly gathering his senses, he picked up his sword and raced out of the cave. “Una?” he cried as he exited. His headache
had lessened, and he scanned the clearing for any signs of his traveling companion. She was nowhere to be seen.

  The light was still dim, but the rain had ceased, and the moon provided some light to see by. “Una!” he cried again.

  “George, help!” came a cry. His head snapped to its source, somewhere off to his right, but distant. Far distant.

  “Pegasus,” he cried, running to his horse’s side, and untying it from its tree. “We have to find her.”

  The horse didn’t protest as he untied it. He paused as he considered. The large bags carrying his armor, and usually pulled by the mule, were still in the cave. He would lose precious time if he went to retrieve them.

  What did it matter? He had killed the giant serpent with only his padded armor to aid him, and whatever Una was yelling about couldn’t be any worse than that. He would survive and come back later for the armor.

  Mounting Pegasus, he gave him a good kick before guiding it down a path to the right, the continuation of the path they had come in on, though not one they had yet explored.

  “Help me, George,” came Una’s cry.

  “I’m coming, Una,” he yelled back. “I’m coming!”

  Una blinked awake to the sunlight filtering in through the cave entrance. It was daytime, and late in the day based on the brightness of the light. And her back ached. She must have slept long, but if that were the case, why did she feel so wretched.

  She pushed herself to a sitting position, groaning as her shoulders and back cracked slightly. A cave floor was certainly not the best of accommodations, apart from providing shelter from the rain.

  Speaking of the rain, the storm must have passed in the night, due to the quality of light that now filtered in from outside.

  She turned her head to look at George. The man was probably still asleep, given what had happened the night before.

  The knight was gone.

  She rose to her feet, considering. He must have just awoken before her and went out for some fresh air, not bothering to wake her up. Yes, that had to be it. Odd that she hadn’t heard him leave, though. She wasn’t usually a deep sleeper, and he would have literally had to step over her to get to the entrance.

  Stretching as she went, Una made her way to the front of the cave and stared around the clearing. The giant serpent’s corpse still lay in the center of the clearing, several yards away. Nearby, she saw the mule gently grazing on the grass where it was tied.

  Una blinked. Where was George’s horse?

  She hurried to where the horse had been tied and found no remains of the rope that tied it. So, either the knot had come loose, or someone had taken it. Ducking down to the ground, she followed its hoof prints. In the previous night’s rain, they sunk deep. She first noticed tracks that could only be the Red Cross knight, leading to the horse, at which point they disappeared and the horse’s hooves took over. They led straight to the clearing’s exit, on the far side of where they had first entered.

  What had prompted the knight to leave? Had her little outburst last night caused him to reconsider their temporary partnership? Had he gone on to face the dragon on his own? Not that she could have helped in the first place, but at least he seemed to think she would be valuable, judging by his vision.

  Should she go after him, or would he come back soon? Maybe he had just gone hunting or something. That would make more sense. But if that were the case, why hadn’t he told her before leaving? He wasn’t so stupid as to leave without telling someone, even if he didn’t want to disturb her. He knew better.

  After a moment’s consideration, she made up her mind. She would go after him. She needed to get out of this place anyway. The dead serpent and knowing that its children were roaming through the forest, gave her the creeps.

  Quickly, she went back into the cave to grab all her belongings. Inside, she found the knight’s pack and spear. Only his sword was missing. Strange.

  She almost reconsidered leaving. With all his belongings still in the cave, it made sense that maybe he was planning to return. But no, something told Una there was more to it than that. If he had taken his sword in such haste, then something was the matter. Besides, she couldn’t stay put for long, not with the midsummer solstice approaching. She would be at that castle the moment it appeared even if she had to forget about the knight.

  She would follow Pegasus’s hoof prints for as far as she could. If she followed them long enough, assuming they remained visible, then she would find him eventually.

  Once the mule was fully stocked, she untied it from its tree and together they left the clearing into the dark and dense forest beyond.

  10

  It was day, or at least, George thought it was day. It was hard to tell with the forest so thick. He’d traveled for hours, and could find no trace of Una, not even any footprints to go off of. The voice had ceased not long after he had pursued the girl. What was he to do now?

  He’d tried doubling back, but the path had split at various junctures, and for the life of him, he couldn’t see where his tracks had come from. It wasn’t long before he was completely lost, consumed by the darkness of the forest.

  “Una!” he cried again for the thousandth time. As before, there was no response. Why had he left the cave? Clearly there was some kind of sorcery in this forest. And they weren’t even in the Forest of Arden yet. They had only come maybe half-way to that supposedly cursed place. But if it was half as devious as what he had encountered so far, they might not make it through to the other side, to Castle Silene.

  He hunched forward on his saddle, weariness taking him. If he didn’t find his way out of this forest, he might never get the chance to kill the dragon and redeem himself. And the situation did not look good. He had left without taking his pack, his food, nothing but his sword, shield, and padded armor. He was an idiot. Even Pegasus seemed to glance at him with incredulous looks.

  What had inspired him to leave in such a hurry? At the time, it had made total sense to him, but now all he could think about was getting back, and yet he was only vaguely aware of how he had traveled this far. Something, or someone in this forest must have laid a spell on him. That was the only explanation.

  “Help me,” came a faint cry in the distance. Without thinking, George brought his horse to a halt and listened carefully. “Help me!” came the cry again. Was that Una?

  The sound was coming from straight ahead, near a large oak tree in the distance.

  Feeling his fatigue leave his body, he sat straighter in the saddle. “Hear that, Pegasus? This search might not have been in vain after all.”

  With a swift kick, he sent his horse springing forward. He lay low, allowing the tree branches along the path to pass over his head. This path was well used, but it wasn’t devoid of brambles.

  The large oak grew closer, giving view to another clearing of sorts, though this one was only empty because the oak grew so high and wide that it cut off the sunlight for any vegetation surrounding its trunk.

  “Help!” said a cry again. This time George saw who was speaking.

  It wasn’t Una.

  But the moment he got a good look, all thoughts of Una escaped his mind. This woman was...she was...there were simply no words to accurately describe her beauty. She had straight, ebony hair that fell over her shoulders like gently-flowing water. Her full lips were a deep red, begging to be kissed, and contrasting starkly with her silken pale skin. Draped over her, as if flowing like wind over every curve of her body was a black dress, scandalously thin in places.

  He only realized that he’d pulled Pegasus to a halt and stared at the woman for a long moment when a sword lashed out of nowhere. Coming out of his stupor just in time, he swung his own sword. A clang of metal against metal rang through the wood.

  George regarded his attacker. He was a tall, muscular man with dark hair. Long strings of beads and other trinkets hung from the man’s clothing, and a scarf covered his face, clearly from some foreign country. He bore a curved sword in one hand, and a rou
nd shield in the other. On the shield were written the words, ‘Sans Foy’. Faithless.

  Though the man’s face was covered, George could see the anger in his eyes, pure rage as he slashed at the Red Cross knight once again.

  Instinct took over, and George parried once more, following up the counter by reaching one foot out for a swift kick. The attack caught the man in the face, causing him to stagger, and giving George just enough time to swing off his horse and bring his sword at the ready. He needed to be on the same level with the man. Cavalry was invaluable in a fight of armies, but when neither he nor his horse had any plated armor, facing a single opponent, he was best on the ground.

  “Kill him,” cried the woman. “He tried to take my honor.”

  George snarled at the man who by now had regained his feet and took up a fighting stance. There was nothing worse than a rapist, and he would give this man his just reward.

  Screaming, he met the man with sword against sword, and shield against shield. The man was good. He dodged George’s attacks as much as parried them. Light on his feet, he kept trying to attack George from the sides.

  But the Red Cross knight was not so easily fooled as that. While the Saxons had fought with all out attacks, George had come across a variety of foes in his time. This man was similar in fighting style as some of the moors to the south, though his complexion and clothing were clearly from a different culture.

  He parried one blow after another, keeping the man from getting too close. His efforts required far less energy than the constant bobbing and weaving coming from his enemy, especially while George wore gambeson instead of plate. Eventually, he would wear the man down.

  Indeed, it didn’t take long before beads of sweat showed on the man’s forehead. He was tiring. Now was the time to strike.