Knight Rising

by Jason Hamilton

  She did not have the courage to set a fire. Who knew what it would attract in the heart of the forest like this? She had no idea what kind of predators lay in these woods, and there was always the possibility that Pyrochles and Archimago could discover her that way. No, she would sleep in the darkness tonight, and hopefully find enough light by morning to continue on her way.

  Another part of her wondered if her magic could somehow help. She’d used it to somehow influence her two attackers, as well as the lion. But could it do more? Could it, for example, provide her with light, or a knowledge of the road’s location?

  It called to her, wanting to be used. It had laid all but dormant inside of her for all this time, and now it sought to get free. Una wasn’t sure she liked the impulses it made her feel. Before, it had made her want to do...terrible things.

  She ignored the strange feeling of her magic’s call, and instead found an area that was well padded with leaves and ferns. It would have to do. She settled herself down for the night, and laid her head in the leaves, trying not to think of all the critters that would likely crawl all over her while she slept. She just had to hope that she received no bites from anything dangerous.

  Despite her concerns, she fell asleep fairly quickly, yet in the night she had the same dream as before, the vision of the multi-headed creature coming for her, the multi-headed beast with her face on each head. She awoke in a cold sweat more than once in the night.

  At one point, she opened her eyes, and light greeted her. It was a pale, blue light; morning must be here. The prospect of continuing her journey pushed back all of her remaining weariness, and she rose to a sitting position, checking her body for bites.

  But the light wasn’t behaving like the light of dawn. It flickered almost like a fire, dancing around her. She looked behind her to see what caused the strange occurrence.

  Two small orbs of light moved up and down, almost playful in the distance. They were the source of the light. There was still nothing coming from the canopy above.

  The lights came closer, then backtracked, then came closer again, only to retreat once more. Una narrowed her eyes. It almost seemed as though the lights wanted her to follow them. And this forest being what it was, she knew that doing so would almost certainly lead to an undesirable outcome.

  She rose to her feet, being careful not to spill anything from her pouch. The two lights approached her, slower this time, expectant.

  “No,” she said aloud, before turning in the opposite direction and walking as fast as she dared. The last thing she needed was another fateful encounter in the forest. Even if the lights weren’t malignant, she couldn’t take that chance.

  They are to be your guides, came a thought, or almost a whisper from above. She stopped in her tracks, listening. That had sounded like the whispers she’d heard upon first entering the forest.

  “Those lights?” she said, louder than she intended. Great, she was talking to trees now.

  They will lead you home, answered the voices.

  Home. That was annoyingly vague. She could interpret that as anything from Castle Silene to her eternal grave.

  She turned to look back at the lights, only to discover they had changed. They still shone with the same early-morning light, but there was more now. They almost appeared as two women, clothed the same as trees. Their raiment was like bark, their hair like twigs, their feet seemed to almost blend with the ground.

  Why had she ever thought going through this forest would be a good idea? People had warned her, but no, she had to think she could avoid all that talk of strange creatures and enchantments. Now she was not only lost, but she had encountered an evil knight, a sorcerer, and now what looked like two living trees.

  One of them beckoned to her, waving one sinewy hand and pointing behind her. The light that emanated from the creature seemed to push forward, illuminating the way Una should go.

  You will be safe, said the whispers all around her.

  She still had half a mind to continue on, away from the tree-like women. But something told her that would not work out well. If these trees could wave hands at her, they could likely do more, like attack or prevent her from escaping.

  Though she had to admit, the trees had been right about some things so far. She now knew she should not trust Duessa or anyone claiming to be on her side. But that didn’t mean that she should also trust the trees. Yet what else was there to do? She wouldn’t arrive at Castle Silene on her own at this rate.

  She grit her teeth. “Fine,” she said under her breath, too low for anyone to hear.

  She took one step forward, then another, moving towards the woodland creatures instead of away from them this time.

  The two figures waited patiently until she was only several yards away, then they turned as one and began walking forward, waving their arms to indicate that Una should follow.

  Una took a deep breath. This could all end up with her dead at the hands of some ugly monster. But something told her that wouldn’t happen. Something told her she would want to be wherever these creatures took her.

  She followed after the two strange women.

  After several hours of travel, she began to think that the real problem with the woodland women was not their potential malevolence, but the fact that neither appeared to desire conversation. She tried time and time again to ask them questions, everything from the details of their destination, to what they thought of the soil in the forest. Yet for all her efforts, they said nothing, and the whispers had quieted too.

  Yet the air was changing. A thickness lifted, replaced by a cool, sweet-scented breeze. There was greater light ahead as well. Wherever they were going, it was already far more pleasant than any other part of the forest she had experienced.

  Soon enough, more features became apparent. There were old structures here, former homes and forts, bridges crossing a large chasm, and even what looked like steps carved directly into some of the larger trees. No, not carved exactly. Upon closer inspection, it looked as though the trees had simply grown that way. She stared up into the branches, trying to see if she could catch a glimpse of where the steps led.

  “Those are houses,” said a calm voice in front of her. She looked back down and stopped in her tracks to keep from walking straight into one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen.

  The woman’s face was pale, but with a hint of green. Una couldn’t make out if the hue was natural, or merely a reflection of the lush forest around her. Dark red hair contrasted starkly with the woman’s pale skin, and her eyes nearly glowed green. Her clothing wrapped around her and flowed like a living thing, a silken fabric that complemented her skin.

  But there was more than beauty about this woman. She radiated something deeper, something beyond human. In fact, were those points to her ears? What kind of person had points to their ears?

  “Hello, Una,” said the woman. “My name is Gloriana. I believe you know me as the Faerie Queen.”

  20

  George started from a restless sleep as the doors to his cell opened with a scrape that echoed through the underground hall.

  “Come,” said a woman’s voice. He recognized it as Envy, the woman they had met earlier. “You’ve been selected as today’s entertainment.”

  “E-entertainment?” he couldn’t stop the waver in his voice. What did that entail? It could not be good, considering this place.

  “Yes,” said Envy, and he could practically hear her sneer. “Duessa wants you to prove yourself, to show her that you are worthy of being her knight.”

  For the briefest of seconds, a jolt of excitement lanced through him, only to be replaced moments later with revulsion, not only of the prospect of being Duessa’s knight, but also from the fact he had once wanted to.

  “Well she can find entertainment somewhere else,” he said, trying to sound braver than he felt. “I am not one to be thrown about like a baited bear.”

  The woman laughed. “It’s funny that you think you have a choice.
I can see why she likes you. Perhaps if she finds you inadequate, I might take a turn.”

  He did not like the tone of her voice. Nevertheless, he stayed where he was. Envy didn’t appear to have anyone near her, there were no guards. If she wanted him to come out, she would have to call them and drag him out. He was no longer Duessa’s puppet.

  A sudden pain around his neck and he found himself wide-eyed and struggling to breathe. His eyes found Envy, and to his horror, her arm was outstretched and grown longer than humanly possible. It stretched across the cell, all the way to where he lay at its back. It was her hand that clutched at his throat.

  “You will come with me, or I will strangle you here,” she said. Her voice was no longer sweet, but raspy and thin like that of a witch in some children’s story. She pulled at his neck, and his body rose unwillingly with it.

  He gasped for air and clutched at the sinuous arm clamped around his throat, even as his body moved from the back of the cell to the front, his toes lightly scraping against the ground as he went.

  Envy brought him closer, and her face no longer showed any signs of beauty. Deep lines covered that face, and her skin was a pale gray. She pulled him in, tilting her head and observing his struggles. His face grew hot as blood rushed to it.

  “Someone wants to see you,” said Envy in a quieter tone, her voice back to what it once was.

  Someone to see him? Did she mean Duessa? From her tone, it sounded like someone different, but no one knew him in here. Had Una somehow run afoul of this place and asked for him? The last thing he wanted was for Una to come here. This place was cursed, and he had walked right into it.

  Reluctantly, but with little other choice, he followed Envy out of the dungeon. The light caused him to blink upon exiting. The air here was still gray, almost as if the entire castle were plunged into a smoky fog. Yet it was still light enough to sting his eyes the moment he was out of the darkness.

  Envy led him down a winding street. Humans and creatures of all sorts watched them as they passed, many sneering at him when he caught their eye. So many people. What could possibly possess them to stay here?

  Soon, the path gave way to a wide, open arena. It was far larger than he would have thought possible. The castle hadn’t looked so large from the outside, but here it seemed to hold far more than any normal castle, even more than a Roman fort.

  The arena was crowded, with people and monsters sitting in every space, many jeering and taunting him as Envy led him down the stairs to the heart of the arena.

  So he was to be tested. Well, he could handle himself in combat, though he wasn’t sure how his muscles would fare after being locked up for a few days. And there was no glory to be had here. If he was to fight, he would fight for their amusement, nothing more.

  He did not want to kill anyone, and he would avoid a fight if possible. He felt the resolution take hold of him even as he thought it. There was a time when he would not have shied from any fight, any reason to prove his worth. But not here. He would not fight unless there was no other choice.

  Ahead of them lay a dais, and on that dais stood several figures, all crowding around an enormous black throne of ebony wood, or at least, he thought it was wood. Parts of it jutted out at odd angles, as though the wood itself was alive, but twisted to some foul purpose.

  On that throne sat Duessa, garbed in her usual black, though for some reason it appeared far more seductive, more revealing than he had seen before. Perhaps it was a new vestige, but part of him was certain that whatever spell she had laid on him before had blinded him to such things. Odd that a spell of attraction would remove his ability to notice such lusts of the flesh.

  She smiled upon seeing him approach behind Envy, even as the sea of creatures and twisted humans laughed and jeered at him. Then, upon raising a single hand, Duessa quieted everyone within seconds.

  “Sir George,” she greeted in an elevated tone, so all could hear.

  “Do not call me sir,” said George in a low voice. “I have not earned that title.”

  “But you are a knight, are you not?” Duessa looked around at the others in mock surprise and confusion. “Or is that no more than a left-over designation from your previous role.”

  George hung his head. Yes, he had been a knight once, and people still called him one. But he knew in his heart that he had long lost the privilege of that title.

  Duessa gave him a cruel smile. “No, this man failed his master once,” she said to the onlookers. “Yet I am not without mercy. I will grant this man a chance of redemption.”

  George looked up. What was she playing at? It irked him that he had little to no idea what this woman wanted him for. At times it seemed like she needed him, and at others like she was playing with him. Obviously, she didn’t wish him dead, at least not yet. She’d had plenty of opportunities to kill him before. So what were her desires? Could it have anything to do with his mission from the Faerie Queen? Duessa certainly seemed like one who would align herself with a dragon. Perhaps she didn’t want the worm dead.

  “One of my loyal protectors has come forward, claiming that this man killed his brother. He has come today to challenge our title-less knight.”

  George’s eyes shot to where Duessa gestured. She was pointing at a figure standing beside the dais, an enormous man who did not take his eyes off of him. George recognized the man, or at least his raiment. He was dressed much like the attacker he had wasted in the forest, the man who had been kidnapping Duessa. He bore a shield with the words ‘Sans Joy’ on them. Joyless.

  A wave of confusion overtook George, and he narrowed his eyes. Why did Duessa permit this man into her realm when his brother had tried to kidnap her? Furthermore, why would she let him have a chance for revenge?

  “I am Cymochles,” said the man, shouting for all to hear. “I am one of three brothers who swore to be protectors of our lady,” he inclined his head respectively to Duessa, who returned the nod. “We came from Annwyn like many of you, and you may be familiar with our race. One of my brothers, Pyrochles, patrols the forest, but our youngest brother, he died while trying to protect our mistress from this man.” He pointed a finger directly at George. The jeers increased at his accusation.

  “Wait,” said George. “I wasn’t trying to attack Duessa, she…”

  “You will speak her name with reverence,” said one of the figures on the dais, the one with blood covering his clothing.

  George swallowed, thinking the situation through. “Look, why would I travel with her, serve as her protector, and come here if I wanted to attack her? It makes no sense. I thought she was in trouble, so I ran to her aid. Your brother,” he faced his accuser, “he attacked me. I only defended myself and your lady.”

  “Lies,” said the man, tilting his head forward and holding his gaze with dark eyes. “We are just lucky that the lady has strong defenses of her own, and that she used them to bring you here where we could put a proper end to you.”

  “And yet,” began Duessa. Her words were simple and her expression calm, but it was enough to cause Cymochles to flinch. He turned to stare at his mistress, a pleading look in his eye. Duessa smiled as all eyes fixed on her. “And yet the man has shown incredible prowess in battle. He bested your brother with little effort. He could be a valuable asset.”

  George swallowed. Short of treacherous enchantment, he knew he would never work for this woman again. His short-sightedness and his lust for achievement and honor had caused enough problems already. They had brought him here, had taken him away from Una and the Faerie Queen’s quest. They had led him into the seductive arms of a sorceress he did not want to cross again.

  No, he would never serve her. But he didn’t say as much. He had the feeling that such a statement would get him killed. Perhaps if he played along, he might find a way to escape. But what price would playing along cost him?

  “My lady,” said Cymochles. “Allow me to fight him, to prove that I and my brother are still loyal to you, that we are worthy of remainin
g your protectors.”

  Duessa’s expression looked like she was considering it, but George knew this had been her plan all along. And it was a far more effective method than simply killing him outright. If he won, she would have taught a lesson to all of her minions, and if he lost, then she put on a spectacle, and increased the morale of her protectors and citizens.

  “Very well,” she said, eyeing George with that knowing smile on her face. “I will allow it. A fight to the death. You may prove who will be the better champion.”

  Envy pulled something from her cloak beside George and threw it to the ground with a clatter. Then she retreated with a sneer.

  George looked down at what had fallen, only to see his sword lying there, dirtied and uncared for, but otherwise still in good condition. He picked it up, testing his fingers on its grip.

  “I will not fail!” said Cymochles, and he pulled part of his scarf over his face.

  Wait, they were going to fight now? George had no armor, other than the gambeson he still wore, but it was torn in several places and would not be as effective. In contrast, Cymochles had mail, not to mention that mesh of beads that seemed to be a common trait with his brother. And he was far bigger than George.

  But George did not have time to protest. With a heavy jump down into the arena, Cymochles whipped out his curved sword, equal to that wielded by his brother, and charged George.

  21

  Instinctively, George fell into a defensive stance, holding his sword forward and low.

  His attacker twirled in midair with impressive grace for one so big, bringing his sword down with great force. George countered the strike, but the man carried more momentum than he expected. It caused him to take a step backward to balance himself. Cymochles immediately took the opportunity to press forward, taking on the offensive.

  George cursed to himself as he took several steps back, continuing to block the attacks. He tried to fit in his own attack, but Cymochles fought so furiously that he could not do it. All he could do was block, parry, side-step, and repeat.