Heroes Live Forever (Knights in Time)

by Chris Karlsen

  Elinor rode for an hour surrounded by trees grey and bare, like her broken heart. A loud thunder-clap sounded close. She circled Guardian around and started home, mindful of the slick cushion of wet leaves that blanketed the forest floor. In spite of her caution, Guardian slipped and went down hard on one knee. After several firm tugs on the reins, Elinor managed to raise his head, but he slipped again before he worked his way up. The fall and struggle had him agitated and stressed. Elinor sat quiet and let him snort and blow while he calmed down.

  Lightning struck, searing a nearby tree. Elinor jerked, but kept a loose hold on the reins. A frightened Guardian bolted, yanking the reins out of her hands with that first leap. She tried not to let terror override her senses and grasped his mane with one hand. She stretched, leaning far down the side of his neck, struggling to reach one rein and regain control. She’d do what Basil told her and force Guardian to turn. The turbulent movement from his long strides kept the rein just beyond her fingertips.

  Elinor braved a glance up. He'd crossed out of the woods, into the flat area, seconds from the road. Panic replaced coherent thought. Desperate, she pushed against the stirrups and lifted completely and precariously out of the saddle to stretch further forward. Only the pressure of her knees and calves kept her astride while she maneuvered.

  As it came over the rise and onto the straight patch of empty road, the Range Rover picked up speed. The driver divided his attention between the road and the car radio.

  At the edge of the pavement, Guardian came to a sudden halt. The abrupt stop sent Elinor airborne, over his head.

  The driver glanced up from the radio. There was no time to slam on the brakes. The impact sent the bags filled with Christmas gifts flying across the cargo area of the Rover.

  Chapter Thirty

  Lucy couldn't remember a traffic jam this bad on a country road. At least a mile long, it moved at a snail's pace.

  The cars inched along for fifteen minutes before she saw the police car ahead. Another five minutes passed before she saw the animal control officer holding a horse by the bridle. In seconds, she recognized Guardian and pulled over onto the embankment. A Range Rover sat fifty yards ahead, the hood dented, the windshield a web of cracked glass. A man Lucy guessed to be the driver rested in the grass being treated by paramedics, talking to an officer.

  A second policeman approached and told her to drive on when she got out of the car. "Just tell me, was the rider of that horse involved in the accident?"

  Stoic and composed, the officer's professional demeanor betrayed nothing. "Do you know the owner of this horse?"

  Lucy nodded.

  "Would you come with me please?" She trailed after him firing off questions, which went unanswered.

  With the aid of animal control, Lucy got Guardian back to Elinor's and untacked. The police told her not to call Elinor's parents. They'd send someone to notify them. The officer said she could meet the Hawthornes at the hospital.

  Lucy wandered around Badger Manor and tried to think what to bring to the hospital beside the usual robe and toiletries. The policeman’s refusal to discuss Elinor’s condition was ominous. How bad was she?

  At the door, she spied dozens of cassette tapes. None of the holders listed the songs or artists names. The lack of detail struck her as odd and out of character for Elinor.

  She hurried to the hospital and found Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne already there. They hugged her and thanked her for helping, then informed her Elinor was still in surgery. Other than that, no one would offer any opinions. Except for the initial small talk, they all waited in quiet, alone with their thoughts. Every time a nurse walked by, Elinor's mother straightened, her anxious gaze following the staffer only to slump down when they walked on.

  "Why do you think hospital waiting rooms are painted green?" Mrs. Hawthorne circled the room as she commented on the décor. "Not just any green, but a green with no name. It's never ivy or sage or even lime green, but some shade they must save just for hospitals." She stopped and stared up at the florescent ceiling lights. “And then there’s the lighting. Have you ever noticed it somehow makes those of us waiting look like we should be admitted?” She circled again, same path, opposite direction.

  Neither Lucy, nor Mr. Hawthorne, had an answer for her, assuming she really wanted one. Mrs. Hawthorne sat down.

  At last, the surgeon came out and spoke to them. His assessment was brief. He'd done everything possible. However, the internal damage had been tremendous. Elinor's parents tried to question him more. The doctor met each inquiry with an evasive response. He cut them off before they were finished. He ended the conversation by saying she'd be moved to a private room. The staff would be advised her family could stay as long as they liked.

  The room was Spartan, even by country hospital standards. Elinor lay motionless. Her skin was paler than the white hospital gown, the back of her hand bruised where they’d inserted IV needles. Lucy stared at the heart monitor, the green blips coming sporadic and slow, logging the inevitable.

  She walked down the hall to the water fountain near the exit. The glass doors were shut tight against the black night and the storm's cloud cover that still loomed. As she bent to drink, cool, crisp air filled the corridor. Lucy turned to see if the doors had blown open. Her eyes widened as her throat worked to swallow the mouthful of water.

  Basil stood silent.

  "I know you,” Lucy blurted, her eyes alight with sudden recognition. “I saw you in the field with her. Nora told me I saw a ghost. I thought she was being sarcastic. I never believed in ghosts.”

  Basil smiled. “Neither did I.”

  “You...” The words trailed off while she adjusted to his presence and sorted out the meaning in her mind. “...You've come for her."

  He gave a small nod.

  "She always loved knights," she whispered with a quiver in her voice.

  "I know."

  Lucy's tears echoed softly off the walls of the empty corridor.

  Basil approached. With an upturned palm, he raised a hand towards her cheek in an open gesture she knew was meant to reassure.

  "You were her dearest friend. She loved you very much."

  She tipped her head, eyes to the ceiling, Lucy blinked hard several times. More composed, she lowered her head and returned his gaze. “Sorry, give me a moment.”

  He waited.

  When she was certain she could maintain her emotions, she said, “I’m fine.”

  He dropped his hand. "It is time."

  She studied Basil. He was all she hoped a knight would be. "This will sound strange, but, I kind of envy Nora." Lucy took a deep breath and managed a weak smile. "Don't tell her."

  "I won't." Basil gave her a courtly bow, "I take that as a great compliment, Lady Lucille."

  ****

  Basil's kiss warmed Elinor's lips. Her eyelashes fluttered open and he lifted her into tight embrace. "You came."

  The color high in his cheeks emphasized the flash of white teeth as he smiled. "You're the keeper of my heart, how could I not?"

  Dressed the same as the last time she'd seen him, the polished pommel of his sword and shiny mail reflected the light. Understanding without regret filled her. Elinor's fingers slid over the fine material of the bronze silk dress she wore in her dream. Now, the dream comes true.

  Basil rose and waited at the door, resplendent in his medieval armor. Elinor whispered good bye to her parents. “Don’t be sad. I'm not alone, and I'm happy.”

  Mrs. Hawthorne sat on the edge of the bed and took Elinor's hand and kissed her forehead as the monitor flat lined. "My baby's gone."

  Her father went to the window. His back to the others, the former Royal Marine's shoulders shook with the stout man's quiet tears.

  Lucy watched as the magnificent knight led her friend away. The bruises gone, Elinor glowed. Her complexion was flushed with a healthy pink color. Her eyes bright with new life, she never looked more beautiful. The fine gold netting on the dress sparkled as she turned an
d waved, the dark knight holding her close. Lucy smiled and waved back as they faded from view.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Outside, Elinor ran to greet Guy who had waited with Thor and Saladin. He opened his arms wide and pulled her up in a strong embrace. The beloved charmer of Edward’s court bent her backwards, "Milady." Mischief and light danced in his eyes as his lips came within an inch of hers.

  "That will be quite enough." Basil expertly extricated Elinor from Guy's grasp. "What do you think you're doing?"

  "What? I'm merely showing our lovely Elinor how happy I am to see her," Guy's brows rose in mock innocence, "how much I have missed her." He gave Elinor a flirtatious wink and a rakish grin.

  Basil snorted as he lifted her onto Saladin's back and mounted. "Shall we go?"

  Elinor shifted in the saddle and turning her head, stretched so her lips touched his. She savored their firm fullness and the heat of his kiss. A lock of his hair fell forward tickling her nose. She wrapped the inky strand over her finger and sniffed it, "Your hair does smell like chamomile, so clean. I dreamt it did."

  “Did you?” He covered her neck with small kisses that teased her skin when he spoke. "I never favored soaps of a strong scent, I'm glad you like my choice."

  Thor sidled close enough for Guy to lean over and lay a warm hand on Elinor's. “Do you see a white hart keeps us company?" He said, nodding towards the right.

  “So, it does.” The gentle animal gingerly kept pace with them, then ran ahead a short distance and stopped until they caught up. It reminded her of the hart in Basil's tapestry.

  "A coincidence," Basil said.

  Elinor twisted around, "How did you know what I was thinking? Can you read my mind here?"

  "Men can rarely read a woman's mind, even here. Women's thoughts are usually so fleeting, 'tis difficult for a man to get a fix on them." Basil clasped her hand in his before the swipe she took at him connected.

  "What a toffee-nosed chauvinist you are."

  "Tsk, tsk, name calling, and here of all places." He rested his chin on Elinor's head and held the other hand down too. "What's a chauvinist?"

  "A chauvinist is someone, usually a man, who believes in the superiority of his own gender. The word derives from the name of a French soldier." Basil and Guy remained strangely quiet. She'd at least expected some argument. "What, no denial?"

  "Well, my lovely lady, my beautiful, sweet Elinor--"

  A set-up. Elinor tried to wriggle her hands out from Basil's grasp. Whatever came next would deserve some retribution, but his grip held firm.

  "I'm in a bit of a quandary. It’s difficult to argue with the belief that men feel themselves superior to women. After all, they are. However, you credit a Frenchman for creating a philosophy which is actually common knowledge. That’s the arguable part. The French aren't usually that astute.”

  Basil frowned and pursed his lips in a failed attempt to appear serious. "What do you think Guy?"

  A better actor, Guy managed to contain his amusement. "I must be the devil’s advocate.” He brought a hand to his chest in a mock gesture of sincerity. “I've always tried to be a fair man. If a woman chooses to take a superior position I feel it's only right to extend her the opportunity."

  He played the part well and allowed for a dramatic pause. "I rather like it when the woman is on top. It leaves my hands free to play with her other bits."

  Both Basil and Elinor rolled their eyes.

  The hart pranced faster through the fields, disturbing nothing.

  Basil nudged Saladin and they changed directions and rode towards a long patchwork of green meadows. Off in the distance, at the bottom of an escarpment, a herd of wild horses grazed.

  "What do you think will happen to Guardian?" Elinor’s mother and father were animal lovers. They wouldn’t order Guardian put down because of the accident. She worried they might sell him. What would the new owners be like?

  "Your parents will give him to your friend with the thoroughbred farm in Warwickshire. He’ll have a contented existence."

  "How do you know? I mean, if it hasn't occurred yet, how can you know?"

  Basil put a finger under her chin and turned her face to his, "Elinor, trust that some things I know." He gave her his best I have secret information look.

  She relaxed against his chest. "Good, I wouldn't want him to suffer because of my poor riding skills."

  "Your skill as a rider had naught to do with the end result."

  Elinor took a moment to mull over the implication of his statement. She wondered if he'd foreseen her death.

  Basil and Guy stopped at the edge of a glade more beautiful than any they'd passed. Granite stones enclosed a brilliant blue lagoon. Outcroppings of rock formed little waterfalls.

  The knights dismounted and Basil helped her down. Neither accompanied Elinor as she walked about.

  The pool was covered by an arched stone bridge with three steps and two pillars on either end. Another pair of pillars stood in the middle, one on each side of the walkway. Atop, lanterns burned, so no part of the bridge fell into shadow.

  “Incredible. Have you been here often before?”

  "I heard of it, but never--" Basil faltered a moment, "had the opportunity to visit." Something flickered in his eyes and then was gone as fast as it appeared. Regret?

  In the sky above the hill, an immense blue-white disc illuminated everything around her. An aura clung to it like a gossamer veil that thinned as it trailed outward. Leaves on trees and shrubs where its beam shone brightest had a translucent quality.

  The knights allowed her to enjoy the wonder of the place. At last, she came back to them, thrilled by the experience and elated they'd brought her. "Do we stay here or go on?"

  Basil clasped his powerful arms around her and hugged her tight. They kissed. A kiss not of passion but poignancy. Elinor noticed. She brushed off the difference, choosing to believe it had been her imagination. One hand slid to her lower back, and with great tenderness, Basil explored her face with the other. A kiss followed each touch and then he drew away.

  "You must cross the bridge now."

  Guy laid a hand on Basil's shoulder. Basil nodded and stepped back.

  Mail clad arms encircled Elinor as Guy sweetly kissed her forehead. "Fair warning Milady, when next we meet, I shall give you a proper kiss." He wiggled his eyebrows and smiled a faint, lopsided, smile, letting her go, he remounted Thor.

  Secure in Basil's presence and captivated by the beauty around them Elinor thought the comment odd. But considering where they were she didn’t over think it.

  "Shall we?" She turned and started up the steps, then glanced over her shoulder to find the knights hadn't followed. A brief jolt of apprehension shot through her. "Aren't you coming?"

  Basil shook his head, "Not right now. You must cross this bridge by yourself. All will be well. Trust me." He made a little shooing gesture with his fingers urging her forward. Guy said nothing and fixed his attention elsewhere.

  Elinor rushed over the bridge and ran straight to the bank of the stream. Basil stood by Saladin, "Basil?"

  He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Alarmed and confused, she waded in. The long dress slowed her, the wet material dragging her back the direction she came from. “Basil?”

  He ran into the stream and met her halfway as she threw herself at him. "I can go no farther Elinor, neither can you."

  She shook her head in disbelief, refusing to give his words any credence. "You're wrong. You must be wrong. This isn't the way it's supposed to be." Elinor sought some sign, some indication Basil could be mistaken. His stoic expression was the worst possible answer. "I can't bear to lose you again. I can't." Basil caught her as her knees buckled.

  They stood in the crystalline water as tears of grief racked her body. Basil rocked her, murmuring words of comfort, and patiently waited for her sobbing to subside. "Shh...You mustn't cry. There's supposed to be no tears here. It's not as bad as you imagine. Will you listen to what I have to tell you?"
>
  She nodded yes, seeing no other choice.

  "You gave me your unconditional love when I had nothing to give you. I spent my life thinking romantic love was an emotion of no value. With you, I saw what love could be. In your eyes, I was a different man, a better man."

  He gently nudged her chin up. Resigned and heartbroken, his image blurred behind her watery eyes. "I've been given another chance at life. Love it seems is quite unique, while binding our hearts, it releases our soul."

  "I don't understand. If you love me, why are you leaving?"

  "This isn't our time. But, we will have our life together. One that’s complete in every way. We'll meet again."

  Defeated, Elinor sagged against his chest. No soothing words could ease her pain.

  "Truer words I cannot speak. I will come back to you." He cradled her face. "This is a promise I make to you. I broke the last one. I won’t this one. This is a promise yet to be fulfilled, but I swear by all that's holy it will be kept. You trusted in me as a ghost. Trust in me as a man. We'll be together sooner than you think. Believe and it will be so."

  Basil's words offered cold comfort. Bereft of all except the smallest of hopes, Elinor clung to them. Her fragile hold on hope was all she had, and hold it she would. "What about Guy? Is he going too?"

  "Yes, he’s also been given another chance at life. Long ago his fate mistakenly became entwined with mine. Now we're both free." Basil pressed his forehead to hers.

  "It’s my turn to extract a promise from you-" His quiet request spoken with lips close and warm to her ear, she hesitated then acquiesced.

  "You must promise to look for me. In another time and place, we'll meet. I may look different. But in your heart, you’ll know me. Trust your instinct."

  "Do you think I wouldn't know you anywhere Basil?" Elinor challenged in a hoarse voice that cracked as she spoke. She cleared her throat and held tighter onto the front of his surcoat, the soft material bunching in her hands.