Fogle Eric - Forge of the Gods 01 - The Last Knight (V1.0)

by 5kops

  He saw the irony; the soldiers thought that because Areck was young, he would be the same rank as their own sergeant. Indeed, if he was being equated to a rank in common terms, an under-lieutenant would have been a master-sergeant. He guessed that these men were worried that their ser­geant would swap ideas, increasing the soldier's morning regime. The thought made Areck smile.

  It took thirty minutes for all five squires, armored in scale and chain, to mount their steeds in a neat column. The youngest boy looked quite un­steady on his charger. All waited in silence for the knight-captain to bring out his own stallion, Legion.

  Lord Silvershield appeared followed by the baron, Messenger Arawnn, Lord Vinion, and Captain Thomas; none looked pleased. Lord Silvershield motioned for Areck to join the party, kicked Legion, and rode forward.

  "Areck, we have been talking this morning," the knight-captain began. "You were summoned to join us, where have you been?"

  "My lord," Areck said, seeing Lord Vinion's face darken in a scowl. Try­ing not to anger the second-captain further, Areck stammered, ". . . the men were unprepared this morning. It took me extra conditioning to make sure they were ready for our ride."

  The baron peered past the knights and frowned at the condition of the young men. The baron leaned in to Lord Silvershield and whispered. He waved to Thomas, who rode to his side and the pair rode towards the east­ern gates.

  "Squire Areck," Bowon said. "You are not so inclined to dismiss your­self from orders. I do not understand your recent insubordination. It is time you answer—"

  "If I may, my lord," Lord Vinion spurred his mount forward, keeping his eyes on Areck. "I told you this one could not handle the responsibility of leadership. However, I believe there is another capacity he can fulfill."

  "What are you suggesting, Galwen?" Lord Silvershield asked.

  "This boy is a master swordsman, is he not?" Lord Vinion asked, eyes lit with rage. When Lord Bowon nodded, he continued, "Then I can make use of him. If he cannot lead as you had hoped, do not drown your men in his mistakes."

  "There is no time for this, Galwen," Lord Silvershield replied, moving Legion closer to the other knight. "If you wish the boy punished, it can wait until we return to Aresleigh."

  "He is causing nothing but problems among the men—just look at them, they are exhausted from the morning workout," Galwen retorted. "Our orders were to have two men escort Arawnn back to Natalinople. Obviously you cannot take Lord Malketh's place. Therefore, we only have one option, and that is for Squire Areck to fulfill Lord Malketh's role on the second stage of this journey."

  The request shocked everyone. Lord Bowon Silvershield inclined his head and the pair moved several feet away before a heated discussion be­gan. Nothing could have prepared Areck for the situation. The man had set him up, he realized, to look like a fool in front of Lord Silvershield.

  But why choose me? Areck wondered. Another thought hit him: if the sec­ond-captain wished to get his hands on him, it could only be because the man wanted to teach him life's harsh lessons without interference.

  Why did I not say he ordered me to mistreat the men? Areck asked himself. He knew why. He had already caused enough problems within the company. If he had openly defied Lord Vinion, every sin he had ever committed would have been brought to attention.

  The conversation did not take long. Lord Silvershield shook his head in disappointment while a smug smile crept across Galwen's face. The two mounts rode next to each other and Areck knew that he would be leaving, most likely never to return.

  "Second-Captain Vinion makes a good point, Squire Areck," Bowon began, determined to keep his emotions in check. "Before this morning's insubordination I was going to field promote you to first-lieutenant and give you command of the company while I travel with Lord Vinion to Na­talinople. However, I cannot take the chance that you haven't been cor­rupted through all the infractions you have incurred on this campaign. You have become a liability to our cause. As such I can no longer trust you as a leader," the knight-captain said. "Thus, I will be sending you with Lord Vinion, so he may utilize your skills. Maybe it will also give you time to re­think today's actions."

  Areck sat in his saddle, stunned. His greatest ally had turned his back. The man was practically his father, though the knighthood would frown upon such closeness. What had Lord Vinion said to solicit support of such a notion? He felt anger run down his spine. He glared at Knight-Captain Vinion with baleful eyes and noticed the look of disappointment on Arawnn's face.

  "My lord," Areck said, choking back the unwept tears he held deep in his gut, "I do not hesitate to accept your decision, but would I really be the best choice to accompany Lords Vinion and Arawnn?"

  "You will not question it," Lord Silvershield said, moving his stallion towards the eastern gates, signaling a march. The rest of the company moved in unison when another rider rode forth from the stables. The rider held his arm in a sling yet rode with grace.

  Lord Stephen Malketh closed the gap between them quickly. When he rode between Bowon and Galwen with a reddened face, Areck could see that his less-serious wounds had already healed themselves, most puckered scars. Areck had never seen self-healing, a skill that allowed a knight to heal minor wounds via the communion with God. The squire guessed the rarity of the skill meant it was given to only those most faithful to Starsgalt.

  "Knight-Captain Silvershield," the man began, his voice tinged with emotion. "You would give my place away?"

  "It is not my choice, Lord Malketh," Bowon said. "Your injuries were too severe. I was forced to absolve you of responsibility."

  "But, my lord!" Stephen responded, terror etched on his face. "If I am not allowed to continue alongside Messenger Arawnn, there are no injuries greater than those that will be inflicted on my honor."

  Knight-Captain Silvershield regarded Lord Malketh with skepticism, concerned at the man's passion. In terms of the Code, if a knight was too injured to continue, there could be no questioning his conviction.

  Stephen Malketh saw the question in the commander's posture. "It is a matter of personal honor, Lord Silvershield," the knight said. "I was given this quest from the angels of Starsgalt himself. I will be humiliated by not continuing."

  Areck could see the words struck a sentimental cord with the com­mander.

  "You are a good man, Lord Malketh, strong in your faith and convic­tion. It is a trait I appreciate. However, as I said, this is not my choice." The knight-captain inclined his head towards Vinion.

  Lord Vinion had not expected Stephen to return to duty; he had worked hard to make sure Areck was on the ride to Natalinople. To refuse another knight his holy right, furthered by a request of honor, was dangerous. Worse, if Lord Vinion disallowed the fellow knight yet invited a squire in­stead, Malketh's humiliation would be unbearable.

  "It is your wish to travel, wounded, with the courier and I, Lord Malketh?" Vinion asked.

  "I have earned that right, Lord Vinion," the other retorted, holy fervor burning beneath the quiet answer.

  "If we are attacked, you will be a liability."

  "Then I will give my life in protection of the courier and in service of Starsgalt!"

  "He is not assuming that your convictions are less than honorable, Lord Malketh," Bowon interrupted, seeing the fragile nature of the second-captain's words. "This entire trip has been rather strange; there is an obvi­ous risk of another ambush since the traitors failed in their attempt."

  "That and your right arm is injured. Would it not be more of an honor to bow out to one who is uninjured?" Galwen asked, looking at the wounded limb dangling at the man's side.

  "There is no honor in being left behind," Lord Malketh said. "It is my right to decide if I am ready to ride, my lords."

  The silence that followed was broken by several shouts of guardsmen as a merchant caravan carrying contraband tried to make its way past the east­ern gatehouse.

  "He gave his life once, in protection of me," called a voice that thus far had
remained silent. "I do not see why a squire should take a knight's place . . . especially when it was a squire who tried to kill me."

  Areck knew Arawnn's comment was directed to him.

  "You were going to replace me with a mere squire?" Lord Malketh looked incredulous.

  "No," Knight-Captain Silvershield said. "I was going to replace you with the highest ranking member of this company not named 'me.' Of course, that was under the assumption that you were unable to ride. If you can, well, Arawnn is right—there is no reason a man who has sacrificed his life should be excluded in his due honor."

  "You are prepared?" Lord Vinion asked.

  "Thank you, my lords!" the crease of worry disappeared, replaced with fervor. "I need only fifteen minutes to be ready to ride."

  "We are already off schedule," Lord Silvershield frowned. "However, I can spare fifteen minutes if you need time to situate your gear."

  Fifteen minutes later Lord Stephen Malketh walked his steed out of the stables, dressed in battle regalia.

  "Are we ready, then?" Lord Silvershield asked.

  Even-one in the small group nodded. Although Galwen looked un­happy, there was no way around letting Areck out of his sight. The courier had asked for Lord Malketh as an escort, and the knight had asked for the privilege to continue. In respect of the Code, any answer other than agree­ment would have been deemed insulting.

  The column crossed the protected pass and reached the eastern gates. Although Lord Silvershield marched in front, he was no longer an imposing figure of confidence. His hair was unwashed and unkempt, and the smell of sweat and alcohol dripped from his pores. It had been many years since he had commanded others in such a disheveled state, yet he remained com­posed and alert, eyes following the sun.

  As the commander rode in silence away from the other officers, the pair of remaining knights surrounded the courier's mount and discussed mat­ters.

  Areck overheard the conversation. He felt uncomfortable knowing that Arawnn was upset. Lord Malketh appeared unworried over the news that abetrayer had come from their ranks. Lord Vinion looked as though he was sickened at the idea of a traitor, agreeing that two bad apples had existed but there was no possibility of another. By the time the riders reached the gatehouse the conversation was over and Lord Silvershield brought Legion near the baron's dun-colored gelding.

  "Commander," the baron said, "if you don't mind, I would feel better about the situation if Thomas and I could accompany you. I wish to say good-bye to our royal friend."

  "We are only escorting these three," Silvershield nodded and waved his hand at Arawnn, Galwen, and Stephen, "just beyond Battlement Row."

  Areck looked past the nobles to see thick stone walkways carved out of each side of the mountain. Battlement Row was an extension of the keep, high enough that siege ladders were useless in such a narrow pass. After thirty yards each walkway emptied into a circular battlement, readied with a pyre of brush, countless stands of arrows, and narrow gaps in the stone wall; an archer's paradise. At the western end of each battlement the walk­way resumed its path to the next battlement, ending three hundred yards away from the gatehouse. Once again Areck found himself admiring the foresight and strategy.

  "Shall we, lad?" Baron Marqel asked Lord Silvershield, nodding towards the eastern pass.

  The commander nodded and spurred his mount. The baron pulled up next to Bowon, and Thomas fell into order next to Areck.

  Stormwind Pass was a rough mountain pass, forty feet wide and a hun­dred feet high, lined on both sides by Battlement Row. The company of knights and squires did not move with great speed but marched in a formal manner and in silence.

  After twenty minutes at a slow canter, the riders reached the final bat­tlement, which allowed the pass to turn sharply to the south. As the column passed it, Lord Silvershield and Baron Marqel split so the three-man party could pass through. Arawnn moved his horse into the middle of the clear­ing and turned to wait for the knights to follow.

  "My lord," both knights uttered simultaneously.

  "We have decided that it is no longer safe to dally, nor is there time to be subtle about this journey," Lord Vinion glanced at his counterpart. "Lord Arawnn thinks that if we ride hard through the pass, we would only be several days away from the capital."

  "That may very well be true, gentlemen," Lord Silvershield replied, squinting at the sun. He did not address the knights in formal terms. "And I see your point. With the information that Courier Arawnn caries with him, there will be more at stake than just getting the courier to the Lord Consta­ble of Natalinople."

  "Keep your voice down, lad!" Marqel hissed. "I do not mean to be pre­sumptuous, but we have no idea if more of these men have been cor­rupted."

  "I refuse to hear such blasphemy!" Lord Vinion said. "For all we know, those boys may have been following the will of Starsgalt— might have been ordained by God!"

  "That is absurd," Baron Marqel said. "There is division and possibly corruption in your precious knighthood, Lord Vinion. There is no reason to deny it!"

  "I will not argue!" Galwen cried. "How dare you accuse the Bre'Dmorian Knighthood of breaking its ethos? Let me ask you this: how do we know you are not a traitor?"

  "Why you arrogant little bastard!" roared the baron, reaching for the hilt of his sword.

  Lord Silvershield at last reacted, placing his hand across the arm of Baron Marqel and glaring at Vinion. "That is enough, Galwen!"

  Lord Vinion looked at him but thought better of speaking. It was obvi­ous he had pushed Knight-Captain Silvershield to his breaking point, and he moved his warhorse over to Arawnn. Silvershield moved his own charger to block Vinion's path.

  "This is ridiculous!" the commander's scorned cheeks were red with fury. "We could very well be on the brink of civil war, and here is a baron and knight insulting one another. Lord Malketh," Silvershield continued, "since you seem to be the only one who can stay quiet long enough to think: how long to Natalinople?"

  "As Second-Captain Vinion was saying," Lord Malketh replied, "we have been advised that with a hard pace, our party could reach the capital in three to four days."

  "Then make it so! I will expect your return in no more than two weeks." Bowon nodded and stared to the east.

  "Yes, my lord."

  The trio of riders sat in conversation for only a moment. With a last sa­lute to Knight-Captain Silvershield, Lord Vinion mumbled something and gave the order to be off. The three warhorses shot down the road at a hard canter.

  "Squire Areck," Silvershield said as he watched the party put spurs to their mounts and break off down the road, "there is no more room for mis­takes. This entire journey has gotten out of hand."

  "I will do my best, Lord Silvershield," Areck said, turning his gelding and moving with the baron to where the commander had positioned him­self.

  "I expect more than that, Areck. I need you to be your ever-solid self again—to be you again. I need your support from here on out," Lord Silvershield said. "If you can contain yourself, I would like to promote you to my second-in-command."

  Areck nodded. "Of. . . of course, Lord Silvershield."

  The commander gave a stern smile and motioned for Areck to give the order to move. "We shall talk tonight, Areck, when we stop for rest. I ex­pect a report of the men's morale and a referral of who shall take your place as the junior officer."

  Areck was stunned. How were things getting so out of control? Just a moment ago he was being reprimanded, about to be shipped off, and then now he was being field-promoted. He wondered what in the name of Stars-gait was going on. Though he wanted to tell the world he was unworthy, Areck said nothing but motioned for the company to move back to the keep's eastern doors.

  ****

  Areck watched the men file through the great wooden doors of the eastern gatehouse. The first half of the journey had gone poorly. He had not left his friend on good terms. He was once again in trouble despite promotion. And Lord Malketh's tale of being attacked did not si
t well within his mind. It felt as if he was leaving something behind, as if he had seen this in one of his many nightmares. He looked ahead and saw that the column of men was halfway through. He looked up to appraise the high mountain pass.

  There was no doubt in his mind that he had been down this passage in the vision, though it did not look so foreboding now in the mid-afternoon sun. There was something he did not understand . . . something nagged at his memory.

  Pulling his brows into a scowl, a shimmer of light flashed into his eyes. He shielded the source with his right hand and glanced down to see the uncovered blade of his longsword. The blade must have popped loose from the slow josding of the horse.

  A thought popped into his head about the two traitorous squires. He remembered facing off against two men in mock battle and sword play— Willim had been an outstanding opponent and an excellent wielder of the longsword, while Kenly was a nearly a braggart who preferred a bastard sword.

  It was not odd that both boys chose to wield different weapons now. Knights were known to vary their choice: longsword, bastard sword, longsword and shield, or claymores. These kinds of weapons were known for their ability to hack and slash through lighter armor, including most chain. Not that a slashing weapon didn't have its drawbacks. The fact that they were slower weapons and had difficulty piercing plate and scale made them only viable against infantry, unless the wielder found a joint or weak spot in which to strike a mortal blow.

  Areck sighed. His observations were going nowhere so he moved into line. He went rigid and began to remember:

  It seemed strange that on the eve of their arrival, a wounded knight had miraculously entered the keep just in time to inform the commander of the traitors. That same knight had declared that it was not a true Bre'Dmorian who had been the betrayer, but a pair of unlikely squires. Not only that, but those squires conveniently bore a note with orders to assassinate the man they were escorting.

  Realization was swift: the injured knight had been wounded by a piercing weapon. Areck yanked on his charger's reins, wheeled his horse, and broke away from the gatehouse. He was so engrossed in his actions that he hardly heard the shouts of Lords Silvershield and Marqel.