Knight Spirits

by David Kuminski

  Knight Spirits

  Copyright © 2004 David Kuminski

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in Canada by Double Dragon eBooks, a division of Double Dragon Publishing of Markham Ontario, Canada.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published by:

  Double Dragon eBooks

  PO Box 54016 1-5762 Highway 7 East

  Markham, Ontario L3P 7Y4 CANADA

  http://double-dragon-ebooks.com

  Layout and Cover Illustration by Deron Douglas

  ISBN: 1-55404-094-9

  First Edition eBook Publication February 8, 2004

  Knight Spirits

  If the suit fits, wear it.

  Prologue

  "Deploying hydro-accumulator."

  First Lieutenant Jesus Gonzales paid little attention to the cockpit notice where the crew of the Staten Island prepared to scoop up water in a refueling process. The spaceship had already taken position in a remote part of the ocean where it could skim the surface. He took hold of a stanchion to steady himself when the slight bump rocked through the ship as the scoop deployed. A roaring sound vibrated through the ship as air surged into the scoop to be diverted into a funnel that forced out a compressed stream of air ahead of the ship. The resultant blast of air hit the water creating a fine mist that could be sucked into the same scoop. All the while, the ship collected water that could later be separated into hydrogen fuel and oxygen, not to mention water after some of the impurities were removed. Because only the raised mist of water entered the scoop there was little chance of striking anything in the ocean. To do that, an object would have to protrude well above the water.

  That was unlikely though. To anyone who might see the ship, all that remained visible was an extremely fast moving wave followed by a twin rooster tail. Doubtless the sight would cause tales of sea monsters. However, that was why the ship skimmed the surface in a remote location: for the very purpose of avoiding contact.

  Then the unexpected impact struck. Gonzales flailed about only to lose his grip on the stanchion as it broke. He staggered toward the closed airlock only to be thrown back as the entire airlock unit burst inward in a shower of shattered pieces of advanced composite materials, wood, and salt water. Gonzales, however, didn't have the opportunity to analyze why there would be wood striking him. Nor did he pay much attention to the cockpit voices. Instead, he doubled over in pain from the broken stanchion that impaled him.

  "What hit us?" the co-pilot asked over the ship's com.

  "Everyone hang on! We hit something! We're down!" the pilot warned.

  The ship rumbled and vibrated in a way that only attempting to ride the surface water at high speed could produce. Gonzales gripped the stanchion as he fought to live. He knew that he could survive if he didn't bleed to death first by opening the wound completely. It was just a matter of getting into the ship's advanced automatic medical ward.

  "Where's the damned island?" a cockpit voice shouted.

  The crunching sound answered that last question before it was finished. The ship came to a sudden halt amid a burst of spray and sand. Despite his pain, Gonzales held onto the stanchion to avoid further harm.

  "Computer, send medical assistance." He waited briefly for the auto-stretcher to arrive and listened for others to report on their condition. Quiet prevailed. "Computer, activate ship-wide com. All hands. This is Lieutenant Gonzales in the Scout Wardrobe compartment.Scout airlock is destroyed. There's wood, water, and sand in the compartment. I'm going to need medical assistance. Computer, report damage."

  He listened to a list of damaged and inoperative systems that reeled off as the computer reported using backup power. He knew he was dead when the computer listed the medical ward as inoperative.

  "All hands report. Is anyone else alive?" Gonzales asked.

  Still, silence reigned with only the sound of lapping waves somewhere outside the ship to break it.

  ***

  Malidor the Ruthless turned to view the fast approaching object spotted by a lookout. Even the wind had never moved that fast to Malidor's memory. Sailors on his rowing vessel sat transfixed as they pointed at the approaching object only moments before it slammed into the hull. Shattered, the ship sank leaving no time for anyone to salvage anything. Armor, weapons, food, and drinking water went down among the debris and broken bodies.

  Malidor shook his head to clear it, as he reacted to the sudden impact that destroyed his warship so quickly and thoroughly. The sound of a second impact came from the direction where the object had traveled after destroying his ship. From his position among the waves he couldn't see what else the object had struck. He could, however, see that the blood in the water would soon draw seateeth to feast upon the dead and dying. Aware that his only recourse was to swim away from the carnage, he oriented himself toward a small island his vessel was in the process of passing on its shield side--the same direction the object had traveled. He cared not about the object. Instead, he knew that if he swam past or failed to reach the island, he'd be doomed.

  Fatigued and weary, Malidor staggered onto the sandy beach of an island barren of all but some sparse clumps of grass. Were it not for the black object resting on the beach, the atoll would have offered no shade or other shelter. Instead, the strangely pointed vessel with a tail similar to the feathering of an arrow and two keels lay silent where it had plowed into the sand. He was unaware that it was the other victim of the collision with his own ship. He had no way of knowing that the mast from his vessel had punctured the hull of the never-before-seen black ship, on his world, dealing it a death blow.

  After catching his breath Malidor glanced around for a weapon. The best he could come up with proved to be the small knife still tucked in his belt that he used for eating. If he encountered an armed enemy, it would quickly prove inadequate.

  Chapter 1

  "Left!"

  Laughter followed the utterance of the one-word joke as it had before while the group trudged along the dirt road. Unlike the times before when the strange word caused others in the group to shout it back until everyone's side was aching from their mirth, the group's joyfulness fell silent, as if a wave had washed over the group from its head to the farthermost person at the back. Far ahead, their destination had finally come into view though it remained a mere speck. It wouldn't be long until they felt certain that they'd learn the truth instead of the tall tales containing unimaginable foreign words told to them by those who left their destination in defeat.

  ***

  Kaither caught sight of the imposing, outer castle wall of black granite as he rounded the last bend in the road. The castle had been in sight for hours, except for brief intervals when other hills blocked his view. When he could see it before, the castle seemed smaller. Now that he was almost up to it, there was a marked difference in his perception. Now it loomed like a giant.

  Though his travels had been long, he'd not been entirely alone. When he started his journey, he fell in with two men who had already walked many miles. Others later joined the group as he had, gradually adding some color to it as their robes were no longer just the color of a single kingdom. Now fully a dozen others around him walked the same path to Castle High Crag.

  Generations ago, High Crag was a bleak, foreboding wayside best not visited in any season. The castle's only virtue had been its impenetrable defenses bolstered by the high coastal cliff it perched upon. Now it was the most visited location on Caerna, though the countryside remained bleak because of its barren cliffs and a predominan
ce of rocky soil. Each year, thousands flocked to its gates seeking membership among the Knights of the Star, a small Order established a mere century earlier by Sir Private Malidor.

  Like the others walking with him Kaither had tried on one of the stiff leather suits molded to the same exact size as the black armor worn by the Knights of the Star. Each copy traveled from village to village, carefully protected from the elements by proctors belonging to the Order of the Star, one of the major religions within the Allied Kingdoms. Kaither had been judged by others in his village as a good fit. More importantly, his friends and neighbors had urged him to seek knighthood. Only those considered pure of heart and fully worthy ever gained the permission of a patron knight spirit, regardless of their own religious beliefs. Certainly, it spoke well of Kaither that his neighbors had convinced him to journey and try. After all, he could accomplish much for them and others if he succeeded.

  Of course, there was still the preliminary training he had to undergo before he stood in front of the patron knight spirits and asked for their judgment. Though he still understood very little of the process from discussions in the evenings with travelers returning home after failing, he'd seen the results a few times from a distance. Consequently, he considered it worth his while even though it took him close to a month of walking to reach the castle.

  He wondered whether he'd have to wait outside the castle for others to take their turn first. Returning groups had mentioned that sometimes happened. They'd stated that the gate guard maintained a testing order based upon arrival. If the line was long his group could look forward to living for several days in a crude shelter provided by the Order. That was somewhat like their circumstances during their travel. When near villages or towns they'd found themselves welcomed and given a place to sleep. Occasionally, they were given a little food and beverage to supplement what they carried. However, few could afford to purchase much, so they'd often forage along the way to replenish their supplies. At night in the wild they usually found and reused the abandoned temporary shelters of those who'd traveled the trail before them. When necessary, they strengthened the shelters against the elements.

  As he and the others drew closer to the castle, shouts of strange words came to their ears amid the sounds of ropes and pulleys in constant use. Several of the others with Kaither expressed their surprise at hearing those words in use. Some returning travelers had mentioned that they'd have to learn strange magic words, a few of which they'd uttered to everyone's laughter. As the trail shortened it became clear that the travelers hadn't been joking for those very words were what the group heard.

  A scream and a loud thump pierced the air just as Kaither 's group reached the gate. They craned their necks in time to see a man bounce back from hitting one of the castle walls. He dangled limply from the leather harness he wore. After a few moments, he was pulled by an attached rope to one of the battlements where several burly men and a padded cart waited to receive him.

  "Take him out gently!" a black-robed proctor shouted on a battlement.

  "Enter and follow that proctor. Do as he instructs or leave," the guard said, pointing to another black-robed churchman standing within the courtyard.

  Kaither entered and followed a proctor whose directives were law to visitors like himself. The proctor's stern manner left no doubts about that in Kaither's mind. The proctor gave hand signals that the group should be quiet and follow. They walked to one of the corners of the courtyard and sat down upon the ground at the proctor's guidance. Aside from some scraggly grass where soil had gathered in the cracks, the rock they sat on was bare. The proctor seated himself on a stone bench.

  "Keep your voices down so the test attendants can hear."

  "What now?" Cheetan, the woman next to Kaither, asked the proctor.

  "First, you'll watch how it's done. Good or bad, what those applicants do up there is what you'll eventually go through. You must pass the air test before you may approach the patron knight spirits," the proctor answered.

  Kaither stared up as another man high upon the battlement dressed himself in a leather suit with ropes attached. The suit was nearly identical to the one that Kaither tried on in his village, except for the ropes. Several assistants looked the man over as if his life depended upon their keen eyesight and knowledge. In truth, it did. One slip could cause him to fall the fifty feet to the ground where he might be killed. It was solely up to him to avoid colliding with the walls and trees that dotted the courtyard. Carefully, he was attached into a maze of ropes and pulleys meant to give him very close to full three-dimensional movement through the air within the confines of the castle. The specially trained assistants waited for his commands.

  "Five up!" the man shouted, though the alien words meant nothing to Kaither.

  Instantly, a team of strong men strained and yanked on the proper rope to raise the leather clad man off the rampart. Dangling in the air, he alone remained in control of his destiny as he gazed down at his proctor's hand signals for instructions to give his rope bearers.

  "Forward... Left... Forward...Down...Hover!"

  The last command had an urgency underwritten to it that only made sense to those who could also view the spikes beneath the man. Kaither still didn't know what the commands meant, but he assumed that the strange words had something to do with where the leather clad man was pulled and tugged by the various ropes above and around him. Then he realized that his assumption actually came from what his own proctor was saying as the action took place. Gradually, Kaither let his mind's attention linger more on his proctor, leaving his eyes to follow the suspended man.

  "Five up!"

  "He just now gave the magic command to ascend once more," the proctor said in a soft voice.

  The ropes sang as the man lifted up quickly, though not as fast as a real knight could do without the use of ropes. Kaither had already seen one fly through the air, though at a distance.

  "It's always best to give a spell word of four or five to your commands to rise and especially to lower yourself. If you do not, you can hit the ground before you can stop. Even experienced knights have been before in that manner. So has their armor. That is why you must pass these tests first. We dare not lose any more of the suits. Remember that five is more than four. If you give a four to rise, do not give a five to lower. If you do, you'll probably break both your legs."

  "Right... Forward...Hover!"

  "He just gave a command to turn to his sword side, proceed to his front, and then to stop."

  "Hover means stop?" Cheetan asked.

  "You catch on quickly," the proctor said. A smile creased his aged face.

  "Sounds like a good word to use when approaching those walls," a man said.

  "Left!"

  "He just gave a command to turn to his shield side. He's spinning in place because he didn't give any magic command for forward."

  "Forward?" a man asked.

  "Get used to hearing and using those commands. I already told you that forward is the magic command for moving to his front. I'll be using the magic words as much as possible to speed your learning," the proctor said with a tired voice.

  "Forward...Forward...Forward...Hover!"

  The group watched as the man in leather barely came to a halt before smacking into a stone wall.

  "Why did he give the forward command three times?"

  "In real usage with the magic suits it makes you go even faster when a direction is involved. It's most dangerous to use when flying at low levels or heading down. A knight who ruins the magic in his armor risks losing the right to an honorable burial alongside those who've passed before him, or her, as the case might be."

  Cheetan smiled at the thought of succeeding as one of the few women to ever become a knight. She knew that there was presently one other woman active as a knight among the Order of the Knights of the Star. She'd heard that there were once three women active simultaneously as knights before she was born. Though it seemed like a small number, it wasn't. The Order rar
ely held more than twenty active knights at any one time. Two were stationed at the Castle of High Crag. The rest held posts at other distant castles from which they forayed. Most of the time they worked in small teams of two or three. Consequently, they rarely posted knights at more than ten castles.

  "So, what do we do now?" a man asked.

  "You will watch, listen, and learn. When you feel you know the magic commands, you will be tested by me. If you pass, I'll train you on how to read my hand signals so that you'll receive a fair test up there," the proctor said, with a nod to the ropes. "When you pass the hand signal test, you'll climb up and be strapped in for your flying test before you're given the final magic words to speak to the hollow suits."

  "How many suits are empty?" Cheetan asked.

  "Twelve, but four have lost their magic," the proctor answered.

  ***

  In the few hours they'd been learning the magic commands, two applicants smashed into the castle walls. Another landed hard in the courtyard. Though all three were injured, none would die. Even so, their proctor had already told the group it wasn't unusual to lose a few each week. Certainly, they knew that to be true. They'd seen some of the bodies carried away for burial by those who had tried and failed to master the magic. Hopefully, they wouldn't find themselves all failures with a body or two to carry back home or injured to assist.

  "Do you feel you're ready for your signal test?" the proctor asked, upon seeing a raised hand.

  "No, sir. Could you point me in the direction of the relief facilities?"

  The proctor smiled. "We could certainly use a break now. Please follow me. I'll show you that and our other facilities that you may use. Right now, I can use some water for my tired voice."

  Kaither's group stood and followed their proctor to a location above the outer wall where the parapet jutted over the high cliffs facing the sea. A few deliberately placed, wind-sheltered seats featured openings where some basic concerns could be dealt with. After a brief pause there, he led them to a cistern holding fresh water drawn from High Crag's deep well.