Paladin_Pawn

by Michael D. Young

  She drew him into a warm hug. Rich fought hard to hold back the tears as he pressed his head into her shoulder. He only partially succeeded. After a few seconds, he drew back, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

  Something about his grandma was different. She sounded and looked younger, though her eyes were full of sadness.

  Beside him, a young man in a plain green robe approached, carrying a bundle of clothing. “My lord, you might find this clothing more suitable for the situation.”

  Rich grinned at being referred to as “my lord,” but he nodded in appreciation and took the bundle. He slipped the robe over his pajamas and cinched it up with the leather belt provided for him.

  “Where are we? It’s not exactly the Round Table.”

  Minerva shook her head. “No, but it is surrounded by knights. Paladins, to be exact—a family of knights who have dedicated themselves fully to defending what is good in the world. This is our council chamber in the center of our stronghold.”

  The men and women around the table turned their gazes to Rich, their faces reassuring and smiling. Rich felt excitement bubble up in his chest like a hot spring. “Why have you been here so long? We’ve been going crazy. Mom’s even more of a wreck than usual.”

  Minerva’s face tensed, and all the lines on her face deepened. “Oh, my child, that’s the last thing I would ever want to happen. I have a lot of explaining to do, but let me start with this—your grandfather needed me. As the oldest living man in our order, he was its leader, along with me, his wife. Because your father is missing and you have not yet become one of us, I am now the leader.”

  Now it was time for Rich to wrinkle his face. “Grandpa’s still alive? Is he here?” He felt like his knees had turned to oatmeal.

  His grandmother shook her head. “No, not any more—he was, though, until recently.” Rich gestured over to the large, empty chair next to him. His grandmother nodded, her eyes heavy with pain. “That was his chair. I was able to be there for him in his final hour. It was a poor substitute for the many hours I neglected.”

  She motioned toward Rich’s chair. “Take a seat, Heinrich. We have a difficult discussion ahead of us, and you need to be a part of it.”

  He did as he was told, and the rest of the knights followed. Each had a chair at the table, and at each place stood a goblet. From what Rich could see, each goblet carried a unique decoration of some sort—jewels, a family crest, repeating patterns in vivid paint.

  The noise of their conversations died down, and Minerva stood, her hands pressed together. “Friends, I am sorry that we must continue our business on this day of deep mourning, but the need is most urgent. My grandson, Heinrich, has finally joined us. The search for his father continues. We hope to initiate young Heinrich as soon as possible so he might continue his father’s and grandfather’s work.”

  Rich could scarcely believe what he was hearing. These were not knights caught between the pages of library books or portrayed in front of a popcorn-munching audience. No, these were actual knights, and Rich felt instinctively that they really were the good variety.

  A stout knight with a shock of red hair raised his goblet, and Minerva acknowledged him.

  “Minerva, tell us, has his nemesis shown his face yet? I’m afraid we might have allowed it a terribly large head start.”

  Minerva nodded, her face taut. “Yes, it has surfaced, though, like our young friend here, it is far from realizing its full potential.”

  Rich raised an eyebrow at the mention of his nemesis. He thought you had to be a comic book hero in order to have something like that. Was this some kind of super villain, maybe even the black pawn?

  Another knight, tall and lanky with flowing platinum hair, raised his goblet. “Yes, Gerhard,” Minerva said.

  “But will Heinrich be able to reach this potential? It is not my lack of faith in the child, but the peculiar disadvantage he has inherited. After all, that isn’t really his chair.”

  Rich’s head swiveled, and he looked around at each knight at the table, pleading for an explanation. The voices rose gradually, spiraling out of control in arguments with their neighbors.

  Minerva raised her own goblet and slammed it down hard, silencing the group. “Enough, lords and ladies, enough. I know these are intense and challenging times, but let us not lose our heads. Let us move forward quickly, or we may not be able to move at all.”

  Rich looked down at the table in front of him and found a goblet much like the others, except that it offered no decoration. He grabbed it and raised it as high as he could manage. Minerva motioned to him.

  “I’m sorry to cut in, but I’m the only one in the dark. What’s going on?”

  Minerva glanced at the platinum-haired knight. "Perhaps you would like to explain it to him. You were in his position more recently than anyone else present."

  The knight bobbed his head and rose. "Yes, I think we owe him that much." The man turned and fixed his penetrating gaze on Rich. "Look around you, child. Everyone at this table is part of your family—a large and important family. We have had a tradition of serving all that is good and pure since the beginning of the human race, and this is a charge that is passed from father to son. It is this link that gives us strength."

  His face curved down into a frown. "However, it is also at times our greatest weakness. For our power to remain intact, the family line must remain unbroken. If a father does not initiate his son into the order, the power of our family line is broken, and we fade. Heinrich, you are destined to be the next to take on this charge, but your father is absent and has been for some time. As such, you are limited in your role until he can be returned to this table."

  He walked slowly over to the middle seat and indicated the sword, shield, helmet, and armor. "Until recently, these belonged to your grandfather. In another season, he will join us at this table." He indicated the others around him. "As you probably figured out, most of us are no longer in the realm of the living. We exist here as spirits only."

  Rich shivered in spite of himself. He had thought as much, but had harbored a speck of doubt.

  "As his heir, these weapons fall to you, but you cannot simply take them. They must be earned through your actions. Only then will you be able to wield them against our foes."

  Rich's mind suddenly conjured up the vision of the black creature that had attacked him in the closet. He had a sinking feeling this was not going to be his only problem.

  "The sword must be earned through an act of extraordinary courage, the helmet through an act of wisdom, the armor through an act of compassion, and the shield through an act of sacrifice. You must do all these things back in your normal life—at school and at home."

  Rich kept a straight face, though he could feel the sweat beading on his brow. He didn’t know how.

  "As your family, we are here to assist you, for your nemesis will never rest in trying to prevent you from finishing your quest.”

  Rich’s goblet shot up again. “Wait. Is that the creepy guy with the black hair or that weird, black monster thing?”

  The old knight nodded. “I’m afraid so, Heinrich. You will likely be seeing all too much of your nemesis, in many forms. For every new paladin who comes into our order, the other family of dark knights sends a nemesis bent on the paladin’s destruction. He will play to your weaknesses both openly and subtly. But do not fear. Once again, we will be with you."

  The old knight glanced back at Minerva, waiting for her approval.

  "Thank you,” Minerva said. “That will do. Heinrich, do you have any questions?"

  Rich had a thousand questions, which popped around his head like a batch of popcorn. "Well, yes...” he admitted. “A few. This nemesis, is that... well, is t
hat something like St. George and the dragon?”

  A man farther down the table with a lean, clean-shaven face and piercing blue eyes raised his goblet. "Yes, it is something like that. The dragon was a formidable opponent, but as you know from the stories, I overcame him."

  The remark nearly floored Rich’s already overloaded mind. St. George continued, “You must be careful, lad. Not all the nemeses are so obvious and easy to confront.”

  Rich smiled in spite of himself. What kind of man would describe an encounter with a dragon as easy? “My mother always told me that my father went missing in action in Iraq. Is that true?”

  “Heinrich, dear,” Minerva said, “no one is really sure where your father is, but I promise we’re doing all we can to find out.”

  “Then you’re sure he’s not dead?” Rich asked.

  His grandmother sighed. “Yes, we’re quite sure. We have ways of knowing. That, and he would probably have shown up here by now if he had died. No, he is definitely still alive.”

  Rich’s mind raced. He wondered how much his mother knew. What had she been told? He had been too young to remember when his father disappeared. In his mind’s eye, he pictured him chained to a wall in a dusty old cell, or hiding away in the heart of the deepest jungle.

  “Heinrich.” Minerva’s voice brought him abruptly back to the present.

  “Yes?” Rich replied a little sheepishly.

  “You must leave at once to start your quest, but you will not be going alone.”

  “Leave?” Rich asked. “Why? I want to stay here with you. I just got here.”

  Minerva shook her head, though kept a smile on her face. “What you need to accomplish cannot be done here, but out in the world. Your task is difficult, but don’t worry. We’ve prepared a guide for you. He will explain more fully what you must do.”

  She turned around and whispered something to a servant boy and then turned back to Rich. “Now, you mustn’t judge your new companion by his appearance. He really is quite knowledgeable and skilled.”

  The servant boy disappeared for a few moments through a curtained archway behind the table. He returned a minute later, bringing a short, hooded figure in tow.

  The figure couldn’t have been any taller than Rich himself and was perhaps even a little smaller. A mass of curly dirty-blond hair peeked out from around the edges of his hood, and a pair of young, pale hands protruded from the sleeves. Rich's curiosity focused on the mysterious character. What sort of face hid behind that heavy cloak?

  He found out a moment later when the figure reached up and removed his hood, revealing a youthful face to match his small frame. He had delicate features and dark blue eyes which commanded attention. His hair practically exploded around his head like an unruly mane, though on him, it did not appear out of place. The corners of his mouth turned up in a wily smile, as if masking a mischievous plot. Those around him seemed compelled to smile as well, courtesy of his infectious good mood.

  The servant pulled up another chair for the boy, one that better matched his size. He sat and withdrew his own goblet from the folds of his robes. Scratches and nicks crawled over the entire surface, making it appear far older than any of the other goblets Rich had seen.

  "It's about time you called me back out here!" the boy declared, scowling like a petulant child. "Some of you don't know how to respect your elders."

  Rich chuckled softly. He had to be joking, didn't he? Minerva smiled, the same look she used to give Rich when she brought him a plate of homemade cookies. “Aaron, you told me last time that you thought our meetings were 'insufferably dull.’"

  Aaron turned his head away from Minerva and rolled his eyes. "So is everything else around here. I ran out of new things to do years ago. Please tell me you're going to let me out."

  Minerva turned to Rich. "Meet your seventh great-uncle on your father's side, Aaron Witz. He's to be your guide during your probation time. You are to take him with you wherever you go, including school."

  Rich nearly fell out of his chair. Was his grandmother joking? But she had introduced Aaron with a straight face.

  Sensing his confusion, Minerva continued her explanation. "All the knights take on the physical appearance they had at the time of their deaths. Aaron had the misfortune of meeting an early end, and it serves our purpose well. You could hardly be accompanied by someone who looked like an eighty-year-old man without drawing questions."

  Rich lifted his goblet nervously. "Uh, I don't mean to be rude, but I think he'll raise a lot of questions anyway. I don't have that many friends, and, well, I don’t think that robe will go over well at school.” He shuddered as he thought of all the crazy things the bullies had done to him over the years. Water balloons were just the latest.

  Aaron grunted. "I wasn't born yesterday, little sapling. I have observed your society for years, and I'm quite well acquainted with all the latest styles and trends. And though I think it's rather absurd, I'm even fluent in your slang."

  Rich raised his eyebrows. "Try me.”

  Aaron wrinkled his brow for a moment in thought and replied, "Dude, that goblet’s pretty groovy."

  Rich couldn’t repress a snicker. "Groovy? Groovy? No one says that anymore. How recently did you observe us?"

  Aaron scowled. "So maybe it’s been a few years. It’s easy to lose track in here. I would say that's a pretty fair performance, given the circumstances. I'd hate to see what would happen if the roles were reversed."

  Minerva broke in. "You will have plenty of time to get to know each other. You can pretend he's an exchange student from Eastern Europe. That will account for any strange behavior he might exhibit. As a bonus, he really is from Eastern Europe, so he'll hold up against anyone who actually happens to know the area."

  “Don’t forget my gifts,” Aaron said. “They will help significantly.”

  “Indeed,” Rich’s grandmother said. “I’ll let you explain more about those, Aaron.”

  “But isn’t he a ghost?” Rich asked. “What if he accidently walks through the wall instead of using the door?”

  Minerva smiled. “While he’s on this assignment, he’ll be in a physical state, as if he were alive again. If he tried to walk into a wall, he’d get a hard knock on the head.”

  Rich nodded, silently accepting his lot. First impressions weren’t always everything.

  "When do we leave?” Rich asked. "And how will I know when I have succeeded?"

  The knight named Gerhard lifted a talisman up and over his head and hung it around Rich's neck. Rich looked down and saw that it resembled a tarnished silver cage. “This will address that concern. Place the pawn you received in the cage and keep it on your person at all times. A different part of the pawn will change to gold when you complete each portion of the task. As soon as the entire pawn shines like pure gold, you are done."

  Rich did as he was told and relished the warm feeling of the talisman against his skin. He glanced around at the other knights and saw that all of them carried a similar talisman, though he couldn’t tell what their cages contained.

  “So, I’m confused. Did the paladins invent chess?”

  Gerhard shrugged. “Yes and no. The chess you know today is a variant of an ancient game created by our ancestors. The pieces represent our different roles and allegiances, and as you might have guessed, yours will be changed over time as you progress or receive a different role.”

  Minerva rose and nodded. “We must send you on your way. You have a long day ahead of you.” All the knights stood as one, bringing their hands together in a cross over their hearts.

  "Come this way." Minerva parted a large red curtain, which reminded Rich of those seen in fancy theaters. "It would not be
wise to show up back in your closet, would it? Your nemesis could be waiting for us there. And it would be hard to explain how you found an exchange student hiding at the back of your closet. Do not worry—we’ve taken care of everything."

  Rich glanced up lovingly at his grandmother and embraced her a final time. "Thank you, Oma. I'm so glad you’re okay."

  She smiled. "I'm glad it appears that way."

  Rich wanted to ask what she meant, but before she could elaborate, she led them into the darkness beyond the open curtain. Aaron followed right behind them.

  A sweet feeling of euphoria enveloped Rich, and he forgot all his worries and cares as he traveled back.

  “Am I going to end up in the closet?” Rich called. “Or come out of a wardrobe or something?”

  “Not likely,” Aaron said. “You should wake up in your own bed. Get some good rest. You’re going to need it.”

  Chapter 6: Respecting Elders

  As promised, Rich did not wake up in the clutter of the closet, but in the comfort of his own bed. The sun had not yet risen enough to filter sunlight in through the windows, but he could see that something about his room had definitely changed.

  Over in the corner sat a simple cot with a blue sheet draped over a sleeping figure. Rich held his breath. It hadn’t all been an elaborate dream. The paladins were real, and now he shared his bedroom with his seventh great-uncle.

  Doesn’t seem too bad. At least he doesn’t snore. Rich rolled over and tried to get a bit more sleep. He’d probably need it.

  Sleep, however, did not come easily. He could feel the weight of the knight's amulet pressing down on his chest, constantly reminding him of the strange responsibilities that had suddenly been thrust upon him. Suddenly, the bullies at school, his mother's inattention, and even the fire in the bedroom shrank to the size of crawling bugs he could squish whenever he wanted. What were they next to what stood before him?

  After wrestling with sleep for almost an hour, he realized he couldn’t win. He quietly slipped out so he wouldn’t wake Aaron. He thought it was best not to press his luck to see if his distant ancestor was also a morning person.