Black Knight_Awakening [Part One]

by Gilliland, Christian

  “Sure.” Crinnan replied, staring into the dirt.

  “I surmise there is no point to life.” Sage said. “Perhaps we are all a part of something bigger, perhaps not. We can never know. I have seen the universe, it is big. We are not. To think that we mean something in a universe so large is laughable. I think that our only 'purpose' is to live. To live as much and as hard as we can and then our purpose is to die. That is what I have come up with in all my years of living.” Sage paused and cracked his knuckles. “The only true purpose we have is the purpose we assign to ourselves. What other people hope or expect of you does not matter unless of course it matters to you. All that matters is you.”

  Crinnan sighed and pushed himself up. He looked over at Sage and couldn’t help but snicker. “Do not give me a reason to like you.” Crinnan said, holding back a smile. He scratched the back of his head and had Sage lit a cigarette for him.

  “We need to get moving.” He finally said. “Because all that matters to me right now is waiting at the caverns.”

  Chapter 6: Part Two

  The King II

  22nd of Ramlia - 346AG

  10:30 - Canruusi Wastes

  “Awaken and arise my children!” Eon declared, amplifying his voice to a thunderous level through the local NaNe. “For the final demon has arisen! Our time has come!”

  The devil-masked being emerged from his tent and stepped out onto the dead and dried orange ground. He allowed himself the enjoyment of feeling the cool air blow against his bare arms and grinned with the mouth he had borrowed from his host.

  “Claim your arms.” He said as he began to walk, “Adorn yourselves in the regalia that will strike fear into any who may cross our path... Hoist the banners of Eon for our mighty crusade has begun!”

  Eon could feel his host stirring in him. He felt uneasiness emitting from him and stopped walking for a moment.

  “What ails you my child?” Eon asked, returning his voice to a normal volume. “What reason have you to despair?”

  “Just shut up.” Rubaan replied. “Stop tormenting me.”

  “Why child,” Eon said. “Though you may feel tormented and though it is quite likely due to what I have put you through, I assure you I have yet to intentionally bring torment down upon you.”

  “You need to leave my family alone!” Rubaan replied, “My brother, my wife and child, they have nothing to do with you!”

  “Rest.” Eon said as he produced a syringe from a pack at his side. “And enjoy the forgiveness I provide. For I, Eon, am merciful and you one day will understand.” Eon injected his arm with the syringe and Rubaan fell silent.

  “Oh the peace that comes with a silent mind...” Eon muttered. “Now, to war!”

  Eon's encampment had become alive with activity. The sounds of engines roaring blasted throughout the area and the dust stirred from the motor pool formed a cloud over the entire camp. You could hear the bikers whooping as they mounted their machines and revved their motors. Eon's army was ready to move.

  ***

  Ema'as, a young Vampre female laid naked and writhing in a wooden cage. The early stages of her transformation had set in, all she felt was hunger and pain. Her entire body burned from the fever caused by her condition and she could not help but wail.

  “Quiet!” Another thirst-stricken Vampre shouted, “Screaming will not help!” Ema'as responded with more screams and her fellow Vampre threw his hands up and dropped down onto the filth-covered floor of his own cage.

  “Feed her!” The Vampre shouted, “Shut her up!” He grabbed the wooden bars and rattled his cage violently. “Do not rid me of my thirst only to throw me into torture!”

  “You did this!” Ema'as wailed. “You stupid fucking bitch!”

  “Don't be rude, girl.” The Vampre replied. “We cannot help ourselves. We are blinded by this sickness, controlled by it. You will soon see! Feed her!”

  “Quiet in there!” Someone yelled from outside their tent. “She'll be fed when we find our enemies!”

  “And me?” The other Vampre shouted, “My thirst will return soon, when will I be fed!”

  “I don't know Yarik.” the voice from outside replied. “Now shut the fuck up!”

  Yarik growled and sat back down. The floor he sat on was wet with his own piss and stank of old shit and blood but he had learned that that was truly the least of his worries.

  His body healed rapidly. Sickness and infection did not take to him... but he was still weak. His master's fed him only once a week though he had learned that all he required to keep his sanity was just a bit of blood. When he did not have it his body ached and withered and his mind left him. The compassion that still lived inside of him hated what he did to the girl but... he had no choice, no control. He was a slave to the thirst.

  “I'm sorry.” Yarik said, not bothering to look at the convulsing, screaming wretch of a girl in the cage across the tent. “But this is your life now...”

  “Bring me to my babies.” Eon commanded Sir Heklaar, whom had joined his side. “Let me see them before I send them to battle.”

  “Yes, Lord.” Heklaar replied, taking the lead. “If you would follow me.”

  “I would be delighted.” Eon replied, licking his lips. Heklaar's towering body led Eon past multiple tents, most of which were in the process of being taken down to move. Eon took great pleasure in watching his army follow his orders and delighted in how quickly they dropped everything to do his bidding.

  “How are they developing?” Eon asked. “Are they prepared for battle?”

  “We believe so, Lord.” Sir Heklaar replied. “They are vicious, relentless... none of our slave warriors have stood in battle against them for more than a minute.”

  “Slave warriors...” Eon replied, “Bah. You show me the prowess of my creations, Sir Heklaar, show me theirs or show me yours.”

  “...As you wish, Lord.” Sir Heklaar said. The rest of the walk was short and Sir Heklaar characteristically remained silent. Eon could not intercept his thoughts due to the fact that he was a Gaian and thus incompatible with the NaNe. This left Eon quite interested in what was to ensue.

  “Behold.” Sir Heklaar announced as the two approached a clearing. “Your creations.”

  The area was mostly empty save a wide tent that stood before a circle made of loose stones. Eon and Heklaar were the only beings visible as everyone else was busy packing for the journey. Eon stopped just short of one of the stones and looked to Heklaar.

  “A great warrior you have proven to be thus far.” Eon said. “You have brought me much glory and slain many of my enemies. Do you wish to continue serving me?”

  “Until my final breath, Lord.” Sir Heklaar replied.

  “Your devotion pleases me.” Eon said. “Let us see if you are strong enough to face the new Demon alongside me.” Sir Heklaar nodded and pulled the giant maul from its sling hanging across his back.

  “Bring forth the Maas’Eon!” Heklaar shouted toward the tent.

  Eon stood unmoving with anticipation. He listened to the sound of rustling come from the tent and heard a low animal-like growl emerge from within.

  “Awaken and observe, child.” Eon said softly, summoning the conscience of his host Rubaan. “Observe these creatures: the realization of centuries of development. Understand that all that stands between them and those you love is your cooperation.”

  Rubaan awakened from his drug-induced slumber and at Eon’s behest, he silently and fearfully watched.

  “Maas’Eon.” Eon whispered as Rubaan watched. “A name borrowed from the common tongue of the Age of Blood. Children of Eon… these are my creations.”

  One of the flaps that led into the tent was pulled aside by an unseen slave. For a moment nothing moved except for Sir Heklaar’s torso as he steadily breathed in and out. All was silent. Everyone present was drenched in anticipation... finally; the Maas’Eon emerged.

  There were three of them. Each was naked and had the build of a toned Elf though all had been surg
ically rendered genderless. Their skin was grey and smooth, save for the patch of scales that adorned their foreheads and the scars left behind from their surgeries. They had no hands at the ends of their arms, instead they had half of what was once forearms that turned into shining curved serrated blades.

  "Let this test of strength begin." Eon declared as he fell back into a chair that a slave had brought him.

  Sir Heklaar held his hammer with both hands and kept his eyes forward. Through his helmet, he watched the Maas'Eon and waited for any sign of movement. He felt his heart pounding from within his chest and though he too felt fear, he knew he had to repress it. He did not want to die that day.

  The middle Maas'Eon stepped forward and twitched his head, never breaking eye contact with Heklaar. As it started at him, Heklaar began to side-step around the beast. He was testing its ability to track him. To his dismay, it seemed fully and completely aware of Heklaar's position and movements.

  "I do hope that we shan't be sitting all day." Eon said to Rubaan, "Do we not have a great deal of work to do?"

  "Your slaves might." Rubaan replied. Eon snickered and returned his attention to the fight.

  The Maas'Eon stared curiously at Heklaar for a moment and then took an awkward step forward. He walked with a seemingly unbalanced stagger, not unlike that of a drunk man, and occasionally one of the blades on his arms would scrape against the cracked ground beneath him.

  Heklaar moved backward in response to the Maas’Eon’s advance. He tightened the grip he had over his weapon and a bead of sweat dripped from his hairline and into the handkerchief wrapped around his forehead. He watched the Maas’Eon drawing ever closer and waited for an attack.

  The Maas’Eon stopped nearly ten feet in front of Heklaar and stood silently and unmoving. Heklaar, through his bucket helmet, watched as the beast examined him. The Maas’Eon’s eyes moved rapidly up and down as it analyzed its opponent and occasionally his head would twitch to one side or the other. Finally, the Maas’Eon moved. It rattled its blades together and let out a shrill screech as it stepped forward.

  Heklaar’s armor had not once been penetrated and he had never lost a battle. He attributed a portion of his victories to his armor but most were because of his great strength and his immense will to win.

  Heklaar took pride in his blood and heritage as he was a Gaian born of the Humaan race -- the people from the stars. His parents were of course Humaan and he had been fortunate enough to have been born Gaian, the pinnacle of the Humaan form, slaying his mother as she birthed him. His father, a pain-induced alcoholic, despised Heklaar for taking his wife from him and at the age of twelve, Heklaar reunited his father with his mother by way of a bullet to the head.

  The Maas’Eon lunged forward and thrust both blades directly at Heklaar’s abdomen. Heklaar quickly sidestepped and swung his hammer at his opponent, making contact with its ribs and knocking it to the ground. Heklaar quickly raised his weapon and swung it again at the Maas’Eon.

  The Maas’Eon, with great speed, somersaulted backward onto its feet just as Heklaar’s hammer crashed into the ground where its head had been. Heklaar tried to recover, but the Maas’Eon quickly charged him, swiping ferociously as he did. Heklaar reeled backward, hammer in hand, just missing the crazed swipes of the Maas’Eon.

  Heklaar watched for an opening, though it seemed an impossible idea. The beast mas moving too quickly, it was too dangerous to get close. He knew he didn’t have time to think and so he shut off his thoughts and let his instinct take over.

  The Maas’Eon swiped at Heklaar and Heklaar spun out of the way, swinging his hammer down at the back of its legs. Again, he made contact and knocked the beast to the ground. Quickly, without hesitation, he used the momentum from the first swing and crashed the hammer into the Maas’Eon’s chest, caving it in. The Maas’Eon opened its mouth in what one would expect a scream but only its breath came out. Heklaar wasted no time and crashed his hammer into the Maas’Eon’s head, splattering it on the orange ground beneath it. The Maas’Eon’s body went limp and Heklaar turned and knelt in Eon’s direction.

  “Astonishing.” Eon said, standing from his seat and clapping his gloved hands together. “Such prowess. Verily I say unto you, your place at my side is well deserved.” Eon returned to his seat and crossed his legs. He leaned back a bit and gazed in Heklaar’s direction.

  “Though…” Eon said, raising a finger. “The battle did feel… a bit one sided perhaps? Unrealistic even… why, how frequently will my Maas’Eon engage in combat with one so heavily protected as you? The advantage was on your side, dear Sir Heklaar, and I wish to level the field of battle for our next round. Remove your armor.”

  Heklaar felt a wave of anxiety spread over him as he stood to his feet. His heart pounded as he removed his helmet, revealing his short salt and pepper hair and scarred lips. He tossed the bucket helm aside and proceeded to remove the gorget from his neck, and the pauldrons and cuirass and from his shoulders and chest. Finally, he stripped off his arm and leg armor until he was adorned in naught but his boots, breeches and tunic. Even in such simple clothing, the giant of a man would have still been a terrifying encounter on the battlefield under normal circumstances.

  “My dear Heklaar.” Eon called out. “Do not forget. You are Gaian… Humaan… I cannot intervene and save you if the tide of battle turns in the favor of my Maas’Eon. For that reason I prithee, show great care! For Your boots will be difficult to fill.”

  Heklaar nodded in Eon’s direction and turned to face his foe. He tightened the grip he had on his hammer and watched as the remaining two Maas’Eon stepped forward.

  Heklaar gasped as he realized he was fighting two enemies instead of one. He felt his heart drop into his stomach and a cold chill spread over his body. He looked at Eon and gritted his teeth.

  The first swipe was quickly deflected. The sharp ping of metal on metal rung in Heklaar’s ears as he darted out of the way of the second Maas’Eon. He avoided the attack, but stepped directly into the path of one of the curved blades.

  The weapon ripped through his tunic and sliced his chest open from shoulder to ribs. Heklaar reeled but did not hesitate. With his hammer held tightly in both hands he spun, driving as much energy as he could into the head of the weapon. As he struck down one of the Maas’Eon, he turned to face the second just as two blades skewered his chest.

  For a moment, Heklaar hesitated. He stared into the black, glossy eyes of the Maas’Eon and watched a smile creep across its face. Sharpened, jagged teeth protruded from its tongueless mouth as it hissed at its foe.

  “The Gaian will perish.” Eon said to Rubaan. “For the NaNe do not heal the aliens. If his heart has not been punctured then his lungs surely will collapse and he will die, writhing on the ground for air…” Rubaan remained silent.

  Heklaar bellowed a mighty cry and began pounding on the sides of the Maas’Eon’s head. Each strike was mightier than the one before it but the Maas’Eon would not relent. He punched and slapped but yielded no result. Grunting, he felt his energy begin to fade and so too did the force behind his attacks. The Maas’Eon made a clicking noise with his mouth and violently ripped the blades from Heklaar’s chest.

  Heklaar fell to a knee, to a point where he was eye level with the Maas’Eon. Weakly, he looked over at Eon for a moment before he saw that the second Maas’Eon had gotten to its feet… Heklaar lowered his head in defeat and within moments, both Maas’Eon were on top of him, cutting away at the flesh and bone that once held him together.

  “Delightful.” Eon said, rising from his feet. “Truly I say unto thee, dearest Rubaan, you and I shall accomplish great things together… but now i fear our ambitions must be put on hold.” Eon silently stared at the minced meat that was once Sir Heklaar and pressed on ward. “For the final Demon is risen, and we have much ground to cover…”

  Chapter 7: Part One

  The Demon VII

  22nd of Ramlia - 346AG

  18:00 - Pado Village - Belhaasi Weald />
  “Behold!” Sage announced, as the group stepped into what looked like a small refugee camp. “The village of Pado! I should say that I do not recall whether I am welcome or unwelcome here at this moment so do not be offended if any sneering or groaning comes across our path!”

  Pado was a welcome change of scenery for the group. The ruined urban setting was no more, instead the village sat on a completely leveled surface with trees all around the perimeter. The trees hid the rest of the ancient city from view so the village seemed completely isolated.

  The actual layout of the structures of Pado was simple enough. It was mostly laid out in an “L” shape with the entrance being at one end and a two storied log building with a metal roof on the other. There were probably ten or fifteen other log buildings and large cured leather tents scattered about as well. It looked like the town probably housed a total of maybe fifty to seventy-five people at max.

  “I have seen this place before.” Garb said, walking up alongside Crinnan. “From a distance of course. I have never actually been in the town. The people here are not overly fond of the… people like me… very much.”

  “I think they have reason not to.” Crinnan said idly. “Your people do eat their children... among things...”

  “Repulsive things.” Eshan said.

  “They are not my people.” Garb said quickly. “I do not claim responsibility for their actions. Nor did I ever condone them… I was enslaved by them and did as they requested so that I would not die. I neither consumed nor touched these babes, and I most certainly never left any of the children for dead like you did back there on the road.” He was referring to Crinnan ignoring the fallen child as they were running from the Govians. Crinnan felt uncomfortable at that jab.

  “Look...” Crinnan said, beginning to explain himself. Garb shook his head and held out a long finger.