The Maven Knight (The Maven Knight Trilogy Book 1)

by Matthew Romeo

  The old man wipes sweat from his dark face, and he lets out a sigh. Not from exasperation, but more along the lines of melancholy. Sarina collapses her spear and sits up straight. She brushes her hair from her eyes, interest evident on her peach-colored face.

  Abrax doesn’t respond at first. Taking out his pipe, he packs it and lights it. He takes a few puffs of greenweed before speaking.

  “Are you sure you want to know, Tálir?” he asks, a look of warning is in his eyes.

  I fold my arms across my chest and adopt a stern look. I demonstrate my resolve, and I won’t back down. Abrax respects this.

  He inhales deeply; his pipe lets up a column of smoke. “The Remnant Order is the furtive society that has been training many in the old ways of the Maven Knights. Other magic practitioners have been rumored to exist in more recent Cycles, but the Remnant is the oldest. Established a Cycle after the Ending, the Remnant has been trying to rebuild the Maven legacy for the last millennium. The name reflects much of their core beliefs, because they believe that they have the last connections to the Domain. Some say it’s in their bloodline, some possess relics, and some are just scholars who know copious amount about the ancients. But many, like Remus and Septem, were essentially born into the Order.”

  I let his explanation marinate for a moment. Septem was right, they had been around for longer than I could imagine. But if they were indeed as large as Abrax says, how come people aren’t more aware of them?

  “Sounds like they’re fanatics, in some sense of the word.” I say, rubbing my chin. My facial hair is growing thick, but it’s far from a full beard. “They’re just regular people who happen to possess relics of the Domain. But with a bit more guidance than most.”

  “Like yourself, for instance?” Sarina comments with a smirk. She twirls her collapsed spear like a baton.

  I grin at her. “Yes, like myself.”

  Abrax snorts with mild amusement as he takes another drag from his pipe.

  “In some sense, yes that’s what it is,” Abrax says, smoke coming out from his nose. “But there is some credibility to their claims. There is a way to trace back a bloodline to the ancient times to its direct source. And many in the Remnant have done such. However, those bloodlines are very rare. But for the most part, the Centum is tasked with committing their reign to locating Providence while training a successor. I was once known as such.

  “If there’s one thing you should take away about the Remnant, Tálir, it’s that they believe themselves to be the true heirs of the Domain civilization. That belief gives birth to dangerous individuals who care for nothing except for their own ascension. They will kill innocents, burn cities, and betray one another for more power.”

  I look at him in horror. The code of a Maven Knight revolves around prosperity, equality, and order. Anger and fear both whirl within me like a cyclone. Many in the Remnant are tainting the ways of the Knights of old, and it makes me physically ill. They don’t deserve to be called heirs to the Domain.

  “That’s not the Maven way. How could anyone tolerate such depravity?” I ask Abrax, my face turning red with anger.

  The old man looks at me with some measure of defeat. “Because their current Centum fell from the true Maven path,” he says. “Centum was given poor instruction by the previous First Master.”

  Wait a minute. In the catacombs, Abrax had mentioned a se’bau that failed him. It wasn’t Septem. But now, the pieces fall into place.

  “Centum was your se’bau,” I declare as the old man eyes me. There’s a sharp hint of darkness in his expression. “The one that failed you.”

  Abrax looks away from me and a solemn expression is on his face. He says nothing and takes another drag from his pipe. He closes his eyes in sadness.

  “There’s nothing more devastating than a pupil overthrowing their teacher,” Abrax says quietly. “Not only did Centum challenge my rule, but my entire life’s work was undone by that monster. The Remnant itself turned on me, and only a handful showed enough mercy to let me escape. Your father was one such person.”

  I gulp in unease. That’s why Abrax had been so reluctant to teach me. He was afraid another student would fail and turn on him. I snort at the thought. I could never betray him like that.

  I find his answers satisfying. I have a better grasp on what I’m up against. Septem is nothing more than a glorified fanatic. But there’s one more question burning in my head.

  “What is Centum like?” I ask with a grave expression.

  Abrax looks at me; his face remains neutral to my question. He snorts smoke before saying, “A story for another time, lad. All you need to know is that Centum has delved into the deeper parts of our magic. You saw a glimpse of that when we faced Septem. Therefore, it’s my job to prepare you as best I can for the day we face Centum. For it won’t be an easy battle.”

  I battle the fear that begins to grow within me, like a gull battling through a storm. The task before me is much greater than I ever imagined. Abrax plans for us to confront Centum, likely to liberate the Remnant from a corrupt rule. The task is daunting, but I retain my focus as best I can. The Itinerant Mind mustn’t cloud the path before me. The path of saving the world. Saving the Mavens.

  Chapter 37: Sarina

  Revelations

  NIGHT HAS FALLEN around our campsite, and only the moon and fire give us light. Despite the darkness, there’s liveliness to the camp that has sprung up over the last few hours. Abrax had allowed us to take a break from travelling for the entire day. We all rejoiced at the opportunity to rest from nearly three weeks of travel. So after a relaxing day of recuperation, we all decided to celebrate.

  The Tomes have been a noteworthy guide for our journey. The discovery of the singular willow tree and then subsequently following the path to the Marün Canyons had been a good sign. While I’m still faintly skeptical of the devices’ map, I’m nonetheless content with our current path. I have a feeling that we’re heading in the right direction. With what seems to be the Imperials still a day behind us and no imminent sign of danger, there’s even more cause to celebrate.

  Upon scouting around our camp, Vyck and Devin said there was no sign of the Crimsons. We've been lucky. The Crimsons are likely far north of us, and separated by a vast network of canyons. It's relieving.

  After a successful afternoon hunt, Vivían brought us a spotted antelope for supper. She and Abrax skillfully prepared the carcass for roasting, and their expertise is met with unwavering gratitude. Now that the roast is ready, my stomach growls in anticipation. As everyone gets their share of the meal, we pass around several skins full of wine. The air smells like mesquite meat and charcoal, and laughter echoes within the canyon.

  “So I said to Vyck: ‘There’s no way you can carry her all by yourself.’ Mind you, Vyck was several pounds lighter at this point in time,” Devin recounts rather jubilantly, a side of him I thought I’d never see. “But he insists: ‘Look who you’re talking to. I’m Vyck, Stallion of the West!’”

  Though his injuries have healed, the scars around his right eye are still fresh. His iris seems faded, and it’s evident he may never see clearly out of it again. But it doesn’t damper his mood tonight.

  “Stallion of the West?” Vivían laughs heartily, taking a swig of wine. She nudges Vyck playfully with her foot.

  “You’d be surprised at my endurance,” Vyck sputters in defense of himself.

  “So what happened to the courtesan?” I ask, taking a bite from the roast. “Vyck takes her from the warlord and then?”

  “He throws her over his shoulder in the most romantic way possible, and runs across the catwalk as the fortress explodes behind him,” Devin laughs hysterically. “Normally it would’ve been an epic rescue, but the execution was the opposite. I’m on the other side with the bikes just giggling at the sight of it. That courtesan was taller than six foot, and Vyck is straining to run across.”

  We all roar with laughter, even Abrax adopts an amused grin as he smokes some gree
nweed.

  “Did he drop her?” Aida asks as she huddles next to Remus.

  “Epically,” Devin snorts, patting Vyck on the shoulder. “She drops and rolls right off the catwalk into the moat below. The water was cold enough to wake her out of unconsciousness.”

  “Vyck, you didn’t dive in after her?” I ask in melodramatic anguish. “She was your maiden in distress!”

  “I can’t swim very well,” Vyck replies, his cheeks turning red. “But she made it.”

  “She wasn’t too happy with you when we fished her out of there,” Devin chuckles. “But long story short, Vyck’s first love ended very, very jubilantly.”

  “Not for me,” Vyck mutters. “Nátalia, you are still missed.”

  Vivían huddles closer to him as the story concludes. I arch an eyebrow at her and she winks back at me. Devin sits across the fire while Tálir sits right next to me. Our legs press together, but neither of us backs away. I can see a tinge of enviousness flash over Devin’s face.

  The night has been filled with eating, drinking, and storytelling as comfortability grows amongst us. It’s a drastic improvement from where we’d started off weeks ago. Devin has rekindled his comfortability with me, and I with him. Wounds have healed, and so have our friendships.

  “Ey, how are we looking, old timer?” Devin changes the subject to address Abrax.

  “Intoxicated,” he grunts, puffing on his pipe.

  “I think he meant journey-wise, Abrax,” Tálir comments. Both men are still in their suits of armor, but have ejected their crystals as per nightly tradition.

  “I never would’ve guessed, lad,” Abrax snorts derisively. “We’ve still got a few days before we get out on the eastern side of here. Maybe a month before we will be anywhere near Providence. Hope there’s some settlements between here and there for us to resupply.”

  “Good, because we might be out of wine after tonight!” Vivían cheers, taking another swig.

  “We’ll need more medical ointments for Remus as well,” Aida adds. “We’re down to one last wineskin of sedatives.”

  All of a sudden, enhanced by slight intoxication, my curiosity takes hold. It has been nearly a month since I’d first met Remus, and I’m still ignorant to what exactly is wrong with him. His condition is slowly becoming worse, and he requires near-constant care. I have to ask.

  “Aida, you never told us what Remus has been stricken with,” I ask somberly, drawing everyone’s attention. “Would it be an appropriate time to tell us what happened?”

  No one says anything for a moment, their expressions range from apprehensive to concern. Remus gives me the most genuine look of everyone, for his eyes reflect both pity and understanding. Aida looks from me to Remus, clearly seeking his permission.

  Letting out a protracted exhalation, Remus nods solemnly.

  “It happened the night of the riots,” Aida begins to recount, the group starts listening in closely. “With our invitations, we thought we were looking for an Insurgent contact when the chaos erupted. We fled to the streets, but were pursued by violence and pandemonium. In the midst of our escape, Centum found us and captured us. The Imperials believed we were instrumental in starting the riots, thanks to Centum’s input.”

  Remus adopts a grave expression as he stares into the firelight.

  “However, Centum was also aware of Remus’ defection and attempted search for Providence,” Aida says bitterly. “If there’s one thing you all should know, it’s that Centum is ruthless when it comes to the all-beloved Providence. Centum will destroy anything and anyone who obstructs the path to that place. To Centum, Remus committed the worst heresy of all by trying to find Providence. So, the Remnant developed a punishment for such heretics.”

  An ominous feeling of dread wells up within me as I look at Remus—his expression almost on the verge of tears.

  “Centum has stores of a Nanite virus that they save for the worst dissenters within the Remnant,” Aida continues, her voice turning weak. “Their Order has somehow been able to harvest samples of the Nanites within a Roil. I think they're residual swarms, like rain showers after a hurricane. If injected into a specific part of the body, the limited Nanites will slowly eat away at any tissue it comes into contact with. So Centum thought it would serve poetic justice if an outspoken heretic no longer held the ability to speak. Remus was given the virus in the left hemisphere of his brain, leaving him barely able to speak.”

  She lowers her bald head gravely. “That’s part of the reason we set out on this. To bring Centum to justice and help cure Remus.”

  A single tear rolls down her cheek as she looks at Remus, who in turn places his hand atop of hers. I feel a warm sense of adoration as I see their fingers intertwine, and I smile. It’s utterly horrific what happened to Remus; his life is ticking away as he fights an unwinnable battle. I don’t know much about the virus, but I can only assume it won’t be long before the Nanites kill him. It’s a slow and painful way to die, and I feel the utmost pity for Remus.

  But despite this, he seems just as loyal and caring as he would’ve been without the virus. He doesn’t let it hinder who he is, and it touches me.

  “So, do the Nanites have little voices in your head?” Vyck asks all of a sudden.

  Vivían smacks his leg. Everyone regards him with disdain.

  “You ruined the mood,” Devin says, putting his palm to his head.

  Remus doesn’t take offense to it, however. Surprisingly, he snorts in merriment. “No— Voices—” he says with levity. “Sometimes—”

  “Bone me! I knew it!”

  While the mood is beginning to retake its former merriness, I can’t help but feel sorry for Remus. He has spent his life serving the Remnant only for them to betray him and spoil his chance at a normal life. I know his relationship with Aida makes it even more painful—for he has to watch someone he loves experience his decline. I hold the utmost respect for the pair, and I’m more determined than ever to bring Centum to justice. To help Remus.

  Hope is still present; we only have a bit more left in our journey. Saving the world is one thing, but now this quest feels more personal. There's a new motivation. If fate or the Sage God is on our side, we’ll reach Providence in time to save Remus. We have to.

  ◆◆◆

  Once the ruckus calms and the bleariness of intoxication take hold, everyone prepares for a good night’s sleep. Vivían is quick to set up her cot next to Vyck, and I almost laugh at her obvious ploy. Tálir and Abrax are preparing to undress their suits of armor. Remus and Aida lay next to each other, his hand upon her face. Devin remains alert and on watch. The fire is still lit and cackling.

  I smile at the tranquility. Everyone is peaceful, content, and full of new prospects. Compassion fills the air. And it’s a soothing thought as I prepare my cot for sleep.

  A sound rouses me. Footsteps echo from further in the canyon.

  Everyone hears it. Soft pattering of boots against the gravel, and the quiet huffing of breaths. Someone is in the canyon with us. The noise of movement reverberates from atop the canyon walls. I blink in confusion. They’re all around us?

  Imperceptibly, everyone slowly begins to move towards their weapons. Trying to avoid the mistake in the Flames, I cautiously begin reaching for my bowpistol. Abrax tries to shuffle through one of his munition packs for their gems.

  There’s a quiet stillness for a moment. Then chaos erupts.

  Four blue stunbolts whiz through the night and impact both Tálir and Abrax. Both men are stunned even before they can load their energy crystals. They slump sideways, unconscious.

  More stunbolts fly through the air, lighting up the area with an azure hue. Devin is suddenly struck by one. I start to panic. They’ve taken out our best fighters. The rest of us scramble for our weapons. Vivían snaps open the plasma bow and immediately fires a few energy arrows. I hear a body fall into the canyon from above. Vyck and Aida find their bowpistols and start firing back blindly.

  A stunbolts hits next
to my foot just as I make it to my weapons. But shouting erupts from all around us.

  “O’rah tah!”

  Oh shit! I think to myself as I unholster my bowpistol.

  A dozen Crimsons enter the firelight of the camp brandishing stunpikes. The bowrifle fire ceases as they charge towards us. Vivían shoots two with her bow before succumbing to a stunpike. Another down. Remus is smacked upside the head with one and passes out. My limbs start to turn cold with fear. Aida releases an enraged war cry as she fires her weapon at the assailants. Vyck and I follow suite, firing our bowpistols in all directions. Six have been slain, but more charge in.

  We’re overwhelmed. My heart starts racing with trepidation as I toss the pistol aside and extend my spear. Aida and Vyck are swarmed and stunned by the pikes, leaving me alone. Four Crimsons charge at me with their pikes ready to strike. I try to breathe and remember how to move when attacking with Silverlight.