Knight Purged

by Jason Hamilton

  Yes, Una knew of the Holy Island. It wasn’t the first time it had come up. “Can you tell us how to get there?”

  “Oh well the main road will get you most of the way,” said the old woman. “There’s a governor there who is prone to take in strangers. But you’re not likely to find anyone willing to take a child. Not with all the men leaving their wives like has happened.”

  “Excuse me,” said Guyon, who now sat upon his horse. “Did you say others have left their wives? Besides those first?”

  “Oh yes, been happening all over,” said the old woman. “There are reports. Men are unruly, there’s just no doubting that.”

  “I wish I could disagree with you, madame,” said Guyon, turning his face to stare into the distance, a look of somberness clouding his eyes.

  The old woman put a hand on Una’s arm as she held the baby. “You take care of yourself you hear? These days we women need to look after each other.”

  “Yes,” Una said, distantly. “It would seem so.”

  “Thank you for your time,” said Guyon, before heeling his horse forward. Una followed, though she didn’t like it. Guyon seemed even more troubled than she was.

  “Are you alright?” she asked after she caught up to the horse and had put some distance between themselves and the village. “You’re not going to run off on us too, are you?”

  “It troubles me that so many men appear to have fallen under the spell of this Acrasia.”

  Una shrugged. Given her own experience, she wasn’t surprised at all. Men were typically fickle, and it was rare to earn one’s complete, undivided devotion. All it took was a pretty face to distract them. In many cases, Una had been that pretty face. There had been many instances where others had seemingly forgotten their morals when they saw her. There had been her old jailor, the thief she’d encountered just outside the Forest of Arden, and Duessa’s strange knight she’d met soon thereafter inside the forest, Pyrochles. All had tried to take advantage of her, and she’d seen to it they never would again.

  Though that knight was still out there somewhere. She’d managed to keep him from raping her, but he’d escaped with Archimago. If Guyon had spotted the magician, and he was caught up with this Acrasia in some way, could the lawless knight be near as well?

  But, she reminded herself, not all men were as base. She didn’t feel that way about George, though even he had run off with Duessa, despite the fact that he had been under the influence of sorcery. Yet it seemed Acrasia used similar means to lure all the men away. Did they even stand a chance? Would George have given in as the late Sir Mordant had?

  No, that was not a good line of thought to pursue. After all, Sir Mordant’s wife had been able to reach her husband and bring him back. Men still possessed free will. She hoped. Plus, if anyone had a chance of resisting such lustful magic, it was Guyon. The man was practically a eunuch for all the interest he appeared to have in women. In fact, Una was reasonably sure she’d never caught him looking at her in that way, and that was unusual. Most men, even some women, spared the occasional glance at her figure.

  “Well,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “There’s magic involved, right? That makes their actions excusable.” She didn’t really believe that, but she’d forgiven George for running off with Duessa for that reason. Perhaps the wives of these other men could forgive them as well. Perhaps they were redeemable.

  But Guyon shook his head. “Magic cannot fully bend free will, or at least not any magic I’ve known.” “Is this magic you’ve known, though?” Una asked. “These threats from the Otherworld are hardly normal.”

  “Well if they can override freewill entirely, then what hope do any of us have?”

  Una went silent. He had a point there. If Acrasia, Duessa, or anyone could simply bend others to their will with no hope for release, then soon they would all be in their clutches.

  But they had defeated Duessa, at least temporarily. Una and Arthur had rescued George from the sorceress’s grasp.

  “I don’t think freewill is ever fully gone,” she said after they had walked for some time. “Don’t forget, Amavia managed to bring her husband back.”

  “And he died because of it,” said Guyon. Una’s shoulders slumped in annoyance. The man was in a mood today.

  Freewill is an illusion. Una almost jumped as a voice returned inside her head. She tried to identify which of the many personalities it had been, but she was too surprised and rattled to do so.

  Get out of my head, she thought for what felt like the hundredth time.

  But the voice did not answer, instead choosing to stay silent. But it was too much to hope that it had followed her command and left. It was almost as if she could feel it, and possibly the other voices as well, buried inside of her, linked in some unfathomable way to her magic.

  And there was little she could do about it.

  8

  They continued their journey for another day and a half, passing by the occasional traveler, though there weren’t many in these parts. Most of the island was covered in farmland, and though they could see for miles in every direction, it felt highly solitary. That fact was compounded by Guyon’s propensity for silence.

  The baby kept both of them occupied, however. They ran out of milk rather quickly, and had to resort to chewing up fruit or cheese, then taking it out of their mouths to feed the child. The baby was not so young that it could only live on its mother’s milk, but its teeth were still coming in, and it couldn’t handle anything too solid.

  Guyon spent quite a bit of time with the baby, despite his earlier assumptions that doing so would be Una’s job. He was often the one to rise at night when the child was making a fuss, and more than once Una caught him talking to the boy in a low tone. Perhaps the man felt guilty that he could not save the baby’s mother, his sister, and therefore assumed added responsibility for its care.

  Regardless, Una thought it was interesting that Guyon seemed to talk to the baby more than he talked to her. Not that she minded, of course. She enjoyed the quiet. Or at least, she thought she did, when she wasn’t plagued by worry over her dreams. Silence was familiar to her.

  It wasn’t until after they met a patrol of soldiers, who asked them to produce the pass they had received at the gate, that Guyon finally spoke to Una again.

  “We haven’t talked about Pellinore,” he said, softly.

  Una said nothing in response. She didn’t owe Guyon any explanation. But even the mention of Pellinore brought a darkness to her eyes that the knight must have noticed.

  “I can see you have a history with the man,” he said, his voice still calm and collected.

  “We’ve met before,” said Una, her voice made of ice.

  “Was this before or after you left Londinium to slay the dragon?”

  Una folded her arms and looked sidelong at the knight. “I don’t have to tell you everything about my life.”

  “No, but if we are to be traveling together, it’s my business to know of anything that could cause complications. And I can make a few educated assumptions. Was Pellinore responsible for your imprisonment in Londinium?”

  Her head whipped around to lock eyes with the man. “How did you know about that?”

  “I didn’t until just now,” he said, smoothly. “But it was a logical guess. Rumors of the dragon at Castle Silene surfaced three years ago, and yet you only set out to return to your home just recently. Why? You don’t strike me as a person who would simply stand around and wait in a foreign city for that long. And I also happen to know that Pellinore was in Londinium around the time that the dragon would have appeared.”

  Una regarded him, narrowing her eyes. Guyon was not stupid, but she had not expected this level of deductive ability. She would have to stop underestimating him. “Alright,” she said. “Yes, he was responsible for my...stay in Londinium. Or at least, he was primarily responsible. There were others.”

  “So this would have been the infamous tournament where the sword was pulled fr
om the stone?”

  Una nodded, remembering the events of that day. “Arthur was a friend of mine, at the time. But he left before he could do anything about rescuing me. I learned that Pellinore was plotting to kill Arthur, and he would have killed me too had the Romans not intervened. So they locked me up instead.”

  “This is some accusation,” said Guyon. “Though hardly surprising. I imagine half of the lords in Britain would want to see Arthur dead. Though perhaps if he could help them fight the Saxons to prove his worth, they might view him differently.”

  “Arthur doesn’t want to be king.”

  “A pity. This country is in dire need of leadership. Pellinore could have been that man once. I heard of his prowess, but the events in Londinium three years ago ruined his plans. Now from what I hear, he loses himself in fruitless pursuit of mythical beasts and leaves the role of governing to his sons and daughters.”

  “I didn’t know that,” said Una. She hadn’t given much thought as to where Pellinore might have ended up after that fateful day three years ago. But she had assumed he would go back to his old plans to unite the kingdoms. Clearly that hadn’t worked out as hoped, and it made sense that in pulling the sword from the stone, Arthur had upset that balance.

  Una’s thoughts lingered on her old friend, Arthur, and their adventures together to rescue George from the City of Pride. He had seemed like such a different man then, far more confident with himself and his abilities. And yet he still did not want to be king.

  “I would love to meet this Arthur one day,” continued Guyon. “I wasn’t at that tournament, though I wish I had been.”

  “He’s...changed a lot since then,” Una remarked.

  “And Pellinore, do you suppose he’s changed as well?” Guyon cocked an eyebrow at her.

  Una pressed her lips together, hard. “You don’t come back from the things he’s done.”

  Suddenly Guyon stopped his horse, and turned to face her. There was an earnestness in his eyes that she had not seen since he knelt next to the dying mother of the baby they now carried. “Una, I need to know something. What will you do if we were to encounter Pellinore again?”

  “Why?” she asked, taken aback. “Do you think we will?”

  “It’s possible, though we are not traveling to the capital of Anglesey.”

  “Well…” she began. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

  We would rip out his heart and feed it to him, came a voice in her head. We would kill his sons and daughters and throw them to the dogs.

  Una wrestled for control of her mind and tried to pay attention to Guyon’s next words. “I cannot have our visit to this place compromised. If you intend any ill will towards Pellinore or his family, I must know. That would not be a passion I could endorse.”

  Kill him, kill his family, kill all who ever…

  “There was a time,” she said, carefully, pushing down the voice. “When I would have wished him harm. And perhaps I still do. But it’s been three years, and I’ve moved on.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, staring deeply into her eyes, trying to read what was in there. Una desperately hoped that he would not see the chaos that was her mind. This time the voice had been particularly aggressive, though Una still maintained control of herself and her magic.

  She nodded, with as much firmness as she could muster.

  “Very well,” he said. “I will trust you. But we will not get far if we dwell too long on such petty grievances.”

  Petty? Pellinore was the reason she had been in a cell for three years. She would have stayed there her whole life had she not escaped. Did Guyon really think she could just shrug that off like it never happened? But taking a deep breath, she let it go.

  “I will say this,” she added. “If we do find him again, it’s likely that he will recognize me. I...might have stabbed him at the time.”

  “Indeed?” Guyon raised an eyebrow at her. “Well we’ll just have to hope that we don’t meet him. I do think it’s unlikely, but I had to make sure it wouldn’t cause any complications from your end at least.”

  Una nodded.

  They continued for another few hours before coming on the edge of a village.

  “Why don’t we stop here for a moment,” said Guyon. “We can see if we can find more milk for the child.”

  But when they entered the village and began passing the first of the lined-up cottages on either side of the road, there was no one in sight. Unexpectedly, the child began to cry, far worse than usual.

  “Strange,” Una remarked, bouncing the baby up and down. “Someone should have come out at the sound of the horse.”

  “I know,” said Guyon, staring around. “There’s no sign of struggle here, no evidence to explain where everyone is.”

  Una strode up to the nearest door, hoisted the child in one arm, and knocked. There was no answer.

  “It’s like they abandoned the city entirely?”

  Una kept walking until she came to a home with a divided door, indicating it was likely the village store. She tried knocking again. Still, no one answered. Curious, she pulled on the door and was surprised to see it swing open. Inside she could see the clear makings of a small shop for local farmers, including sacks of grain and baskets of fruit and cheese.

  “Why would they leave the door unlocked?” Guyon voiced the question Una was secretly asking.

  “I don’t know, but we need more food,” said Una.

  “We cannot steal.”

  “No, I didn’t mean that,” Una dipped her hand into her pouch and pulled out a gold coin. “But hopefully they won’t mind if we conduct the bargaining ourselves in their absence.”

  Opening the bottom half of the door, she walked inside, placed the coin on the counter, and helped herself to a sampling of food. Guyon didn’t protest as she took a slightly generous amount. She didn’t feel bad. It was the people’s fault for not being around to sell her the food in the first place, and a gold coin was a lot of money.

  Wrapping up what she could, she placed it in the saddle bags and the two of them set off again.

  They had not gone a mile when Una spotted someone cresting the next hill, arms flailing as whoever it was ran for all they were worth.

  Guyon reined in his horse with a soft “whoa,” and together they watched, their limbs tense, as the figure drew nearer.

  It was a woman, and for all Una could tell, she was in a dreadful hurry. Every part of her was bent on maintaining balance while she ran. Every now and then, she would look back, as though worried someone was coming for her. Una held the baby closer. He had calmed down by now, but still looked upset, his eyes puffy and red.

  Several hundred yards out, the woman finally noticed them and all but jumped out of her skin. “Get back!” she yelled once she recovered her wits. “Get back, stay away from here.”

  “What is it, woman?” said Guyon, leaning forward in his saddle.

  Not only was the woman frantic, but as she drew nearer Una could make out tears staining her cheeks. She was crying, but why?

  “They...they’re all dead,” the woman came to a halt just in front of them, and promptly fell to her knees.

  9

  “Dead? Who?” Una asked.

  “We…” but the woman seemed to be suddenly out of breath. She fell on her back and stared into the sky, the tears flowing freely.

  “Are you from the village we just passed?” Guyon dismounted and earnestly kneeled next to the woman. “Tell us what happened!”

  “She took our men,” said the woman, the tears still streaming down her cheeks.

  Una stilled. Acrasia.

  Guyon pressed his lips together. “A tall woman with long, curly blonde hair?”

  The woman met his eyes and nodded. “You’ve met her?”

  Guyon shook his head. “We know of her. She is the one we seek to destroy if we can.”

  “Stay far away, do not go near her. She came to our village, and all our men followed after. Just left right out of the fiel
ds or the marketplace.”

  “And then she killed them?” Una asked, remembering what the woman had said about ‘them’ all being dead.

  The woman’s face bunched up in an expression of pure anguish, and she only began crying harder. “N-no,” she blabbered. “We went after our husbands. We knew it had to be some kind of sorcery, a witch from Avalon no doubt. So we grabbed what weapons we had and set out to retrieve them. They had hardly made it over the next two hills before we caught up with them. Then...then she…”

  Her sobs became too intense that she could not speak more. Guyon stood and met Una’s eyes. Una had never seen those eyes so cold.

  “Amavia was only the first,” he said. “Now we are too late to stop this massacre.”

  You cannot defeat her, you cannot find her. It was the timid voice, in Una’s head.

  Una reached instinctively to push the voice back down as she always did, but something made her hesitate. Why? she thought.

  But the answer did not come, as so often happened when she truly wanted an answer. Stopping herself from growling in frustration, she replied to Guyon. “We just have to push forward. When we find her, we can put a stop to all this.”

  “Do not go near her,” said the poor, sobbing woman. “She will kill you too, or lure you to her fancies.” She looked at Guyon as she said this.

  “Believe me, sweet and unfortunate madame, I will not be so easily swayed.”

  “But...but…” the look on the woman’s face was a desperate mix of hope, despair, and concern for Guyon. What a conflicted expression she had. Una was surprised she didn’t just faint of pure emotional overload right there.

  Una handed the baby off to Guyon and knelt beside the woman. “We are not going to let your companions die in vain. We will find the woman who did this and make her pay.”

  “But...how can you…”