At Una’s direction, they proceeded down some minor cliffs until they reached the water. But by the time they had made it that far, the fog in the distance had moved just enough that they now had to walk through it. It was dense fog, far greater than any Guyon had ever seen, and that was saying something. More than once, he found himself splashing into the water on one side, and had to retreat back to higher ground. They learned to stay close so as not to lose each other.
“I don’t like this,” said Una after an hour or so of traveling in the fog. “This mist isn’t natural.”
Guyon could agree with her on that account. “Pyrochles said there was some protection over the amulet. Perhaps part of that is the fact that we cannot even see it.”
Una nodded. “That would make sense, but I’d be surprised if that’s all it is.”
They continued walking until Guyon began to grow frustrated. “We could have passed the island by now and neither of us would even know it.”
“No, it’s still ahead,” said Una, and she took a step in front of him, as though she was listening for something just out of Guyon’s earshot. He followed after without hesitation.
“Now where are you two going?” said a voice not five paces away. Both of them jumped, Una pulled out her knife, and Guyon quickly reached for his sword.
The form of a woman materialized out of the fog in front of them. She was beautiful, with brown hair that had silver streaks throughout. Though for all of that, she was young, with a face to rival Una’s. In fact, Guyon would have to say she was the more beautiful of the two.
But Guyon kept his guard. “Who are you?”
“I am Phaedria,” said the woman in a soft, singsong voice. “I am the guardian of the Idle Isle.”
Guyon exchanged glances with Una. “What exactly do you mean by ‘guardian’?” Guyon asked.
“I bring all those who would seek the Amulet of Odysseus to the island, there to face their trials.”
“What trials?” said Una. No one had said anything about trials.
“Odysseus passed through many of them to reach his destination. So must all who wish for his gift.”
Una looked at Guyon. “There’s something not right.”
Guyon could only agree. But he faced the woman again. “And you’ll...just take me to the island?”
“Yes,” said the woman in her sweet tone.
“You won’t...drown us, or...or something.”
The woman laughed, like a clear bell. “Of course not. There is no danger in reaching the island.”
“What if we don’t want to go with you,” said Una. “What if we seek out another way to reach the island.”
“Oh, there is no other way to reach the island,” said the woman, still smiling. “The fog is dense, and there is magic on these waters. You would find yourself swimming for hours, days, until you finally drowned from exhaustion.”
She said it so sweetly that one could almost forget she was talking about how they could lose their life.
Guyon gave Una a quick look. She appeared undecided. But between his sword and her magic, they might be able to get through unscathed, even if this was a trap set by Acrasia, which it almost certainly was. There was nothing to do but spring the trap.
“Very well,” he said. “We’ll come with you.”
“Oh, you can’t both come,” said Phaedria. “Only one may seek the amulet. He cannot have help.”
Guyon hesitated. That complicated matters considerably. He glanced back at Una, who shook her head just enough for him to see.
Turning back to Phaedria, he asked. “May I have a word with my companion for a moment?”
“Of course.”
Guyon retreated back a short distance with Una.
“It’s a trap,” said Una once they were alone.
“Well of course it’s a trap, but what other options do we have?”
“It’s not like we can just walk right into this woman’s boat and expect to arrive safely on the other side. We have to find another way around. Remember my magic is pointing me there.”
Guyon considered that. It was true that Una could likely get there if they swam. But they had no idea how far the distance was. It could be miles away for all they knew.
“Can you tell the distance,” he said. “Is it near or far?”
Una appeared unable to answer. She blew a deep breath and shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t know.
“Then I think it’s still best if I go with her.” said Guyon. “We will accomplish nothing by staying put.”
“Guyon,” said Una, using his name for emphasis. “You will be alone. If anything happens…”
“Then you will remain here to take my place and try another way. I must do this, Una.”
She opened her mouth as if to argue further, but then shut it again. Silently, she nodded.
That was enough for Guyon.
He turned and walked back to the waiting woman, who still stood there with her unhinging smile aimed at the pair of them.
“I will go with you,” he said.
“I hoped you would,” she said, glancing up and down the length of his body. Guyon set his jaw. Whatever was about to happen, it was not going to be pleasant.
The woman turned to the side and waved a hand forward, indicating Guyon should proceed. He had not gone two steps when he saw a boat sitting against the shore. In the fog, he’d neglected to notice. Taking a deep breath, and sparing one final glance at Una, he climbed aboard.
19
Phaedria followed, and took up a long pole, which she used to push the boat away from shore. Guyon sat near the bow of the vessel, but kept his feet under him so as to be able to move at a moment’s notice. If anything did happen, he was ready to fight, or jump into the water and brave the fog.
But Phaedria did nothing to provoke him, she merely attempted conversation. “What is a handsome, strong knight like you doing in these parts?”
Guyon ignored her compliments. “Have many come looking for the amulet?” he asked.
“Oh yes, many.”
“And...just how many of these have ever returned.”
“None have returned from the Idle Isle.”
Guyon ran a hand over his face. That was foreboding, but at least the woman was doing nothing to outright attack him. Though she could still be working for the enemy, leading him right into a trap. He would stay on his guard.
As they proceeded, the air began to lighten, as though the fog was lifting. It didn’t take long before he could see the water ahead, and beyond…
He finally saw it, a beautiful island just ahead, not a hundred yards more. It wasn’t large, perhaps no more than a half mile across, but he had never seen such beauty in one place. It was covered in green trees, its sands were golden, and the open fields were covered in flowers of all colors and varieties.
“We are here,” said Phaedria, as she brought the boat up to the shore. The smell that hung in the air was simply wonderful. Guyon breathed it in. Were he not on his errand, he would have stayed here for eternity. Perhaps he could stay here for eternity. Una wouldn’t miss him. In fact, she should come too and bask in the warm sun.
He shook his head. There was no room for thoughts like that. He stepped off the boat and proceeded up to the dry ground. Phaedria also alighted and followed him up.
“Where do I go from here?” he asked.
“Oh, we don’t need to go anywhere,” she said, coming uncomfortably close and tracing a finger over the edges of his armor. “Why don’t we spend some time in this meadow for a while. It’s lovely at this time of year.”
For a moment, he almost considered it. Phaedria was beautiful after all, and there really was no rush. He could stay here forever. Even the feeling of the sun on his face was different than he was used to. Often the sun felt harsh, but here it sent tingles all throughout his body.
“Why don’t you sit down,” said Phaedria. “I will help you rest easy.”
Gently, she helped to lower him to the g
rass, then once he was sitting, she lightly pulled her dress off of one shoulder, exposing her skin.
Something was off. Phaedria was not behaving at all like a woman should among decent company, not at all like Medina, who had…
Medina.
The thought drove away the cloud in his vision and Guyon came crashing back to the present. No, this was not who he was. This was some manner of enchantment. Una was right, this had been a trap, just not the kind Guyon had expected.
Phaedria had just begun a low hum, a song as sweet as the birds, it filled Guyon with bliss, with rapture, with…
He reached one armored arm out and caught Phaedria by the throat. Immediately her humming ceased, and her smile fled for the first time since he’d first laid eyes on her.
“Stop what you’re doing,” he said in a low growl.
“W-what?” she squirmed under his grip. “I...I never meant anything to…”
“Do not lie to me!” he barked. He was perhaps a little more forceful in his tone than usual, but he would allow it. The woman needed to learn he was someone to fear.
Phaedria’s face had gone pale, well, paler than usual. She grasped at his fist on her throat and barely managed to gag. “Please…don’t…”
Suddenly a huge shape burst out of the nearest stand of trees. Guyon turned to see an enormous knight standing there. He nearly took a step back. It was Pyrochles!
Wait, no, the armor differed slightly. The spikes on the helmet were shaped in opposite directions, and for that matter, Pyrochles had left without his helmet. This was another knight of the same breed.
“You will die for killing my brother, vermin,” said the knight before hoisting a huge broadsword at the ready.
Brother? Did he mean Pyrochles? Pyrochles wasn’t dead, at least as far as he knew. But if they were brothers, Guyon was in trouble. He could not fight this man alone if he was anything like Pyrochles.
“Your brother is not dead,” he shouted.
The man paused, cocking his head at Guyon. “What do you mean?”
Guyon quickly explained what had happened. His thoughts were racing as he spoke, but he did not release Phaedria. He needed her as a backup plan.
“You think by telling me my brother is still alive that I’m supposed to let you go?” said the newcomer. “You are still the enemy. I cannot believe a word you say.”
With that, he lumbered forward. Guyon immediately pulled Phaedria in front of him, and held his blade at her throat. “Hold, I will hurt her if you come a step nearer.”
He wasn’t sure he actually would hurt the woman. She was clearly in with the wrong people, but from the way she had reacted to his harsh words, he wasn’t sure she was much more than someone who had merely been misguided.
Indeed, she began to quiver at his threat, still clutching at his armored gauntlet.
“She is nothing,” said the man, not slowing down. “Kill her if you must.”
“Cymochles!” said Phaedria in a fright. So she did know the man.
As this Cymochles approached him, Guyon threw Phaedria away just in time to catch the brunt of the man’s first swing on his own sword.
The shock reverberated through his arms and down his spine. The man was even bigger than his brother if that were to be believed. How could he fight him where he had only barely managed to survive his last encounter with such a dark knight?
“Come, puny knight,” said the big man. “I will make you bleed. Your mother will not recognize you.”
Guyon centered himself. The taunt regarding his mother vexed him, but he managed to keep his emotions in check. He was in control, he was balanced, and balance would be what saved him.
The battle began. As before, Guyon was unable to take on Cymochles’s strike directly. So he worked on redirecting the man’s momentum away from himself. It was working. With each strike, Guyon managed to keep the broad sword from smashing his skull, and instead redirected that momentum and smashed the knight’s weapon into the ground.
Cymochles was not like his brother, Guyon soon realized. Pyrochles was more calculating, more in control of his actions. Cymochles, on the other hand, was clumsy. He relied on pure strength to aid him instead of strategy. Guyon could turn that to his advantage.
More than once, Guyon’s redirection of Cymochles’s strikes led the blade to stick into the soft ground beneath them. This gave Guyon the opportunity he needed to strike. Each time, he hit the man at what he perceived to be a weak point in the armor, aiming for between the plates.
But each time, his attack did nothing. Cymochles merely shrugged it off like Guyon’s sword was nothing more than an annoying fly that kept trying to bite him.
This was not good. Guyon could not defeat this man as it was. Had it not been for the armor, he could have killed this man long before, but…
The armor.
An idea suddenly popped into Guyon’s mind. If the armor was what prevented him from winning, then he had to find a way to get Cymochles’s armor off.
Before he could think the idea through, his momentary stray thought cost him. Cymochles brought his broadsword down in an over-the-head swing, and Guyon did not have the time to dodge or fully deflect it. Twisting, he tried to get his head out of the way whilst bringing his sword up to catch the brunt of the strike, and placed his left hand on the flat of his blade so as to better support. Bracing himself, he locked his joints so as to better bear the force of the incoming impact.
Cymochles’s blade passed right through his, shattering it into pieces. Had the force not also sent him flying backwards, the broadsword would have cloven his body in two.
With a ruined sword, he had no chance at fighting hand to hand. He had to try a different tactic. Time to put his idea to use.
Leaping to his feet, he turned and ran as fast as he could towards the boat which still lay against the rocks.
“Wha…” said Cymochles in confusion as his prey suddenly wasn’t there. But though Guyon did not turn his head around, he could hear Cymochles’s heavy foot falls begin to follow him.
He still carried the hilt of his sword, which had no more than a hand’s width of blade still attached to it. The rest had broken off with his enemy’s attack. But he might need it later, so he kept it on his person until he was closer to the shore. Then he let it drop to the ground.
He reached the boat and pushed it forward with one great heave. Cymochles was right behind him, and would reach him if he didn’t cast off as soon as he could.
Once the boat was out a short distance, Guyon scrambled in and reached for the pole that allowed for guiding the boat. He pushed against the beach as hard as he could, just as Cymochles arrived. But even with that last push, Guyon only barely managed to get the boat and the pole out of Cymochles’s reach.
“You think running will help you?” yelled the black knight.
“I’m not running,” explained Guyon. He glanced about the boat. He was out deep enough now. Placing the pole alongside the bottom of the boat, Guyon stood straight and folded his arms.
“Then what are you doing then?”
“Your brother was not half so stupid as you,” Guyon taunted. He needed Cymochles to lose his temper. Men in anger always made rash decisions. In this case, that would work to Guyon’s advantage.
He could not see beneath Cymochles’s helmet, but from the way the knight took a half step back, he could tell his insult had met its mark.
“You will show us respect. We are the chosen of the Mistress of Pride herself.”
“You were,” said Guyon, simply. “Now it’s just you.”
“But...but you said.”
“You said yourself you couldn’t trust the enemy,” said Guyon, smiling. “I killed your brother easily, and he died screaming for mercy.”
“RAWWWWR!” screamed Cymochles, and he immediately began walking into the water straight towards Guyon.
Once he was waste deep, he stopped. Guyon smiled. The man had finally figured out the problem. With all that armor on, he
would sink long before he could reach Guyon. Which meant…
“I can leave you here if you want,” said Guyon making it look like he was about to grab the pole again. “I’m sure that thick head of yours will never figure out a way off the island. I’ll be back in a few weeks when you’re dead.”
Cymochles yelled again in frustration. He retreated back up to the shore and removed his helmet. His face was almost exactly like that of his brother, except perhaps with more muscle around the neck. More armor followed the helmet, and Guyon merely watched from the boat with an amused expression. The man really was that stupid.
Devoid of his armor, Cymochles began wading back into the water, directly towards Guyon in the boat. He carried his sword, but even that was almost enough to weigh him down. He struggled to stay afloat, but he was making progress, and he would reach Guyon within a matter of seconds.
At least, he would reach were Guyon used to be.
Casually picking up the pole, he began pushing away from the oncoming Cymochles, slightly backward and to the side. When he was in position, he pushed the boat forward, heading further down the shore, back towards the island, but away from Cymochles.
“What are you…”
But Cymochles cut off. Yes, this time he had finally figured out Guyon’s plan. It had been almost too easy. This is why Guyon never let the things people said get under his skin. For those who did, taunts were an easy form of manipulation, and Guyon had played Cymochles like a lyre.
But Cymochles still had less distance to go than Guyon, even though the boat made progress on the water a lot easier. Still, he could not afford to waste time. He pushed harder on the pole, sending the boat hurtling as fast as it would go towards the shore.
When he arrived, he hopped out and ran towards the spot where his broken sword and Cymochles’s armor lay.
His enemy was almost there as well, just beginning to get his feet underneath himself and rise out of the water. Cymochles was strong, and he still held his sword. Once he was no longer fully submerged, his speed began to increase.
For a moment, Guyon thought he might not make it. Cymochles was nearly there, but he was still ten yards or so from his sword.
Knight Purged Page 14