The Noble Fool

by Heath Pfaff

  "Will there be other Knights of Ethan between us and our goal?" I used the word "other" without pausing, the word simply falling from my lips, and it was only after I'd used it that I realized, to my dismay, that I was no longer a Knight. Indeed, I had actually only been a Knight for a very short time. Since the fall of Fell Rock, when I was carried away by Weaver, I had become something else, not quite a Knight and not quite one of the fallen like Weaver and the other ex-Knights of Ethan he traveled with. Now though, having given my word to kill Ethaniel, I was indeed a fallen Knight, and not merely a lost soul.

  "At the villa in Iol, yes, there will certainly be Knights there. Kyeia will be a top priority for the king and his men until they discover why she still lives. As for what lays between, that is harder to say. There are not so many Knights of Ethan that their forces can be everywhere, but there are enough that, should you raise a fuss, you may find yourself pursued by them. What's more, we do not know where the survivors from Fell Rock have been sent," Weaver explained. "There could be more of them in Uliona. Since the king does not know where my armies are, he would be smart to reinforce as many of his border posts as possible with the Knights from Fell Rock. He has to be quite worried now, having just had a fortress in the middle of his territory sacked in one night with no warning, and no sign of where the invading army fled to. It is difficult to say what his next strategy will be, and our spies at court have been giving us mixed messages. Until we figure out where the misinformation is coming from, our information is too risky to rely upon."

  "Then the information that Kye is alive might be..." I began, but Weaver quickly interjected.

  "No, that is from our other source at Fell Rock, and she has been nothing if not unerringly reliable. She reports only what she witnesses herself."

  I nodded, relieved to hear that. For a moment I had feared I might run all the way across the countryside only be faced with the horrible reality that my journey had been for nothing. I did not know if my heart could take such a burden without shattering once and for all. My conversation with Weaver ended there as Silent returned to the tent, Brutal following behind him.

  "What is it?" Brutal asked in a petulant tone as he made his entrance into the tent, crossing his massive arms before him. They were a deep black, streaked with gray, obviously from an older Fell Beast, though still powerful. I noticed as he spoke that his mouth was lined with razor sharp teeth, but his tone did not have the hard, abrasive edge of those with "the voice."

  "Brutal," Weaver started. "You are to accompany Silent and Noble..."

  The large warrior spat on the ground. "I'm not interested."

  Weaver stood up straight, his shoulders going back, and a dangerous boom entering his voice, "This is not a question of what you're interested in. You are going with Silent and Noble to the Iol territory within the Uliona lands, and you are going to instruct Noble on the proper use of his new abilities, and weapons. Do you understand?"

  Brutal puffed up, flashing his razor teeth, "...and I say that I do not care to travel with the weakling child, and your sneaky little spy, Lucidil. Do you have a problem with that?"

  Weaver sighed, shaking his head and turning to me. "Noble, kill Brutal."

  "What?!" Brutal and I exclaimed in unison.

  "You heard me, Noble, kill him. He has directly disobeyed a command, and you didn't want him along on your journey anyway. If you dispatch him, or injure him enough that he can't come along, then you will not have to take him." There was agitation in Lucidil's voice, but not directed at Brutal, instead it was directed at me for forcing him to explain himself. I looked at the fearsome looking fallen Knight of Ethan.

  "I'd like to see you try, whelp." Brutal spat, his claws now flexed at his sides. I looked at my opponent with shock written across my face, not believing what I was about to do, but it was true that I did not want him as part of my travel party. If I could just injure him enough to keep him from coming along, it would suit me fine.

  I got up from my seat and turned to address the large, fearsome fallen Knight. His massively powerful body was like a well tensioned line, ready to snap into action at the slightest provocation. I could see the glint of his claws in the low light of the tent, and it made me remember that I had to will my own claws sharper. They responded at a mere thought, channeling into long, narrow blades. I poised myself to strike, but I did not get the chance to make the first move. As if in reaction to some tell-tale sign in my posture, there was a sudden flash of motion and my entire body was forced to shift modes to match the pace of Brutal as he put on full speed.

  Even in the adjusted speed sense, Brutal was coming at a run. I was using my new body under the influence of speed for the first time, and I wasn't yet sure of its limits, but I knew there was only one way to find out. I pulled my arms up to block the ex-Knight's direct attack, and to my surprise they came up fast. I could feel the resistance of the world on them, but unlike my human limbs, these ones made the paltry forces of velocity seem like nothing at all. My arms reached defensive position with time to spare, and Brutal's first attack was easily turned aside. This did not faze the large warrior though. He turned his momentum into another assault, spinning around to kick out at me with one of his clawed feet. My body, trained in hand to hand combat, responded for me, my new limbs giving me the power and speed to do what was necessary. I forced the direction of his leg's momentum off course with a solid connection from my knee, and then used that momentum to lash out a strike of my own at Brutal's body. My attack almost landed, but Brutal propelled himself backwards with surprising quickness, and we both flashed back into normal speed as he slid backwards across the floor of Weaver's tent, tearing long streaks in the fabric on the floor. We only remained at normal speed for a moment though, and then Brutal was on the attack again.

  He charged in with his left claw slashing at me with formidable force. I was already moving to brush this attack aside when my eyes caught the glint of metal flashing in the light, and I noticed that Brutal had drawn his sword with his right arm and was swinging it around his back, spinning his entire body to bring the strike in, backhanded, just behind the slashing of his left claw. Brutal was fast, but my body was faster, and that was all that saved me from his terrifying sword strike. I threw my entire mass in the direction his sword slash was traveling, knowing that I would have to outdistance it that way because I would never clear its range by diving backwards - I was in too close. The tip of Brutal's weapon dragged across the fabric of my cloak, and probably would have split any common garment. I drew my own sword in one fast motion, using my left hand to bring it to bear as quickly as possible. My left hand wasn't as graceful as my right, but in a situation where I needed the weapon ready quickly, my left could draw it faster. I pushed my attack forward, trying to stab at Brutal's exposed back. He seemed to sense this coming, and his powerful legs launched him through the air, and out of the range of my thrust. On an impulse I dove to the ground and rolled forward.

  Had I not done so, the blade of Brutal's sword would certainly have cloven my head in half as he drug it through the air behind him in his flip over me. I should have been able to beat the other fighter. He was slower than me, and I got the sense that he was also weaker of muscle. However, his skill was far superior to mine. Only a fool would be unable to see that. Every move he made was perfectly executed and backed by another move if the first one failed. I came to the realization, then, that I might not be able to beat my opponent, or even manage to keep myself alive. The world lurched back into normal speed as I came up from my roll and turned around to face Brutal again.

  To my surprise, the big warrior was at the other side of the tent, his sword stuck in the ground at his feet, piercing the material of the floor, and driven into the dirt beneath. There was a smile on his face, a somewhat terrifying thing to see with all of his rows of teeth, but this smile, unlike the first he'd shown me, had found its way to his cold eyes.

  "Alright Lucidil, if you insist, I will take the boy to Iol, an
d I will teach him what I know," Brutal said, pulling his sword from the ground and sheathing it.

  Lucidil simply nodded and moved to clasp the large warrior's shoulder, "Good decision. I didn't want to have to kill you."

  Brutal leaned in close and whispered something into Lucidil's ear. My ears turned, straining to hear, but his voice was obviously pitched intentionally for Weaver's ears only. Lucidil smiled at whatever Brutal said and replied, "I told you."

  The true-to-his-name warrior shrugged, "I had to see for myself. I always have to see for myself. It's my way."

  "I know, old friend. Now go prepare yourself for the journey," Weaver smiled as he spoke, and I sensed that I was witnessing a comradery between them that had existed for a long time.

  Brutal headed for the exit to the tent, stopping in front of me for a moment and offering me his hand once more. I was still confused by what had transpired, but I reached out and took his clawed hand in mine. He shook once, firmly, but not with the crushing strength he'd used last time. "I will see you in the morning, Noble," with those words he left the tent, leaving me to be stunned and confused by what had just transpired.

  "Brutal only respects strength," came a chipper female voice, and I turned to see that it was Ferocity who was speaking. "Until he saw for himself what Weaver had already told him, that you were indeed strong, he had decided not to like you. Down inside he's just a big softy, though."

  I almost laughed, but decided against it. Brutal was yet another person that I had not properly judged. I was beginning to think my ability to judge character was faulty. It was either that, or I was encountering a great deal of people who could not be so readily figured out. It gave me something to think on, at any rate. These people were the enemy of the king. These people, of whom I was now a part, were the greatest source of fear in all the kingdoms of men, but they were all just people fighting for what they believed in. Of course, I did not know that the same could be said for all of them, but those I'd met so far did not seem like evil individuals. My perceived world of clear-cut good and evil was crumbling down around me. When one was young and full of stories of evil sorcerers and terrible monsters it was easy to see the world as a place of light and dark, with no shadows in between, but the reality of the world, I felt, was turning out to be something vastly different. Each side of this war felt that they fought for what was right, and that the other side was evil, while in truth both sides were constructed of good and evil elements. Where did that leave a person who wished to make a better world?

  For me, I supposed, it didn't matter what I believed in. I would go to rescue Kye, and if I succeeded in that without dying, I would then have to kill Ethaniel, so that Lace might live the life I had only so recently given back to her. What would Kye think of the direction my life had taken? That thought worried me. She had given her life so that I might fight for the king, but now I was bound to do the opposite. Would Kye hate me for what I was doing with the gift she had given me? What would I do if Kyeia despised me for turning my back on the kingdom she had almost died to save?

  Weaver had named me Noble, a name that would be hard to live up to. How could I be Noble when I felt like nothing more than a mercenary, killing on behalf of the person who paid me -- even if in this case the payment was the life of one I'd chosen to save? I was filled with so many questions that were impossible to answer that I suddenly felt overwhelmed. I took a deep breath, then another, before I realized that Weaver was talking to me.

  "...some rest. I'm sure Silent can find a place for you to sleep for the night. There are girls willing to comfort you for the evening if you require it, but I want you clear headed and ready to go before the dawn. I will have your preparations completed by then. Meet me here on the morrow and I will give you the final details."

  "I will be here and ready before first light," I replied uneasily. There were a great many doubts clashing inside of me, and I only hoped that I could do everything I needed to. For the moment, I would have to concentrate on saving Kyeia and not let my other troubles bother me. It wouldn't do to be distracted and make mistakes.

  Silent grabbed at my sleeve and lead me from the tent out into the camp. I received a good many stares as we made our way through the crowds of many different peoples, but none of the gazes were outright hostile, just curious at the newcomer with the strange purple eyes. Silent walked onward, ignoring the looks, and after a few minutes we came to a very large tent, its sides rippling in the frosty winter wind. He led me inside where there were hundreds of cots set up, a few feet of space between each one. He continued to the far end before stopping at a couple of beds near the furthest wall from the entrance.

  His voice was as light when he spoke. "Some wind comes in under the edge of the tent, making it colder here, but our cloaks keep us warm so we can sleep here with more privacy then we would get down to the other side of the tent." Even as he spoke a gust of wind tugged at the wall of the tent, lifting it and allowing a cold breeze through that rippled the fabric of my cloak. "I'll go get us some food and bring it back here, and I can arrange for a girl..."

  "I'll take the food, but I've no need of a woman. Thank you, Silent," I told him, not feeling much like spending the night with a woman, especially not one I didn't know, and who had probably spent nights with most of the men in the camp.

  "Suit yourself, but there are some talented girls here, and they all are quite fond of us Broken Swords." He said.

  "'Broken Swords?'" I assumed he was talking about the ex-Knights of Ethan, but I had never heard the term.

  He smiled. "Ethaniel came up with the name. Full Knights of Ethan are given a sword forged by the king, as a sign of fealty. When a Knight joins with us, Ethaniel strikes the insignia from the crosspiece of the blade with his claw, 'breaking the sword.'"

  I drew my sword and looked at the weapon closely. Indeed, the symbol on the crosspiece of the sword had a deep strike through the center of it. I hadn't noticed it before, or if I had, I had assumed that it was merely a sign of use. I noted that my sword also had rippled indentions on the blade where the fell beast I'd fought had locked its jaws on the metal. I thought momentarily about seeing if I could have the weapon repaired, but then thought better of it. Those indents would not affect the weapons usefulness, and they served to remind me of how close I'd come to death that day. It was good to remember one's own mortality. I slipped my sword back into its scabbard. I was a Broken Sword.

  "Just some food will be fine, thank you," I said once more, and Silent nodded, and turned to walk away. My body still pulsed with energy and I could have easily gotten up and ran for hours, but my mind was tired. The revelations of the day weighed heavily upon me. I laid back on my cot, my legs draping off the end. I took notice for the first time that there were red bands of fur at my ankles. I had never seen them before, likely because when I had first fought the monster it had been in deep snow. It was strange to see a marking on your body, and not recognize it. It was stranger still, to see your own arms and legs and barely recognize them. Life, I decided, was just strange.

  Dressed in plain black cloaks, it was almost possible to imagine that we were merely three similarly dressed travelers about mundane business. Almost. In the end, though, anyone who looked more than passingly at Brutal, Silent and I would note that we stood a little straighter than most, and walked with a fighter's grace, confident and careful. A killer could be covered up with some cloth, but he was still a killer beneath the fabric, and few places was that more evident than among the Knights of Ethan and the Broken Blades. I wondered if it would be at all possible for us to avoid notice once we reached our destination.

  I pulled my cloak more tightly about my shoulders as I watched the linesmen finish the process of readying the ship for its voyage. The black fabric was thick and warm, but didn't have the same comforting, consistent temperature that my Lucidil cloak did, and the wind still bit fiercely when it crashed across the surface of the Old Boy, the merchant ship with which Weaver had arranged for our
passage. No normal fabric could dissuade that persistent breeze. I was happy to be traveling north again. Even in winter it would be warmer than it was in the deep southern lands.

  "I hate the sea," Brutal commented, as the dock began to slip away from the ship, the island of Howling Wind becoming increasingly smaller on the horizon.

  "I've never been to sea," I replied, and it was the truth. Other than my short ride to the island, I had never been on the ocean. I found the expansive water stretching out in every direction fascinating, though there was a certain swaying about the vessel as it rode upon the back of the churning sea that I was certain would have made me ill if not for my body's new ability to adapt to my surroundings. This time I could feel the change in my inner ear, some mechanism adjusting so that I could maintain proper balance as the boat moved beneath my feet.

  "Everything gets crusted with salt, and the damn waves can get angry and flatten you with no effort whatsoever." Brutal looked right at me, his black eyes shining beneath his hood, "I can battle hundreds of men or monsters, but the sea could kill me on a whim and I couldn't do a thing about it. I don't like that."

  I hadn't thought of the sea in those terms before, but now that it had been said, I could relate to Brutal's perspective. The sea was massive and powerful, and did not care one bit for those who cast their fate to its shifting surface. I didn't entirely agree with Brutal's perspective, however. Just about anything in nature could kill you given the right circumstances. The sea was no different. It was, perhaps, a bit more mysterious since it was so vast and difficult to explore, but it was just another powerful aspect of the living world, one that I intended not to underestimate.

  "My father owned a fishing boat, and he used to spend weeks away from home, out on the sea. He always came back with the most interesting stories," Silent added his voice to our conversation.