The Quest of the Legend (Dark Legacy Book 1)

by A. J. Cronin

  “We are now on the royal course, the road leading to the castle.”

  On both sides are the remnants of statues, built by master artisans. Most are of men in armor, a handful of women, though only a few are complete. All are in various states of decay, some in near perfect condition but missing an arm or head, others little more than a leg or foot. Lisa remembers the statue she saw in the field, with the shrine at its base.

  “This was at one time quite beautiful,” Alastor continues. “Gardens and fountains accompanied the statues, but time has been most unkind to this once great place. All that you can see is all that remains. Large portions of the castle have long since collapsed or been destroyed making it, for the most part, unsafe. But the keep is still sturdy, and it is there that the Black Knight has made his home.”

  The castle, even in its current state of dilapidation, is humongous, created near entirely of brown-black ore, having been built on the side of a hill so that it follows the curve of the earth, making the upper levels father back and ever higher. The ravages of time are plain to see, centuries having battered the roofs and walls. Nature has reclaimed much of the castle, either cracked and shattered by growing trees or choked to death by vines.

  “You will notice, Lisa,” says Alastor, “that the entire structure was built with that material which you are named for. Essain’s treasure was valued quite highly here. For a time, at least.”

  At last they are at the foot of the keep which Alastor had pointed out to them. It is almost as grand as the castle itself, its entrance broad and decorated. Lisa can easily see a great man ruling from even this, banners flying in the morning sun.

  “What is this place?” Lisa asks, struck by the awe inspiring sights. “The city I mean? Why is it not on any maps? Why does no one know of it?”

  Dismounting, Alastor looks at Lisa curiously.

  “You mean to tell me you have not figured it out?”

  “No,” Lisa admits, shaking her head in the negative.

  “Really? Think hard for a moment.”

  “It looks like part of the old kingdom, if I had to guess.”

  “No. Not part of the old kingdom. This is the Old Kingdom. The heart of it, some said. The center of the web, others called it.”

  Lisa opens her mouth to speak, but the words quickly evaporate. The bards each share a look of equal parts shock and revelation, but soon Amy looks away, her face bunched up as one who is remembering memories not simply forgotten, but that almost appear to have spontaneously formed from the bowels of oblivion.

  Alastor walks his animal with care to a small stable beside the keep. Cale and Amy, herself coming back to life, overcome their emotions and do the same. Lisa stares at the castle, the keep and the few bits of standing structure, unaware of the actions of Alastor and the bards. She begins to unwillingly remember all of her dreams. Her nightmares.

  “Lisa.”

  Images of the dreams become hypnotic.

  The dragons fighting.

  Herself wearing armor.

  The Black Knight.

  Alastor.

  “Lisa!”

  The young Queen is yanked back to the here and now. Looking around in a daze for the voice that called her name.

  “Are you well?”

  It is Amy, standing right next to her, looking up into Lisa’s eyes worriedly. Alastor and Cale stand before the keep entrance, waiting.

  “Lisa?” Amy says again, her voice soft and concerned.

  “Sorry, I was lost in thought,” Lisa finally answers with a smirk.

  “We have come all this way,” Alastor shouts out, “and it is now that you hesitate?”

  Lisa smiles sarcastically, dismounts and takes her horse to the stable as the others had done. Leading them all finally into the keep, Alastor continues to play the historian.

  “The castle was once the center of a sprawling metropolis, the likes of which having been unmatched before or since. Very little remains of the city. As you saw, it has since be reclaimed by the land, replaced by forest and mountain and river.”

  The interior of the keep is dark, lit only by the shafts of light which come in through the open windows. The walls are covered in tattered tapestries of red, and paintings coated with dust and mold. Candlesticks and braziers stand, idle for untold time.

  “This keep,” Alastor continues, “was built to act as a sort of barracks, housing the royal guards and captains of the army. The kings of the castle also used it as their base of military operations during war and periods of unrest. When properly garrisoned, it was said, this fortification was invincible. Given that the keep still stands long after the castle has fallen probably gives that legend some credibility.”

  Alastor leads them then up a spiral staircase in the center of the keep.

  “Where do these stairs lead?” Amy asks, but immediately turns her head away, thinking that she already knows the answer.

  “The armories, the living quarters. Near the top we will pass the levels intended only for the king and his family. At the very top, we will come into the Cloud Hall.”

  “Why was it called that?” asks Cale.

  “When you see it, you will understand.”

  The ascent feels like it takes an eternity. When they pass each level, they look down the accompanying halls with fascination, but Alastor does not allow for any sightseeing.

  “How much farther?” Cale asks desperately.

  “We are almost there,” Alastor replies, his voice suddenly emotionless in the midst of his near passionate explanation of the castle and keep.

  ~-~~-~

  Just as Alastor said, within two more levels they come to the top of the keep, into the Cloud Hall. Seeing it, the Queen and the bards do in fact understand the name.

  The ceiling is high and domed. Open balconies encircle the room, allowing visibility in every direction around the keep. Bookcases cover most all available wall, with an occasional painting garnering what space here or there. Up on this highest level, they can see the very edges of the world. In the center of the hall is a long table, and on each edge a row of chairs, ornately carved and built, but it is the chair at the head of the table that draws the most attention.

  It too is carved and decorated, but is wider and with a higher back. Clearly the chair of the lord of the castle. While the three examine this chair, Alastor migrates to the opposite end of the table, watching them all with the gaze of a hawk..

  “If you think the furniture is impressive,” Alastor says in a playful tone, “then you might want to look up.”

  The trio does so, and they are pleased to discover a beautiful mural painted over the entire domed ceiling. Like at the inn, the mural depicts scenes of still life, former kings, cities, battles and, at the center, the castle in its former glory. A rushing air fills the room, accompanied by a gentle thud. Almost instinctively Lisa and the bards turn toward Alastor. Behind him, a cloaked figure stands like it has been there all along. Out of fright, Lisa and the bards all unsheathe their weapons.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” Lisa cries.

  Alastor raises his hand for calm.

  “It is Mikha’el, from the town with no name. He is here to help us. In fact, he is probably the best ally one could ask for.”

  Mikha’el lowers his hood, stepping forward and bowing before the Queen, while for the most part ignoring the bards. They three all calm down, sheathing their weapons. As Mikha’el raises, Lisa apologizes.

  “I am sorry, it is just that you appeared so suddenly, and with your cloak, you looked like... “

  “No need, My Lady. I understand fully,” Mikha’el remarks with a grin. Not a dark smile but rather a humble one, with no animosity.

  “How did you get here?” Lisa asks.

  “We must all be allowed our little secrets while we can keep them, My Lady.”

  Alastor walks out onto the west facing balcony, arms crossed.

  “You should all sit and relax,” he says without facing any of them. “After
such a long, arduous journey, I would think it a welcome change.”

  Mikha’el produces a large leather pack, setting it on the table. Upon opening it, a wonderful smell comes out. He removes small baskets, separating them.

  “What are those? They smell good.” Lisa cannot help but notice.

  “Roasted chicken, bread, vegetables,” answers Mikha’el.

  “Still hot?” Cale asks, amazed.

  Mikha’el opens one basket and steam pours out. Lisa, Cale and Amy all sit at the table while Mikha’el serves them.

  “Enjoy,” he says with a smile.

  Lisa accepts her meal gratefully. As she opens her basket, she becomes cognizant of the growing voices of Amy and Cale. What was at first whispered words increases into loud dispute.

  “What troubles you?” the Queen asks them.

  The bards snap to her as children do when caught in mischief making. After a moment of awkward silence, Amy explains.

  “We were just wondering where the Black Knight is, and if he even knows we are here.”

  Before Lisa can speak, Alastor answers, back still to everyone.

  “He knows you are here, of that you need not doubt.”

  “And how do you know that?” Cale demands.

  “Lisa has drawn him here, so it is impossible for him to not know you are here,” says Alastor, almost trying to goad Cale.

  “Then where is he?” asks Cale angrily, Alastor’s goading having worked.

  “I cannot say,” Lisa speaks, trying to wrestle control of the conversation back to herself, “but I am sure that we just need to be patient.”

  “So we are going to sit here doing nothing?”

  “We should take this time to rest, as has been suggested.”

  Cale slams his fist unto the table out of agitation, but quickly regains his composure.

  “How do you even know he will meet with us? Half the stories about him do not exactly make him sound like a gentleman.”

  Alastor now looks to Cale with a dark grin on his face, his arms still crossed.

  “For someone who has absolutely no place being here in the first place, you complain as though you are here on a matter of life and death. What cause do you have for such impatience?”

  Cale’s face turns red with anger, jaw tightened, eyes like daggers.

  “We are wasting our time just sitting here!” he declares.

  Alastor returns back to his watch of the surrounding lands.

  “As long as Lisa is in this keep, she is safe; the plans of her cousin and his ally can in no way be completed.”

  With a final glance over his shoulder, Alastor succeeds in having Cale comply, falling back in his chair like a dog that has just been broken.

  “Look,” Lisa says, trying to break the tension in the air. “We have not eaten in many an hour. Let us just sit and have a nice, quiet and, most importantly, safe meal.”

  Amy agrees happily. Cale concedes to the situation.

  After a short while Alastor sighs, starting to pace about the balcony restlessly. He and Mikha’el catch eyes, with Mikha’el giving a sort of nodding gesture.

  “I am going to explore the keep,” Alastor announces just as he makes to descend the stairs. Before any can react he is gone. Lisa, Amy and Cale shrug, continuing with their meal.

  Chapter Eight

  The Knight’s Revelation

  With the earlier than expected setting of the sun, Mikha’el starts to light candles around the Cloud Hall. When the trio have finished eating, Mikha’el clears the baskets away, putting them back into the sack from whence they came.

  “My Lady,” Mikha’el whispers into Lisa’s ear, “seeing as the day now wanes, perhaps you should seek out our illustrious guide and guard.”

  Lisa smiles with a nod. When she stands up, the bards look at her.

  “Where are you going?” they ask.

  “To look around.”

  As she nears the stairs, Mikha’el stops her, holding a three armed candelabra.

  “My Lady, the keep is a dark place, take this with you.”

  She takes the light gratefully with a slight bow of her head.

  Curiosity is foremost in her mind upon arriving on the level directly below the Cloud Hall. The corridors of the keep are not as narrow as one would think. A red, worn out carpet spans the entire length of the hall in both directions off the stairs; old works of art adorn the walls, just as battered and moldy as the ones seen in the keep’s first floor. The young Queen is reminded of her own home, struck by the remarkable similarity in structure and design.

  She cautiously opens the first door she comes across, revealing a clean, well kept bedroom. Nothing overtly special about it, though the decor leaves no doubt that it belonged to a woman. She closes the door, continuing down the hall, where she comes to a set of double doors. Against her better judgment and intuition, she enters. Another bedroom except much larger. The first thought that comes into her mind is that this would have undoubtedly belonged to a member of the royal family, but not the king. A large bed rests at the far end of the room, set in the center of the wall. Nothing overtly special about it, though the lack of decor leaves little doubt that no woman ever stepped into the room, let alone slept in it. On the west facing side of the room is a balcony, its doors wide open, letting in the evening breeze. Lisa steps out onto the balcony, taking in the view of the full moon rising up over the surrounding forests. She drinks in this moment of peace. No fear. All alone. Nothing but the calm and the sweet wind and the pale light.

  With a sigh, she pulls herself away, exiting the room and remembering her task to find Alastor. Having no signs of him on the current level, she descends to the next. At the landing, see spies a faint light coming from one of the rooms down the hall. She slinks lightly to this door which stands open a sliver. Pushing it further open, she finds Alastor there, alone. The walls of the room are covered in old rusted weapons, intermingled with clean, newer ones.

  “This was at one time the personal armory of the king. Well, part armory part trophy room to be more accurate,” Alastor explains, presumably to Lisa.

  He stands before a large, strange case that would appear to be made out of raw crystal. Lisa moves closer to Alastor, so that she can make out the contents: A suit of black armor. Deep in her memories she recalls that day the Black Knight came to her father. The armor he wore was one and the same as that which she beholds now. She begins to formulate a question, but Alastor interrupts.

  “What is it? Why have you left the Cloud Hall?”

  “Mikha’el suggested that I should find you.”

  Alastor laughs a low, sad laugh.

  “Very well. Let us go see what bothers him so much that he would send you to retrieve me as a mother fetches her child.”

  Alastor blows out the lone candle that was lit in the armory before gesturing for Lisa to lead the way back up to Mikha’el and the bards. Slowly climbing the stairs, Lisa stops, again trying to ask her question.

  “Alastor, I - ”

  Alastor gently raises a hand for silence.

  “No more questions, Your Highness. Not now, at least. Please, continue onward.”

  A sickly feeling bubbles up in her stomach with each new step taken. The sudden feeling of having made a massive mistake is enough to make her feel faint. When they come back into the Cloud Hall, Cale and Amy immediately stand up.

  “Where have you been?” asks Cale with intense worry.

  Alastor does not speak, merely walking toward Mikha’el, who stands at the north facing balcony. Lisa looks to Alastor, only now realizing that his dark demeanor is not malice, but a deep seeded sadness. She quickly throws on a fake smile to answer Cale.

  “We were just exploring the keep. I can only imagine how beautiful it was in its prime.”

  Mikha’el moves to Lisa’s chair, pulling it out for her. As he and Alastor pass each other, the share a subtle nod not seen by anyone. When Lisa sits, Mikha’el pushes her seat in like a true gentleman. Doing so he lea
ns down, whispering in her ear so that only she can hear.

  “Fear not, My Lady. All will, hopefully, be clear very soon.”

  At that moment, without any pretense of hesitation, Alastor sits in the large chair at the head of the table. The very act stuns the Queen and the bards.

  “What are you doing?” Amy asks with a chuckle, thinking Alastor’s actions a joke.

  Mikha’el moves behind Alastor’s right side, arms crossed and face stern. With lowered eyes, Alastor asks.

  “What are your intentions?”

  “I have already told you,” Lisa stammers, but again Alastor raises a hand for silence, looking at her sharply.

  “I was not asking you, Your Highness,” he says, his voice kind but dark. His eyes dart from her to the bards, “but rather, them.”

  Uneasily, Cale and Amy look into the eyes of the three before them. Composing themselves, Amy answers.

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  Alastor grimaces as though insulted. He leans forward, then speaks in a tongue completely unknown and never heard by Lisa but is somehow, someway, familiar.

  Like from a dream.

  Regardless of knowing them, she can clearly see that Alastor’s words were harsh at least and at most, intentionally insulting. Maybe even threatening. His words cause a visible fear to rise up in the hearts of both bards.

  “Alastor,” Lisa pleads, “please tell me the meaning of this.”

  This is the first time Lisa had spoken this name in front of the bards. Cale and Amy snap from their own little world of confusion.

  “What name did you just speak!?” Cale demands.

  “She called me by my real name,” Alastor tells him coldly.

  Cale bares his teeth like an animal, full of rage. Amy looks upon Alastor with a mixture of surprise, horror and with hate boiling just at the edges of her mind. Lisa’s head swims in a moment of timelessness. When it feels as though this would never end, the room explodes with violence.