Hope

by Sam Rook

  "What are those things?"

  He hurried to his feet and she rose with him. Together, they ran toward the house, but the shadows preceding their escape told her it was too late. Creatures landed in front of them and trying to stop, Kathryn caught herself with her wrists after her feet slid out from under her. Sergeant Summers dropped to a knee, sliding to a stop as he pulled his gun from its holster.

  Shots rang out but the bullets didn’t seem to do anything but anger the bastards. Kathryn looked all around them as the targeted creatures growled their annoyance and approached them. Sergeant Summers’ hands shook and he spun around, firing off a few more shots at the ones behind them. Those growled as well and quickened their pace.

  "Stop pissing them off!" Kathryn glared at him, hoping for the words to come to her again. The creatures leapt at them and screams tore from her throat as they fought with each other to get a grip on her. Their talons and teeth sliced her arms and legs in the intervals they weren’t fighting with one another. She kicked and struggled, trying to squeeze through their legs to safety. One of them grabbed her and only then did her damn head clear.

  "F'enk'e'alath shel'an're!"

  Gripping the forearms of the creature that held her, she saw the fire engulfing her hands shoot through the creature’s body, then spread to the surrounding creatures as well. Their inhuman screams ripped through the air and she broke free to crawl to a small space safe from the thrashing bodies. The fire still engulfed her hands and she rubbed them in the sand, trying to douse the flames. Her tears hissed as they landed on her wrists. She moaned, staring at her hands and cringing at the soot of the creatures’ burning bodies clinging to the rest of her skin.

  Smoke filled the sky and the occasional popping of the fires replaced the screams and thrashing of the creatures. Sergeant Summers, blood streaming from his forehead and arms, sidestepped toward her while moving his gun from one blackened form to another. She held her burning hands before her in a plea for help. He startled, pointed his gun at her with a shaking hand and pulled the trigger.

  Fire stabbed through Kathryn’s chest and she fell backward. She cried out and her now-extinguished hands clutched the wound just below her right shoulder. It felt like a bomb went off inside her chest and she felt her right lung begin to squeeze. Her agonizing and short breaths didn’t mask Sergeant Summers’ panicked words.

  "Oh my God, Kathryn, I didn’t realize it was you."

  He leaned over her, the whites of his eyes a stark contrast to the soot and blood on his face. He pressed his hands against her wound and she tried to sink into the sand to get away from the pain. Looking past him, she saw the swirling smoke clear and the dark forms flying above them. They reminded her of vultures circling their next meal, except these vultures had wingspans the size of a small plane. Sergeant Summers followed her gaze. Panic reflected in his eyes, but he clenched his jaw and stayed with her.

  By the agony of her wound and her labored breathing, Kathryn knew she wouldn’t survive. Maybe in the hands of a gifted surgeon, she’d have a chance, but not here. Not now. Ready to see Rachel, she gripped Sergeant Summers’ hands. "Leave me."

  "What?" He stopped pressing on her wound momentarily. "No, I can’t leave you here. Not like this." The agony resumed as he made his decision.

  Sand crunched with the sound of the new arrival. Kathryn glanced to her right and cried out as a black figure without horns moved toward them. It differed from the other creatures with feathered wings and a slimmer build. Sergeant Summers rose and drew his gun. The soot stirred up from his boots burned her eyes.

  The newcomer drew a black sword lined with some type of silver writing that gleamed in the smoky air. Sergeant Summers had trouble keeping his gun from sliding around in his blood-slicked hands as the dark figure approached with incredible speed and used the hilt of the sword to crack him in the head. He sank to the ground with the figure grabbing his arm, easing him into the blackened sand.

  Her breath came in short gasps and the fire started to dampen in her chest. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes into her ears. I’m coming, Rachel. Mom. The edge of her vision blurred with white framing the dark figure leaning over her. Callouses lined the human hands that settled against her forehead. The pain in her chest returned full-force and she started to struggle.

  Someone caressed her mind, calming her flailing. She focused on his male—definitely male—essence and allowed herself to grab onto the thread of hope he dangled her way. The pain subsided and her breathing eased. He tried to withdraw, but she imagined gripping his arm. His surprise then sudden fear caught her off guard and she let go. With the sound of a familiar howl, she closed her eyes and gave into her exhaustion.

  Chapter 3

  Kathryn woke up facing a wall with her left shoulder and hip aching in protest. Rolling over, she sat up to survey her surroundings. Her feet brushed the stone floor as they hung off a high bed. A small nightstand held a flickering candle that threw the shadows of the sleeping form in the next bed against the far wall.

  She looked down and pulled the scratchy gray shirt away from her chest. The smooth skin covering her chest showed no sign of the gunshot wound. Drawing a deep breath, she felt no pain. The stench of antiseptic filled the air and she wrinkled her nose at the familiar smell before turning to the occupied bed.

  "Sergeant Summers? Is that you?" She whispered

  "Yes." He rolled over and inched his way up to a sitting position, holding his head in his hands. Sighing, he looked up at her with hooded eyes in the candlelight, making him look much older than his late twenties. "I’m so sorry." He snorted and ran his hand through his short hair. "And it’s Hal. No point in being formal."

  Kathryn didn’t know what she should say to that. She wasn’t about to tell him it was okay and not to worry about it. He should’ve protected her, not been even more scared than she was, but she knew fear could do unexpected things to people. "Where do you think we are?"

  "Honestly? Hell. The first round of monsters was demons and the round that showed up after were angels, and I don’t mean the little cherubs with the bows. These bastards were armored knights with swords and wings."

  She couldn’t rule out hell, but she didn’t think she’d be healed if it were. For the first time in years, her hands didn’t ache, but she couldn’t say the same about her soul. The emptiness still gnawed at her and she wondered if her dad had called to check on her. He probably didn’t even know she was gone, sitting down to a frozen dinner he’d popped into the microwave and a cold Bud Light—more like a pack of Bud Lights. Of all the days for this to happen, today seemed appropriate. "Hal, what are we going to do?"

  "I don’t know. My head’s killing me. I’m going to lie back down." He thumped back upon his pillow and stared at the ceiling.

  "Happy birthday," Kathryn mumbled to herself.

  Kathryn jumped up from the bed as footsteps echoed off the walls. A knight who was a little shorter than Hal and heavily built walked into the room. He had gray wings and dark green armor.

  "Mecnth jeyurk thee?" The green knight waited for a reply. Kathryn just stared at him and shrugged. He sighed and waited.

  "Why are we in here?" Kathryn asked.

  The knight shook his head and crossed his arms. Another set of footsteps approached and the knight in black armor from the desert arrived to stand beside the first. The black knight seemed to fill the room even though he was only six inches taller than the first and slimmer around the waist. He had an authoritative air about him with a touch of anger. His black wings made him even taller. Definitely not a cherub.

  "My name is Sir Lanclor. Who are you?"

  Hal took the lead while Kathryn tried to wade through the accent. "My name is Hal Summers and this is Kathryn Merlangton. Where are we?" After a slight hesitation, he added, "We’re from Earth."

  Sir Lanclor nodded to the green knight. The green knight saluted with a fist over his heart and left. "I figured you were with the house less than 10 feet from where we
found you." Sir Lanclor’s voice dripped disdain. "You Earthlings keep showing up all over the place. The Goddess has a warped sense of humor."

  Goddess?

  Sir Lanclor crossed his arms, a casual gesture but one Kathryn sensed was an insult. He took a deep breath before continuing. "You have nothing to fear from us. I sent Sir Garrent to prepare suitable rooms. I will post a knight who speaks English outside your rooms for your safety. Until we know what kind of people you are, a knight will accompany you wherever you go. Sir Garrent will return shortly to escort you to your rooms. Be safe on Av’lor." Sir Lanclor turned and walked up the hall.

  "Av’lor? Where the hell is Av’lor?" Hal said in a low voice.

  "I’ve never heard of it." Kathryn felt confused, but clenched her teeth with determination. Panicking about their situation wouldn’t solve anything. They had no other choice but to obey. The knights had swords and Hal’s gun and her backpack were gone. Her pictures were gone. That thought terrified her the most.

  "This is where you’ll be staying," a knight named Thalcalor said with a sharp gesture of his hand. "Sir Garrent and I will now take our leave. We'll have knights bring your meals to this sitting area. Nikton and Rielle will remain with you in case you have any questions. You are welcome to explore the grounds, but Nikton and Rielle will accompany you to help communicate with the other residents. We consider you guests at this time, but only knights access certain areas. Be safe." Sir Garrent and Thalcalor nodded and left.

  Nikton, a slim knight in dark gray armor with gray wings, stood near the doorway to the left. "Kathryn, your room is here, while Hal’s is to the right. I will remain in this sitting area while you get settled in." He plopped into a chair and withdrew some type of colored stones from a small bag.

  Rielle appeared in the same shade of gray as Nikton. She had brown wings and slimmer armor. "I also will remain in this sitting room." She sat next to Nikton and they sorted the stones, preparing for some type of game and ignoring them. Very welcoming.

  The room consisted of a plain bed, a small unlit fireplace and a glass door that opened onto a balcony. She could feel the chill of the bare stone floor through her sneakers. Kathryn turned and closed the door.

  Several small piles of clothes sat on a low bench to the right of the door. To the left, a small tub with what looked like soap on a stand stood in the corner. A small shelf over the tub held a wooden bowl below a spout with a manual pump. A small toilet, more like a chamber pot with a seat, sat beside the tub. Clean water lined the chamber pot, but she saw no hole to handle the flushing. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and suppressed a groan at her increasing need to test it.

  "Not quite a Marriot."

  A while later, after experimenting with the water pump and tub, Kathryn was clean and freshly garbed in scratchy clothes. There was a light knock on the door. She opened it to find Hal in similar garb and wet hair.

  "Hey. Feels nice to be clean, doesn’t it?" He entered the room, closing the door behind him and lowering his voice. "I tried getting answers out of Rielle and Nikton, but they just glared at me. I think we’re prisoners. I don’t see us leaving this place anytime soon. We’re stuck here."

  That night, Kathryn shivered beneath her blankets and let her grief overtake her for the millionth time since the funerals. There weren’t any memories of happier times in the forefront of her mind or regrets of not doing this or that. She simply existed on the edge of a precipice where all of her loved ones were out of reach. Nobody comforted her or wrapped their little arms around her waist.

  She muffled her sobs; afraid some stranger might hear and investigate. Going over the events of today, she found that the most troubling aspect was not the confusion, fear or pain, but her apathy when she lay close to death. The only light in her room came from the firelight seeping under the door from the common room, so her eyes widened in panic when the black ceiling changed to white and images overwhelmed her.

  Kathryn floated high above the ground. The trees below her had odd bluish-green leaves with yellow tips that rustled in the light wind. A river flowed below to a large waterfall that cascaded over the cliffs and fell several hundred feet to a lake beneath. The soft swishing to her left drew her attention away from the ground to a group of about twenty knights flying in a diamond formation. Sir Lanclor led the group while Sir Garrent brought up the rear. A knight in the middle stood out with golden armor and wings among the dull grays and browns of the others.

  The scene blurred and her perspective changed. She stood next to the waterfall on one of the cliffs looking up at the knights. As they passed, black shapes concealed in the trees flew up toward the rear of the knights. Her blood ran cold while she watched the knights fight a losing battle. The roar of the falls didn’t drown out the crunch of the blows and the shrieks of agony. The golden knight, soaked in blood, fell toward the lake below as her vision blurred to darkness.

  Kathryn sat straight up in bed, gasping with confusion and dripping with sweat. She hadn’t fallen asleep yet, so how could she have dreamt that? She still heard the sound of battle and the cries of pain as if she had been there. Bowing her head into her hands, she wept for the fallen knights, not understanding her darker grief as the intense scene replayed itself in her mind. She knew their deaths would mark the beginning of the end.

  Chapter 4

  Lanclor, Knight-Commander of the Knights of Av’lor, stood behind Mikael outside the door of a murderer’s farmhouse. Mikael had knocked upon the door some time ago and they waited underneath the misshapen overhang that did nothing to prevent the torrent of rain from reaching them. A single lantern flickered next to the door fighting to remain alight as the water seeped into a small crack along its side. The lantern revealed a wide-eyed militiaman as the door opened.

  "She's just through here, Guardsman Mikael."

  "Thank you," Royal Guardsman Mikael said as he motioned his men to remain outdoors. "I’ll take it from here." He opened the door and entered the small farmhouse with Lanclor close behind.

  Lanclor wrinkled his nose at the smell of blood. He was glad for his helmet. It wasn't professional for a knight to show any type of weakness. A single candle in the middle of a sturdy table provided the only light. Its flickering glow touched the woman sitting in a low chair with her hands clutched in her lap. She stared out the window into the black night heedless of the world around her. Her lips moved in a quiet conversation with herself.

  "Nalia, my name is Mikael. Can you tell me what happened?" Mikael's voice erupted from the shadows.

  She glanced at the Guardsman, and then turned back to the darkened window. She replied in a low voice filled with anguish. "He wasn't himself. I don't know what was wrong with him. Why did this happen? If only I—"

  "Please, tell me when you noticed something was wrong." Mikael’s patient voice made Lanclor envious. They shouldn’t have to wring a story out of someone. He relished having his knights report to him without hesitation. No time wasted.

  Lanclor tried to blend into the shadows, observing like Commander Warren had asked. He crossed his arms and fought the urge to flap the water from his wings. His size and personality made it difficult to go unnoticed. After leaving a mound of paperwork and plans for the trip to R’kelo unfinished, he was eager to complete this favor to the Royal Guard.

  "Oh, yes. I guess that would be last week. Hareld went into town to sell vegetables, like he does every week, only this time he didn't come back for days. I went to look for him and found him just standing in a field. No vegetables, his clothes soiled, and this blank look on his face. He didn't seem to recognize me at first, then he seemed okay and let me lead him home."

  Nalia shook her head and tears streamed from her eyes. "I thought he had just caught a chill when he sat in his chair unmoving for a couple of days. Then, all of a sudden, he just jumped out of it and grabbed me. I struggled to get away and tripped him somehow. He fell hard and his head slammed the table. He didn't move after that. Hareld was always a gentle soul. I d
on't know what happened to him." She started wailing and Mikael comforted her until her weeping passed.

  Lanclor remained silent trying to total the number of incidents in the past month. With this one and the one from last week, they had a total of ten Changed men. That was double the number from last month. Warren was right to ask him to come along. The Knighthood would have to get involved with the investigation.

  Mikael and Lanclor left the farmhouse a few hours before dawn, heading back to the castle at the head of Mikael’s squad. Lanclor guided his horse around a deep puddle, ignoring his discomfort from the rain. He tried to piece together why people found in the middle of a field suddenly started killing with no warning.

  These past few cycles held one damn thing after another. More frequent Daemon attacks, husbands killing their families, and now Earthlings, of all things. They hadn’t seen Earthlings on Av’lor for a while and now they were popping up in the middle of the Barrens, for the Goddess’ sake. The knights were spread thin enough as it was.

  Mikael’s men remained quiet as they dismounted and headed to the Royal Guard barracks. It had been a long day of hard riding, dead bodies and grieving people. Lanclor knew Mikael would have to report on all of it this afternoon, so now was the only time to grab a few hours of sleep to recover his strength. Mikael and Lanclor guided their horses to the other side of the courtyard and the officers’ quarters.

  A groom took their reins and they dismounted. Without a word, a boy guided Mikael's exhausted mount to a clean stall while another stroked Lanclor’s mount’s drooping head. Mikael headed toward his house on soft feet, but she heard his approach anyway. The door flew open and a small girl with flowing brown hair ran down the steps and threw herself into his arms.

  "Mikael, you're finally home!"

  "Finally? I was only gone the usual amount of time. What kind of trouble have you managed to cause while I was away?" Mikael said as he tossed her into the air, giggles filling the quiet dawn.