Hope

by Sam Rook

  Kathryn beat her wings, slowly rising into the air. The shields fell and the Daemons around them started to advance. Blue flames consumed them. Concentrating on the black mass before her, she flew toward the center of the oncoming Daemon army. In her wake, the Daemons, armor and all, shriveled from the blue flames that incinerated them upon sighting her.

  She felt sadness gather within her soul, knowledge that she may never see her friends and family again. At least they'd be safe. Destroying more and more of the Daemons around her, she moved toward the center of the valley. The Daemons in flight fell from the skies like blue fire raining from the heavens.

  "Rachel, Dad, Donny...I love you. Matthis—Lanclor..." Feeling an insurmountable grief, she flew into the portal.

  F’enk’e’elath shel’an’re melan’keltoh cor’tentia ka’la’o’eleri. Her level 80 fire spell destroyed the gate behind her.

  Chapter 51

  Fire filled the valley, its smoke turning day to night. The smell of burning bodies was overpowering. Hal limped toward Lanclor, tears streaming from his eyes. Lanclor remained still, replaying the events of the battle in his mind. She was gone. She cast that spell, to save them all.

  Hook and some other soot-covered knights gathered around Lanclor, working together to lift the warhorse off his master. Hal joined his strength with theirs, placing his hands underneath the horse’s back alongside Hook.

  "Now, on the count of four. One, two, three, four! Put your backs into it, you bastards. He doesn’t weigh all that much!" Hook said.

  They raised the horse while another knight dragged Lanclor by his shoulders from beneath his beloved mount. Lanclor remained silent, his teeth clenched in pain.

  A healer waiting on hand assessed his condition. "Mel’int ent’bel’ak. He’s severely wounded, but he’ll survive if we heal him now."

  The healer gestured to another and they began to work on him. While one of them held him down, the other set his broken arm. Even through the agony of setting the bone, he remained quiet.

  It took two hours to heal him. As the healers walked away, sweat streaming from their foreheads into their eyes, Hal approached Sir Lanclor, offering his hand. Lanclor looked at him a while, blinked slowly, and then breathed a loud and exhausted sigh as he gripped Hal's hand. Hal pulled him to his feet, gripping his elbow long enough for him to gain his balance. With Lanclor steady on his feet, Hal moved away, staring at the fire in the middle of the valley some distance away.

  Sir Lanclor surveyed his surroundings, shaking his head. Daemons smoldered across the valley. "Are there any left?"

  Hal was silent for a moment. "Some. They took off toward the west. We chose not to pursue. They seemed to lose heart."

  "I can understand why they would. Damn that woman. I told her not to use that spell." He said this last to himself, but he was sure Hal heard it loud and clear. Hal probably also heard the sound of his grief. Hal chose to walk away, showing his respect by allowing Lanclor his private mourning. Lanclor crossed his arms, angling his wings to shield himself from the other knights, framing the fire in the valley below. Gone.

  Lanclor gathered himself while Hal worked with Hook. They organized their remaining troops, Communicating all of their conversations to the entire group, working out a way to get the horses back across the river. Pooling their almost depleted magic, they were able to form a solid bridge of ice across the water and hurried to move the horses across before the heat of the fires melted the ice.

  After the horses crossed, Lanclor and the rest of those on foot headed toward the relative safety of the remains of Hopent. The wrath of the Daemon fire had spared some houses on the edge of town in the previous attack. They would remain in Hopent until Lord Alextor’s squads arrived to escort them back to the castle.

  "Maybe someone should fly to the center of the valley. Maybe she survived," Hook mused aloud.

  "No. She’s not in the valley." Lanclor’s voice surprised them. "Let’s see to the wounded and prepare a defense in case the Daemons return before Lord Alextor arrives."

  "Yes, Milord," they responded in unison.

  Lanclor pushed all thoughts of Kate from his mind. Mourning could happen later. Right now, he needed to get his knights back home.

  The evening after the Final Battle, Lanclor walked through the corridors doing his best to slow his stride. Silence spread like a plague throughout the castle, occasionally punctuated by wails of grief and he wanted nothing more than to rush away from it. Guard-Commander Warren had asked Lanclor to join him for a meeting with Mikael. He welcomed the distraction and the chance to leave the memories of the castle behind for a short time at least. The Guard Barracks mirrored the sound of the castle. He entered Guard-Commander Warren’s office, nodding to Mikael as he strode to Warren’s desk.

  "Commander Warren, I’d like to leave the Royal Guard." Mikael wasted no time.

  "I had a feeling you would. I may be the Guard-Commander, Mikael, but I'm also your father. I know how you think and I can tell when something disturbs you. Do you have an idea of what you'd like to do instead?"

  Lanclor assumed Warren didn’t show the anger Mikael expected.

  Mikael couldn’t hide the relief in his voice at his father's understanding. "I would like to join the Knighthood. I think it would give me a better opportunity to find the girls and avenge Filippe's death."

  His father nodded with tears in his eyes. Filippe was his first-born and to lose him and have his granddaughters missing was a hard blow. "I’ll write a recommendation to Sir Lanclor to make it official. I don't have to go very far to deliver it." Warren gave Lanclor a small smile. "I can't guarantee you’ll make it into the Knighthood, but you already know you have the magical aptitude and weapon skills to pull through. I know I never told you this, but I’m proud of you."

  "Thank you, Sir. I’m grateful to have served under you." Mikael saluted with a fist to his forehead. "I’ll plan on leaving next week, if that will suit you?"

  "Yes, Mikael. That will allow me ample time to re-assign your squad. You’ll give me updates on your search?"

  "Yes, Dad, I’ll keep you updated. We’ll find them."

  "Sir Lanclor, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with you about something personal." Mikael gestured to the door.

  "Warren, can we resume our discussion at a later date?" Lanclor eyed the commander of the Royal Guard.

  With Warren’s nod, they left the room and exited the Royal Guard barracks toward the castle.

  "Did Lady Kathryn talk to you about Rachel?" Mikael rubbed the back of his neck as he walked, avoiding eye contact.

  At the mention of her name, Lanclor clenched his jaw. The battle, too fresh in his mind, threatened to unman him, but he pulled himself together. "Who’s Rachel?"

  "My adopted daughter, Jenna, is really Lady Kathryn’s daughter, Rachel, from Earth"

  "What?" Lanclor stopped walking and Mikael drew a few steps ahead. "When did you find this out?"

  "The eve before the Final Battle, Lady Kathryn sent for us to pick up Dargo and I brought Rachel along. Of course, she knew her immediately. She said she knew she may not be coming back and asked me to take care of Rachel for her." Mikael stared at the ground. "I’m worried the hit contract on Lady Kathryn may put Rachel in danger. I don’t think I should tell anyone that she’s Lady Kathryn’s daughter."

  Lanclor resumed his walk, trying to decide the best course of action. Rachel would be safer if everyone thought she belonged to Mikael. Rachel deserved recognition for Kate’s achievements though. That honor could pave her way into the Guilds or Orders. "I think for now, you should leave things as is, but when Rachel gets old enough to defend herself, you should give her the option of that claim."

  "Fair enough. I’ll talk to her about it so she understands. I have to get back to the house to see her before my shift. I’ll see you at the ceremony tomorrow?"

  "Sure. I wouldn’t miss it." Lanclor grimaced beneath his helmet. He dreaded the ceremony. His thoughts turned back to Kate a
nd Rachel. The day before the battle, she found her daughter. Days before that, her dog. Oh wait, her dog?

  "Mikael, has anyone checked on Dargo?"

  "Not that I know of. I can pick him up and bring him over to the house. Rachel will appreciate the company. Be safe, Sir Lanclor."

  "Be safe, Mikael."

  Lanclor sat upon the battlements, facing the courtyard and the merriment below. The victory feast was a time to celebrate the end of the Daemon War and honor those who had fallen. Multi-colored torches lit the courtyard and the music could be heard for miles. The light didn’t reach him on his perch and his black armor blended with the darkness. He wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. Too many knights had fallen to justify the festive air below.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about Laktalin. He had been the first horse Lanclor had ever broken on his own, the only horse who was solely his, for he wouldn’t let anyone else mount him. Lanclor should have done everything he could to prevent his death stroke. If he had, Lady Kathryn would be here with them celebrating the victory.

  Lanclor had known what would happen from the Last Battle Sight, yet he couldn’t prevent it. There must have been something he could have done. Something they hadn’t thought of that would have won the battle, yet had a lower price.

  Something.

  Anything.

  How could this happen to him? Was the Curse not enough? Was the disdain of the people not a suitable punishment? The Goddess ripped everyone away from him as well. Marrilynn, Sera, Laktalin, Lady Kathryn.

  Lady Kathryn.

  He thought his absence would go unnoticed, but Hal soon found him and took a seat beside him on the cold stone.

  "I thought you of all people, Sir Lanclor, would want to celebrate the victory and honor the dead." His question hung in the air, refusing to dissipate. Lanclor remained silent.

  "I can’t blame you, I suppose. I don’t understand why anyone would want to honor the fallen with a celebration of the battle. On Earth, we would celebrate the victory after honoring the dead in a separate and solemn gathering. We’d find a way to honor their deaths, probably with some type of memorial."

  Lanclor could feel Hal’s eyes on him, waiting for some type of response. He didn’t know what to say, so remained silent.

  "I wanted to know if you’d help me with a memorial I’d like to build. I talked to Elena, one of the servants, and she talked me into building a fountain in the market square. It would be a memorial for the knights who fell in the Last Battle. It would be a likeness of Lady Kathryn."

  Lanclor held his breath as renewed anguish and guilt overwhelmed him. She was gone. He didn’t know if it would be right to have her likeness on a memorial for those who had fallen, but the people of Av’lor considered her the Hero of the Last Battle, so he guessed it would be appropriate. Hal wanting his help surprised him. It seemed Hal would be the best person to create it, as he was the person closest to Lady Kathryn.

  "I’d be honored to help you with the memorial, although I’m not sure what I would bring to the endeavor." Lanclor refused to look Hal in the eye.

  "You were one of the last people to speak to her before she left. I was hoping you could help me come up with a pose for the statue, one that represents her mindset at the time. You’re also the one who spent the most time with her this past year. Well, you and Artemis. Does Artemis even know what happened?"

  Lanclor had forgotten about Artemis. How would she know unless someone went into the stable and told her? She may have overheard the other knights, but maybe not. "I’ll go down right now and speak with her. I’ll think about the memorial. Be safe, Hal."

  "Be safe, Sir Lanclor." Hal remained seated as Lanclor rose to his feet and leapt from the ledge.

  He flew as high as he needed to avoid the eyes of the crowd below. Luckily, the knight stable was on the quiet end of the courtyard. He landed and entered the stable, walking to the last stall on the left and peering inside. Artemis lay in the farthest corner of the stall, her head facing away from him. Worried, he entered the stall and went over to her.

  You don’t need to tell me. I already know, her words whispered in his mind. I overheard some of the other knights talking about it this morning. I know you didn’t intentionally forget about me. You had other things on your mind. She turned her head and gazed at him with her intelligent brown eyes.

  He knelt upon the floor beside her and reached out to stroke her muzzle. They enjoyed each other’s company in silence until after the Victory celebration ended. "We’ll go riding every evening the hour before sunset. We’ll get through this," he told Artemis.

  Hal had her entire body sculpted, but her face remained uncarved. Her wings were at rest, yet slightly lifted to show readiness. She stood straight with her hands upon the pommel of her sword point down upon the stone. He had sculpted her in full armor, but left her helmet less. He stood there for quite some time before he noticed Lanclor standing with his arms on his hips, gazing upon the unfinished statue.

  "It seems to be missing something," Lanclor said in a neutral voice.

  "Ha, ha, very funny." Hal gave him a sour look, and then resumed his pointless staring at Lady Kathryn’s featureless head. "I want to make her helmet less, but I don’t know which emotion to depict. I can’t show anger, because she never got very angry unless she was arguing with you." Hal gave him a quick smile and continued before Lanclor decided to walk away. "I don’t want to show her as serene. I don’t think she was feeling calm at that point. I just can’t imagine what she was feeling."

  "She felt great sadness. Yet, she was determined to fight, no matter what the price. She had nothing but hope to guide her." Lanclor turned and walked away, his work complete. He heard Hal begin the spells to carve her face.

  Chapter 52

  Today was another day of discovery. A day to discover the true souls of men and their capacity for evil. Six months after the Last Battle, Lanclor accepted the fact that he’d never be warm. The winter cycles arrived with freezing temperatures and a heavy snowfall. He ruffled his wings to remove the ice and prayed his armor would thaw before he had to fly back to the castle.

  On a routine patrol in the North, Lanclor’s squad came across a small village stripped of life. In the town center, they found two sets of footprints between the slaughtered women and children and the men tied to poles to watch. When they questioned the men, the men blamed the village elder’s sons who hadn’t spoken to anyone for days before they committed the slaughter. Lanclor remained outside the pub until the Royal Guardsmen arrived to escort the elder’s sons back to the castle for justice. They were taking their sweet time.

  Commander Warren himself arrived in front of two squads of Royal Guardsmen.

  "Commander Warren, we have one hell of a mess here." Lanclor saluted and gestured to the village square. "We’re due back to the castle for the Council meeting, so don’t have time to take care of it."

  "Council meeting. Unnecessary waste of time. With all of the Changed Men we’ve been dealing with, how they could even consider disbanding the Knighthood is beyond me. The Royal Guard is out of its league with this, Sir Lanclor, and the Council hasn’t got a clue." Warren brushed the snow off his shoulders.

  "Regardless, I have to be there to back up Lord Alextor. Be safe, Commander Warren."

  "Be safe, Sir Lanclor."

  Shortly after returning to the castle, Lanclor found himself pushed up against the outer wall to avoid the roaring crowd. The sound reminded him of the Floalkel falls during the spring thaw. How the Council could ignore this warning amazed him. Peasants on the verge of revolt could ignite at any minute and disbanding the Knighthood—the only order capable of assisting the Royal Guardsmen—was suicide.

  The Council’s ruling tonight would also decide if the peasants needed permission to practice any magic, not just healing. Each person had to justify to the Council why he should use magic. Money usually changed hands, so only the wealthy obtained approval.

  Sir Lanclor edged along the wall
touching the shoulders of the peasants as he went to urge them out of his way. Their heads would whip around, insults upon their tongues until they took in his armor and wings. Shy smiles greeted him as they slid out of his way. He may not have the respect of the Council, but Sir Lanclor had the respect of the people.

  A short while later, he slipped into the back of the main hall as the head Councilman rose in his chair to deliver the verdicts. He was a thin man swimming in blue velvet robes and arrogance. "After numerous incidents of magical assaults and deaths, it is the decision of the Council that every resident will hereby petition their Council representative for permission to perform magic. For those found practicing magic without permission, the Council has the right to seize part of their livestock or crops as restitution."

  Lanclor saw a small boy slip out the door of the chamber. The volume of the crowd outside increased, but the Councilman continued to speak.

  "In regards to the future of the Knighthood, further review is required to justify the need for a military force during peacetime. Until the Council makes that decision, the knights will continue their patrols to eradicate the remaining Daemons and to assist the Royal Guard."

  Lanclor sighed in relief. While it may be temporary, he still had a job to do. As his hand reached for the door, he paused long enough to catch the Councilman’s last words.

  "Recruitment into the Knighthood shall cease until the Council reaches its decision."

  He glanced back in shock. The Council just declared that the peasants no longer had the option to escape their stations and join the Knighthood. Shaking his head, Lanclor fled through the door and leapt into the sky over the heads of the furious mob. As he flew higher, he saw fires bloom amid the Council district. He made his way to the market district.