Knight Fall (The Champion Chronicles Book 1)

by Brad Clark

  ***

  Sir Brace Hawkden shouted back, “You may call me what you will, but I am a servant of the kingdom of Karmon!”

  Laughter erupted from the shooter. “Servant? You are but a common soldier. A peon who serves a dead king!”

  Anger burned deep within Brace, but he knew that he couldn’t let it control him. He was a Karmon Knight, the best warrior the world had ever known. And it wasn’t only because he was a skilled swordsman, but because he was more than just a fighter. He had to control his anger, or it would control him. He had to keep his mind clear, despite the pain that throbbed in his shoulder. Brace took one last glance at the curtain and thought for sure he saw someone behind it. It had to be Conner for he was about to bet his life on it.

  “Conner!” Brace suddenly called out. “Far wall! Charge now!”

  The command of the Knight Captain startled Conner into action without thought. The part in the curtain was right in front of him, so he pushed through with swords drawn. Brace had been behind a table, but now he was charging out from behind it, screaming at the top of his lungs. The movement at the far end of the room caught his attention, so he started running towards it. A thin man clad in a silky black cloak stepped from behind a curtain, leveled a crossbow at him and fired.

  Conner’s sword flashed up, striking the bolt just as it was about to get to him. The remnants of the bolt scattered to the floor. He did not think about what he did, he just kept charging at a full sprint.

  The shooter, his eyes wide with surprise, pulled another fully loaded crossbow from the floor and aimed it Brace, who was just feet away. The bolt didn’t have far to go and embedded deep into Brace’s stomach. The Knight Captain fell to his knees, but he kept his legs moving, trying to get to the shooter. But the pain and shock to his system was making him unable to take another step. He simply fell to the ground.

  Conner drove his sword deep into the right shoulder of the shooter who was trying to load another bolt. The shooter had tried at the last instant to parry the blow with the crossbow, but he was too slow. The sword was buried to its hilt. The crossbow fell to the floor. As he was taught many times by Master Goshin, Conner expected the desperate dagger attack. The shooter, using his left hand, struck out with a small dagger. Because he knew it was coming, Conner easily stepped aside from the attack. He released his right hand from the sword that was buried in the shooter’s shoulder, switched his other sword from left to right hand and slashed down on the left arm of his opponent. The hand fell to the floor, still grasping the dagger.

  The shooter was in shock. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. All color drained from his face as quickly as the blood was pouring from his stump. Desperately, the shooter tried to pull the sword from his shoulder, but he couldn’t get his remaining hand to work right. Conner plunged his sword deep into his chest. A look of desperation crossed the shooter as he realized he was taking his last breaths. Conner pulled the sword out slowly and then the shooter slumped to the floor and did not move anymore. He then turned to Brace, who was trying to sit up on his own. Conner dropped to his knees and helped the Knight Captain to sit up.

  Brace smiled. “I am dying.” His hands touched the end of the bolt that was buried deep into his gut. Only a small part of it was sticking out from his front, the rest was pushing his chainmail away from his back.

  “You are the Knight Captain, you cannot die!” Conner said, continuing to hold the Knight Captain up.

  Brace shook his head. “No, that is all that is left for me. Help me to the wall.”

  Conner pulled the much heavier man up to his feet and used himself as a crutch to guide Brace to a nearby wall. As gently as he could, Conner let Brace slide down into a sitting position.

  “It is almost all the way through,” Conner said, looking underneath his chainmail shirt. “I think I can pull it out.”

  Brace closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. Leave it. I am ready.”

  Not knowing what to do, Conner slumped down next to the Knight Captain. In front of him lay the crossbow shooter, his bloody stump lying in a widening pool of blood. The man died with his eyes open, and they were staring off into nothingness. Conner looked down at himself and he was a bloody mess. He wasn’t sure if the blood was his, the shooters, or Brace’s. His twin swords lay near his feet, covered in blood.

  And then it finally hit him.

  He had been on the move for so long that he really hadn’t had time to think. Even when he was alone in the woods waiting for Brace to recover from the fall of his horse, he didn’t think. He had spent most of that time hunting, keeping his mind occupied with trying to find dinner. But now, with nothing but death around him, he had little else to do but think. He had killed a man. But he had done more than that, he had slaughtered him. And the same with the many other men back on the battlefield. He justified his actions back there because he was in battle. They were trying to kill him and he had to defend himself. But so did this man – this crossbow shooter. He had fired a crossbow bolt at him and he had miraculously deflected it. If he hadn’t killed the shooter, he would have done the same to him.

  “You think he has any family?” Conner asked quietly.

  “They all do,” Brace replied. “Someone will miss him. Someone always does. But he would have killed you. Without worrying about whether or not you had family.”

  “I know,” Conner replied. “It doesn’t make it any better.”

  Brace reached a hand out and put it on Conner’s shoulder and squeezed with what strength he had remaining. It wasn’t much.

  “I think I’m going to throw up,” Conner said.

  Brace chuckled. “He wasn’t your first, and he won’t be your last. You are an incredible warrior.” He squeezed Conner’s shoulder harder. With a demanding voice, Brace said, “Look at me, Conner.”

  Conner did. He could see death in the Knight Captain’s eyes. He didn’t have long to live.

  “I have never, ever seen fighting like what I saw from you. Ever. Whatever Master Goshin taught you, it is incredible. You are too fast. Too fast for me. There is not a Knight or soldier anywhere in the world that could stand up to you in a one-on-one fight. Even the Taran with a crossbow couldn’t stand up to you! That was pretty incredible to see you knock that bolt out of the air. But listen closely.” Brace paused to catch his breath, squeezing his eyes shut to try and ignore the pain that was shooting through his body. “Listen. What makes you great will not be how you fight or your skill with a sword. It is who you are here.” He tapped Conner on the chest. “And here.” Then he tapped Conner on the forehead. “Whatever you do, don’t become numb to killing. Killing is not your job. It is not the job of a knight. Anyone can kill. But not anyone can be a knight.”

  A wry smile crept across Conner’s face. “I can’t be a knight, you know.”

  Brace laughed, and then winced at the pain. “You are right. But my point is, don’t be afraid of your distaste for death. Hate it. Don’t embrace it. Honor the man you just killed, even if he is your worst enemy. Fight only when you have to. When there is nothing else left. Listen carefully. I have failed as a knight. As a man. I let my own ego get in the way of my honor. I let Neffenmark convince me that I myself could preserve the kingdom. And I believed him because I felt I was a great knight. I ended up being a failure of a knight. I caused this war with Thell. I caused the death of the king, and now I accept my punishment.”

  “Sir Brace, you have done so many great things, do not let this one thing destroy who you are!”

  “When you are in my position, the leader of many men, many knights, anything you do means everything. And yes, this one thing has ruined it all. That is my shame, and I must live with it for eternity.”

  “I will get Neffenmark for you," Conner declared proudly.

  Brace reached back and grabbed Conner on the arm and shouted, “No! Do not be a killer. Do not kill for pleasure or revenge. Only do it because you must. Neffenmark must be dealt with. But you are not an assassin. You
are not a murderer. He must be brought to justice.”

  “You are so much like Master Goshin,” Conner said.

  “He and I are so different,” Brace replied, releasing his grip on Conner. "Very different."

  “No. He says the same things. I guess I never realized you would say those things as well.”

  “When you’re on your deathbed, the strangest thoughts come to mind,” Brace said. “He is a good man. I hoped you listened to him.”

  “What do I do, now?” Conner asked.

  “You must go back to South Karmon. There will be a play for the throne, and the princess will be caught in the middle.”

  “Who will be king?" Conner asked. "There is no heir.”

  “I do not know. Neffenmark has his mercenaries. He just might be able to convince enough of the lords that he is strong enough to take it. He may try and claim the princess as his bride, and then it will be his son that will take the throne.”

  Conner wrinkled his face at that thought. “Could he?”

  “Take the throne or have a child?” Brace said with a prolonged smile. “I am not sure if he is physically able to procreate, but the laws of the land are clear. Only the first male heir may claim the throne. Princess Elissa’s first male child will be heir.”

  “And if she doesn’t have a male child?” Conner asked.

  “War. And unless she takes a husband soon, I fear there will be war anyway. Civil war. Someone will claim the throne, but the kingdom will never be the same. Neffenmark pulled in Taran soldiers to help fight us in the valley. I would not put it past Neffenmark to march on the castle with a full complement of Taran centurions.”

  “Then we must go.” Conner stood up and took his swords.

  Brace shook his head. “I will be dead soon. I cannot move. I am done.” He closed his eyes. His breathing became very shallow.

  Conner knelt back down next to the Knight Captain and asked, “Do you have any family?”

  “My father lords over his land on the east coast. He is old and senile. The last time I visited, he did not recognize me. Mother. Dead. Long time ago,” Brace’s voice trailed off to a whisper.

  “No wife?”

  “No time,” Brace answered. “If I said no regrets, it would be a lie.” He closed his eyes one last time and he said, “Her name was Ilasha. Daughter of a merchant. Long time ago…wish I could see her one last time.”

  He let out one last long sigh, and then he was still.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Princess Elissa lay in her bed, her eyes closed, but her mind already awake. She was comfortable under her warm blankets and did not want to get up. She had not slept well. In fact, it had been many days since she had a good night’s sleep. If not for Melanie coming in with breakfast, she probably would not have gotten up today.

  “I know you’re awake,” Melanie said. She set a tray of sweet rolls on a nearby table. “The sun has been up for hours. You must get up.”

  “I know,” Elissa said. She sat up, hugging her blankets close to her. “It has been days without hearing anything.”

  “Percy said that it takes several days for the army to march to Thell. He does not expect any word for a day, maybe two.”

  “Percy? As in Royal Guard Percy?”

  A slight redness touched Melanie’s cheeks. “He is not so bad.”

  “If you like creepy old men!” Elissa said with a chuckle.

  “He is not that old. Only ten years older than you and me!” Melanie took a small pillow and tossed it lightly at Elissa.

  The princess continued to laugh and soon Melanie joined in. They laughed hard for several minutes. And then suddenly the laughter turned into tears. And sobs. Elissa buried her head in her hands. “I cannot take this anymore. I do not know if they are dead or alive. And I fear the worst!”

  Melanie sat on the bed next to her friend. “Do not be afraid, I am sure they are all safe.” She took Elissa into a warm hug.

  After a few minutes, Elissa let Melanie go and asked, “Are the rolls still warm?”

  Melanie grabbed the tray and handed it to Elissa. With her mouth full of sweet, frosting covered rolls, she was about to ask her friend if she would go for a ride in the woods when a bell rang from a distance. Elissa snapped her head to the window and listed. A second bell rang. It was clearly coming from a distance, which meant from the main gate. A third bell rang. Elissa’s heart began to beat fast as she waited and hoped for the last bell. Four bells meant the arrival of the king. Just as she was about to give up, the fourth bell rang. Still in her white sleeping gown, she jumped from her bed and sprinted to the door. She opened it just as Arpwin, her father’s attendant appeared.

  A smile was on his face. “It appears that your father has returned!”

  She let out a squeal and raced through the castle to the stables. She would ride to the gates and greet her father in person. She took the first horse in the stall, a small roan mare that she didn’t bother to saddle. The gate attendant got the castle’s portcullis up just as Elissa reached it. Ducking under the thick metal bars as she passed through, she kicked her horse into as fast a run as she dared. She had to maintain some control, allowing innocent bystanders the chance to jump out of the way as she darted for the main gate.

  A crowd had gathered there, but she didn’t take much notice. Only at the last minute did she pull back hard on the reins and her mount came to a skidding stop. She slid off the horse’s back and she ran through the crowd, pushing her way through. At first some protested until they realized who she was. Word was passed that the princess was coming and a path opened up for her. Her walk turned into a jog and then a run as she approached the gate.

  She expected her father to be sitting atop his mount, his knights at his side. Likely it would be his Knight Captain there, Sir Brace Hawkden. And hopefully Conner would be there, too. But as she passed under the gate, she realized there was no cheering or shouting. In fact, there was barely a sound at all. The realization was slow, but when it hit, it hit her hard. Everyone was looking at one wagon, and everyone had tears in their eyes. As she stepped forward, the whole crowd looked at her and she froze.

  Elissa had always seen her father as a physically powerful man. He was big and strong. In his younger years, he trained with the Knights and was as strong as any of them. Even though he trained less and less as he aged, he still had a powerful presence. But what she now looked upon frightened her. It looked like her father. The same hair. The same beard. But his face was an ashen white, frozen in a grim look of pain. It looked like him, but it couldn’t be him. Whoever it was, they stretched out on the back of the wagon, the king’s surcoat stretched across his lower body.

  She could not believe that someone would use her father’s surcoat to cover a dead man. An anger began to burn inside of her. She looked for someone to yell at. A bloodied knight, using his sword as a crutch to help him walk ambled over to her. His eyes were full of tears.

  “I am sorry, my Princess.” He dropped to a knee.

  She looked past him, looking for her father. He had to be around someplace. She spun around, looking for him and then she realized that the entire crowd had dropped to knee. Even the wounded, barely able to walk, fell to a knee. She remaining standing, still looking for her father. He would never kneel. He was the king. He could not kneel. He could not fall. He could not die.

  Blackness surrounded her as her knees gave out and she fell to the ground.

  ***

  Lord Martin was not the imposing man that King Thorndale had been. He was short, shorter than most men. He liked to keep himself clean shaven because when he let his beard grow, it only grew out in patches. Even his voice was high pitched, almost squeaky. His hands were soft as a woman’s, having never lifted a sword in battle. At first glance, he was hardly the kind of man that other men would follow. But he was well liked and respected as a man of integrity. He was one of the late king’s most trusted advisors. They had grown up together when King Thorndale’s father had ruled. T
hat friendship had lasted through the years. It was a friendship that everyone respected and honored. Even the knights, who had little respect for anyone who didn’t know how to swing a sword or shoot a bow, respected Lord Martin because of his relationship with the king.

  Now he sat on the throne. Not because he wanted to, but because there wasn’t anyone else. The late King Thorndale had put him in charge while he was gone and in those few days, there was little to do but to decide on the evening meal. But now, the weight of a kingdom was suddenly on his shoulders. He sat on the throne, trying to hold back tears. They weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of despair. The king was gone. The beloved king. There were few in the kingdom that did not love the king, and that made his dilemma worse.

  Under typical circumstances, the eldest male child of the king, regardless of age, would be called to the throne room where the lords of the realm would declare their fealty to him and the prince would take the crown and he would be king. But there was no eldest male. The queen had passed away before she could bear another child. And the king, adamant in his love to his wife, refused to take another as his queen. There was some hope, with the king still being relatively young, that he would have survived to see his grandchildren live. And then the eldest male grandchild would take the throne.

  There was also the option of someone claiming the throne as his own. Lord Martin, as the current caretaker of the throne, would be the most likely to make that claim, but he knew he was not king material. And he loved his king too much to do that. If that option was taken, and there was not unanimous support from the lords, civil war would likely ensue. To Lord Martin, it seemed like all paths led to war.

  The double doors at the far end of the room opened and Arpwin, the king’s personal attendant entered. For a brief moment, the loud commotion outside the throne room overshadowed the quite peace that Lord Martin was trying to maintain. Lord Martin was relieved at the site of the elder servant. He knew the castle, knew how it was run, and was helping him to keep it running the way it should. With a slight smile, Lord Martin had a sudden thought that the one person most suited for the job was Arpwin.