Chosen (Majaos Book 1)

by Gary Stringer

  Hannah acquiesced to Eilidh's wisdom, so they left the others at a nearby tavern while the two approached the barracks of the Dark Knights.

  * * * * * Stone walls, solid, dark and foreboding loomed up ahead of the companions. They were decorated with skulls and bones, spiders, snakes and other symbols of death. Even the flowers that grew in the well-kept gardens were black. About fifty yards from the main gates, they were ordered to halt and state their business. Knight archers lined the battlements with their bow drawstrings pulled back, arrows at the ready. A simple but effective defence.

  “I am Knight Initiate Lady Hannah Collins of the Fourth Merlyon Infantry Division,” declared the goldplated woman. “This is Eilidh, a worthy companion in whose service I hath placed myself. It is my desire to speak with an officer in command whom hath earned the authority to hear and grant a request for assistance in a matter of utmost importance.”

  “Methinks that thou art surely lost, Lady,” a spokesman shouted down from atop the wall, “for I perceive that thou art a Knight of Paladinia. The Knights thou seekest are at the other end of the city.” His tone displayed a level of arrogance that wasn't uncommon in young Knights of light or dark orders - Eilidh had never met a Knight of Balance, so she had no way to guess whether it was the same in that order. She was willing to bet that it was. Whatever their allegiance, humans were humans, young warriors were young warriors and Knights were Knights.

  “No, sir,” Lady Hannah replied, calmly. “I am precisely where I intend to be.”

  “Mayhap, then, thou shouldst relate the precise nature of thy inquiry?”

  “Forgive me, sir, but before I respond to that, prithee tell whom am I addressing?” “I am Knight Warrior Sir Gunthar Mason of the Third Shakaran Infantry Division.”

  “Thou art young to be recognised as Knight Warrior, sir. I commend thee.”

  “My rank is but scant days old, Lady, but no less valid for that.”

  “Indeed not, sir.”

  “Now thou wast saying about the nature of thy request?”

  “Once again I must beg forgiveness, sir, but needs must that I operate with a certain degree of secrecy. Suffice to sayI am come to formally request an escort.”

  “Escort duty? Once again, I must ask, art thou certain that thou art not lost? For surely Knights of thine own order would better serve thee.” Eilidh was thankful that the cocky young man had stopped short of directly implying any inferiority in the Knights of Paladinia. If he had, the result would probably have been bloodshed. Even now, the Catalyst was not sure the result was going to be any different. The way Sir Gunthar was acting, he was right on the verge of asking for it. Eilidh didn't like it, but she knew she couldn't interfere without wounding her companion's pride and honour. This was a Knight thing.

  Making a supreme effort to control herself, Lady Hannah replied, “If I didst think that mine own order would be of help, sir, I wouldst be there now. Indeed, I would doubtless have had my request granted long ago and be halfway to my destination by now. Alas, in this case, unique circumstances do demand that I seek out an escort of Knights of Zhentilon. Now, sir, wilt thou grant me an audience with thy commanding officer, under the terms of the truce? For I tell thee truly, thou art sorely trying my patience and if thy compliance is not swift indeed, I shall be forced to prove my honour upon thy body!”

  “And quite right, too!” called out a voice behind them. Hannah and Eilidh turned to see a Dark Knight mounted on a blue dragon that had appeared suddenly from behind a cloud, landing swiftly and silently without so much fuss as a puff of dust. The Knight removed his skull-like riding helmet and dismounted. The man was tall and muscular, his face sporting a full moustache in the style demanded by the Knights of an elder time, before women were allowed to join the Knightly ranks, thereby making the compulsory moustache rule unworkable. This man clearly held the past in great regard. He bowed low to the two companions and then offered a salute - courtesy to a Lady and respect to a fellow Knight - Hannah was impressed from the start. Here was a man she could do business with, she felt.

  “Greetings, my Lady,” he offered. “I am Knight Officer Sir Quentin Marr, leader of the First Shakaran Dragon Cavalry Division.”

  Hannah introduced herself and Eilidh again, then briefly explained her request of escort duty. “But of course,” Sir Quentin replied. “Under the terms of the truce, every Knight of Zhentilon is honour-bound to give any reasonable assistance to a brother or sister of the Paladinian Order, and escort duty is easily offered.”

  “I am well pleased that thou dost see it that way, Sir.” Her tone when she said `sir` was very different to when she'd been talking to the young upstart at the wall. “Indeed, I am thankful that thou camest before I was forced to do serious harm upon the person of thy gatekeeper.”

  “Yes, tho ugh I did but catch the tail end of thy conversation, I could well perceive the source of thy consternation. Moreover, I am not altogether certain I would have been sorry to arrive a moment later to find thy sword buried in his flesh, save for the inconvenience it would have caused thee. Please, Lady Hannah, I trust that thou shalt not judge our entire order based upon the actions of one individual.”

  “Nay, Sir. Even within the ranks of mine own order there are young hot-headed Knights like him. In battle Idoubt not their prowess, but in other matters, they are often found wanting.” “Thank you for thy benevolence, My Lady. Now, if thou wilt excuse me but a moment, I shall personally attend to thine admittance; then I hope thou shalt allow me to courteously escort thee both unto my office, whereupon we shall discuss privately the details of the honourable undertaking that doth compel thee to cometh here this day.”

  Eilidh couldn't help but think that sentence was a little excessive even for a Knight, but she kept the observation to herself. He remounted his dragon, and flew over the wall of the barracks. A moment later, he was standing atop the battlements, whereupon he called out, “Knight Warrior Sir Gunthar Mason, come ye here immediately!” The young Knight obeyed, snapped to attention and saluted.

  “Hath the current truce between ourselves and the honourable Knights of Paladinia somehow escaped thy notice?” the officer asked.

  “No, Sir!”

  “Then perhaps thou hast lost thy sight and in thy blinded state thou didst fail to recognise the armour that is the uniform of our new allies. Is that the way of it, boy?”

  “No, Sir!” “Come now, 'twould be nothing to be ashamed of were it so. It may be that thou shouldst wish to seek a leave of absence to immerse thyself in prayer and worship of divine Mortress, so that thou might beseech her to grant back thy sight.”

  “No, Sir!”

  “Ah, I see, so thou dost wish to leave the Knighthood on account of thy sudden impairment, having received insight that this is the part thou art to play in the great plan of the Mistress of Death.”

  “No, Sir!”

  “Then help me out here, boy! What explanation givest thou for treating a Lady and fellow Knight this way? If she were wearing black armour instead of gold, wouldst thou behave similarly?” “Of course not, sir! But she isn't wearing black armour!” “Under the terms of the truce, apart from taking certain precautions to preserve the security of the Dark Knighthood, thou art to treat any Knight in the same way, whether their armour shouldst be black, gold or even silver.”

  “I am sorry, sir, but I am simply not comfortable with that.” “Oh, thou art uncomfortable! Well why didst thou not say so?” Raising his voice to the assembled company of Knights, he said, “Didst ye all hear that? He is uncomfortable! Surely we wouldst never want Sir Gunthar Mason to suffer any kind of discomfort, now would we?” He was clearly mocking the young Knight and encouraging the company to join in freely.

  “No, Sir!” they affirmed. “Knight Officer Marr, Sir, if I may?” ventured one. Upon receiving a nod of assent from his superior, he offered, “Perhaps, in case of further discomfort, we shouldst provide additional padding for his armour?”

  “And for his comforts
at night, extra pillows!” suggested another.

  “Or a whore!” a Lady Knight put in. That provoked much laughter. The officer held up his hand for silence and he got it instantly. “Thy discomfort is irrelevant, or dost thou presume that thou knowest better than the Supreme Knight Commander and her advisors, Knight Initiate Gunthar Mason?”

  “Knight Warrior, Sir,” the young man corrected.

  THWACK! The officer's gauntleted fist shot out, nearly knocking the rank and file Knight off the wall a fall of a hundred feet or more. “Art thou contradicting a superior officer, boy?”

  “No, Sir, but-” THWACK! “But nothing! Thy promotion was obviously given in haste and in error. Thou art once more a Knight Initiate.” Sir Gunthar opened his mouth to object, but the officer stopped him. “Say but one more thing I likest not - even breathe the wrong way and thou shalt begin thy training anew as a squire! Now dost thou have anything to say?”

  “No, Sir,” he answered quietly, the fight clearly gone out of him. “I am sorry, Sir.” “Very well,” Sir Quentin accepted, calm once more. “Thou shalt now report to the Chapel of Mortress and beg the High Cleric to teach thee the true meaning of the word `uncomfortable` as part of thy discipline. Now, get thee out of my sight before I simply throw thee to the ground below us.”

  The humiliated Knight saluted and marched away. “Now,” announced Sir Quentin, addressing the assembled Knights, “If these gates are not open to admit our guests in ten seconds from now, thou shalt all be given double shifts every day for the next month. Move!”

  Eilidh estimated that the gates opened in seven seconds, and still within the specified ten, Sir Quentin was escorting them to his office. They paused at the door, just briefly, as the officer gave fresh orders to a pair of Knights on guard duty. “Take a couple of dragons and scout around a little. My mount thought she smelled a rogue jewelled dragon out there as we approached. An obsidian of all things, apparently. Investigate, but be discrete and do not attack unless thou dost perceive a clear threat.” The Knights saluted and left for the dragon stables.

  Inside, the officer proved to be a gentleman, who was very amenable to the request. In fact he was outraged at the crime that had been committed on Shakaran soil. Knights of Zhentilon took prisoners, but kidnapping children was not honourable and as far as the Knight Officer was concerned, the kidnapper deserved to be gutted and roasted alive on a spit before being fed to the dogs. Despite their different allegiances, Lady Hannah found it impossible to disagree with that. Sir Quentin pledged to help in any way he could, and saw no problem in extending the truce to include a half-elf ranger and a Revered Daughter of Patrelaux when they were clearly embarked on a quest of high honour. Eilidh said nothing whatsoever about the wider matters they were involved with. Lady Hannah agreed that it was not a lie - just a tactically justified secret. The Knights of Zhentilon were not involved with that. They just had to provide an escort to Avidon and, on Sir Quentin's insistence, protection of their location within the city. After all, the Hand of Darkness was rife with treachery and backstabbing, so an agreement with one faction, even if kept, would not necessarily be honoured by another. Unless, of course, there was incentive to do so and the presence of the Dark Knights would provide that incentive.

  When Eilidh rounded up the rest of the party, Sir Quentin suggested riding dragonback to Avidon. Calandra was unhappy, however, about riding the blues that the Dark Knights favoured and the blues were equally adamant that they would not carry elves. All chromatic dragons were born and raised with a deep hatred of elves, since they represented the Light, and since the elven forces were the natural enemy of the Dark Knights, the blues' training reinforced this idea. Under the terms of the truce, Knights could adapt to work with Eilidh's elven companions, but dragons were not as flexible as humans. Calandra pointed out that it was just as well, because the Hand could perceive a flight of dragons as a threat. It would only take one inexperienced warrior to make a mistake that would lead to a lot of needless bloodshed. No, it was better to remain on foot and use the Corridor network.

  So the party moved out, flanked by a squad of twenty Knights entering the Corridor and keeping their destination firmly in their minds: Avidon's Borderlands.

  Chapter 8

  The Hand of Darkness Liberation Front was a loose conglomeration of dark aligned fighters who saw themselves as `freeing the world from the constraints of the Light`, whatever that meant. They included warriors, mages, clerics, thieves and just about anyone who felt like joining. Anyone except elves, whom they despised– even those few like Drizdar who were dark aligned would never be trusted. Otherwise, the Hand were not fussy. Also in their ranks were representatives of five chromatic dragon species, who saw these mortals as a welcome diversion from the weight of eternity and a way of gaining an edge over their metallic and jewelled dragon cousins.

  The organisation was in reality little more than a horde of thugs who divided themselves into five major factions: Red, Blue, Green, Black and White, defined by the colour of dragon they favoured. The factions were constantly vying for dominance. Their leaders rose to power through sheer brutality, and in-fighting was an accepted part of life. Their rule of Avidon was a barely controlled contradiction between anarchy and a totalitarian dictatorship. The city existed largely in a state of lawlessness, but those few laws that existed were enforced with an iron fist. Within the city walls, people were left to fend for themselves in a dog-eat-dog kind of way. Deaths due to accident, fire and acts of violence were the norm, but nobody was allowed to leave Avidon without a visa, which was almost never granted for anything other than official Hand of Darkness business.

  There was a simple agreement between the Dark Knights of Zhentilon and the Hand. The Knights did not interfere with the Hand's occupation of Avidon and recognised it as legitimate government for purposes of trade. In return, while there would be no Dark Knight barracks in Avidon, any visiting Knights could expect to be granted free entry and exit without question, their safety guaranteed. The Knights vowed to lay siege to Avidon if the armies of the Hand ever threatened that safety. The Black faction of the Hand in Avidon was all but wiped out when it organised the attempted assassination of an important Dark Knight Commander. Their attempt failed and it cost them dearly.

  The Black faction had already been the weakest, because even though the white dragons were naturally the least strong physically, this was offset by Avidon's climate. Being the northernmost outpost of Mythallen, and built on high, mountainous terrain, it was prone to be freezing cold and almost perpetually snowbound. It was by no means the ideal environment for reptiles, but white dragons were an exception. They thrived in freezing conditions, and that gave them an edge over their naturally more muscular black cousins, though they still could not match their chromatic brothers and sisters - the greens, blues and reds, which were able to use magic to cope with their natural environment. The other Hand of Darkness factions exiled the remnants of the Black faction from the city, and that was the only reason why Avidon was still Hand of Darkness territory, not a Dark Knight stronghold.

  It was Sir Quentin who gave the companions this modern history lesson, since accurate information on Avidon and the Hand was generally hard to come by in the other cities. A fair distance from the city, the lay of the land afforded them their first look at the city walls. Phaer shielded his gaze from the sun reflecting off the snow and looked ahead. “The wall is well- guarded,” he observed. “It looks like the Green faction are on guard duty, judging by their uniforms, wouldn't you say, Calandra?”

  Calandra turned her own elven eyes to the scene and nodded, “Yes, child, they're the Green faction alright, no doubt about it.” The others took their word for it - elfsight was greatly superior to human or hobbit eyes, and dwarf vision was meant for dark, underground areas, not open skies and snowy-white fields. Upon reaching the city, however, it turned out that the elves had been mistaken. It was, in fact, the Blue division that was on guard duty.

  There was some d
oubt in the minds of the gate warriors as to whether their agreement with the Dark Knights could be extended to `filthy elves` and those dedicated to the Light. In the end, they reluctantly agreed, since the favour of the Dark Knights could be a useful thing to earn and their disfavour something best avoided.

  It was early evening by the time they finally found themselves inside the city. Eilidh decided to split up and search for helpful locals who could direct them to where they needed to be. Prince Garald's final report indicated that the kidnapper had fled behind somewhere called the Great Fountain of Light - a forbidden area guarded behind a locked iron gate - a gate to which the Prince had obtained a key. (He indicated that it was better if the companions did not know precisely how.) Granite struck out on his own because, as a dark Catalyst and a bard, he would be the least conspicuous of the group. The people of Avidon would probably be quite comfortable talking to him and he would learn more alone. Lady Hannah stuck with Sir Quentin, while the other Dark Knights dispersed to spread the word among the other Hand of Darkness factions about the party under their protection so there would be no mistakes. Calandra and Phaer agreed it was wise for them to accompany Toli and Eilidh, staying in public places and away from deserted backstreets where their elven heritage might more readily attract trouble.

  The latter group sought out a tavern that seemed to have a certain reputation around here. It was called The Black Dragon's Claw, allegedly named after the only black dragon to remain in the city, who frequented the establishment in human form. While black dragons did not like elves, most would much prefer to be waited on than hunt their food.