The Green Knight (Space Lore Book 1)

by Chris Dietzel

  She rushed to the first place where the wall was damaged and ran her fingers over every crack and joint, then dashed over to the next and did the same. If anyone were in the room with her, she would have felt foolish doing this—letting hope outweigh the certainty of the body she had seen with her own eyes—but alone, she had no such qualms.

  At the fourth section of stone wall, where a finely stitched tapestry had once been but which was now gone after the destruction, her fingers found a small notch in the stone. When she pressed a thumb against it, a click sounded, and the entire section of wall moved out a tiny fraction from the rest. With her weight behind her, she pushed it to the side.

  A wave of odor rushed out of the secret room, making her gag. The tiny room was dark, and when she stepped forward just enough to lean inside, her foot bumped up against something. Nudging it, she felt how soft it was. That was when her heart skipped a beat and she fell to her knees.

  Thousands of years earlier, Zeutan the Explorer had built the room on the chance that his half brother would attempt to have him killed. The only time her father had used it, she realized now, was during their games of hide and seek. Her father must have suspected his wife or her son of a similar intention and hidden there.

  With one hand, she pushed the door open further so more light could get inside. With her other hand, she touched her father’s face and let his head come to rest on her lap.

  “Father,” she said.

  His skin was still warm, but he was as frail as the body double who had been poisoned by Modred. Somehow, he looked even skinnier and more sickly than the dead body that had taken his place in his bed.

  “Oh, father,” she whispered, crying.

  Looking around the tiny compartment, she could only imagine how he had spent his final week. A great king, her father, had been hidden in a room so small he couldn’t even lie down or extend his arms all the way. There was no food or water. What little had been in there had quickly been used. Looking in the emergency room, she saw tiny bugs’ legs scattered all over the floor. There were no bugs, though, and she knew her father had resorted to eating whatever he could find.

  He had waited there, hoping she would come back, hoping that someone would come and save him.

  “I came back,” she said. “I never should have left in the first place, but I finally came back.”

  Her father resembled a skeleton more than he did a king. His eyes and cheeks were sunken in. His hair, where there was still hair, thin and white.

  “We won,” she said, pointing up to the sky. “The Vonnegan fleet was defeated.”

  All she wanted was for him to open his eyes or squeeze her hand. She knew, though, that the time for miracles was over.

  “I killed Modred,” she said. “We’ll find anyone else who might have been responsible for this.”

  Squeezing his hand, she tried to imagine him being pleased with what she said. She had come back home and killed the man who had poisoned the king. She had been here as the Vonnegan fleet was defeated. And yet she suspected that if her father were alive these wouldn’t be the first things he would want to hear about.

  “I followed through on my word,” she told him. “I gave my word and didn’t back down. And I saw Galen again.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek until she wiped it away.

  It would have been so much better to be able to tell him these things when he was alive, to let him know the type of person she was capable of being, that she wouldn’t always run away from her problems.

  “Oh, father,” she said again.

  Looking up, she scanned the small room where he had decided to hide and wait for her. In the cramped quarters, without anything to keep him hydrated, he might have died even before the body double had succumbed to Modred’s poison.

  Your father’s not dead, Vere.

  A scene formed in her mind. Her father had remained in that room, unknown to anyone else, even after the body double had died. Day after day, Modred had been there, waiting to take over the kingdom, and day after day, Vere’s father had waited in secret for his daughter to save him.

  Your father’s not dead, Vere.

  He had been alive as recently as when she was in the cave with Galen. She believed this. Somehow, she knew it was true. Only a little bit later, though, he was dead, and she suspected he had held out every bit of willpower to remain alive just long enough to know she had come back. Upon hearing her enter the room and begin fighting Modred, Artan had been able to die in peace.

  She tried to imagine him in that little room. No light. No toilet. No place to lay down.

  Staring into the tiny space, a shiver passed through her. Then, as she looked at every part of the hiding spot, a pattern began to form. No, not a pattern. Words.

  In one place they said, Vere, I never wanted to hurt you.

  In another, it was written, I only thought that if Galen wasn’t around, that you might want a life of diplomacy instead.

  And in another, Please forgive me, Vere. I never meant to hurt you. It was a lapse I’ve regretted every day since then.

  At another, In destinies sad or merry, true men can but try.

  For almost every hour of every day he had needed to be perfectly quiet. But the few times Modred left the room, her father had written messages to her.

  Please, don’t remember me that way, Vere. Remember the father who played games with you and laughed with you, not the one who said something he regrets. Not the one you might find in this room one day.

  All around the secret compartment there were messages about how much he had loved her mother but had also been lonely after she died; messages about being proud of Vere no matter where she was or what she was doing; messages about knowing she was capable of great things.

  She thought to say she would make him proud. She thought to tell him that everyone in the CasterLan Kingdom would remember him as a true king of the people. But when she looked down to speak, she said none of it, only smiled as another tear made its way down her cheek.

  She sat there on the ground with him, his head in her lap, until she thought of what she really wanted to say.

  When she was ready, she started, “These are all the things I’ve wanted to tell you the past six years,” and she kept talking until after the last bit of the sun had gone down and all that was left were the outlines of mountains in the distance.

  When she did finally leave the king’s chambers, Hector was there waiting for her. Pistol was coming down the hallway as well.

  “The Vonnegan army?” she said.

  Hector came to her side and said, “There are a couple Athens Destroyers remaining and a few ground troops that escaped and are hiding in various parts of the city. We’ll find them. Other than that, the battle is over.”

  Pistol walked in silence, neither needing nor wanting recognition.

  “Lady Percy?” she asked.

  Hector frowned. “We found her in her quarters. Dead by her own hand.”

  “It must have destroyed her to realize what her son had done.”

  “All of this is so senseless,” Hector said.

  As they walked, she put one hand on the android’s shoulder and the other on Hector’s.

  “We’ll need to have a ceremony,” she said.

  “I can begin arrangements for a traditional king’s funeral,” Pistol said.

  She shook her head. “Not just for the king. For everyone who died. The king is only one of many who are no longer with us. We won’t forget a single one.”

  And then they got on the lift to return down to the main levels of the capital.

  83

  Inside the control room, Morgan continued to coordinate the ground battle to fight off the limited number of Vonnegan troopers who had been able to get off the Athens Destroyer. There were reports all over the city of Vonnegan troops running through the streets, taking prisoners where they could find them, and trying to bargain for their freedom.

  “If there has ever been a reason to cel
ebrate,” Fastolf said, producing a flask from his pocket and offering it to Morgan.

  Her first instinct was to ask him if he had learned anything from the past week, but then she thought better of it and took a sip before handing it back.

  “To the future kingdom,” she said.

  A noise came from behind Fastolf—a Vonnegan trooper at the control room door, his blaster pointed at them.

  She could have reached for her own blaster but she knew she would be dead by the time she grabbed and aimed it. The only thing in Fastolf’s hands would get the trooper intoxicated rather than kill him.

  The trooper’s helmet swiveled slightly to calculate the threat levels of Fastolf and Morgan. Judging that Morgan was much more of a danger than a fat, unarmed man, he aimed the weapon at her.

  Rather than ducking or pleading her case, she merely sat in her chair and stared at the blaster pointed at her. The trooper pulled the trigger. A laser blast went past her face, singeing her hair and burning her ear. Before he could adjust his aim, the trooper was on the ground, a hole in his back and smoke billowing out of his armor.

  A blaster in his hand, Baldwin stepped through the doorway and looked at the man he had just killed.

  Morgan ran a finger across her burnt ear, then said, “A little quicker next time, okay?”

  “Next time?”

  But she was already facing the consoles again, giving orders to the ground forces.

  84

  High above the assembly, CamaLon’s city center and the king’s chambers soared into the sky. Even higher, outside the planet’s atmosphere, there was only emptiness where the Tevis-84 portal had once been. It had been there for hundreds of years, and for everyone on Edsall Dark, it was shocking to look up at the sky and not see it there.

  Generations of mothers and fathers of all species had taken their young out in the fields so they could see the night sky and tell their children stories of the portal and of the first time they remembered going through a field of energy and appearing in another solar system. Now it was gone.

  During the assembly, however, no one paid attention to its absence. Instead, tens of thousands of people gathered on the same fields that Vere and the others had crossed on their way back to the capital. They were there to pay their respects to a fallen king, Artan the Good, and to all of the thousands of people who had died in battle to save the CasterLan Kingdom.

  In accordance with Vere’s directions, no one was given more acclaim than anyone else. For each person who had died, someone who had known them came to the podium and said a single sentence about them.

  Hector’s energy platform carried him across the stage, where he spoke of his nephew. He said that, while there were victors in battle, there were never victors in war. His nephew had been forced to understand that at much too young an age.

  Baldwin took to the podium to speak on his brother’s behalf, saying, “We disagreed on whether medicine or the military could do more good for the CasterLan Kingdom, but what’s important is that we both did what we had to do to help the people we love.”

  When it came time for someone to say something about Hotspur, Morgan walked up to the podium. The crowd was restless at the thought of anyone daring to say something positive about Hotspur after what he had done. On Morgan’s hip, as she walked to the podium, was the Meursault blade Vere’s father had carried, the same one Modred had used against the king’s daughter in battle. There was no one else, Vere had said, who was more deserving of it than Morgan.

  Of Hotspur, Morgan said, “His entire career was dedicated to being considered a great general, but what exactly makes one great?” and then she left the stage without saying anything else. The crowd was left to think of their own answers and to decide for themselves how Hotspur should be remembered.

  When it came time to say something about the king, Vere didn’t speak about the ruler he had been, but merely said, “He was the greatest father I could have asked for.” If anyone in the audience didn’t know who she was they would have had no idea she was speaking about a king at all.

  Of Modred, one of his childhood teachers said he had possessed all the potential in the galaxy. Of Lady Percy, Vere said that she wished she had given the woman more of a chance to show what kind of person she really was.

  The ceremony went on for an entire day and night. Through it all, Fastolf sat in the back of the crowd, sneaking sips from his flask. When it came time to say something about Occulus, he shouted that he wanted to speak and ran to the podium.

  “He was the voice of reason,” Fastolf said, “and a true friend.”

  Toward the end, A’la Dure’s name was mentioned and Vere made her way back to the podium yet again. “She said more with two words than most people say their entire lives.”

  Fastolf, Morgan, Baldwin, and Traskk all greeted her with hugs when she was done, and together, along with Pistol, they made their way back to the Forest of Tears to give their friends the proper burials that Vere had promised them.

  There were other things she would have to do as well. She would go see what was left of the Griffin Fire. She would have to find out about Mortimous and Galen and the Word. Most of all, she would have to discover for herself if all of the things Galen had said were true. After all, a knight had not only risen after being dead for a thousand years, he had picked his severed head off the ground and put it back atop his neck. Vere realized there really were things going on in the galaxy that she knew nothing about. She would, though. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but one day, she would.

  85

  Far away, in a distant solar system, a man, tall and lean, stood at a window looking out at the evening sky. The horizon, where the sun was setting, looked like purple fruit drenched in blood. Further up, near the clouds, the sky resembled the color of the finest purple tapestries of the Vonnegan Empire. In front of the man stood the metal high-rises, stretching as far as the eye could see. Each building was designed in an architectural style that made it look like it was wearing armor, and each building reflected the evening sky in a way that made the entire planet look like a purple sphere.

  A cloaked advisor entered the room without making a noise.

  The man at the window, too statuesque and towering to be human, with skin the color of the buildings that were all around him, said, “What is the report?”

  “There were no survivors, My Lord.”

  “General Agravan’s ship?”

  “Destroyed, My Lord.”

  “Anything else?”

  “They also destroyed the portal.”

  The man standing at the window pondered this for a moment, then said, “I want a new fleet constructed. Twice as large as the last. No, three times.”

  “Your Excellency, without the portal, it will take years for any ship to get there.”

  Mowbray Vonnegan, ruler of the Vonnegan Empire, turned and faced his advisor, bright purple eyes shining as if electric. He advanced on the small, trembling man who had not only just informed him of the loss of both his fleet and his only son, but had also had the nerve to question him. Then he smiled, revealing sharp white teeth, and said, “Then we had better get started building them tonight, hadn’t we?”

  The advisor, relieved, nodded and left. Alone in his throne room, Mowbray said, “When I am through with them, they will wish they had let themselves be conquered the first time. The entire CasterLan Kingdom, every planet, every colony, every home, will have the Vonnegan War Hawk flying above it. This, I swear.”

  The adventure continues in Book 2 of the Space Lore trilogy…

  The Excalibur

  Six years ago, two fleets met in a battle that changed the course of the galaxy. In the time since, the CasterLan Kingdom and the Vonnegan Empire have been rebuilding their forces. The clock is ticking down to another inevitable confrontation.

  In the face of insurmountable odds, Vere CasterLan’s only hope lies in freeing a legendary weapon from the stone that encases it. It has been said that whoever can free
the Excalibur will possess unimaginable power. The only problem, as certain death approaches, is that for thousands of years no one has been able to figure out how to release the Excalibur from the asteroid surrounding it.

  In this second volume of the Space Lore trilogy, lives will be lost, kingdoms will be redrawn, and the galaxy will never be the same.

  Purchase your copy today at: http://amzn.to/26wWXBA

  Acknowledgments

  As always, I am indebted to many people for their support: Jodie McFadden, for her constant encouragement and optimism; Matt Butterweck, for his eagle eye and his comments on the story; and everyone on GoodReads and in the BJJ and MMA communities who read my other novels and recommended them to their friends. That is the only way that books like mine have the chance to be successful, and I’m eternally grateful for their support.

  I would also like to thank all of the artists who were willing to devote their time and creative energy to designing the characters and places described in this book. Ever since I first saw Ralph McQuarrie’s sketches for the aliens and ships in the original Star Wars trilogy, I’ve wanted to create a world where artists could bring to life the concepts described throughout the adventure. Thank you to Tim, Zaina, Charlie, Edward, Molly, and Grosnez for doing just that.

  Want to receive updates on my future books and get some great freebies? Sign up for my newsletter at: http://chrisdietzel.com/mailing_list/

  About the Author

  Chris graduated from Western Maryland College (McDaniel College). He currently lives in Florida. His dream is to write the same kind of stories that have inspired him over the years.

  His others novels have become Amazon Science Fiction Best Sellers, been featured on the Authors on the Air radio network, and been required reading at the university level.