Nemesis_Knight

by Michael D. Young

  All a knight really needs is a lady to ride off into danger for. If only…

  He scanned the crowd in the futile hope that Mallory was somewhere in the audience. She did seem to have a knack for showing up unexpectedly. A hand tapped him on the back. “Hey, get in there.”

  Rich whirled around to face the speaker, a stocky boy in a horned helmet. “They just called your name. Get in there!”

  Rich stumbled forward into the arena, and a ripple of laughter passed through the crowd. “Play him a song!” someone called, and the laughter swelled. Rich felt his cheeks flush, but instead of ducking his head, he raised it and withdrew his recorder, leaving his sword in its place on his belt.

  It was then that he caught sight of his opponent for the first time—a bulky man wearing what Rich could only describe as a barbarian costume. His long blond hair hung on both sides of his face and down his back, and a long silver sword with skulls up and down the hilt was held tightly in his right hand. Rich’s opponent made a “come here” gesture, and the horns blew to signal the start of the match.

  Rich brought the recorder to his lips and played a little tune he had learned in school. His opponent stared, perplexed, and then rushed forward with a mighty lunge and struck out at Rich. Rich dodged and kept playing.

  He finished one song and started another, something he‘d heard on the radio recently. His opponent swung time after time, but his crushing blows failed to connect with Rich’s light, dancing steps. The crowd cheered their approval, and his opponent roared.

  The man growled and swung so hard that his sword lodged several inches into the dirt. Rich seized the chance, threw his recorder aside, and whipped out his sword. With a quick strike, he hit his opponent twice across the back. Startled, the man rolled away on his back, and Rich countered by bringing his sword up directly in front of his opponent’s face. The big man raised his hands in surrender, and the horn blew to end the match.

  The judges rose to their feet, gesturing for silence. “We declare the winner of this match to be…Dissonance the Minstrel!”

  The crowd clamored their approval, and Rich slunk back to the sidelines with a few quick bows. His breath came in shallow gasps, and he felt as if he’d just gotten off a roller coaster with a few too many loops. His cousins ran up and tackled him simultaneously with a monster hug.

  “You were awesome!” Marie cried.

  “Yeah,” Erica said. “Almost as awesome as Aaron. He won us a bunch of presents already.”

  Rich eventually persuaded them to let go and then glanced around in confusion. “Speaking of Aaron, where is he?”

  “I think he’s over at the pie-eating contest,” Erica said, “and he’ll probably win that, too. He’ll look kinda cute with pie all over his face. We should go there next.”

  Marie sighed. “He’s not that cute. He needs to comb his hair.”

  Erica looked as if Marie had just spit in her face. “He is too. You’re just jealous because he won that stuffed dragon for me…”

  Rich listened to them fight for a few more seconds, chuckling to think what they would say if they knew they were actually arguing over a guy who was older than their great grandparents.

  “You two can go if you want,” Rich said. “But maybe you should stay to be my good luck charms.”

  The girls decided to go meet Aaron at the contest, and Rich returned to the ring. Rich’s stomach churned again as he realized his fight was far from over. It seemed like only seconds before they called his name again. However, this time he was surprised to see that his opponent was a woman.

  Rich stumbled into the ring, took a good long look at her, and felt a chill creep across his skin. It was the girl in the green dress who had waved at him earlier. Was he supposed to know her?

  His question answered itself a moment later as the girl reached into a small pouch at her waist and withdrew an inhaler. She took two quick puffs and replaced it with a slightly embarrassed gaze at the dirt. Despite the girl’s long wig and extra makeup, Rich knew that inhaler anywhere. He’d rescued it just a few days ago from being trampled on by dozens of track team hopefuls.

  “Nadia?” Rich asked. “Is that you?”

  Her face twisted up in a sarcastic smirk. “Y-e-a-h, Rich. I’m not just the queen bee of spelling. It seems we just can’t avoid running into each other.”

  “Guess not,” Rich agreed. “But can you spell ‘defeat’?”

  “Can you spell ‘massacre’?”

  The horns blew, and Rich whipped out his sword immediately. Nadia’s blade was quick and light like a fencing foil, and he suspected that he’d be doing a dance of a different kind this round.

  She faked left immediately and brought her blade around to strike from the lower right. He scrambled out of the way just in time. It was strange to Rich that he could have avoided the blow at all. It was an excellent tactic, but it was almost as if he could see it coming.

  She tried again, launching at him with a series of rapid side-to-side swipes. Rich ducked and popped up rapidly, countering each blow as if guided by an extra sense.

  Nadia fought like a crazy person, spinning and attacking him from every possible angle. Her frustration grew as Rich easily dodged and countered every blow, and the sounds that escaped her mouth sounded more animal than girl.

  In the final seconds, she raised the sword over her head for a two-handed strike, which left her badly exposed. Rich seized the opportunity and struck her hard in the stomach. She stumbled back and fell unceremoniously into the grass just as the horn blew to announce the end of the match.

  Rich winced and took the glare he knew Nadia would give him. He was surprised when he saw respect mixed in with her resentment. Rich extended his hand to help her up. She stared at it for a moment and grudgingly took it. She rose and leaned in close so only Rich could hear.

  “I don’t know how you did that, but that’s one for me and one for you. I expect a tiebreaker.”

  “Sounds good,” Rich said. “You any good at chess?”

  She only grinned before leaving the arena, leaving Rich numb with confusion. How had he won? It was like he knew the moves she was going to make before she made them. Rich glanced around for Aaron in the hopes that he might find something that made sense.

  He had only a few minutes before they called his name once more, and the moment he had been dreading arrived.

  “Next up for the semi-final match, we have our underdog, Dissonance, versus our defending champion, the black knight, Destructus!”

  Suddenly, Rich’s sword felt like an entire oak tree in his hand. Champion? The word shot through him like an icy wind. He had the sinking feeling he was about to lose worse than he’d ever lost at dodgeball.

  Chapter 9: Unmasking the Black Knight

  All too soon, the horn blew, and Rich’s opponent struck first. Rich barely dodged the attack, his mind clouded by fear. The black knight followed up his strike with a kick that caught Rich across the chest. The audience booed and hissed, but Rich could tell it was half-hearted hate. They all loved a good villain, even if it meant he crushed the occasional underdog.

  Rich tried to counter, but he found himself immediately springing back on the defensive. He dodged from side to side like a scurrying animal, his blade raised in a pitiful attempt to block his opponent’s blows.

  Another strike dropped Rich to the ground, and he had to roll away to avoid another from above. He was inches away from the edge of the arena, which made him contemplate forfeiting and saving himself the humiliation. He got to his knees and crept toward the perimeter, but then he caught a familiar scent on the wind. His head shot up, and he frantically scanned the crowd, not daring to believe it might be true.

 
His eyes locked into hers, not a dozen feet away. There stood Mallory, a vision of perfect beauty in a full-length burgundy gown and pearl necklace. She smiled at him reassuringly and blew him a kiss. It was as if he could feel it fly through the air and land gently on his lips.

  His opponent, however, had probably not been thinking about romance. The black knight wheeled about and readied a two-handed blow. With new confidence, Rich rushed to meet the strike, the swords ringing against each other in the morning air. Rich pressed up with all his strength, using the black knight’s own momentum against him. For the first time, the black knight stumbled and nearly fell to the ground.

  A single aim consumed all Rich’s thoughts. He couldn’t lose again in front of Mallory, no matter what. From somewhere deep inside emerged a savage battle cry, and Rich sprang forward with the force of a cannonball. He struck his opponent half a dozen times before the black knight had a chance to react, and when he did, it was with only a fraction of his former strength.

  Rich felt his anger bubbling over, fueled by all the injustices he’d suffered at the hands of bullies in and out of school. He thought of broken glasses, water balloons, the cruel names and the lonely lunches, unjust detentions, and unfair exclusions. He would show them all.

  Rich swung with a fury that brought the audience to silence. Now, it was the black knight who cowered. Rich drew back and struck the knight’s helmet so that it flew from his head.

  The audience gasped, and Rich felt bile rising in his throat. It was Joe, his once-proud face reduced to a grimace. Rich swung up his sword and let it hover under Joe’s chin.

  “Yield,” Rich whispered.

  Joe shook his head, quiet words forming on his lips. “No, please.”

  Rich inched the sword forward, and Joe backed toward the edge of the arena. “Yield!” Rich barked with a snarl.

  Joe turned and crept backwards. Rich kept up with him with his sword, driving him all the way to the border of the arena. There they paused, and Joe gave Rich a final pleading look. Rich prodded with the tip of his sword, and his opponent crossed over the line. The crowd fell silent.

  “The winner of this round is Dissonance!”

  The crowd applauded, but Rich could tell it was half-hearted. There was friendly competition, and then there was this.

  The announcer cleared his throat. “We will have one more semi-final match, after which we will take a half-hour break before the championship round. Huzzah!”

  Rich slipped from the ring and averted his eyes. He didn’t want to see anyone now—not people from school, not his cousins, and most of all, definitely not Aaron. Something had snapped inside him, and now he felt wrong, dirty somehow. Though he was still learning what it meant to be a paladin, he knew for sure that this was not the way one should act.

  Mallory. He glanced about in the crowd, but saw nothing. He had to find her, if only to explain what had happened. Would she think less of him for what he had done? Would she understand?

  Rich tromped from tent to tent, throwing back the flaps of the closed ones and calling Mallory’s name. People parted for him wherever he went, and every heartbeat sounded like a double set of kettledrums in his ears.

  Rich sniffed the air, hoping desperately to catch the scent of Mallory’s perfume. He turned and realized he was next to a tent selling roast mutton and turned away from the powerful aroma of meat. He worked his way to the other side of the fair and caught a hint of the intoxicating aroma on the breeze. He pushed his way through the crowd, following the elusive smell.

  The breeze shifted, and the scent faded. Rich cursed his luck, but kept moving, shutting out everything and everyone else around him. He caught it and then lost it again, only to be drawn on by it again a few moments later.

  Hot sweat trickled down his brow, and the edges of his vision became fuzzy. The voices around him swelled, nearly drowning him in a wave of sound. He whirled about, his head spinning, and grabbed the thick fabric of a tent to keep himself from tumbling to the ground.

  One wall of the tent fell away under his grasp. Light flooded into the darkened tent, revealing two figures huddled close. Rich’s stomach heaved, and for a moment, he couldn’t catch his breath. There in the darkness were Mallory and Joe, and a dark lipstick stain stood out on Joe’s cheek.

  Rich’s hand flew to his sword on his belt, and for an awful instant, he thought about drawing it and continuing the job he’d started in the arena. Instead, he felt his heart drop through his chest to shatter like a fallen glass on the ground.

  He turned and ran, blinded by rage. He ran as hard as he could, trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and the awful sight. He stopped suddenly as a new foul smell hit his nose.

  Chapter 10: An Unfair Fire

  Rich smelled the smoke before the gang came into view. They were dressed completely in black with a red X scrawled across their chests, and carried kerosene torches. One or two rode motorcycles while the others ran, shouting and cursing loudly as they approached the fair. At their head, Rich could see Spike, whom he’d first met under the bleachers during gym class and had hoped never to see again.

  Rich’s heart beat like crazy as he realized what the gang wanted to do. People were going to get hurt, and he cared about many of those people. He had to warn them. His mind flashed back to the threatening note in his locker. “Something big is coming…I’m going to get you, you and everyone like you…” signed with a red X—one just like the ones the gang members wore on their shirts.

  His heart seized as an awful thought pushed its way to the forefront. What if Spike was his nemesis? He couldn’t remember seeing him around school until recently.

  Rich decided to work out the details later. He turned and dashed back toward the camp, but his legs felt unsteady as if he were navigating the deck of a ship in a storm. The tent where he’d discovered Joe and Mallory loomed into his vision first, and he hesitated outside the flap. If they were still in there, they’d be the first to get hit by the gang. He could easily let fate take its course. What happened to them wouldn’t be his fault.

  Given the timing of the attack, it was surely the work of his nemesis, and now this was his fault. He made his decision. He ran to the tent, threw open the flap, and called into the dimly lit space.

  “Hey, we’ve got to get out of here! There’s a gang on the way to break up the party. They’ve got fire, and I don’t think they’ll be shy about using it.”

  The two of them gazed at Rich as if he were a talking rabbit.

  “I’m not joking! If you want to get out in one piece, you need to run. Now!”

  Joe hesitated a moment and then turned to Mallory. “Go,” he said urgently. “Warn people to get out of here. I’ll catch up.”

  Without a word, she turned and ran at full speed in the other direction. Joe gazed unblinkingly at Rich. “I never thought I’d say this, but you’re pretty good in a fight.”

  Rich bit his lip, barely holding back the flood of bitter resentment trying to break free. “Yeah, you should think twice before trying to bust my glasses next time. What’s your point?”

  Joe turned in the direction of the approaching gang. “We can slow them down, give people more time to get away. I’ve seen what these punks can do.”

  Rich glanced up, and his gaze briefly met Joe’s. Suddenly, Rich was flooded with rage and disappointment. He caught glimpses of violence and shouting and recognized some of the faces of the very gang members who were headed directly toward them. These people had bullied Joe, and to Rich’s astonishment, it felt no different than being bullied by Joe. Rich shuddered and let out a wracking cough as if trying to get rid of something rotten from his body.

  He shook his head and took out his sword. “What if
they have guns? I’ve seen enough movies to know that you don’t bring a sword to a gunfight.”

  Joe shrugged. “Then we’ll run and try to draw some of them away from the fair. I’m not exactly new to this business. And if it’s like the movies, the good guys usually win. Come on—let’s do this before I can talk myself out of it.”

  Joe turned to go, but Rich reached out and stopped him with a touch. “Hey, one thing first. How long have you known Mallory?”

  Joe’s face twisted in confusion. “Who? You mean that girl I was with in the tent? She said her name was Vanessa. I just met her here at the fair. When a hot girl like that seems like she’s into you, you don’t really ask too many questions. What, you like her too? Maybe if you’d lost the tournament, she’d have felt sorry for you.”

  Rich clamped his jaw shut and gritted his teeth. There was no time. “Forget it. Let’s go.”

  They ran toward the approaching mob, swords drawn, but Rich could barely concentrate on the upcoming fight. Nothing made sense. Why would Mallory tell Joe that her name was Vanessa? Why was she with Joe at all? Had she been playing Rich for a fool the whole time?

  The gang came into view, and Rich was jarred back to his senses. There were more than a dozen of them of all ages, with three motorcycles and enough torches to light half the town ablaze. Rich didn’t see any guns, but that didn’t make him feel much better.

  The motorcycles slowed as the gang members caught sight of the black knight and the fighting minstrel. Spike dismounted from the lead bike and ran forward, brandishing a pair of knives. “What do we have here? A couple of geeks looking for some action? Sorry, this game’s for real.”

  Rich stepped forward, reaching down inside himself for courage he didn’t think he had. “Take off, Spike. I thought you were in enough trouble after that drug business. You wouldn’t want to do anything even stupider.”