Gulliver tried to remain courageous. But he imagined caiporas, treants, and other malicious creatures lurking in the shadows. The large boles of the trees creaked in the wind. Rainwater dripped from the leaves above, echoing eerily. He wished he had brought his mana lance, but he’d left it at the cottage. He was capable enough with magic, but spells took time to cast and were less effective in close quarters, when blades, fangs and claws ruled the fight. At least he had his dagger should his magic fail; he gripped the hilt reassuringly.
He continued on slowly into the gloom, looking around nervously as he tried to follow the tracks. A raven flapped its wings nearby, causing Gulliver to jump in alarm. He swore inwardly, and glared at the raven, who stared back. Gulliver traversed the narrow path and looked back. The raven still gazed at him with its cold, beady eyes. He shuddered and moved on. This was starting to become a bad idea. Perhaps he should have persuaded Tanton to come along, though how the fat knight would keep up was beyond comprehension.
As Gulliver trekked further on, he noticed that the sounds of the forest became quiet. He slowed his pace, for once thankful for the recent rains because the wet leaves made no crunching sound as he trod over them. There was something or someone ahead. He stopped moving and listened. It seemed something was trampling through the underbrush, but he could not be sure. He realised that he was shaking uncontrollably. Surely this must be a trap by the caipora to lure him here, or some evil treant coming for his soul. Gulliver crouched behind a tree. He tried to convince himself he wasn’t being cowardly, but merely cautious. He looked out from behind the tree, saw something moving ahead.
At first he wasn’t sure what it was. The shadows of the trees obscured the creature. Was it just a person from the broken ship or something else? Gulliver recalled the fierce visage of the serpent and swallowed. Whenever there was one, there were many. He was on the verge of turning to flee when his curiosity overpowered his fears. He moved from his hiding place and crept forward. As he peered at the creature, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was not an evil spirit or a treant, but a mere boy. The sound of something crashing through the underbrush earlier was the youth clumsily trudging along the forest trail. Judging from the way he walked, he looked weakened or ill. He stumbled and fell. The boy picked himself up with considerable effort.
Gulliver made the sign of Zemus, crossing both his arms. He waited and watched, half expecting the boy to notice him and become a sudden threat. One could never tell out here in the wilderness. The boy fell again. This time, he did not get back up.
Apart from the mud-stained kirtle and trousers, there was little to indicate where the boy was from, except that he appeared human. He was fairly tall and lean, broad-shouldered for a boy. Maybe he was a surviving fisherman, or a peasant.
Months of inactivity had dulled Gulliver’s quick wit and he mulled over what to do. He thought about running back to the lighthouse to tell Tanton. That would be the easiest option. But the stranger seemed very ill, and if he went back now, the boy was bound to get worse by the time he returned. He was likely to wander further away, or perhaps even die given his current condition. Also, Gulliver wondered if he should really help him. Maybe this boy was part of Malus’s army. It was uncommon for humans to join the dark elf, but there were rumours circulating the land that Malus now had a fleet patrolling the seas – though Gulliver had yet to see a single ship. Yet, that would explain the frightening serpent prow. Or the boy could be a fugitive, because fugitives loved hiding in the wilderness. No one else in their right mind would come here, Gulliver thought.
Then he remembered why he had become a Mana Knight. It did not matter who this boy was; he was in need of help and a Mana Knight’s sworn duty was to help those in need. Gulliver may have been punished and sent to a lighthouse in Cape Caipora, but he would not fail his duty. Perhaps it was Zemus’s will that sent this boy here today.
With new resolve, Gulliver approached the inert boy. Just as he was about to give him a gentle nudge, the boy’s eyes flickered open. They were dark grey, but glazed with fatigue and fever.
‘Relax. I’m here to help,’ said Gulliver, hoping the boy would understand.
The fevered gaze turned towards the young knight and focused for a brief moment in alarm.
‘Don’t worry. Allow me to help. You have my word that I mean you no harm,’ Gulliver said softly, offering his hand.
The boy did not reply, but stared back. For an instant, Gulliver thought that he would attack or resist, but a moment later, the boy nodded and accepted the hand. With considerable help, he managed to get to his feet. He wobbled unsteadily and ignored all of the knight’s questions. Gulliver sighed and guided him back to the lighthouse in hopes that he could help this young stranger. As they made their way out of the forest, he wondered how Tanton would react.
* * *
Kairos awoke slowly.
His limbs felt like the muscles had melted away, and his head pounded with each heartbeat. He opened his eyes. A tallow candle burned nearby, casting dancing shadows on the flagstone walls. Kairos tried to rise.
‘Don’t get up,’ said a voice in a strange accent. ‘Your fever has broken, but your body still needs rest.’
Kairos let himself sink back on what he guessed was a straw mattress. He lacked the energy for defiance and the voice did not seem threatening. Kairos tried to speak, but only croaked in his dry throat.
‘Here, have some water,’ the voice said, its owner coming into view next to the bed. It was a young man with a friendly face, uncorking a flask. Kairos felt the bottle neck of the flask brush his lips, and he swallowed a little of the cool water.
‘Thank you,’ Kairos said, trying to study the man next to him. He did not look like a dwarf, but did not quite resemble an Einar, either. ‘Where am I?’
‘Cape Caipora. I found you in the forest an hour’s journey from the shore, in bad shape, I might add. My name is Gulliver.’
‘How long have I been asleep?’
‘Two days. Your fever broke last night. I thought we had lost you several times, but I managed to have you drink an elixir to help with the fever and the dehydration.’ Gulliver seemed pleased with himself.
‘Thank you.’
‘Where did you come from? I saw the ship. You’re not with the dark elf’s army, are you?’
‘Dark elf?’ asked Kairos, uncomprehending.
‘Sorry,’ Gulliver said. ‘That was rude of me. You’re human, so it would be unlikely that you could have been serving in his army, but we must maintain vigilance.’
Kairos felt weak and empty, and this talk of dark-elves and armies tired him further. ‘Is there anything to eat?’
‘Of course.’ Gulliver stood quickly. ‘How rude of me. I’ll fetch you something.’
Kairos grunted and closed his eyes. He heard the young man move away and then pause.
‘What’s your name?’ Gulliver asked from across the room.
‘Kairos… Kairos, son of Karthok.’ Kairos closed his eyes. It hurt too much to look around.
‘Well met, Kairos, son of Karthok. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll fetch something for you to eat.’
There was a pause, and then he heard Gulliver leave the room.
Kairos lay there, thinking of the recent events that crept into his dreams. His nightmares. It was all one big nightmare.
What would he do now? Despair as dark as the shadows of the room filled his soul. The Einar fleet was dead. He had found land across the sea, and even people, but he was all alone. Why had he lived while the others died? How could he tell the others at home? He could not fulfil his mission alone and without a ship. And even if he were to return home, his uncle would now be in charge of the Azel clan and would most likely kill him. Kairos thought of his violent father, a man who had always beaten him. Now he realised that without him, he was nothing. The pain of losing Thylar ached worst of all. Was this his fate?
He truly was cursed.
He heard someone return to the room, returnin
g his thoughts to his current circumstances. His gnawing hunger was primary among them.
Gulliver had brought back a tray with bread and broth – along with the fattest man that Kairos had ever seen in his life. He was so surprised by the stranger’s girth that he momentarily forgot his predicament. The man resembled a walking pig as he wobbled, out of breath, into the room. He sat on a wooden chair, which seemed to groan in agony under the burden, and glowered at Kairos.
‘This is Tanton,’ Gulliver explained sullenly. ‘He is my senior and in charge of this post. Here is your food.’
Kairos struggled to sit up on the mattress, gawking at the newcomer and wondering how much food one had to eat to become so large. Was this land truly plentiful in food, as the Einar had hoped?
As Kairos ate, Gulliver talked incessantly. Kairos listened in silence, finding the talkative man’s voice a pleasant distraction from his own woes. He noticed the fat man known as Tanton watching him with a dour expression, only changing it to take a swig from a large bottle in his hand. Kairos heard Gulliver talk about the Knighthood and their duties at the lighthouse, which included watching for ships or anyone out at sea.
After Kairos had finished his broth and scooped up the last crumbs of bread that fell on the tray, he asked, ‘Have any survivors from my ship come this way?’
‘No, you are the only one,’ Gulliver replied, casting a glance at Tanton. The young knight returned his gaze to Kairos. ‘Were there more of you?’
Kairos did not answer immediately. He wondered what had befallen those Einar who plunged into the sea. He knew that most wearing mail would have drowned, but maybe some of the archers could have clung to a wooden plank. That was unlikely, though. These two knights had only found him. Everyone that he had grown up with was dead. Darkness threatened to engulf Kairos from within, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He turned away so the two strangers would not see him for how weak he was, but he was unable to stifle the sobs.
Instead of ridiculing him for his moment of weakness like most Einar would have done, Gulliver surprised Kairos by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘If I may ask,’ he began in a soft voice, ‘what happened to your ship?’
It took Kairos several moments to compose himself, but for some reason, this knight’s kindness reminded him of Thylar, and he felt the need to tell him. ‘We were attacked.’
Gulliver shot an alarmed glance back at Tanton, whose eyes widened, before turning back to Kairos. ‘Who attacked you?’
‘Dwarves.’
‘Dwarves?’ Gulliver said, looking aghast. ‘What happened?’
Kairos told them about the ship full of dwarves and armoured figures mounted on flying beasts. He described the deadly magic flashes of light destroying all three longships of his people. Gulliver and Tanton listened in stunned silence.
‘That was why I avoided your tower and went into the forests,’ Kairos said. ‘I expected the enemy to be here.’
‘We are with the Knighthood.’ Gulliver spoke gently, ‘and we are here to help you.’
Tanton gazed at Kairos shrewdly, obviously not sharing the younger knight’s benevolence.
‘Tell us more about these dwarves,’ Gulliver continued, ‘from the sounds of it, they sound like our enemies.’
‘They mentioned someone named Malum, or Malsis–’
‘Malus!’ Gulliver said, paling. He turned back to Tanton. ‘We must light the signal fire. He was attacked by dwarves and elves in the Dark Sea!’
For the first time since entering the room, Tanton spoke, ‘Now wait a minute. We ’aven’t seen anything for sure, yet.’
Gulliver clenched his jaw. ‘This boy saw them, and his ship is wrecked here. That should be enough!’
Tanton shook his head. ‘Think ’bout wot yer doin’ now, ’cause if ya light the fire, we’ll bring the Knigh’ood, and they’ll be askin’ questions. Let’s keep it quiet here, shall we? Come on, this boy is imaginin’ things.’
Gulliver stood up and snarled, ‘I’ve had enough of your negligence. I’m lighting the signal fire. You can sit there and drink, but it’s our sworn duty to report any suspicion, and this warrants such!’
Tanton sat there dumbfounded for a moment, then he stood up and stared down at Gulliver, but the younger knight wasn’t intimidated, holding his gaze with his senior. Kairos knew the signs and expected a fight, but after a few seconds of tense silence, the older, larger knight stormed out of the cottage without a word. Kairos did not entirely understand what was going on, but this matter was between two strangers. He was too tired to care.
The fury on Gulliver’s face eased away once the older knight left. He placed a hand on Kairos’s shoulder and said in a soft voice, ‘Tanton and I have important matters to attend to. You should rest now. We’ll handle this.’
Kairos agreed. He was exhausted; both his mind and body had suffered terribly. He lay down on the straw mattress and let out a long sigh. He heard Gulliver walking out and muttering something about returning later to check on him.
Within a few moments, he fell into a sleep without dreams.
* * *
Kairos awoke suddenly in the middle of the night.
For a few moments, he was unsure what had woken him. His body felt weak and cold, and he lay unmoving, listening to the gusts from the sea, battering the shore and the building. But there was something else. He sat up quickly. Somebody was opening the wooden door to the cottage. By Rudras, he wished he had a sword, or at least his bent seax, which now lay at the bottom of the sea.
A dog barked. Kairos knew that something was not right. Danger was near. He reached for something nearby in the darkness, anything, to use as a weapon, only to find a burnt out candle. The wooden door opened allowing enough dim light from outside to silhouette the shape of someone. Kairos prepared to attack; he would not be killed without a fight.
‘It is I, Gulliver,’ the figure spoke, urgent and in a whisper. ‘We must go. Follow me.’
‘What’s happening?’ Kairos demanded, standing from the bed, his legs stiff and unsteady from days of inactivity.
‘Ships are arriving. I saw their shapes in the moonlight from atop the lighthouse. If they’re the same ones who attacked you, then I believe our lives are in danger. Come, they’re almost here.’ Gulliver tugged desperately at Kairos’s wrist, pulling him to his feet.
Kairos felt light-headed. His legs almost buckled from his own weight, but he held himself steady with the help of Gulliver. As if to emphasise the potential threat, the dog’s barks grew louder, and frenetic, and then were cut short with a yelp. Gulliver pulled Kairos to the door of the cottage, and together they stumbled outside.
It was dark when he’d passed through the first time, but Kairos vaguely remembered the layout of the lighthouse’s surroundings. He looked up and saw that a bright fire burned at the top of the lighthouse, guessing it was the signal fire Gulliver was talking about. Its light reached below to the sandy shore, illuminating the ships in the distance. A group of men were marching towards the lighthouse bearing torches. They were still too far away, but Kairos knew they were dwarves, and he felt anger stir within. The dwarves coalesced around the entrance of the lighthouse. There was shouting and then a crash. Wood splintering.
Gulliver hesitated for a moment as he watched, but then turned and pushed Kairos forward. ‘Hurry,’ he hissed. ‘To the forest!’
They took off at a fast pace. Kairos thought he would trip or stumble in the darkness, but there was enough light from the lighthouse’s fire for him to find his way. The open ground before the forest was now soft and dry, but Kairos felt exposed out in the open and hoped that the signal fire would blind the attackers.
When they reached the cover of the forest, they heard a shrill scream from the lighthouse. Gulliver shuddered, tensed, and shoved Kairos forward with more intensity.
‘Was that–’ Kairos began.
‘That was Tanton,’ Gulliver whispered. ‘He refused to leave.’
The ground on th
e forest floor was rough on Kairos’s bare feet, and he wished he had a pair of boots on as he stepped on sharp twigs and stumbled into hard roots. Just as he began to slow his pace due to increasing pain, another scream rent the night, and he grimaced as he quickened his stride against the pain. Kairos dared a look back and saw through the trees some of the warriors moving towards the cottage he had left moments before. He could only imagine what those dwarves would do to him and Gulliver.
They traipsed through the underbrush as quietly and quickly as they could into the cold night. Thylar’s last words echoed in Kairos’s mind over and over.
No matter what happens, you must survive.
They spent the night travelling as far from the lighthouse as they could. They had a headstart, but knew their pursuers would come, especially since ground before the forest was soft and left tracks for anyone to see.
They followed an animal trail, dense with undergrowth in some places, and Gulliver had to resort to cutting a path. This act alone surprised Kairos, because the knight carried a spear that he called a ‘mana lance’, only it was short and sheathed like a dagger until he took it out and wielded it. Then the mana lance became long, and the spear tip resembled a sharp gem with a faint glow that sliced through the vines and branches as if they were made of warm butter. Kairos had never seen such a weapon in all his life and instantly thought of many questions, but he kept silent in order to not expose any lack of knowledge or weakness.
He did not trust Gulliver, yet, and his mistrust only deepened with what he saw next.
A very dense patch of underbrush blocked their path in the forest. Kairos suggested backtracking, but Gulliver shook his head. Instead, he lifted his hand and traced a pattern into the air with his index finger. A glowing image appeared, and a sudden stream of air whipped through the foliage, cutting a path through the thick vegetation.
Cursed Knight Page 5