All of the hobs were dead or severely wounded, except for one, which was limping away with a maimed leg – the lone survivor. It didn’t survive long, because Claudius caught up with it and plunged his mana lance into its back with enough force that the tip protruded out its chest. The hob twitched and dangled as it choked on its own blood. Claudius flung the dying creature down, and plunged the mana lance into its neck. Althea looked away, feeling sick.
‘We tried to get here sooner, but we had to finish the other hobs back there,’ Cassie explained.
‘Sorry,’ Althea muttered.
‘Why’d you run off like that?’ Claudius demanded. ‘Didn’t Lady Beatrice tell us to stick together?!’
Althea couldn’t look at them. She was ashamed she had left her squad like that. Claudius’s eyes held nothing but disgust. Cassie looked at Althea with disappointment.
As Althea turned to face Lady Beatrice, the pit of her stomach sank. She saw the arrow meant for her. A lucky shot, the arrow hit the seam in Lady Beatrice’s armour; it had sunk several inches into her side. Even without the poison, this was a deadly wound. Lady Beatrice crumbled to the ground and lay still.
Her eyes on Lady Beatrice’s unmoving form, Althea said to no one in particular, ‘This is all my fault.’
‘Of course this is your fault,’ Claudius bellowed. ‘If you hadn’t run off like that, then none of this would have happened!’
‘I’m sorry!’ she shouted, fighting back tears.
He glared at her, then, his voice dripping with venom, ‘Your apologies won’t fix this if she dies, Avenal. You never should have been out here. You’ll never be a knight because of this, and it won’t matter who your daddy is!’
‘That’s enough, Claudius,’ Cassie intervened. ‘Standing around and yelling about it isn’t going to solve anything. We need to get help.’
‘I’ll go,’ Althea offered.
‘No!’ Claudius yelled. ‘You’ve done enough damage already. The last thing we need you doing is botching up another job. You stay here with Lady Beatrice and do nothing. Cassie and I will go and get Sir Flain. Maybe he can do something.’
Althea watched as the two split up to canvas the whereabouts of Sir Flain’s group. She knelt down by Lady Beatrice and checked her vital signs. She felt a faint pulse but her breathing was very shallow. The poison was spreading fast, Althea thought. Sir Flain was not going to make it in time.
With her finger, she began casting the forbidden glyph. She had studied the book Argent gave her and practiced the technique in the late hours of the night. With the first stroke of the glyph, she could feel the mana hidden, trapped in the plants around her. She called out to them – to the lives she could feel thrumming with the power she needed to heal this injury. Almost of its own accord, the elven glyph continued to build, its rounded edges so different, yet so similar, to Ordonian glyphs. The wound. The poison. So much to heal. She knew she could do this.
She silently called on the life all around her. There was so much life around her. It responded! Power filled her – much more power than she had ever experienced. Her senses sharpened to a painful clarity. She could see and count every one of the fine hairs along Lady Beatrice’s jawline. She could hear the slowed heartbeat within her chest. Althea felt the breath, almost gone, as it moved in and out of Lady Beatrice’s nostrils. All that life she pushed into the glyph. As she completed the spell, the glyph flashed so brightly that Althea was blinded. The joy of it was ecstasy.
All of her doubts washed away.
She had done the right thing.
* * *
Sir Flain was drenched in sweat. All the squires were, except Shah, who still lay unconscious at the edge of the copse of trees near the barn. No one had bothered to check on him.
‘I thought I was clear about fire magic?’ Flain glowered at Kairos.
They all stared at the charred hob corpse, small wisps of flame still flickering about the blackened mound.
‘You could have set the whole orchard ablaze, Squire Azel.’ Flain was not happy with Kairos’s breach of discipline, but he had to admit that the squire’s action had prevented the hob from escaping. Urzen and Vaughn had drained most of their mana on the other hobs, and Flain had been too far away to finish the job himself, so Kairos used a fireball from his staff to strike the last retreating hob from a distance. It had been a foolhardy thing to do, but Flain knew that the gods – if any were still around and watching over them – smiled on the brave.
‘Should we tend to Shah?’ Urzen asked.
‘Yes,’ Flain answered. ‘Go check on him. Make sure his head injury isn’t too serious, though I doubt he can further damage that addled brain of his.’
The hob corpses lay scattered about the orchard. Urzen had found some shovels in the barn, and Flain made Kairos bury them all. It seemed fitting, as he was the one who disobeyed orders. Still, the expedition was a success, and all the squires except Shah had performed so well that Flain’s anger had already dissipated. He said nothing when Vaughn began helping with the burials, moving mounds of dirt with his remaining magic.
Flain eventually went where Urzen hovered over Shah, and roused the unconscious squire with a minor healing spell. He woke with a start.
‘W-what happened?’
‘Well done, Squire Shah,’ Flain said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘You successfully defeated yourself in combat.’
Shah smiled, uncomprehending and dazed. ‘I did?’
Flain did not answer. He looked up at Urzen, who stood by attentively. ‘Squire Urzen, keep watch for the rest of us,’ he ordered, peering off in the distance. ‘There may be other hobs around. Otherwise, good work.’
‘Yes, sir!’ Urzen shouted, then ran up the hill where he had a better vantage point.
The paladin nodded to himself. These squires were coming along, except for Shah, whom Flain decided was going to clean the entire barracks with a toothbrush after this. The other three still had much to learn, but they were ready to become knights. The only thing that was left was the test. His gaze fell on Kairos, more especially on his glove and the staff. He was about to question him, when the sound of running footsteps approached.
‘Sir Flain?’ It was Squire Urzen. ‘Someone approaches from the northeast.’
They all turned their heads towards the approaching figure – except Shah who scanned the west.
Whoever it was ran with urgency. Flain felt a sense of unease as he waited. He could see, even in the dark, the glowing tip of a mana lance bobbing as the figure ran towards them. Was someone in trouble? The other squires stopped what they were doing and approached Flain. They, too, were concerned.
Then they saw it was Claudius. He stopped short of Flain, panting heavily and pouring sweat.
‘What’s going on, squire?’ Flain demanded. ‘Report.’
‘It’s…It’s…’ Claudius paused to catch his breath. ‘It’s… Lady Beatrice!’
Flain took a step forward. ‘What about Lady Beatrice?’
‘S-she’s been gravely injured… Hobs ambushed us!’
‘Where are they?’ Flain asked.
‘The north end of the star-apple grove, near the bend in the river. Squire Avenal fell into an ambush when she–’
Kairos took off.
‘Wait, Squire Azel!’ Flain called, but Kairos continued running.
The paladin swore and ran after him, towards Lady Beatrice’s group. First Shah, and now an ambush. He was getting too old for this.
* * *
Lady Beatrice sat up, shock painting her features, as she picked up the arrow that had nearly killed her. The healing had pushed it out of her side.
Something fell, startling Lady Beatrice and Althea. It hit with a wet thump, smelling like rotten fruit. Then more of the things fell, like ripples in a pond when a stone is thrown in. The ripples were travelling out from where Lady Beatrice and Althea were.
Althea realised, with curiosity, that the star-apples were falling. She looked up to see th
at the leaves had shrivelled and blackened, their branches twisted and curled in a sickly manner. The star-apples had all suddenly rotted.
‘Althea!’
Althea looked up. The voice belonged to Kairos, and she felt a swell of warmth rush through her upon the sight of him.
‘Althea, are you all right?’ He ran up and embraced her tightly.
‘Y-yes,’ she said, returning the embrace, still looking around in confusion.
As she tried to make sense of it, Sir Flain strode up to the pair, taking long strides. His plate mail gleamed in the last remnants of the sunlight. ‘Oh, no, no, no… You stupid little girl! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?’ The abject disgust on his face confused Althea.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, feeling rather hurt and offended. ‘She would have died otherwise. I saved her!’
‘You have used the forbidden magic.’ The force of his eyes falling on her made Althea flinch back in fear. ‘You’ve destroyed the life in this orchard. Destroyed! Your forbidden magic has tainted this grove.’ Then his eyes widened. ‘Where did you learn this magic from? Tell me where!’
Althea did not answer. She lowered her gaze, refusing to meet Flain’s penetrating stare.
* * *
Althea’s boots clicked softly as she walked the Gauntlet. Sir Flain had ordered her to report to his office. That was hours ago. Now, she could hear him shouting at Shah from the small building. Even the other instructors had fled before the storm of his anger, and Althea would rather have been going to her execution.
‘I’ve never seen someone as inept enough to knock himself out with his own weapon. Did you train to be so stupid, Squire Shah, or does it come naturally?’
In the brief silence, she heard Shah’s voice, sounding very small, ‘Well, I...’
‘The question was rhetorical, Squire Shah! You can’t even stand there and get chewed out properly? Don’t answer that! Shut your mouth! Do you have any idea that your mere existence is a liability to this Order? Don’t ignore the question, Squire Shah! Answer me!’
‘I...’
‘Shut it! You obviously haven’t a clue!’
This went on for several more minutes. Althea’s knees were shaking, and she thought she might faint.
When the door opened, she gave a small squeak of surprise. She had been so consumed by her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed Sir Flain had quit yelling.
As Shah walked out, Althea walked in. He whispered to her, ‘I think he’s angrier than usual, Avenal.’ His eyes held worry for her.
‘Could you please shut the door, Squire Avenal?’ Sir Flain asked softly. ‘And please have a seat.’
Althea froze. She had expected a different kind of greeting. A louder one. A more insulting one. One more like... Well, more like Sir Flain. She sat in the wooden chair across the desk from the paladin.
‘I know you think you healed Lady Beatrice. Where did you learn to do that from?’ he asked.
Althea thought of the spellbook that Argent had given her, but she would say nothing of it. ‘From a book,’ she said quietly.
Sir Flain asked, ‘Do you know the crime you’ve committed? That the elves would take you away, question you at length, and execute you if they ever found out what you’ve done? You have committed unsanctioned use of a forbidden art, and have done so in such a blatant manner.’
Dumbfounded, Althea could only blink. All that because I healed someone?
‘If it was allowed, don’t you think the Academy would teach classes on healing?’
‘I didn’t... I never...’
Sir Flain lifted a hand, stopping her from continuing. ‘I understand. You chased the hob to show you were brave and useful. So brave and useful that you ran straight into a hob ambush. A hob ambush I, myself, taught the class on how to recognise and avoid. But you did not recognise it. You did not avoid it. You did not show yourself to be brave or useful. And, in the process, you got Lady Beatrice seriously wounded. Your squadmates had to clean up your mess. And, worst of all, you tried to heal Lady Beatrice.’
Hurt and angry, Althea looked Sir Flain in the eye. ‘I did heal her. You saw she was healed.’
‘No. You are not sanctioned to heal because you are not trained to heal. Had you been trained, you would have known that improper healing – what you did – can cause your spirit, and hers, to rot. The living body with a rotted soul can become a terrible thing. You irrevocably destroyed a major section of the star-apple grove you were supposed to protect. You could have corrupted Lady Beatrice’s soul along with your own. What you performed back there was tantamount to necromancy. What in the names of the gods of creation do you have to say for yourself?’
Althea sat in silence. She couldn’t breathe. Everything she had tried to do she had worse than failed at. The walls of the office seemed to close in on her, trapping her. Vaughn, Claudius and Nacole had been right about her all this time. She was dangerous to those around her. She decided she had to leave. Leave the Mana Knights. Leave Valour Keep before she hurt anyone else.
She had to run.
Flain recognised the pained look on her face, saw her feet move towards the door.
‘Stop right there, Avenal!’ he commanded, his booming voice freezing her in place. ‘Since you insisted on travelling down this trail of stupidity, there’s something you should know. Now follow me.’
Althea listened. She had no other choice. All Flain had to do was write up a report of her unsanctioned use of healing magic and her prospects of becoming a knight would come to an end. She could run away or face her fate head on, so she decided to see everything until the end.
The paladin opened the side door of his living quarters, which led into his infamous flower garden, the literal root of the ‘Flower Flain’ moniker whose mention caused veins to bulge out of the knight’s neck in large, pulsating branches. They walked amongst neat rows of flowers and all varieties of exotic plants that Althea could not name. He opened the door to the greenhouse which housed the plants more sensitive to the colder weather.
‘What’s this?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ he said caustically. ‘It’s my flower garden.’
‘I know that, Sir Flain,’ Althea said with the utmost respect. ‘But why are you showing it to me?’
‘Training,’ he said, picking up a trowel and a watering can.
‘Training?’ Althea was confused. She was half-expecting to till the soil and water the plants in lieu of expulsion from the Knighthood. But how would this suffice as training? Unless he was going to teach her gardening because he was too lazy to tend his own garden. That sounded like something Flain would do, Althea decided. He probably hated her with a passion.
But Flain had other plans.
‘You’re going to cast that healing spell and draw upon the inherent mana residing within these plants.’ Flain pointed to a cluster of common Ordonian daffodils. ‘Starting with these.’
‘You want me to–’ Althea began, shocked.
‘Did I stutter, Squire Avenal?’ Flain shouted. ‘You will practise your healing spell – and don’t overdraw, mind you! Doing so will kill them, and if you do that, I’ll have you dig me some new ones from the forests outside of Vadost, so I suggest you draw carefully.’ As he yelled at Althea, he watered a few of the plants, and inspected a row of dragon lilies, whose petals looked like scales. His rough, calloused hands gently caressed each plant like a loving father. Althea thought the tender gesture contrasted with the scowl on his face and almost giggled aloud, forgetting her dire situation.
‘So that’s why you have the flower garden!’ Althea said in sudden understanding. ‘It was for training because you’re a paladin and you needed to practise your healing magic! All this time, everyone called you Flower Flain because they thought you were some daft looney who enjoyed flowers a bit too much and–’ Althea suddenly stopped, horrified at what had she blurted out. ‘Oh dear, I’m sorry–’ she began.
‘That’s not at all why I have a flower garden,’
Flain snapped, his voice taking on its usual irritated edge.
‘I didn’t mean…’ Althea couldn’t finish. She had to open her loud mouth; Stella had often told her that she couldn’t keep it shut enough.
‘And I know what you meant, and I know what the others say behind my back, and I don’t care.’
‘Why did you start this garden then?’
Flain stopped his inspection of the dragon lilies and stared in Althea’s direction, although he seemed to be looking off somewhere else. The moustache quivered, and she thought she detected a faint smile. His next words surprised her. ‘I didn’t,’ he said. ‘My wife did.’
‘Your wife?’
‘Hilda. She loved collecting flowers from throughout the world. You should have seen her garden at our old house in Ordon.’ Flain smiled at the memory. ‘She would make me accompany her on these outlandish excursions to find the rarest species.’
Althea felt uneasy. ‘Sir Flain, you mention her in the past tense.’
Flain nodded. ‘She fell ill one day. The doctors couldn’t do anything and the closest healer lacked the skill to remove her sickness. I summoned a high-ranking cleric, but he couldn’t arrive in time.
‘Before she died, she made me promise to continue tending her garden,’ he muttered sadly. ‘She said it would break her heart to see all of her hard work go to waste.’
Althea nodded, and thought of those many horrible jokes of ‘Flower Flain’ she had made behind his back to the other squires. The memory made her burn with a profound shame, and she dearly wished she could unsay those cruel words.
‘I wasn’t very good at gardening,’ he continued. ‘Many of the flowers died. So I took to the library to study botany, and I visited the numerous gardens around the capital. I eventually became better, and soon, I had one of the most impressive gardens in Ordon. A healer came by one day and asked to train in my garden, and that was when I took an interest in healing.’ He paused and looked at Althea. ‘Because, had I known some good healing spells, maybe my wife would be here today.’
Cursed Knight Page 31