Death's Knight

by Jena Rey

  Darian frowned, but finally nodded. “This town is very far away from the High Temple. It is unfortunate, but possible, that they did not know of the need. As the people continue to spread and settle there are not enough Knights to see to everyone. I don’t know about these Followers…”

  “WITCH!” A voice boomed from down the hillside, bouncing around the stone and echoing into the cave, cutting Darian off.

  Ephema cringed, biting down on a sigh. She recognized the voice. About twice a month, Mayor Trevin made the hike up the mountain to yell at her for some imagined slight. Last month he had blamed her for there being less water in the stream that fed the town. The month before that it had been her fault the wind had taken the shutters off of several houses during a storm.

  It was annoying, but generally he yelled for a while, made the signs against the evil eye and stomped away. She was certain he didn’t know exactly where her cave was, only that if he came into the general area and shouted enough, she would appear, and he could tell the townsfolk he’d done something about their troubles.

  She glanced at Darian, her understanding of the man still far from complete, but instinct said the Mayor didn’t need to know about him. “Stay here. I will return. He is loud, but not dangerous.” She didn’t wait for Darian to respond, moving quickly down the tunnel and to a narrow chimney of rock which she scurried up as easily as a mouse. The opening came out higher up the mountain and let her circle around to the path below Trevin, who was still yelling.

  “Good morning, Mayor.” She pitched her voice to carry, and the Mayor whipped around, startling at her sudden appearance. “Why have you come today?”

  “You!” He stomped to her, his fist raised, shaking. “You sent those beasts down upon us! The guards saw them come from this direction. Do not deny it!”

  Ephema tilted her head to the side, wisps of dark brown hair escaping the cloth she wore over her head. “I do not understand.”

  “Undead! Skeletons! With weapons even! They killed Ol’ Man Harvid’s goat and pounded on the gates until dawn when the guards took care of them. You are lucky our guardsmen were well prepared!”

  Prepared enough to watch the undead bang on the gates until dawn, when sunrise made them easier to break apart and scatter? And what would the undead do with a goat? They ignored creatures that went on more than two legs. Everyone knew that. The questions played through Ephema’s mind, but she didn’t speak them aloud. It was not worth arguing with the Mayor if she did not have to.

  “I have no guilt in this. I did nothing. The undead go where they will, like leaves on the wind. They are always drawn to cities. You know this. Why would last night be any different?”

  Trevin leaned closer to her, and she fought not to step back. She did not trust him not to hit her if he thought it would help him. She smelled the foulness of his breath, reeking of spiced meat and mead, hot on her skin. “And do they steal cattle as well? Six head have gone missing over the last month, all of them last seen up this way. Don’t think I don’t know how you work with those monsters and probably bandits as well. I have been patient with your foul presence in these hills for long enough. I warn you, Witch. I will return tomorrow morning, and you’d best be gone, or we’ll burn your evil out of these mountains and to the undead pits of hell with you.” Spittle flew from his lips with his snarls. He slammed into her shoulder as he stomped by her, incautiously making his way down the path. If there was any justice in the world he would have stumbled, but no matter how shaky his steps were, they led him away into the leafless foliage and the valley below.

  Ephema closed her eyes and rubbed her fingers across her forehead. The forest around her whispered in the winds with the creaking of branches and the shifting of stone. She hoped he would return home and sleep off the drink on his breath. Maybe by tomorrow he would forget his threats. Maybe she could return to being forgotten too and keep her home. She had no desire to leave and burning the woods was insanity; but people were known to do insane things, especially when they were afraid.

  She looked up at her cave where Darian had emerged, concern etched on his dirty face, and began back up the path. “You should go. I do not know when he will return, but he will not be friendly if he thinks you were here with me.”

  Darian’s gaze focused past her, down the mountain where the man had gone. “Would he really be foolish enough to burn the mountain?”

  “He might. I do not know.” She drew close enough she did not have to raise her voice. Despite her fears, between the Mayor and this man she would rather deal with the latter. “His people are unhappy. He is a bad leader, but they are afraid. He needs someone to blame for their unhappiness. He claims often I have stolen something, but I think that is only an excuse as he fattens his table.”

  Darian brought his gaze back to her, frowning again. “And he would risk their well-being as well as yours for that.” He shook his head as though he could shake out an unpleasant thought. “You said the town was at the bottom of the mountain?”

  Ephema didn’t like the sound in his voice, but she gestured down the path. If he was gone, she could hide until the townspeople forgot their ire. She did not believe they would burn anything if they couldn’t find her. She had been preparing winter supplies already and could stay out of the way. Perhaps in the spring she would go down again. “Not far. Once you leave the mountain there is an old road. It is not well kept, but it is easy to find. You can go to the town or around Aserian if you follow it.”

  “Thank you.” Darian spun on his heel and walked back into the cave, his thoughts dark. There was too much amiss here, and he would be a fool not to try to help, even if it slowed his mission by a couple of hours. He had hoped to find some of his brethren today. He would feel better in the company of others of his order, but he couldn’t let this woman be burned out of her home for no reason. This town was on his way back to Hawthan, he could do good and move forward at the same time.

  It didn’t take long to get his armor back on; it was an old habit by now and the leather fit him much better than it had over a year ago, when he’d earned it. The mace hung at his side, sliding into the thong that held it at his belt. He hoped he wouldn’t use the mace forever, but despite being at the end of his eight years of training, he’d not yet become a full Knight and received his soul weapon. He would have to work with what he had, and the mace was effective against the undead of flesh or bone.

  Darian picked up the scroll case, checking it over to make sure the bone and silver remained unbroken. The case hummed in his hand with divine energy, but he felt no temptation to open it, that duty was for the High Priest or the scholars. He just had to get the scroll home. Success was the best way to avenge his fallen comrades. He opened the large pouch that hung on his belt and slid the scroll case inside, grateful to have time to properly secure it this time. At least now if he got chased, he wouldn’t worry about dropping it.

  He smoothed the makeshift bed of rushes and rags and took one last look around the little cavern. It was difficult to believe that anyone lived in such sparse conditions, but it seemed the lady made it work for her. It was her home, and Darian felt it was important to do whatever he could to ensure her safety after he was gone.

  He walked back to the cave entrance, the mace occasionally slapping against his side. The woman was crouched near where she’d been this morning, fiddling with a bundle of cloth. “You called that man Mayor, didn’t you? He runs the entire town of Aserian?”

  She glanced up, and he could see the bundle was filled with roots and tied to a worn water skin. She was ignoring his protests about feeding him, and it would be rude to argue. She nodded and offered the food. “Yes, he does. I think… you do not have to go there. You are strong, and there are other places beyond Aserian with walls and safety.”

  “I do have to go there.” He knelt down to accept the bundle. “This is not necessary, but it is very appreciated.”

  Her fingers brushed his, and she pulled her hands back quickly. Her
expression showed puzzlement as she leaned back on her haunches, and he noticed her feet were still bare. “Why do you have to go there? They will not help you.”

  “I don’t expect them to help me, but I cannot repay your kindness by leaving you in danger. I will tell them to leave you alone.” He saw the fear in her eyes, and he again regretted attacking her. He had many excuses for what he had done, but if he’d been slower to react things might have been different. “You are a kind soul, and you helped me.”

  He shrugged and pushed to his feet, automatically settling his mace. “Besides, there is the matter of the removal of my brothers to address and a temple to assess, so I can tell the High Priest of the needs of the people. Just because their Mayor closed the temple doesn’t mean there aren’t still worshipers in need here.”

  “But…” She blinked a few times and shook her head. “You don’t… No one will find me here. If they come, they will just yell and go away. If you confront them, they will hurt you. I do not even know your name to ask for you if they do.”

  “They won’t keep going away forever. You’ve been very lucky, and your cave is well hidden, but if they really searched, they’d find you eventually. The biggest reason they haven’t, if I were to wager, is because they think you are capable of harming them. Even if you are, fear won’t last forever. They need to know you aren’t a good target.” He carefully stepped around her, mindful of his footsteps in the loose dirt. It would hardly do to kick dust into her face. A smile crept onto his face, the first real one he’d had since waking. “My name is Darian, after my father. Thank you for saving my life.”

  He strode away down the mountain before she could protest any further. A few moments later, her quiet footsteps followed him through the dust.

  Chapter Two

  It took nearly an hour of walking and scrambling down the mountain side before Darian spotted the town – desperately trying to be a city – that was Aserian. He found the road, such as it was, and his travel went faster, bringing him to the town by midmorning.

  The town before him had, at one point, been constructed of proper stone and metalwork, but that had long been left to the elements, the walls now crawling with greenery and thick mosses. It was obvious Aserian had expanded, and the people had gone to the abundant forest around for materials to build new outbuildings and a thick, wide wooden wall to keep out the undead. At least they weren’t foolish enough to try to live outside the walls, as settlers sometimes attempted. Darian had heard awful stories of the slaughter that resulted from thin fences and unprotected homes. Here, nothing was well-maintained and some areas looked to be one good sneeze away from collapse, but they had not completely abandoned common sense.

  Darian kept his pace steady as he approached the town, though his mind raced as he considered everything he’d heard the Mayor say. Witch. Undead at the gates. Burn out the hills. He knew something had to be done, but how much could he, only a Journeyman Knight, accomplish? It occurred to him that – just maybe – he might have convinced his reluctant hostess to move instead of taking on the leadership of the town. That thought didn’t sit well with him. She hadn’t done anything wrong. He was doing the right thing. He just didn’t know how he was going to accomplish it.

  He adjusted his armor slightly as he walked. The journeyman armor fit better now than it had the first time he’d put it on, but it still wasn’t exactly right for his frame and even the wan sunlight was making him warm. He looked forward to the day when he became a full-fledged Knight of Osephetin and his soul armor would fit like a second skin. It was what he’d always wanted, and he knew he could pass the tests if the High Priest would only let him try.

  As he approached the gates to the town, his gaze followed the curve of the wall to the town’s funeral yard and children’s cemetery. In the back of the yard stood the massive stone of the funeral tablet. It was a horrible reminder of the extremes people had been driven to in the early days before they had learned that any flame, not just Osephetin’s Eternal fires would keep the dead from rising. Darian didn’t know how many years the crushing stones had been used for, and he was glad he’d never seen one that wasn’t only a reminder of how bad things could be.

  Near the stone stood the crematorium where bodies not given rites at a temple were burned by those appointed by the town. It wasn’t in use now, as no smoke rose from the stacks. Darian stopped to look at the building and study the children’s cemetery with its tiny headstones and urns. Darian didn’t understand why children didn’t rise after death. The High Priest often cited the purity of a child’s soul as the reason, though some of the Knights privately argued that it was more about the mass of a body required for the dark magic to take hold. Either way, Darian was grateful it was the case. Fighting the undead was hard enough without fighting children.

  He shook his head and turned away, continuing on. Closer to the gates, he saw that the Mayor hadn’t lied about being attacked by the undead. The gates bore fresh scratches and gouges, and piles of broken, crushed bones and shreds of fabric told of the defense the town had put up. Darian knelt by one of the piles, studying the yellowed bone shards. There was no way to know if these were the same skeletons that had attacked his convoy and killed his comrades, but he hoped they were and took comfort in seeing them in pieces. If the townsfolk burned and scattered them today, they wouldn’t return for some time. Maybe not at all. Undead killed with divine power stayed that way, but sometimes the towns got lucky too.

  “Ho there!” A voice echoed from the gate above, and when Darian looked up, he could make out the top of a man’s head, backlit by the sun. “What you doing with those bones, boy? Doncha know better than to play with cursed stuff? We beat those bastards back from the gates not two hours ago. An’ Ingersol got rot from it, so they’re not safe. The teams’ll give them a burning and crushing later. Stop mucking with them.” The warning given, he leaned his arms on the top of the wall and scratched his forehead. “Anyway. Who are you and what are you doing here? Ain’t often we see folks carrying proper weapons and armory in these parts.”

  Darian pushed to his feet, his mind racing with the best way to respond. He couldn’t just accuse the Mayor out of hand, or they’d never open the gates. He frowned a little. “I’m a bit lost, truth told.” He made sure his voice was loud enough that it carried to the other soldiers he was positive were on the other side of the gate. “I’m looking for the town of Aserian. I heard the Mayor was looking for some lost cattle. But I got lost when I picked up some undead a trail or two back, and I’m all turned around. Can you point me in the right direction, please?”

  A second voice joined the first. It was distant and didn’t seem to be talking to Darian, but rather the man on the wall who ducked down to listen. The two went back and forth for a moment before the second voice retreated and the head popped back up at the top of the gate, much like the groundhogs Darian had chased as a child. “Mayor Trevin’s been in a snit over those cattle. I’m sure he’ll be right happy to hear whatever you have to say.” He gestured to his right. “There’s a smaller door over that way. You see it? The big gate takes too long to open if there’s nothing but one body to come through. Come on over while Boris gets the Mayor.”

  Darian held back a smile, relieved. He’d hoped they’d go for that carrot, not that he was sure how far he could take it, but he wanted to see this Mayor for himself. He jogged over to the smaller door, which was cleverly disguised to look like part of the wall. If he hadn’t known to look for it, he might have missed it all together. He knocked once. From behind the door came the sounds of latches being thrown and a bar grinding out of the way. Finally, the door swung open, allowing him access.

  The interior of the town looked much like the exterior. Many of the buildings were in severe states of disrepair, patched with whatever came to hand with little eye for aesthetics over functionality. In a few spots, fresh white wash had been applied, but instead of making the buildings look better, they just made everything around them dingier.


  Darian nodded at the men who’d opened the door for him and stepped aside so it could be closed again. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d wandered voluntarily into the fox’s den, but it couldn’t be helped. The closest guard gave a wide smile which showed a couple of missing teeth deeper in his mouth. While the expression was welcoming, the other guards didn’t seem nearly as pleased to see a stranger, much more guarded in their expressions. Their displeasure deepened as the Mayor came bustling down the street, his gait odd as he tried to hurry without appearing to run. Several other men followed him and, as curiosity spread, many of the townspeople drifted from their homes and shops to see what the rising noise was about.

  Mayor Trevin came to a halt a few feet away from Darian, surveying him with a deep scowl. His eyes paused at the worn journeyman badge on the left breast of Darian’s armor, but it only made him more annoyed. “Snelson! What are you doing letting this trash into town? You’re supposed to question all newcomers before they are allowed entry!”

  “But…I did, Mister Mayor, Sir. He said he had a message for you about those missing cows. He’s a Knight too, or as close as we ever see out here. I didn’t see any sign of undead nor Ephema, so I figured it was safe and you would want to talk to him yourself. I can’t see where that’s wrong.”

  “Do not mention that witch in these walls! You’ll bring her evil eye down upon us!” The Mayor’s scowl deepened, drawing furrows in his fat face. He glanced at the man standing at his elbow who was dressed in mismatched and poorly fitting amor. A sword hung at his hip, the weapon and its sheath well maintained despite everything else. “Sergeant, we will discuss your guardsmen’s training when this is over with. Apparently, they are in much need of retraining.” His narrow gaze returned to Darian, and Darian almost felt the moment the Mayor decided he was no one of any importance or use. “So you’ve raised my whole town with your inquiries, boy. What do you have to say for yourself?”