Knight Rising

by T. Mikita

  “You don’t have to park,” Asher said at last. “It’s enough you brought me to the station, Jules. Just pull up and let me out.” He dragged on his new jacket and pulled his hat over his ears, but she wedged her ancient Chevy into half of a parking space anyway. Snow was piled up like a small mountain filling part of the space. The lot was filled with frozen dirty slush.

  Jules shook her head. “No way. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” She grinned at him showing the chipped front tooth that she had never gotten fixed. “Anyway, what are friends for?” She shrugged as she squeezed her lean body out of the car between the door and a cement pole which was inches from the Chevy. Asher had a bit more room to maneuver on his side, but he had to climb over the mound of snow.

  “Thanks.” Asher said as he waited for her to hit the trunk unlock. He really didn’t want to sit at the train station himself for the next hour. They had left early in case of traffic, and now they had time to spare.

  The two of them found a cart and loaded his baggage onto it, two large suitcases and an old steamer trunk. Sharon had bought Asher the trunk for Christmas after he turned eleven. Sharon was the one who had read them Harry Potter. Asher sighed. He also had several cardboard boxes packed and taped with the name of the school…Whitehall Elite Academy. Asher thought it was particularly snobbish to actually name your school as elite. He couldn’t imagine how he would fit in with the other students. He was about as far from elite as could be.

  Asher pushed the cart while Jules walked at his side. The blistering cold reddened both of their cheeks as they walked. The wind chill was brutal. “Watch. This school is going to be just this side of Pittsburgh Public, and I’ll see how crazy Aunt Evelyn really is.”

  “What did your dad think of her?” Jules asked.

  “He never had much to say, except that his sister was set in her ways. Still, Sharon didn’t like her, and I always trusted her judgment.”

  “Sharon was the best,” Jules said softly. Tears welled in her eyes. After a moment, she continued. “Maybe it won’t be that bad. Your aunt does want you to come live with her.”

  “Not with her. At her school,” Asher said, emphasizing the difference.

  “Give her a chance.”

  “I suppose I have to,” Asher said. He hadn’t really wanted to go to live with his aunt, but he couldn’t stay in the house where his parents died, and when he called her to express his misgivings about leaving Pittsburgh, his aunt had insisted that he come to Whitehall. “At least to finish your senior year,” she had said.

  Now he was headed to some podunk town in Northwestern Pennsylvania where this exclusive swanky school was located. If it was so elite, why was it in the middle of nowhere, Asher wondered? There were things that just didn’t add up. Besides, the fact that his aunt was the headmistress could not be a good thing for any high school student even if the school wasn’t some hoity-toity academy. But Aunt Evelyn was his only living relative and even though, Asher did not know why, she apparently wanted him to live with her. Not enough to actually come and get him, mind you. Not enough to come to his Dad’s funeral, but just enough to send a train ticket along with the brief and impersonal letter.

  It rankled that his dad’s older sister had not bothered to even come to her only sibling’s funeral. Jules reminded him that people grieve in different ways, but in Asher’s opinion, sending the largest flower arrangement didn’t make up for the fact that it was her brother they put in the ground, and she wasn’t there. Instead, she sent a bouquet of gladiolas as if that was sufficient. At least she could have sent roses, Asher thought bitterly. Sharon liked roses.

  “I’m sending a train ticket,” Aunt Evelyn had said in her letter, “because it is easier than a plane. You can pack whatever you need, and send the rest. My driver will meet you at the station.”

  Right, Asher thought bitterly. Eighteen years of life packed up in a few boxes. It was going to be a long semester.

  Looking at the expanse of dirty snow, summer seemed far away. Jules brushed her dark hair out of her eyes and pushed her glasses up on her nose. She often wore contacts to school, but she was casual with Asher, especially at this ungodly time of the morning. They sat together in the station and talked about mundane things, trying to ignore the swift passage of time.

  “Summer won’t be that long,” Jules said as if reading his thoughts.

  He gave her a look.

  They both knew that wasn’t true.

  “Be careful, Jules,” he said softly thinking of the things with claws. They were still out there.

  “Stay safe,” Jules whispered back, as she hugged him tightly. Asher noticed that his slashed and twice stitched side gave him no pain at the movement. That was one more thing the strange man they met on the way home was right about. Asher’s stitches had healed amazingly fast.

  “You too,” he said, and squeezed her a bit too hard. A whistle blew signaling the train’s imminent departure. Asher reluctantly let Jules go and ascended the stairs to the upper platform, boarding the train.

  First order of business when he got to this school, Asher thought once he had taken his seat, was to explain to his aunt that Jules needed to come too. He was not leaving her behind at the mercy of whatever killed his parents.

  6

  Whitehall

  Asher spent most of the train trip texting Jules until the internet got spotty in the mountains. When he arrived at the station, he was met by a driver dressed in actual honest-to-god livery.

  Asher reached for his bags but the uniformed man took them from him with a perfunctory, “I’ll get that, sir.”

  Asher, who had never been called ‘sir’ in his life, just blinked at the man and let him gather the bags.

  The driver was bald and clean-shaven. He was probably in his forties. The uniform he wore was something like a bell hop’s, dark navy blue with gold piping. Then Asher realized he wore the same crest on his sleeve that Asher had seen on Whitehall’s letterhead. So, the man was not just a random driver. He worked for his aunt, or the school, at least.

  Asher wondered if he should tip the man. He felt guilty he didn’t think to bring cash. He was used to using the wallet on his phone. If technology didn’t work at this school, he was going to have to find another way to pay for things. As long as he didn’t have to use gold coins, he thought missing Jules immensely. They would laugh about the absurdity of the situation. But Jules wasn’t here. And he didn’t feel like laughing. He looked at the man accompanying him.

  “Do you work for my aunt?” Asher asked for clarification.

  The man puffed up a bit, obviously proud. “Yes. At Whitehall for fifteen years,” he said.

  “That long?” Asher pressed, thinking he could get some idea of the school from the man.

  “How far is it from the station?”

  “About an hour, providing we don’t hit snow in the mountains,” the driver said, as he opened the back door of the SUV for Asher.

  Ash hesitated. “I’d rather sit in the front,” Asher said. “If you don’t mind.” He felt weird sitting in the backseat for an hour-long drive.

  “As you wish, sir.” The man shut the back door and before Asher could reach the handle, he had the front passenger door open. Asher slid into the seat and the man shut the door for him.

  The leather seats were butter soft and heated. Asher ran a hand along the pristine upholstery. Wasn’t an SUV supposed to look at least a little rugged, he thought?

  Dad said his folks had been loaded, but still... “I’d have expected something more prestigious than this,” Asher joked. He waved a hand at the car as the man started the engine.

  “The Headmistress would have sent the Bentley,” the man said. “But it is supposed to snow, sir.”

  Asher blinked. He hadn’t been serious. “I’m Asher,” Asher said. He realized he did not know the man’s name. He had not given it. Did he consider himself just the help? Well, that shit didn’t fly with Asher and his self-important aunt would just have to
get used to it.

  “I know who you are,” the man said with almost reverence. “Asher Pendragon of Arthur’s legacy.”

  “Pendrick,” Asher said firmly. “And your name is…?”

  The driver gave Asher a glance as they pulled out of the parking lot. “It’s Oliver,” he said. “Oliver MacKenzie.”

  “Well, nice to meet you, Mr. MacKenzie,” Asher said brightly.

  “Just Oliver,” the driver said

  When the man didn’t say anything else, Asher attempted to text Jules to tell her he had arrived, but there was still no signal.

  Oliver said that powerful energy convergences blocked certain frequencies.

  “What?” Asher asked confused.

  “It interferes with the signal,” Oliver said succinctly.

  “Of course, it does,” Asher said. He could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.

  After a few minutes of tense silence, Asher tried to make conversation again unwillingly voicing what had been weighing on his mind. “My aunt didn’t come to meet me,” he said softly. “I thought that was strange.” What he really thought was that it was rude, but he didn’t say that.

  “Your aunt is a busy woman.”

  “She didn’t even come to my Dad’s funeral.” Asher retorted. Thoughts of the funeral made his throat tight. He remembered the smell of the flowers and the soft sobs of his friends, which threatened to break his own resolve not to cry. He knew, once he started, he would not stop. At least, Jules had been there as another family member to drop flowers and a clod of dirt on the caskets. He didn’t think he would have gotten through it without Jules. His aunt should have been there. His dad was her fucking brother. And he should not have had to go through that alone. He fought not to hate the woman before he even met her.

  “Her own brother,” Asher continued more than a bit annoyed. “She should have come. To miss your own brother’s funeral is just…inexcusable.”

  “Pardon me, sir,” the driver interrupted. “But I will not be party to any disrespect to the Lady Pendragon,” the man said sharply. “She is a good woman.”

  “Lady?” Asher muttered. Did his aunt fancy herself some sort of noble? She was apparently more bonkers than even his father knew. Asher fell silent and looked at the scenery as they drove from the station. Pine trees, heavily laden with snow lined both sides of the road. As they proceeded the road became more shrouded with the snow-covered trees. The roads, which were largely unplowed, made the SUV understandable. It appeared they were driving directly into the Allegheny Forest.

  Further from civilization with every passing minute, Asher thought. The shadows were lengthening with the short winter day, and Asher felt isolated and uncomfortable. What was he getting himself into? He shook off the foreboding. Evelyn was his aunt, his father’s sister, even though his father never talked much about her, and Sharon thought she was a kook, who she really was remained to be seen. Maybe, just maybe, she could shed some light on the creatures that killed his family.

  Within the hour, Whitehall came into view. Asher knew it was the school because his father had described it once as a stone castle. The central building was large and made of stone, but it was not really castle-like. It was more like a military academy and built like a fortress, walled and gated. What were they so afraid of, Asher wondered? Did they really need such security in the middle of nowhere? Then Asher thought of the things that killed his parents and suppressed a shiver.

  They turned onto a smaller stone lane that was amazingly devoid of snow. Maybe it was plowed and well-salted he thought, but there was no snow at all on the path. In fact, it was bone dry. The car momentarily paused at a heavy iron gate. It slid open to allow them entrance, without prompting. “I thought technology didn’t work up here,” Asher said with a smirk. He waved a hand at the iron gate. “That gate seems to work just fine.” He regained a bit of hope for his cell phone which he was already missing.

  The driver gave him a look. “It’s not technology,” he said.

  Asher gave a little snort, but truthfully, since the events of the past few days, his disbelief was quickly being shredded by the facts he had seen. It was harder and harder to hold onto his disbelief.

  It was dark by the time Asher was delivered to the front of the school. Not even a star seemed to shine in the cloudy sky and if they did, no one would see them through the thick tree cover. While Asher gawked at the massive oak door lit with sconces. They didn’t seem to have lightbulbs, but they glowed with a steady light all the same.

  Oliver touched a keypad to open the door. It must have been a keypad, Asher assured himself, although he hadn’t seen one. A clump of snow dropped from a nearby tree startling Asher as the driver told him that his trunk and bags would be delivered to his room. With a smart bow, the man departed. Asher nodded. His stomach lurched with sudden nerves, but he pushed the misgivings away and proceeded into the building. Bravery, right? He told himself. That’s what Jules would say. He wondered if he would even recognize his aunt.

  A thin straight-backed woman awaited him in the open foyer as if she had known he would arrive at just that moment. His Aunt Evelyn. Asher supposed he should be glad that she had finally deigned to meet him. The man had said, she was a busy woman. Busy with what? Asher wondered.

  Evelyn studied him with cold blue eyes that seemed to find him wanting. She was tall and ash-blonde, although not as tall as Asher remembered. He could actually look her in the eye, which made her just under six feet. He remembered her as taller, but perhaps that was because when he had last seen her, he was so young. Everyone looks tall when you are a five-year-old, he supposed.

  “Hi,” he said cautiously.

  “Good evening,” his aunt answered, still studying him. She sucked in a slow breath. “So, you are my brother’s son,” she said.

  “Yes,” Asher replied wondering what else he could say. He had called her ‘Aunt Evie’ as a child, but it did not seem to fit the stern woman before him. He wondered if this was as awkward for his aunt as it was for him. She didn’t look crazy. She looked formidable. She held out her right hand as if to shake his, and he took it somewhat hesitantly. It was cool and dry, with a large signet ring that dug into his hand with her grip. For a moment it was a solid handshake and then she pulled him forward enfolding him in an exceedingly awkward hug. His aunt released him almost instantly, but not before he got a whiff of her perfume. It was not overly feminine. Asher did not know what it was, but he did know it was not the kind bought in a department store. She smelled of sage and some other smokey incense, like the sort his father sometimes burned.

  “Come then,” she said gesturing for Asher to follow her, but the movement did not feel welcoming. Instead, he felt like this was a woman who you did not want to cross. He shivered.

  “I will have someone show you to your room. Dinner will be served at seven.”

  “Okay,” he said. Actually, dinner sounded great. He had not eaten since breakfast, and that was hours ago. Snacks on the train didn’t count. His aunt turned away. He had hoped to form some sort of rapport with his only remaining family. It seemed like that moment had passed and they had missed it.

  Asher followed his aunt through the large central building that lay at the front of the University. He assumed it was the administration building. It was massive. The floor of the hall was marble and there was an ornately carved staircase to the right. The hall was lit, but there was an obvious lack of lighting fixtures. Asher could not quite discern what was lighting the room. It seemed to come from the coffered ceiling. Maybe it was magic, he thought, and almost laughed.

  Over every exterior door was the school’s seal and armored knights’ statues decorated the front of the buildings. Where those really stone gargoyles perched at the top of the staircase? Holy crap. Asher looked up into the face of one of the bronzed knights and wondered if they had truly known what they were doing so many years ago.

  Did they know what they were doing now? Certainly, there was money here. A p
lace this vast was not built on pennies, or perhaps it was, considering that the place looked ancient. Still, a place with this much flash was rarely built by altruism. Asher paused to read the sign below a central statue in the main hall that he supposed was meant to be King Arthur. The plaque read: Courage to all who enter here. Then in tiny letters beneath that, the lines continued: The Knights of the Realm vow to defend the downtrodden from the denizens of hell and beyond. The perilous paths to Avalon are guarded.

  And now here I am, being led into the gates of hell, part of a crusade so bizarre, I can’t even imagine where it will end.

  “Asher,” his aunt interrupted his musings. “Your room is in the west wing of the Legacy Building.”

  “Okay,” he said. That really told him nothing since he had no idea where this west wing was.

  “All of the dorms are west of the admin building,” his aunt explained. “Many of the buildings have been connected with walkways so that students and teachers can avoid the inclement weather.”

  Asher could see where that might be a problem in this deep in the mountains. His aunt crossed the foyer and gestured to an enclosed bridge. The bridge connected with a completely different building. It was as immense as the first. They paused at the double doors. “I’ve keyed the entrances to your touch,” his aunt said, tapping the door with her forefinger. It clicked open. There was no keypad. Just wood. They were just ordinary doors, weren’t they? He found himself looking back at them as they entered the dormitory building.

  “This way,” his aunt said.

  Asher followed.

  They were on a landing of a massive marble staircase. His aunt went to the window which looked out over the grounds and they appeared to suddenly be several stories up.