Knightsblade

by Andy Clark

  ‘I appreciate the honour you offer me here, but my people must come first,’ said Kurt. ‘You understand, my liege?’

  ‘Well enough,’ said Danial, rising from his throne. ‘And now, as you have yourself said more than once, we are busy men. I must away, or else the awakening ceremony will take place in my absence.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Kurt, and he and his Knights stood too. ‘Sire Ottovio shall escort you back to your lander.’

  ‘Thank you, Grandmarshal Tan Minotos, and for your hospitality also.’

  ‘A privilege, my king,’ said Kurt, ‘Emperor be praised.’ He and his Knights bowed, making the sign of the aquila. Danial returned the gesture, then turned and marched from the iron sanctum with Sire Ottovio at his side.

  An hour later, Danial sat in a cushioned restraint-throne in the transport bay of his shuttle. His was one of six such thrones lining the walls. Several were occupied by bodyguards, hand-picked elites from House Draconis’ militia clad in bulky carapace armour.

  Their leader, Captain Bannoch, sat at Danial’s right hand.

  Opposite Danial sat his herald, Sire Markos Dar Draconis. The grizzled old Knight scowled mightily, dragging one hand through his grey hair. When he spoke, his voice emerged as a mechanical rasp from the vocal augmetic in his throat. An old wound, dealt by a madman who thought himself a god.

  ‘Silly arse still isn’t budging then?’

  ‘If you mean, “Has Grandmarshal Kurt reconsidered his position on the decrees?” then no,’ said Danial. ‘I don’t believe he has. But there was a moment, just before I left. He looked almost as though he wished to say something other than he did.’

  ‘Then he should come out and say it, instead of drinking wine and sulking like a squire,’ said Markos. ‘That boy dishonours his father’s memory.’

  ‘He does what he believes to be right in challenging circumstances,’ said Danial. ‘And he has potential. I see it in him. His lands are not ill-managed. His tithes come in on time. His lances swell with new Knights.’

  ‘Yet he remains obstinately isolationist,’ said Markos. ‘It’s a position you can’t allow him to maintain indefinitely, sire.’

  ‘I know, Markos,’ said Danial. He massaged his temples. ‘And you know me better than to believe that I would.’ Bannoch offered him a canteen, and he took a long pull on it. The cold spring water chased away the bitter aftertaste of Kurt’s wine.

  ‘He will come around,’ said Danial, handing Bannoch’s canteen back with a nod of thanks. ‘I only hope he does so before I’m forced to intercede.’

  ‘That could go ill,’ said Markos, sounding none too troubled. ‘For House Minotos, at least.’

  ‘If anything comes of it, it will be jousting only,’ said Danial. ‘My father did not permit the Rule of Blood in settling our disputes, and neither shall I. Such traditions died with House Chimaeros.’

  ‘Not everything your father decreed was wise,’ said Markos. ‘I loved the old rogue, but he liked to be liked a little too much.’

  ‘Be that as it may, sire herald, that is one decree I shall uphold. The Knights of Adrastapol have fought one another enough. There will be no civil conflict upon my planet, not while I am king. It is wasteful, prideful and it dishonours us in the Emperor’s eyes. Donatos cost us enough allies.’

  ‘As you say,’ said Markos.

  They lapsed into silence. The shuttle’s engines rumbled. Danial craned round to stare out of the viewport behind him. Framed by the blue void, he saw a Lightning interceptor in the colours of House Draconis. Three such craft formed his aerial escort.

  Rocky plains rolled past far below, crater-mines and agriplexes dotting them like stitchwork on a tapestry.

  ‘House Minotos’ lands are as hard as its Knights,’ said Danial reflectively. ‘They are as stubborn as its stone and as proud as its mountains.’

  ‘The mines are rich, though,’ said Markos. ‘There’s ample ironwealth beneath all that rock and dust. Wealth they should be sharing.’

  ‘I don’t disagree,’ said Danial. ‘But we’ve spoken enough of this for now. It’s a long flight to the northern Valatane. We’ll eat and then see if we can’t catch a few hours’ sleep. Emperor knows I’ve had little enough in the past few days.’

  ‘Hah, now the king speaks sense,’ said Markos with a grin. Bannoch took his cue, motioning to one of his guardsmen to unbuckle and fetch supplies from the shuttle’s hold.

  As the man disappeared through a hatch, Danial sat back and returned his gaze to the viewport. He watched the lands roll past below him and enjoyed, if only for a short while, his distance from all that he ruled.

  ‘Danial.’ He felt a hand shaking his shoulder. ‘Liege, we’ve arrived.’

  Danial opened his eyes, blinking away the blurring of sleep. He coughed, then sat up in his restraints and glanced groggily through the viewport. The sky had turned the colour of blood and embers, limning the scattered clouds with fire, and a line of liquid gold clung to the horizon. The familiar grasslands of the Valatane spread out below, growing closer as his shuttle descended through the twilight. Rows of habitents were visible through the gloom, groundcars and Charger class heavy haulers rumbling between them.

  ‘Thank you, Markos,’ he said. ‘What’s the hour?’

  ‘Ten after six,’ said Markos. He was busying himself with ceremonial garb, buckling his tabard and checking his sword belt. ‘There’s a short while yet before the ceremony gets underway.’

  ‘Time enough to greet and be greeted then,’ said Danial. He removed his crown, allowing its polyfibre strands to uncouple from his neural jacks. The crown’s flow of auspex data cut off, leaving his field of vision unaugmented.

  ‘Polluxis did a wonderful job crafting this,’ he said, blinking and stretching. ‘But sometimes it is a relief to take it off for a few moments.’

  Markos grunted, busy adjusting his collar to conceal his vox augmetic.

  Danial hid a smile at his old mentor’s bluff vanity. He gave his crown a quick polish with the corner of his tabard, then set it back in place. Augmetics meshed with a feeling like cold silk on his skin, and the datastreams returned to his peripheral vision.

  He stood as the shuttle yawed slowly around, engines thrumming in its final descent. Danial accepted the polymesh cloak that Bannoch handed him, fastening it at his throat and throwing it over one shoulder. He touched a hand to his grandfather’s amulet, hung upon a chain about his neck, then willed his servo skulls to hover into place above him.

  ‘You look regal,’ said Markos, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Every inch the man your father was, and more.’

  Danial rode out the jolt as the shuttle touched down.

  ‘Disengaging ramp now, my liege,’ came the pilot’s voice through the interior vox. ‘Emperor be with you.’

  Hydraulics whined, runes flashed from red to green, and the shuttle’s rear hatch swung down.

  As it touched the ferrocrete of the landing pad, several dozen Knights were revealed beyond. Lit by tall chem-brazier towers, they knelt in two lines, forming a corridor that Danial and his entourage advanced down. At its end waited an assemblage of the great and good of House Draconis, and at their backs loomed the Adrapotine mountains, their peaks tinged crimson and gold by the day’s last light.

  Danial’s eyes went first to Lady Suset, both his Gatekeeper and Consort these last five years. Short for a Knight, she was stockily built, dark-haired, and radiated a constant energy and challenge that Danial found compelling. Suset shot him a knowing grin, there and gone again in an instant. Beside Suset stood three further Knights: Sire Percivane, Master of the Faith, who was tall and muscular with his open, honest smile; Sire Garath, Master at Arms, wiry of build and always one facial tic away from a sneer; and Jennika Tan Draconis, Danial’s older sister and his First Knight.

  ‘Jen looks tired,’ muttered Markos.

 
‘Wouldn’t you?’ replied Danial. ‘They were in the warp for a month longer than planned. She’s literally just returned, and knowing my sister, probably hasn’t even stopped to sleep.’

  Jennika was taller than Danial but shared his same piercing green eyes and sandy blonde hair, which she wore shaved on one side of her head and cut short and choppy down the other. The tattoos common to House Draconis’ Knights coiled up her neck and along the shaved side of her scalp. Combined with her hard beauty and heavily armoured bodyglove, they made her look truly formidable. It was an appearance she had to maintain, Danial knew, for while House Draconis permitted female Knights, she was the first ever to hold such an august rank.

  There were those amongst her subordinates who resented that fact greatly.

  ‘Brother,’ said Jennika, smiling.

  ‘Sister,’ replied Danial, with a grin, and the two embraced briefly.

  ‘I go away on campaign for a year and you cover the planet in farms and dams,’ she said. ‘You know Knights are supposed to fight, yes?’

  ‘You do enough of that for the both of us,’ said Danial, smiling. ‘And you know High Kings are meant to rule, yes? The infrastructural improvements we’re making now will benefit our people for years to come.’

  ‘I know. You do our house great honour by your actions,’ she said.

  ‘As do you,’ replied Danial. ‘How went the war?’

  A shadow passed across his sister’s features.

  ‘Pyrodiah stands and the xenos are no more,’ she said. ‘Several Knights acquitted themselves with particular honour and I have forwarded their names for commendation. There were casualties, though. Sire Tylen fell, as did Lady Kathaine. Sire Jaekeb will be six months with the chirurgeons before he can sit in his throne again.’

  ‘The fallen will be remembered with valour,’ said Suset. ‘Jaekeb will pilot again, all the wiser for his scars. Another world of the Imperium stands safe where it would have been lost. And no doubt more would have fallen, my lady, had you not commanded.’

  ‘I hope so, Lady Suset,’ replied Jennika.

  Danial noticed the newly arrived Knights glance behind him.

  ‘No Minotos delegation with you, then?’ asked Sire Garath.

  ‘No Minotos,’ said Markos. ‘Grandmarshal Kurt has not yet gained a full appreciation of King Danial’s vision for our world, apparently.’

  Garath sniffed, the action implying he had expected no less.

  ‘He will come around,’ said Danial firmly.

  ‘He will,’ agreed Suset. ‘Even if it has to be at the point of a reaper or two.’

  ‘Lady, please don’t you start as well,’ said Danial. ‘I won’t fight you all on this, especially not now. There isn’t time.’

  ‘True enough,’ said Sire Percivane. ‘Polluxis voxed just minutes ago, to say that they are all but ready. Our presence is requested post-haste.’

  ‘Then we go,’ said Danial. ‘I would mark this moment with all of you at my side. Besides, we should not keep Marchioness Lauret waiting.’

  ‘We wouldn’t want to offend the Lady of Miracles,’ said Garath sourly. Jennika shot him a look.

  ‘Lady Tan Pegasson’s survival on Donatos was nothing short of a miracle of the Emperor,’ said Percivane. ‘You should strive to maintain the appropriate reverence, Sire Garath.’

  ‘Besides, I’d like to see you survive a direct hit from a macro-cannon shell,’ said Suset.

  ‘Yes, all right, all right,’ said Garath wearily. ‘It’s a throne-given miracle, even if it did happen five years ago…’

  ‘Enough,’ said Danial. ‘Let us go. Now.’

  ‘Honour guard,’ barked Markos.

  The kneeling Knights of House Draconis rose to their feet and formed a marching column behind the Exalted Court. Danial and his comrades set out through the labour camp.

  They walked north at a brisk pace, making for where the foothills dug down into the grassy soil of the Valatane. They passed banqueting tents from which workers’ hymnals floated, and passed beneath the fiery glare of the chem-braziers that lit the camp. Labourers and militia parted at their coming, dropping to their knees, bowing respectfully. Beaconflies flittered overhead, little clouds of the glowing insects mimicking the stars beginning to glimmer in the sky.

  Chargers and all-terrain groundcars moved aside on the packed-earth roads that ran between the habitents, allowing Danial’s procession to pass. On the encampment’s edges, patrolling Knights sounded their vox-horns, silhouetted giants heralding the High King’s coming.

  The ground rose steeply as they pressed on. The immensity of the hydromechanical dam loomed before them. Stretched between two craggy hilltops, it was a vast, dark presence in the twilight, its flanks and crest dotted with glowing lumen and electrobeacons. An enormous aquila with a wingspan of more than a mile was emblazoned across it.

  Danial and Jennika pulled a little way ahead. Seeing their desire for private conversation, the rest of the Exalted Court dropped back, speaking amongst themselves.

  ‘It really is an impressive achievement, Da,’ said Jennika quietly. ‘A monument to your faith and wisdom as High King.’

  ‘It is a start,’ said Danial. ‘I only wish it were happening quicker. My rule began in such dark circumstances – it may be decades before they are forgotten. If they ever are.’

  ‘I wish father had been honest with us about all that happened before his succession,’ said Jennika. ‘If the circumstances surrounding the crown passing from House Chimaeros to House Draconis had been public knowledge, we would have watched Baron Gerraint more closely.’

  ‘He couldn’t have made it public knowledge, Jen, you know that,’ said Danial. ‘To reveal the details of the Yordax Crusade… It would have brought dishonour upon all concerned. Better for the people to believe that the succession had been willingly passed as a mark of respect, than to know the crown was taken as punishment for such gross failures.’

  ‘Besides, I imagine he felt responsible,’ said Jennika. ‘Even if the failing belonged to King Dyforn Tan Chimaeros.’

  ‘I’ve been reading a lot into our histories, trying to piece together father’s secrets,’ replied Danial. ‘I’m not sure, but I believe there may be more to it than even Markos knows. Something I’m not sure I want to find.’

  ‘Like what?’ asked Jennika.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said with forced lightness. ‘I may never. The old tomes and scrolls are allegorical and evasive. There are gaps. Though in all that research I did find something fascinating regarding grandfather’s amulet. You must remind me to show you when we get back to the ’spire. I think there are buried heirlooms in the depths that father meant for me to find.’

  ‘There’s that studious boy that Luk always used to mock,’ laughed Jennika.

  ‘Speaking of which,’ said Danial, letting the comment hang.

  ‘I’ve heard nothing from him, Da,’ said Jennika. ‘There was no word at the Draconspire when I passed through on my way here, either. Nor did I expect there to be. Luk is gone, at least for now.’

  ‘I know, Jen,’ said Danial. ‘And I pray to the Emperor every day that his hunt fares well. If he were to bring us back Alicia’s head, I’m sure that would be a cause for celebration.’

  ‘Not to mention returning your best friend to you,’ said Jennika with a knowing smile.

  ‘I don’t deny that I miss his comradeship and his counsel,’ said Danial. ‘Though I am fortunately blessed by the Emperor himself in that respect.’

  Jennika glanced back at the rest of the Exalted Court, Suset laughing at some joke of Markos’. She smiled.

  ‘True enough, brother,’ she said. ‘But greatness begets greatness. You earned these companions.’

  ‘As have you,’ said Danial. ‘Yet you are so rarely amongst them. I understand the struggle you face, the example you must set if you ar
e to encourage more young ladies of court to Become, and more brothers and fathers to accept that choice. But you are never here.’

  ‘The Emperor’s wars are never won,’ said Jennika. ‘And though you mean well, brother, I don’t think you do understand the pressures I face. Not truly.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ said Danial. ‘But, Jen, I value your guidance. I miss you.’

  ‘And I you, Da,’ she said. ‘But you have long outgrown your need for me to watch over or protect you. You are the High King of Adrastapol, now, in every thought and deed. As you excel in your kingship, so I wish to truly excel in the role of First Knight. I need you to let me.’

  ‘Jen,’ said Danial. ‘I will never, ever stand in your way. Just know that you do not have to flee father’s ghost.’

  Jennika offered him a crooked smile. ‘Nor am I. I said my goodbyes years ago. If anyone still raises that wraith, it is you.’

  Danial drew breath to reply, but at that moment the cyber cherubim of the Heavenly Host swept overhead, blaring tinny fanfares from augmetic trumpets. Danial realised that he stood at the foot of the long, brazier-lit ramp that curved up onto the side of the dam.

  ‘This will be quite a night,’ he said, glancing back to see the last glimmer of sunset fade from the horizon. The sight gave him a frisson of disquiet, though he couldn’t say why.

  ‘Let’s go and see the spirits awaken,’ said Lady Suset, smiling as she approached. Together, they headed up the ferrocrete ramp, towards the grand gathering atop the dam.

  Houses Draconis and Pegasson gathered in a prefabricated pavilion for the awakening ritual. The structure had been raised at the very centre of the dam, which was over a quarter of a mile thick at its mid-point, and flat-topped aside from the guide-rails along its inner and outer edges. The pavilion looked out across the dark waters of the reservoir, to where generatorums and regulator shrines clustered on the mountain’s lower slopes. Tiers of seating rose from the pavilion’s base, hung with banners and tapestries of the three Noble Houses. A sturdy polyweave awning stretched over it to shield the assembled dignitaries from the elements, hung with electrocandle chandeliers.