He had only moments to prepare his plan, barely enough time to even think. His eyes finally located a rusted cart on the left side of the bed with an assortment of blood-stained tools resting on top. Quickly, he grabbed a pair of old scissors and tried to cut through his catheter but unfortunately either the scissors were too dull, or the tube was too thick. The sound of footsteps stopped, and the doorknob rattled. He gave up on the tube, held the scissors in front of him and prepared himself.
The antique doorknob turned as its rusty components creaked inside. The white wooden door opened with whining hinges and began to swing toward him. He didn't understand why it seemed like it was taking so damn long but the door finally opened wide enough, and a blue-haired Elf stepped through the frame. A half-second later the pair of scissors soared through the air and hit the Elf square in the chest. The handles struck first, bounced off of him, and clattered to the floor. The surprised Elf dropped something he was holding in his hands, looked down at the mess that he had made and tsked.
"Well… I should say that whatever you were hoping for seemed to fail," the Elf's cocky yet mildly effeminate voice made him sound like a bit of a dandy. He knelt and examined the mess beneath him. What looked like a colorfully decorated cake had smashed against the floor, and the scissors sat next to it. The Elf shook his head and let out a disappointed sigh. Silently, he grabbed the scissors, stood up, and then gently set them down on the countertop to his right. "What a waste. I should say it is your own bloody fault. Now, you have ruined your own get well cake!"
"What the fuck?" He was supremely confused by what was going on. It couldn't have been real, a random cake delivered by an Elf he had never met before was way too weird. He had to have been dreaming.
The Elf shrugged and stepped forward with a smile. He was pale-skinned, and of average height, his blue hair was swept to the side and resembled the color of the deep ocean. Two rings pierced the left side of his lower lip, and his ears had a multitude of piercings as well. He was bare-chested, revealing a thin yet toned figure, and he wore a waist-length grey jacket with some kind of white fur lining the collar. He definitely didn't look Govian.
"Get back!" The one on the bed shouted frantically. He bluffed by holding his palm out like a battle mage ready to strike. The pose garnered an amused smile from the Elf, "Get back or I will blast you into nothing!"
"Oh, come now you ridiculous child," the Elf scoffed and rolled his eyes as he stepped over the delicious looking mess of cake on the floor, "You have no knowledge of what you speak. You have never used magic, as you may call it, in your life."
The other groaned with dismay and fought to find words. The Elf was smart. Either that or he was just way too willing to take a gamble.
"Let us begin anew," the Elf continued, folding his hands together and smiling, "My name is Sajinious Lynx, though my friends call me Sage." He paused for a moment and cocked his head slightly to the left. "What may I call you?"
"Where am I?" the other quickly demanded. Sage appeared like he couldn’t help himself.
"Well, hello where am I, I am Sage!" he said with a look of amusement.
"Fuck you," the other spat, "where am I?"
"You're not very friendly, are you? Look, I have delighted in many games in my time," Sage waved his finger through the air in a chastising manner, "I could play with you all day if I desired without growing impatient. Let us for a moment put aside whatever terrible thoughts we may have about me and simply exchange names. Can we do that?"
The other grumbled and ran his fingers through his hair, "I am Crinnan. Now, where am I?"
Sage smiled victoriously and nodded his head. Crinnan frowned at Sage's condescending little shit eating grin; it irritated him.
"Well, I suppose presently you are in a bed," Sage chortled with his arms held out in a ‘behold' sort of gesture, "In a white room in a house in a city that was once called Belhaas, in a forest now called the Belhaasi Weald, in the country of Izla'Axi of the great continent of Redodra in the Eastern Hemisphere of the only world you have ever known… Duraan." Sage paused and waited for a response.
Why was he so... weird? Crinnan shook his head at the theatrics and thought about what Sage had said.
"So I’m still in the Belhaasi Weald then?" He grumbled. Sage's overly verbose manner of speaking frustrated him and that feeling worsened with the idea that he remained in the Belhaasi Weald, "Who are you with?"
"For a being in your position," Sage replied, "I should say you are quite demanding. Though I do suppose it is understandable. Why, if I were in your shoes, I should say that I would not immediately be so trusting of…"
"Who are you with!" Crinnan spat in a sudden fury. He didn't have time for a million words; he only wanted answers.
"Please elaborate," Sage drolly stated, "What do you mean, who am I with?"
"Are you with Govia? Agra? A Marauder Tribe?" Crinnan's tone was angry, and his muscles were tense. His eyes locked onto Sage, and they burned with annoyed rage. Why did the Elf feel compelled to be so damn difficult? Sage smiled lightly at the reaction he received and shook his head in response to Crinnan's inquiries.
"No, I am neither affiliated with any faction nor do I try to associate with the events of this world. I dwell alone in this desolate place that I may live freely and peacefully. I know that outside the protection of this un-monitored wilderness lies only war and pain. I, for now, have the time for neither. Tell me now, oh Black Knight of Canrom, what misfortune brought you to this great and ancient Weald when there are oh so many battles to be fought elsewhere?"
Crinnan glared at Sage suspiciously. He didn't know how the Elf knew he was a Black Knight or from Canrom. It would have been nice and easy to believe him, that he was just a do-gooder hermit trying to live in peace. Crinnan was smarter than that; he had better training than that. The Elf seemed the type who could talk his way out of or into anything or anyone he desired. Crinnan, in contrast, hated talking, he had very little charisma and usually resolved his conflicts with actions.
"I want to leave this place," Crinnan demanded, "I have business to take care of. You need to let me go."
"Then you shall," Sage placated as he stepped up to the soldier. He smiled as he looked down at the naked being and Crinnan felt a bit concerned, "Though first we must remove that catheter, get you dressed, and then fed. If you do not mind terribly, I will go ahead and…" he reached for the tube, and Crinnan kicked his arm.
"Stay the fuck back, weird-ass," Crinnan briefly cringed at his words. Where had he got weird-ass from? He sneered as a hint of color lit his cheeks and instinctively held his palm back up toward Sage. He felt a bit woozy but was able to shake it off. "Don’t touch me."
"Okay weird-ass," Sage chuckled lightly to himself and shook his head with delight, "If that is what you wish, then so it will be," Sage smiled and nodded at Crinnan.
"I understand that you do not trust me. I am no fool. That very lack of trust suggests that in spite of your lack of creativity when it comes to insults, you may very well not be a fool either. I do however hope to convey to you that I am sincere in what I am saying; thus I will say what I sincerely want you to understand. I am no enemy of yours. Now, as you know the only way you will be walking out that door is if I remove that tube, lest you wish to wander the Belhaasi Weald with a piss bag in tow."
Crinnan shook his head and sighed. Sage was right; the catheter had to come out. He supposed that the Elf wouldn't do anything weird, but he also considered the smashed cake on the floor. Finally, he relented.
"Do as you will then," he groaned in a defeated tone. He cautiously laid backward on the bed and waited, "But make it quick, I really have to…"
Sage turned a valve on the tube, then quickly tugged at it. A weird discomfort shot through Crinnan's body, causing his back to arch again. Sage grinned and took a step back.
"Done," he snorted, shaking his head. He was visibly humored by Crinnan's reaction to the procedure, "And look at that! Despite your overwhelmin
g fear of how you would feel about another male touching your penis, you still seem to be flaccid! Congratulations, your masculinity survived! I should say you handled that rather well."
Crinnan clenched his teeth together and sat back up in bed. He didn't know if Sage was trying to get a rise out of him or what, but his antics were very peculiar.
"Am I free to go now?" he asked with a glare.
"You always were," Sage replied, "though you may want to give your medication time to wear off." Crinnan tried to get off his bed and promptly fell onto the tiled floor with a loud thud.
"And, you refused to listen." Sage crossed his arms and rolled his eyes at the sight of the helpless Crinnan on the floor, "The effects of the drugs I gave you will not wear off for a few more hours," he continued as he knelt next to Crinnan.
"What did you do to me?" Crinnan struggled to stand back up.
"I saved your life, dear boy," Sage clarified. The Elf grabbed Crinnan by the arm and raised him back up to sit on the bed, "When you are able to stand again, you will find your belongings in the cabinet just to the left of the sink." He pointed to their right and nodded.
"I will leave you to rest. Until then, I will prepare breakfast and another cake. We will say it is to wish you well on your travels. You will need a bit of food in your belly if you plan on traveling any bit of distance today."
Crinnan looked at Sage and simply nodded his head. Having calmed down from his adrenaline rush, he realized how disoriented and weak he was. By that point, he could barely hold his head above his shoulders. He knew he needed to rest and decided he was going to risk it; not that there was any real choice in the matter.
Sage could only grin at the efforts of his guest as he turned and walked back toward the door. "Would you prefer the lights off?" he asked as he stepped over the cake mess. Crinnan nodded, and Sage flipped the switch to the right of the door.
"I will begin cooking then. Please, rest and regain your strength," Sage started to close the door, but stopped halfway through. He poked his smiling head back in the room and looked at Crinnan, "Oh, and do not bother thanking me. I hate such things," He shut the door, and Crinnan let out a sigh.
"What in Hells," he mumbled as he lay in the dark. He took a deep breath and groaned at his current state of affairs. He wished he had a better grasp of what was going on, of the stranger in his company, and how he had come to be in his home. He told himself that once he could stand straight, he would get his ass out of there.
As his eyelids grew heavy, his thoughts wandered to the words he had spoken earlier. "I will find you…" he found himself repeating them. He wished he knew their meaning if there was one at all. Who did he promise to find and why? More-so he wondered when he made the promise.
His mind took him to a place he had not seen for seven years, though it was among his fondest memories. He thought of the Kamlotian forest, of being lost with a girl his age. When they finally found home, he had promised that he would find her again one day. Was that what he had dreamt?
As he chalked the words up to a mere and simple dream, he listened to his breathing and could not help but close his eyes. Ultimately, he was unable to make sense of anything and finally gave up and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.
Chapter Two
Sarasin I
22nd of Ramlia – 346AG
09:00 – Canrom City
Before Sym and Syl: the Brothers of Light had seized their opportunity to shine that morning, the clouds reigned supreme in the skies over Canrom City. Blotting out the Brothers' blessing, the thick grey clouds filled not only the heavens but also the streets of the grand capital of the country of Canrom. Only a handful of souls, however, were aware of the muddled light, as it was Surra'a, the day of rest and mental preparation for the Sab'at, the day of devotion and worship of Govia's one true Goddess, Dura'Ana.
She walked alone with her head lowered; the hood of her grey cloak covered her face as she passed the few who had ventured from their homes. While she was aware of the people that she walked past, she bore them no mind. Her own had no room for any more thought.
The night before, she had flown in from Cidroska, the capital city of the Govian Empire. The citizens of Govia called it the seat of the Saviour, as it was home to their Emperor, the son of Goddess Dura'Ana. She was conveniently in Canrom City on official matters, though her mind and the path she chose to walk led her toward settling a very personal matter.
She had not seen him outside of her nightmares since she had flowered many years ago. That was the last time he had shown any interest in her. She, during their relationship, had felt honored and loved by the attention of such an esteemed and influential man. As she matured and grew into an adult, however, she discovered the real and horrible impact he had left on her. The realization, of her being naught but a toy, led her to believe that the man she had once loved was an evil person who used his facade of piety for nothing more than a means to satisfy his sick desires.
A passing car stirred the air around her and blew her cloak back, revealing her bare shoulder. She pulled the cloak shut with one sharp-fingernailed hand, pausing for a moment of respite from her thoughts. She gazed up to the heavens and sought Dura'Ana's strength. She whispered a small prayer toward the sky but was left dismayed when her Goddess answered with only thick grey clouds. She pursed her dark red lips together and wondered when the rain was going to come.
With each step drawing her closer to her target, her shoulders and mind grew heavier with anticipation. She found it difficult to stand up straight and had to stop again just to breathe. She looked down at her brown boots - all that was visible under the cloak apart from her hands and lips - and tried to count her breaths. She closed her eyes, inhaled and counted to four. As she exhaled, she opened her eyes and saw two people exiting her destination.
Male and female, each an Elf, stepped out of the Canrom City Temple of Cidro. They walked down the concrete steps hand in hand and turned towards her. Smiles were on their lips and love was in their eyes. She silently watched beneath her hood with both disgust and envy. She wondered if the two had just had their marriage blessed by the church or if they were merely happy to be near each other… she would never know.
The she-Elf rested her head on her companion's shoulder as they walked. He, in turn, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. The two passed by while she kept moving, she did not bother to turn and see where they were going.
As she ascended its concrete steps, she took notice of the dark wood and gold trimmed doors that she had remembered walking through on numerous occasions so many years prior. The doors stood tall; high enough for even a Gaian to walk through comfortably. They were waxed and polished so well that she could vaguely see her reflection in them. Seeing her own image in the doors made her wince. She knew that all of the Govian Empire associated her with piety and power because of her position, but she had begun to grow tired of that association.
The Temple of Cidro was one of the finest structures in all of Canrom City. Thus, it was one of the finest in all of the country of Canrom. Overshadowed by only Dauid's tower which was maintained by the citizens of the city, the Temple was meticulously tended to by the Brotherhood of the Severed Tongue, a vigorously devout order of monks who voluntarily had their tongues ripped out, for they believed that idle words led to the greatest of sins.
She reached her hand out and ran her long-nailed finger across the lustrous door, leaving a small streak on the waxed wood. She wondered how much of her she had left behind those doors, how much sweat and blood… She thought of the baby that they forced from her young body. Her fists clenched, and she audibly whimpered at the memory. Without any more hesitation or thought, she pulled on the door and stepped inside.
The marble walls were tall and lined with gold; the large open room was lit only by the orange light from the candles that burned along its edges. Six white marble columns, each with a candle mounted to it, stood evenly to her left and right. Engravings in t
hem told the story of the Ascension of Emperor Cidro, the son of goddess Dura'Ana.
Her eyes wandered to one of the columns that depicted the final battle of the Messiah Wars. She looked at it for a moment, and then to the ceiling wherein the dim light she was able to make out a mural of Emperor Cidro the Savior smiling and holding his arms open wide as a welcome to all who would enter. She had not seen the painting in many years. Despite her close relationship with his Imperial Highness Lazarus Cidro, the son of Emperor Cidro, she felt repulsed by the image.
Directly across from her, past the last pair of the six pillars, was an ornately engraved blue door with gold trim. Etched above it in gold lettering was the word "Sanctuary." On each side of the door silently stood a blue-robed and hooded monk of the Severed Tongue. Each of them held a wooden staff in their hands and did not permit anyone past the door.
The hooded woman stepped forward, the sound of the heels of her leather boots echoed throughout the room. As she walked toward the sanctuary door, she briefly glanced downward at the prayerful few who bowed before the pillars with clasped hands and lowered heads. She too had found herself in that position many times, not excluding that morning in her suite. She tried to force herself to find comfort in her faith, but as she drew nearer to the door, she felt overwhelming unrest rapidly growing within her. She was fearful of the conclusion she had come to; that after so many years of dedicated service she knew nothing.
A pink haired female Faire knelt on the floor in front of one of the center pillars, and the hooded one paused briefly and listened before she continued. The Faire was weeping, but did her best to keep silent, fearful that it would disturb the other worshippers. Her words were broken and desperate. They stung the hooded one as she pleaded with the goddess, "…let him be safe mother!…" she pleaded, shaking her head and clenching her hands together tightly. "Please bring my child home…"
The Black Knight Box Set Page 2
