The Black Knight Box Set

by Christian J Gilliland

  "Go easy on the boy, quit being an asshole," Eshan interjected, "He has been through a lot, he does not need you shouting at him." Crinnan sighed and cocked his head.

  Freyja was silent and looked down at the cigarette in his hand, "I'm a little bit scared," he whispered, "of dying."

  "Then you had better try your hardest not to," Crinnan turned around toward the village. "I’m going to go find out what Sage is doing and where I am going next. Have fun crying." Crinnan started to walk away but heard Freyja run up behind him.

  He ignored the boy and kept walking. Freyja followed closely behind.

  Crinnan did feel sorry for the child. How could he not have? But he did not have it in him to go easy on him. He had never been the type to tell people what they wanted to hear for the sake of their feelings.

  He walked past a few village inhabitants as he looked for Sage. They eyed him strangely, and Crinnan heard them speaking to one another under their breaths as he passed. He did not know what they were saying, but he was certain that it had something to do with his presence there.

  The people of Pado were a group of mostly Elves. Many of them had braids in their hair or beards, but a select few had completely shaved heads. They were mostly dressed in tattered clothing or brown robes, and many carried simple tools made of the wood and reclaimed metal from the world that surrounded them.

  "Elf!" One of the people of Pado shouted as Crinnan walked by, "Come over here." Crinnan ignored him and kept walking. His tone was similar to that of a teenage brayball player who was a bit high on himself, deceptively friendly with a suggestion of ridicule.

  "Hey Elf!" he shouted again as Crinnan passed, "You're in my village. Don't ignore me!" Crinnan relented and sighed as he turned to face him. He could not believe he was being bothered considering how formidably armed he was.

  "What?" Crinnan asked with a vexed tone, "I'm a half-blood Elf. My father was Humaan. Is there something you need?"

  "Yeah I need something," he hissed in his cocksure tone, "Why are you bringing guns into my village? Are you Govian?"

  "No, I am not Govian," Crinnan replied, "I and a few others are just passing through. We’ll be gone soon."

  "My people don't take kindly to anyone who brings one of those into our village," the person continued. "Guns are a tasteless form of combat, a slap in the face to Sym, our one true God who provides all with his ever abundant light."

  "Okay? Sorry for offending you," Crinnan turned to walk away peacefully.

  "You ignore our ways, and then turn your back to me?" he shouted, "You dare insult us like this? Would you walk into Cidroska and defy their ways?"

  "I’ll leave you alone…" Crinnan tried walking away again, "Let me find a place…"

  "Infidel!" he shouted, running up from behind. Crinnan tried to ignore the crazy person, but ultimately couldn’t for the Elf grabbed him and spun him around.

  "You deserve less than this!" He then launched a big, sticky wad of spit into Crinnan's face. Crinnan closed his eyes and wiped the saliva from his cheek, flinging it to the ground.

  "You will forever rot in the unending darkness of Sym's Shadow," he pointed a finger toward Crinnan, jabbing it into his chest, "For all who have heard and knowingly choose to turn their ears cannot escape the sinner's fate!"

  Crinnan had enough of him. He reached his spit covered hand out, grabbed the zealot's finger, and quickly bent it backward, breaking it.

  A look of sheer surprise suddenly shot across the villager’s face. He jumped back, clenching his hand in pain and yelped. His friends immediately ran up to his side and started yelling at Crinnan who in turn shooed them away with a flick of his wrist.

  "What are you going to do?" Crinnan sneered as he lifted his rifle. He turned around a final time and walked away.

  "That was awesome." Freyja showed a hint of enthusiasm as the two got an appropriate distance away from the angry crowd, "You're kind of a badass."

  "Dumbass is more fitting," Eshan suggested.

  "They were church crazy," Crinnan shook his head, ignoring Eshan, "When somebody gets in a religious high, you generally need to diffuse the situation. A little altercation at their expense usually does the trick."

  "So you broke his finger." Freyja sounded uncharacteristically amused, "I could have never done that."

  "You are probably right." Crinnan agreed.

  The rest of the rescued children were standing outside a small building made of logs with a tanned hide roof. There was a tree growing through a hole in the roof, with a steady stream of smoke that escaped through a vent. Crinnan wondered what was going on in the building. Garb saw the duo coming and smiled.

  "Freyja is an interesting boy is he not?" Garb asked as he approached Crinnan and Freyja, "I am delighted that you have taken a liking to him."

  "I think it is the other way around," Crinnan mumbled, crossing his arms, "Where is Sage?" Garb pointed to the building before the group, "What else is in there?" Crinnan asked.

  "That is apparently the village minister's residence," Garb said, "Sage went in there to explain our situation I suppose."

  "What is our situation?" Crinnan asked. Garb shrugged his broad shoulders.

  Their surroundings were becoming progressively dimmer. Crinnan looked to the sky and realized that the suns were setting. He did not like that. The idea of traveling through the Belhaasi Weald at night did not settle well with his mind. He had no idea what kind of dangers awaited him in the darkness. His only memory of the Belhaasi night had been being ambushed and stabbed in the stomach with a spear. He shuddered at the thought.

  "Sage mentioned resting here until morning," Garb said, "though I feel I will not be welcome among these people much longer."

  "Resting?" Crinnan contemptuously repeated, "That is not part of the plan. I have to get to the Caverns now; we don't have time to waste resting."

  "What are you talking about?" Garb asked. Crinnan realized that Garb really did not know much about the whole situation. The Toraan looked at Crinnan intently, and Crinnan sighed.

  "I am going to the Izla'Axi Caverns," Crinnan informed him, "That is where my squad is."

  "Why are you not with them? Your squad?"

  "Long story," Crinnan dismissed the Toraan, "When is Sage coming out?" Garb grinned and suppressed a laugh.

  "He may already have." Garb chuckled and shook his head at his joke. Crinnan thought for a moment and did his best not to smile once he realized what Garb meant.

  "You might be right." Crinnan chuckled as a grin finally formed on his lips.

  The flap to the minister's residence was pulled back, and Sage walked out wearing a big stupid grin under his nose. He slowly exhaled a small plume of purple smoke into the air and nodded sluggishly at Crinnan. A hooded being wearing a long brown robe stepped out behind him.

  Sage approached Crinnan and coughed, "How are you?" he asked with a chuckle. He smelled a bit funny, "I am doing wonderfully. So, we are going to stay here for a few hours. You can rest up and gather your energy to get through the second half of the trip. The minister said he knows a few people who can guide us to the caverns."

  "I feel fine," Crinnan rebutted, "We can make it on our own."

  "No, we cannot," Sage declared frankly, "I do not know the way from here." Crinnan went silent for a moment. When he processed what Sage had said, he threw his hands up in frustration and groaned.

  "You don’t know the way to the caverns?" Crinnan asked, nearly in a shout.

  "Relax, I have it taken care of. The minister was happy to help since we brought him the village's missing children."

  "What of the child that is not from this village. Freyja, the Lycaani boy?" Crinnan asked. Sage shifted his weight and shrugged his shoulders.

  "Well, I should say Garb was right about that," Sage muttered, "The people here will not take him."

  "Then what do we do?" Crinnan asked.

  "So many questions," Sage waved his hand in the air, "The minister said that the Lycaani is not the
concern of the village." Crinnan turned away and bit his tongue.

  "This is ridiculous," Crinnan announced with an annoyed tone, "By the time I get to the caverns my squad will be gone."

  "They may be gone already," Sage rebuked, "You need to be a little less dramatic about the whole thing." Crinnan opened his mouth to speak but remembered saying almost the same thing to Freyja about ten minutes prior. Instead, he sighed.

  "Our guides are currently out taking care of something or another," Sage continued, "When they get back, the village minister will come and get us from our room in the Inn. Then, we will be on our way. It will give you plenty of time to rest up. I should say it would be foolish of your squad to leave in the middle of the night if they are still there."

  Crinnan nodded reluctantly. That was all he could do. He had to wait for the guides since Sage apparently didn't know the rest of the way.

  "The inn is just over there," Sage pointed over Crinnan's right shoulder, "Go get some rest." Crinnan huffed as he turned around and walked toward the inn. Freyja, seeing him leave, hurried up and followed closely behind.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sarasin III

  22nd of Ramlia – 346AG

  14:00 – Canrom City

  She looked down at her bare hands yet still saw the blood she had washed away. Wide, flowing rivers of deep red ran from the tips of her fingers to her palms and then dripped down to the floor. She heard the drops splash in unison with the rapid beating of her heart in her temples, and what sounded like static played over and over in her head. She felt afraid.

  Quickly, Sarasin threw back another emerald green gulp of Dravink and slammed the glass back on the table. The table shook, rattling the five other glasses she had eagerly emptied and sent a sudden wave of sobriety through her.

  She sighed as she looked around the room. Her mind was telling her that every eye in the bar was on her. She worried that at any moment her face would be blasted across the television screen advertising her crimes to the entire planet. She felt she might be the Empire's next most wanted.

  "Do not forsake me Dura'Ana…" she silently whispered under her breath. Her eyes were cast downward at the table she was sitting before, "Forgive me for what I have done. Allow my… no, our good works to continue."

  Sarasin nearly cringed at her prayer. The words felt stale on her lips, overused and insincere. She had felt her faith declining over those recent weeks, more so that day than any of the others. Despite her greatest emotional attempts, she could not fully bring her devotion to where it had once been, and the feeling of dread was more than she could bear.

  The feeling of losing a loved one is a great and terrible one. Knowing you can never again speak to someone you once cared deeply for is something that you never get over. The feeling of losing your god or goddess was very similar. The idea that they were never there to begin with makes you feel betrayed, betrayed by your teachers, your friends… everyone who ever encouraged you or reinforced your beliefs… but most of all you feel betrayed by yourself.

  Doubt is all very overwhelming. It makes you question your sanity, your own intelligence and the very fiber of your being. When you think you know it all, and then realize you know absolutely nothing, your whole world crumbles and falls on top of you. It leaves you trapped until you can find the strength to dig your way out.

  At her greatest heights of faith and devotion, Sarasin had been unstoppable. She had participated in many great crusades, and carried the banner of her great and powerful Emperor. She had cut down countless heretics and blasphemers and used her abilities to elevate herself into one of the most powerful positions in the Govian Empire. Her one great weakness, however, had been the love for the family she had abandoned… both living and dead.

  "Mommy?" a young red-haired boy asked, rubbing his eyes as he walked up beside the table Sarasin sat at. He carried a ragged blue blanket with him and looked up at Sarasin with expectation in his eyes. Sarasin looked down at the boy for a moment, and then around the pub. She saw no signs of anyone looking for a child… her eyes returned to the boy.

  "Mommy…" the boy said, looking lovingly at Sarasin. His shaggy red hair hung down into his deep green eyes and stuck up on the back like he had been sleeping on it. Something about the child was eerily familiar.

  Sarasin silently looked down at the child. He returned her gaze, looking into her eyes with a sense of need that she strangely understood. It was as if he was communicating in an unspoken language that only she was fluent in. It left her feeling terribly uncomfortable.

  Sarasin tried to dismiss both the boy and the feelings she felt. "I have no time for this," she told herself as she looked away and took another drink of the Dravink. When her eyes returned to where the boy had stood, a teenager stood in his place.

  The young man had short-cropped red hair and a dashing smile. He stood as tall as Sarasin's brothers and had her family's ears. His smile was familiar; in fact, it was something that she knew well… the teen had the same smile as High Priest Korros.

  "Mother…" he called out with a noticeably deeper voice. He gazed in admiration at the woman sitting at the booth, "Mother, why do you cry? What are you doing in a place like this?"

  "I am not your mother…" Sarasin vehemently whispered, gritting her teeth, "You are not real."

  "Mother…" he cocked his head and held up his hands in disbelief as he stared at her with his beautiful green eyes, "Why do you not want me?"

  "I do," Sarasin whispered as she turned her head up at the teen. She looked him up and down and fought back the tears that were welling up in her eyes.

  "I exist, mother. My… spirit, or whatever I am has never left you. I am here."

  "You haunt me…" Sarasin snarled. "From the day you were born Eliss, you have haunted me."

  "I never wanted…"

  "I know…" Sarasin whispered in a frustrated tone, "But what we want in this world is not always what we get…" She sighed and took another drink.

  "You… killed my father today," Eliss commented, looking squarely at his mother, "…thank you."

  "I could kill him every day," Sarasin snarled as her fingers grew tighter around her cup, "For what he did to you… to us."

  "He deserved it mother," Eliss said in a reassuring tone, "And you, you deserve to heal."

  "I deserve the same fate as him," Sarasin whispered, looking down at her Dravink. She briefly glanced up to find that nobody was looking at her, "The lives I have taken for a cause I now question daily. I still kill and judge for this Empire, this goddess… and I do not even know if I believe in any of it anymore."

  "That does not make you bad, Mother," Eliss took a seat across from Sarasin. He reached out and gently grabbed her hands. She felt the warmth of his skin and looked up into the eyes of what appeared to be a perfectly healthy young man.

  "I kill innocents," She felt disgusted with herself. She looked into Eliss' emerald eyes, "I am evil, my son."

  "You have done evil things," Eliss corrected her, "But to me, you are an angel. Mother… I have seen God. I know God. He sent me today."

  "Eliss stop," Sarasin commanded. She shook her head violently and wiped her tears away, "I cannot handle this right now…"

  "Mother, God wants to meet you. The true God."

  "Enough Eliss!" Sarasin roared. She stood up and slammed her hand on the table. Once again, everyone in the pub turned and looked at her. Quickly, she tossed the money to cover her bill on the table and hurried out, making sure her hood covered her face.

  Sarasin hurried out onto the street, running fast from the pub. Tears streamed from her eyes and her heart felt like it was about to pound out of her chest. Everything that had happened to her that day was culminating into one big meltdown. She knew she had to get back to her suite atop Dauid's Tower. She had to go to sleep, to end the night once and for all.

  She rounded a corner, passing by a handful of citizens who turned their heads curiously to see what looked like a crazed woman. She ignored them,
pressing onward to her suite. She wanted to once again be surrounded by her guard, to get lost in her work and forget she was alive. She wanted the hype of her power and her position in the Empire to overwhelm her and wash her clean of the anxiety and the doubt. She felt it all weighing on her and dragging her down. It felt like her soul was being dragged into the Hells, and no matter how much she ran, how far she went, she could not escape it. Her mind raced, and she wondered if it were ever going to be possible again, for things to go back to normal.

  Sarasin reached a crossing and stopped to wait for the cars to pass. She took a minute to catch her breath and felt her stomach begin to churn.

  "Oh no," she cried, just as she keeled over and hurled vomit onto the street. She coughed and gagged, spitting what she could not heave onto the ground. Feeling she was not alone, however, she looked up.

  "Hello," a tiny voice said to her.

  It was the red-haired girl from the temple, the one who sat beside Korros. She stood in the center of the road, directly in the way of oncoming traffic, and stared at Sarasin.

  "Move!" Sarasin shouted as a truck drove toward her. She charged forward and tackled the girl. The truck blared its horn and swerved out of the way as Sarasin and the child rolled onto the sidewalk.

  "You stupid girl!" Sarasin cursed, as she stood and picked the girl up. "Were you trying to get hit?!"

  The girl stared at Sarasin with empty eyes and a smiling face. Sarasin looked back but could not get a read on the child.

  "You are Sarasin, Ellis' mother?" the girl declared.

  "How do you know his name?" Sarasin snapped as she aggressively stepped forward toward the girl.

  "God introduced us," she smiled sweetly, "For he and I live with him." Sarasin blinked a couple of times and shook her head.

  "I am insane," she declared as she looked around her, "By the Goddess, I have lost my mind. It has finally happened… I…"

  "You are sane," the little girl calmly reassured, "God wants to meet you. He wants to show you your son."

  "My son is dead!" Sarasin shouted as she snapped her attention back to the girl, "He has been dead for years!"