The Forgotten King

by D. W. Vogel

  “No, you useless imbeciles. This fight is mine.”

  With a wave of his hands, the wall of thorny vines that began in the doorway grew into a circle around Emerald and the king. Outside it, chimeras honked and bleated.

  Finally, he thought. After all these years, a decent fight. His skin was itching from the nearness of his quarry. The final seal would unlock once this troublesome girl’s blood splashed onto the gem.

  The gem. He stooped to pick it up off the floor, and his teeth cracked together when the girl jumped onto his head.

  His control wavered for an instant, his wall of brambles beginning to collapse before he recovered and strengthened the flow of magic that kept them isolated in the thorny circle. The wretched girl was atop his shoulders like some kind of demented rider, reaching forward to grab at his horns.

  He teleported out from under her, grinning as he reappeared on the opposite wall to watch her fall. He expected her to crumble to the ground, but she landed on her feet and danced to one side, avoiding the vine that shot from his hands.

  A tricky one. And quick. But I am so much wiser.

  He waved, and brambles shot up from the floor.

  The girl jumped out of the way, grabbing onto the thorny vine as it erupted upward and swinging herself out of the path of another vine that should have impaled her.

  Through the tangled wall, he could hear his Bear roaring. Good. He’ll kill the pesky elf and cement his loyalty. Having a Berserker Bear was so very useful. He spent an instant imagining the scene. How he’d ride up to Crystalia Castle with his army. Chimeras. Billmen. Kodama who had seen the path to glory and abandoned the forest to serve the Shadow King. And at his right hand, Sir Gawain of the House Ursinus, furred and drooling, just waiting to claw the eyes out of the Usurper Jasper and his sniveling daughters.

  He grunted as the wretched girl jumped onto his back again. Pain shot down his cheek, and he teleported, popping up nearby to clutch at a deep hole on his face.

  A thorn from one of his own brambles lay in the spot he’d just left. The girl had stabbed him in the face.

  “Enough!” he shouted, and his voice shook the chamber.

  Movement in the doorway caught his eye. Something huge and white tore through the brambles and barreled into him. With a howl that made all the hairs on the king’s head stand up, the beast lunged.

  The king disappeared a second too late, and the horrid white Mist Hound was left with a torn shred of blue robe in its teeth. It leapt for him again, and he dodged, but the girl was right behind him. He fell over her, thumping to the floor.

  The Hound was on him in a second, hot drool dripping onto his face. The weight of the beast crushed the king’s chest, and he couldn’t breathe. His control on the brambles crumbled, and the wall of vines retreated into the floor and ceiling. He disappeared an instant before the Hound’s jaws closed over the space where his neck had been.

  The king reappeared on the far side of the room, behind his chimera.

  “Attack!” he shouted, and they lurched forward.

  The Mist Hound plowed into them, and the sounds of battle raged. The girl darted forward and grabbed her rifle from the pile of her belongings.

  Shot after shot rang through the chamber, and the king disappeared and reappeared again and again, avoiding each bullet.

  His chimera scattered, running for the doorway. Trent was last in line, and the Hound bounded up the staircase after him, howling with rage.

  Three of the king’s remaining soldiers leapt on the girl, wrenching the rifle from her grasp. They held her down, and the king pulled the knife from his pocket.

  No more speeches. Enough is enough.

  He grabbed the girl’s arm and sliced the skin, holding the emerald under the flow.

  The floor vibrated, shaking right through the soles of his feet. This time there was no hum, no cry from the magic as the last link of its magical chain was broken.

  This time there was silence.

  And in the final lit corner of the star-shaped room, the glowing crystal carved like a crown shattered, its light blinking out to a beautiful, empty darkness.

  Chapter 36: King’s Freedom

  Gawain’s first attempt with the sword was clumsy, his bear paws slipping on the grip. But Knights were fast learners.

  I couldn’t have beaten him in a sword fight when he was human, Treffen thought. And now . . . now I think I’m dead.

  He turned a second blow with the machete, but the force of it vibrated all the way up his arms.

  One more hit, and I’m gone.

  A howl filled the room, and the wall of brambles crumbled away. Bear and elf both turned to see a flash of white barreling into the army of chimera.

  Treffen took the distraction to bolt across the room, but the passage up the stairs was blocked by a hoard of chimera flooding out of the chamber. He was kicked aside and had to duck another blow from Gawain’s sword.

  It looks ridiculous in his huge paw. The thought rattled in Treffen’s brain, threatening to bubble over into insane laughter. This is how I die. By a giant hairy monster with a toothpick.

  Trent ran past with the Hound at his heels. Didn’t think a tree could move like that.

  He parried another blow, nearly losing his grip on the machete.

  Gawain reached out with his injured paw and swatted him to the ground. He spun across the floor, smashing into the opposite wall. He lay there for a second, feeling the floor shake beneath him. He thought it was the pounding of the Bear’s approach, but in the sudden silence that followed, he heard the dreadful sound.

  When the crystal seal shattered, it reminded him of the first time he’d met Emerald, when she was just a child fumbling through potions in the Deeproot Druids’ laboratory. He’d startled her, and she’d dropped a glass jar of some ingredient.

  Emerald. In the final moments before the Gawain-bear was on him, he looked around the room. His vision was blurred by the blow, but he saw her kneeling before the king. And when the king backhanded her right in the head, he saw her crumple to the floor.

  Oh, Emerald. Neither of us is getting out of this place.

  Gawain reared up before him, sword raised.

  It was supposed to be just one. The Tree said so. He remembered the words. Three will descend. One will not emerge.

  On the other side of the room, the king laughed, and the sound froze everyone in the star-shaped chamber.

  * * *

  The Forgotten King looked around his prison.

  He’d expected some sort of fireworks. Some great explosion, perhaps the roof of the place blowing right off as the magical chains that had imprisoned him here for centuries were finally broken. But there was no light show, no sparks. Just the tinkle of crystal hitting the floor.

  And then came the feeling.

  Freedom.

  It tingled in his skin.

  He felt light, as if his bones were filled with air.

  He’d grown so used to the pressure of the magic, those seals that bound him here in this damp chamber, that when it suddenly disappeared, it was like a great weight had been removed from his whole body, a weight he’d forgotten to notice.

  Free.

  The open doorway beckoned. It had always been a torment, a slap in the face from the ancient mages who had conjured his prison. They’d left the door wide open. No bars. No manacles. But try as he might over the long years of his imprisonment, he could never even approach the doorway. It zapped him away with lightning if he got near it. That doorway had laughed in his face all these years. And now it was just a doorway.

  The girl at his feet looked up in shock, clutching her bleeding wrist.

  Stupid girl. He backhanded her and stepped back as she fell to the floor. She needed to die. He’d get Gawain to do it. Why soil his own hands when he had a Bear?

  Across the room, the Bear reared up. Is that elf still alive?

  He strode toward the Bear. Perhaps he’d
overestimated the thing. It was a poor Berserker indeed if it couldn’t even kill one measly elf.

  * * *

  The Deeproot’s words echoed in Treffen’s mind as he pushed himself up the wall to stand.

  The Son of Moon will make the sacrifice.

  He looked up at Gawain, straight into the human eyes looking out of the enraged bear face.

  “Gawain,” he began. He dropped the machete, which clattered to the floor. Words returned to him, spoken on a starry night that seemed like a million years ago. “You said it, Gawain. Loyalty and trust are what make a family. They’re stronger than blood, and stronger than fear.” He dropped to his knees, raising his head to expose his neck. “Stronger than blood, Gawain. You said it. Your words. And I trust you, Gawain. I trust you.”

  The Bear’s blue eyes wavered, blinking away blood from his wound. In the huge hairy paw, the sword trembled.

  “I trust you.”

  Once in the forest, Treffen had seen a fern kodama being eaten by a chimera. When uncorrupted by evil, those kodama were gentle forest spirits and had no defense against predators. Nothing natural would ever eat one, but the deer-beast had been nothing natural. Treffen had been with his training group, and they’d rained arrows on the monster, but it was too late for the little kodama. If he lived a thousand years, he would never forget the look on the little plant’s face while the creature had eaten it alive.

  Gawain had that look now. Like he was being eaten from the inside.

  Treffen raised his head higher, bearing his throat.

  “Stronger than blood,” he whispered. “I trust you.”

  For a moment, he thought Gawain would drop the sword. Then from behind the Bear, the king’s voice broke the spell.

  “What kind of Bear are you? Just squash him, you useless rug.” The king stumbled into Gawain’s helmet, and it clattered across the room.

  Gawain glanced at the helmet and snarled down at Treffen, his eyes no longer looking human.

  The sword rushed downward, and Treffen shut his eyes.

  A muffled squish and a thump.

  Treffen opened his eyes to see Gawain standing over the Forgotten King, still clutching the blade that was sticking out of the goat-beast’s chest.

  Chapter 37: Stronger than Fear

  Gawain fell to the floor, paws over his head. He shrieked, a horrible sound that should never have been able to issue from a bear’s throat.

  Treffen skittered away, darting over to where Emerald lay still on the floor. The three chimeras near her were also on the floor, writhing and wailing just like Gawain.

  “Emerald?” He shook her shoulder, but she didn’t wake.

  Pack, pack, where’s my pack? He found it in a corner with his bow and snatched them both up. From inside he pulled a small paper packet. He dashed back to Emerald and tipped her head back, pouring the powder from the packet directly into her nostrils.

  With a huge, deep sneeze, she lurched upright.

  “What the . . . where’s the . . .” She sneezed again.

  “It’s all right,” Treffen said. “The king is dead.”

  “What’s a . . . how?” She sneezed and pulled up the tail of her shirt to blow her nose.

  “That’s gross, Emerald.”

  She glared up at him. “I don’t have a hankie.”

  He grinned. “You sound like Gawain when he’s close to a horse. But we need to get out of here. The king is dead, but his minions aren’t.”

  A deep, rumbling hum filled the room.

  Oh, Goddess, not again.

  The noise grew in intensity until Treffen thought he would go insane. He fell to the floor, ramming his hands over his ears, but the hum vibrated right though his body. He screamed into the crushing noise.

  And in an instant, it was over.

  Ears ringing, Treffen sat up.

  Three strange men lay on the floor behind Emerald. One of them wore a loose shred of cloth around his waist, and the other two wore nothing.

  “Stronger than fear . . . stronger than blood.” The words croaked out from behind Treffen, and he whirled around.

  Gawain sat on the floor. Fully human, fully naked. Treffen jumped between him and Emerald.

  “Gawain? Are you . . .”

  The naked Knight smiled. “I’m all right. For the first time in maybe ever, I’m all right.”

  He looked at the dead goat-man next to him. As they all watched, the goat face flattened, white hair shedding from the skin. The neck wattles shriveled up, and the thick black fingernails faded to a dull yellow. In moments, a wizened old man lay on the floor with a sword sticking out of his chest. His long white beard lay still, and his blank gray eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling.

  “After all that, he’s just a man,” Emerald murmured.

  Voices behind them tore their attention from the dead man.

  “Um, do you have any . . . clothes?”

  Everyone looked at each other, and Gawain looked down, apparently realizing for the first time that he wore nothing. He snatched at a corner of the dead king’s robe and pulled it up to cover himself.

  Emerald sighed. “You boys. So prudish.” She reached into the king’s robe pocket and pulled out his knife, cutting away wide strips of his voluminous robe and tossing them to the men behind her. Gawain scurried off, reappearing a few minutes later, adjusting his armor.

  “There’s my Questing Knight.” Emerald grinned, and Gawain grinned back.

  Voices echoed down the doorway, confused murmurs. More men wandered down the stairs in various states of undress.

  “Sweet Goddess, doesn’t this place have any closets?” Emerald shook her head. “Look, guys, this is not princess-appropriate behavior, standing around with all you nudies. Go find some clothes and don’t come back until you do.”

  They responded to the Princess Voice and shuffled off to find something to wear.

  Treffen, Emerald, and Gawain plopped down onto the floor.

  “So what just happened here?” Emerald asked.

  Treffen smiled. “Trust and loyalty were stronger than blood.”

  She groaned. “Right. I got that part. Who killed the old geezer?”

  “I did.” Gawain held his helmet in his lap. “And apparently his death broke the spell. For all of us.”

  A few men drifted into the room, flapping their lips and making strange noises.

  “You’re not ducks anymore.” Emerald sighed. “Stop quacking.” She turned back to Treffen and nodded at the Forgotten King’s body. “I thought it was over for all of us. When my blood hit that stone . . .” She jumped up and searched around the room. “There you are,” she muttered, grabbing the gem from where it had fallen on the floor. She also grabbed her hat and pushed out the dents, cramming it down over her ears.

  “But it had to happen,” Treffen said. “The magic had to break. The spell that kept him bound down here also kept him alive. He’s been here for centuries. The binding spell must have made him immortal; remember how his wound just healed when you bit him? The spell had to break for him to die.”

  And the Deeproot Tree knew.

  A howl shook the room, and all three jumped to their feet. The Mist Hound bounded down the stairs, skidded to a halt next to Treffen, and shook herself all over. She hacked for a moment, spitting out a large chunk of bark, and then flopped onto the floor, panting and looking very pleased with herself.

  “She followed us all this way,” Treffen said, shaking his head. “Good girl.” He reached out to pat her, and she jerked away with a grumble. “Okay, then. No petting. That’s fine.” She resumed panting, grinning a doggy-grin.

  Treffen’s gaze fell onto the chunk of bark the Hound hacked up. Oh, my buddy. You could have been free.

  “So why are we still sitting in this nasty mold-hole?” Emerald ran a hand through her hair, a nest of green frizz. “I need fresh air.”

  Treffen motioned to the dead king. “What do we do with him?”r />
  Gawain’s Knight Voice left no room to argue. “We leave him here to rot forever.”

  As they wound their way up the staircase and through the corridors, following the Mist Hound, more men fell in behind them. Young and old, mostly human, but with a few elves and even some dwarves, they became a shambling parade of confused former-chimeras. Some were having trouble relearning to walk on two legs. Some still wore the tattered remnants of the Forgotten King’s livery, while others who had eschewed clothing in their animal forms were wrapped in bits of drapery and old tablecloths.

  They emerged into the sunlight of a bright, clear morning.

  Emerald paused, and the groups of former soldiers milled around the courtyard.

  “I need to return to Crystalia Castle and tell my father what happened here.”

  Gawain nodded. “On my honor as a Knight, I must accompany you, my lady.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “You must? Really? Spare me the chivalry. I’ll get there in half the time without the tin man clanking along behind me.” Her kind expression took the sting out of the words.

  “But my lady . . .”

  “No buts.” She looked around at the half-dressed men. “Well, lots of butts, actually. These guys are really lost now, aren’t they? Some of them, their families have probably been dead for hundreds of years. What are they going to do?”

  Gawain shook his head. “They need help. A leader to help them regroup into proper soldiers.”

  “Right.” Emerald’s smile disappeared. “We may need them sooner rather than later. I don’t know what the Betrayer was talking about down there, but the Dark Consul isn’t going to be happy about losing his right-hand man. That goat wasn’t the only evil in Crystalia.” She nodded and turned to Gawain. “You must stay, Sir Knight. Help these men to remember what it means to serve the rightful king.” Seeing Gawain’s impending protest, she added, “I command it.”

  “As you wish, my lady. But where shall we go?”

  Emerald thought for a moment. “There’s an empty barracks just north of the Castle. It’s old, hasn’t been used in my lifetime. It will need a good cleaning, but it should be big enough for all these men. Take them there.”