The Knights of the Spring Dream

by Tom Hunter

  “You may find our ways cruel,” Rimon said, “but I wasn’t certain if all your fancy words were simply parroting what Akhenaton had taught you to say. It’s clear that he holds you in high regard, but while I respect Akhenaton’s opinion, individuals can be mistaken and fooled, especially when you’ve both faced death together. That creates a bond of loyalty that can cause men to lose their discernment. I had to be sure that you are the person he says you are. In expressing such Divine principles of mercy and respecting the ways of the Order not to kill one of our own, I will allow that you and your fellows perhaps deserve to live after all.”

  “Thank you.” Samuel nodded in respect at the High Marshal. “But let me ask you this: Would you have kept your word and spared either of us if one of us had taken up the blade and killed the other?”

  “Of course not,” Rimon replied. “For all that our way of doing things may be alien to your so-called modern civilization, we could never allow someone to live who would so easily betray a friend. Such a cur could never be trusted.”

  “Fair enough,” conceded Samuel. “I am glad that I managed to pass your little test, but can we please let my friends out of prison now so that we can all sit down together and discuss things properly? I think you’ll agree that we’ve got bigger fish to fry than to worry about my loyalty to Akhenaton.”

  “Don’t press your luck, American,” growled the guard who was still carrying the sword. “You’re in no place to make demands.”

  “No, he’s right.” Rimon waved at the guard to stand down. “Go and set his friends free. Give them food, and new clothes, as well as a chance to clean themselves. No doubt they’ll be grateful for the opportunity to freshen up after hours in close confinement. Meanwhile, the rest of you, leave me and Samuel alone. As he so rightly points out, we have much to discuss.”

  Akhenaton reached out to squeeze Samuel’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure everyone’s well taken care of,” he promised. “Your friends are safe with me.”

  He turned and joined the others leaving the church, while Samuel turned to the High Marshal.

  “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I really appreciate this. Might I ask if I could join my friends in getting some rest? They’re not the only ones in need of a shower and I have been up all night.”

  “Don’t press your luck,” warned the High Marshal, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Come. We’ll be more comfortable talking in my chambers.”

  He turned and left the church through a little side door, not bothering to wait for Samuel.

  Fourteen

  Waleed rattled the bars on the window ineffectively, cursing as he failed to make any headway in breaking out of the cell. Josh sat on the other bunk, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the bed, belying his otherwise relaxed demeanor. Basile nervously paced up and down the room, muttering to himself in French, while Shafira stood with her ear pressed to the door, listening for any clue that might tell them what was happening to Samuel.

  “What do you think’s happening?” she asked. “It’s been quiet for far too long. I don’t like it when it’s quiet. My mom always said that she knew when me or my brother were getting up to mischief because she couldn’t hear us. Why did they only take Samuel? What could they want with him?”

  “You asked us that ten minutes ago,” snapped Waleed, stepping down from the window. “And again twenty minutes before that. The answer hasn’t changed. None of us know. We’re all in the dark. We’re all at the mercy of the madmen who run this place, and I doubt that Samuel is doing anything to persuade them to let us live. We should have sent Basile. He would have had us out of here in five minutes. One look at him and they would have known that we were no threat to them. Stupid woman making a typically stupid decision!”

  “Hey!” Josh stood up, going nose to nose with Waleed. “You don’t get to speak to her like that. It’s obvious that she’s worried. Apologize to her right now.”

  “Or what?” sneered Waleed.

  “Enough, the pair of you.” Basile pushed himself between the two men, indicating to them both to stand down. “We’re all worried. None of us know what’s going on, but we’re not going to help the situation by arguing among ourselves.”

  “I’m sorry. This is all my fault,” Shafira sighed. “You’re right, Waleed. Maybe I should have sent Basile, but I made the decision I thought was best at the time. I’m just struggling to deal with being here. I don’t like waiting around. I never did.”

  Josh looked sharply at Shafira. “Do you really want to go into that right now? With these guys?”

  Shafira shrugged. “Maybe not. But you should know better than anyone why I’m starting to get loopy from being in jail. I feel as though the walls are closing in around me. I’ll go mad if I have to stay in here much longer.”

  “Sheesh, woman,” Waleed snorted. “This place is a five star resort compared to some of the dives I’ve spent weeks in. If a single day here is getting to you so much, how will you cope if we’re moved to somewhere a little less salubrious?”

  “Speaks the seasoned criminal,” sneered Josh. “Trust you to be able to rate this place on a five-star scale. So tell us more about your past experiences. What’s the worst place you’ve ever been in?”

  “Yes, Waleed,” urged Basile. “Tell us a bit more about your past. If nothing else, it will help to pass the time. I’m sure you have plenty of adventures you could share with us.”

  “I’m not the kind of person to dwell on the past,” shrugged Waleed. “Suffice to say that it takes a certain resolve to be able to come out unscathed from some of the jails I’ve been held in.”

  As he spoke, Shafira went back to her position by the door. Her eyes widened as she heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

  “Hush! Everyone, be quiet!” She flapped her hands at the men to get them to shut up. “Someone’s coming. Now does everyone remember the plan if they start waving crossbows at us again?”

  “Are we really going for suicide by cop if it comes to it?” asked Basile.

  “It would be better than the type of torture they’re likely to have planned,” commented Waleed darkly. “At least it would be fast.”

  “Dead is dead,” agreed Josh. “I’d rather go out as quickly and painlessly as possible on my own terms, not when some random monk decides they want to take me out. That plan’s the best chance we’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Quiet! They’re almost here.” Shafira ushered them away from the door and the four of them took up position, two to a bunk, trying to pretend that they’d been quietly sitting around waiting for the guards to return.

  They braced themselves as they heard the sound of keys turning in the lock, readying themselves to rush the guards. The prisoners tensed, steeling themselves to fight their way out, even if it meant one of their number died. Slowly, the door creaked open…

  “Akhenaton?” gasped Shafira running over to him. “Where’s Samuel? Is he with you? Is he all right?”

  “Samuel’s fine,” Akhenaton reassured. “He’s currently having a private audience with the High Marshal.”

  “Do you hear that?” Waleed nudged Basile. “What’s the betting that our gracious leader Samuel has sold us out to save his own skin?”

  Basile frowned at him, taken aback.

  “Sorry,” Waleed grinned, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “No offense intended.”

  “If you all come with me, you will be fed and given fresh clothing,” Akhenaton announced. “When the High Marshal is ready, you will be taken to see him, so I would suggest you make the most of this opportunity to clean yourselves up.”

  “Does this mean that we’re free to roam about the camp?” asked Basile eagerly.

  “No!” snapped the woman with Akhenaton, gesturing to a few more guards to come to escort the prisoners. “Try anything and you’ll find yourself back in here faster than you can blink, and you won’t be leaving next time.”

  She motioned to Shafira
to come with her, as Akhenaton accompanied the men going with the other guards. Waleed looked back at the cell as they left, making a mental note of its layout and potential weaknesses, just in case.

  Fifteen

  High Marshal Rimon took a seat behind his desk, motioning to Samuel to sit opposite. Away from his guards, he seemed older, the weight of leadership pressing heavily down on him.

  “So what did you want to speak about?” asked Samuel.

  Rimon inhaled deeply, considering his words before answering. “I cannot condone what Akhenaton did,” he finally began. “It goes against all our principles to share any details about the Order.”

  “If it’s any consolation, Akhenaton was very tight-lipped until he thought you were going to kill me and my friends,” Samuel told him. “I guess he figured that if we were going to die, it didn’t matter what we knew, and if we lived, then it would be because we would be useful to you.”

  “I can understand his reasoning,” Rimon conceded. “There are times when I wonder whether we are doing the right thing by cleaving so strictly to the Old Ways. Perhaps we are doing our mission a disservice by not adapting ourselves to modern times. As you know, we are the Knights of the Spring Dream, and in keeping with St. Augustine’s principles were once an austere Order charged with developing safety and security systems for his libraries and secrets.

  “Long ago, our patron saint’s writings were freely shared among members of the Order. It was believed that anyone who was accepted into our number had proven themselves worthy and capable of understanding his teachings, so his knowledge should be available to all. However, all that changed when one of our own betrayed us and stole the details of one of the treasure rooms guarded by his cell in Spain. He sold them to the highest bidder on the black market. The subsequent damage he caused was incalculable. His actions are credited with making it possible for the Visigoths to invade Spain as extensively as they did.

  “As a result of that tragedy, the leader of the Knights forbade any cell from having direct contact with another, and secrecy has become our prime driving force. As part of this new policy, ever since then, we have constantly striven to take advantage of every new innovation that might allow us to remain hidden. We count among our number some of the leading experts in holograph technology. They developed the device that hid the cave from you, among other things. When camouflage was inappropriate, in some instances, it was decided that the best way of hiding something was to keep it in plain sight. If you want to keep something secret, we’re the world leaders in clandestine operations, for what good it has done us.”

  “The loss of the headdress must be a huge blow,” Samuel observed. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry that it fell into the hands of the Bruard. That’s the last thing any of us wanted. None of us could have known what was going to happen when we entered that cave. We had no idea that we had our own traitor in our midst.”

  Rimon smiled sadly, nodding in understanding before continuing. “While St. Augustine’s headdress is the key to mastering mind control and his lineage grants the power to accessing its full potential, there are also a number of companion relics that need to be retrieved in order to activate it. Plus there is further information that is essential to unleash all the secrets St. Augustine hid from the world.”

  “So we need to stop Pin and the Bruard before they can figure out all of this,” Samuel remarked. “Given that it’s partly my fault that they got hold of the relic, I want to help, especially since it’s every free man’s duty to fight the Bruard when the opportunity arises. What can my team do to make sure the Bruard can’t use the headdress?”

  “In the first instance, I’m going to put the word out to send my own agents to destroy the other required artifacts,” Rimon told him. “If we can get that done, we severely restrict the artifact’s usefulness. From that perspective, the situation isn’t as bad as it may first appear. However, even though we’re isolated out here, we’re well aware of the dogged threat posed by the Bruard. There is always the chance that they may know about these extra requirements and either beat us to them or, worse, figure out a way around them so that they aren’t essential any more.

  “This means that we need to understand exactly how the artifact works so that we can render it useless to the Bruard.” Rimon gazed intensely at Samuel. “I believe in covering all my bases. Given that, I’m not averse to the possibility that we may be able to plan to recover the headdress. Although I have to keep my focus on the big picture, I share your reluctance to destroy the past. We’ve lost too much of our heritage already. If at all possible, I’d like to save the hat.”

  “I must admit that that would be my preferred option,” Samuel agreed.

  “Whatever we do, the first step is to gather as much information as we can,” Rimon told him. “As St. Augustine taught us, knowledge is power. Knowledge will enable us to defeat the Bruard, at least as far as St. Augustine’s secrets are concerned. We have to unravel centuries of secrecy to determine the truth.”

  “That’s a tall order,” remarked Samuel. “I take it you’re asking me if my team can rise to the challenge?”

  “I am,” confirmed Rimon.

  “Before I commit us to a potentially deadly mission, answer me one thing: is there any particular reason why you’re not tasking some of your own to do this?”

  Rimon sighed. “Akhenaton’s disobedience is a symptom of deeper underlying issues,” he replied. “I am seeing more and more dissatisfaction in the ranks, existing members sometimes even going so far as to turn their backs on us. Meanwhile, every year, we have fewer apprentices coming to study with us and fewer still taking their oaths. It is a point of principle that we do not proselytize. St. Augustine would never have forced the unwilling to join his Order and neither will I. But, media saturation has now taken over so many brains that it is likely that in just a few more generations there will be too few of us for us to carry out our duties.”

  “I understand. It’s tough, alright.” The two men fell into silence, the overwhelming situation swirling around them.

  “So where should my team start?” Samuel asked at last.

  “I am going to give you an opportunity few are afforded,” Rimon announced. “I’m going to help you to find a way to contact the leader of my Order so that they may guide you in your next steps. Few ever get granted an audience with them, so I cannot stress enough how much of a privilege this is.”

  Samuel narrowed his eyes, noticing the lack of a specific gender pronoun. Just how blind would they be, moving forward?

  “Where do we need to go to find this leader?” he asked.

  “You’ll find the beginning at the end,” came the enigmatic reply. “St. Augustine ended his days in Hippo Regius, the city that is now known as Annaba. That’s where you must travel to discover the next step.”

  “And then what? What do we do once we’re there?”

  “Only the worthy get to stand before our leader. In finding them, you automatically prove yourself worthy. You already have everything you need to fulfil your mission, even though it may not seem that way. Sometimes to find clarity, we need to travel into darkness.”

  Sixteen

  The air was filled with the babble of chatter as members of the Order gathered in the large outdoor dining tent where all the meals were served. Basile and the other adventurers sat together at one side of the dining tent, a large bowl of Moroccan stew in the middle of their table along with freshly baked bread for them all to share.

  “Is it me, or does anyone else feel like we’re just being tolerated?” asked Josh, as he reached over for some bread.

  “We’re definitely the subject of more than a few conversations,” murmured Shafira, deliberately keeping her focus on the bowl of food in front of her to avoid the blatant stares of some of the people at the other table. She didn’t see the man striding up behind her.

  “Is this a private party or can anyone join in?”

  “Samuel!” beamed Basile, as the arc
haeologist pulled out a chair and sat with his friends. “You came back!”

  “You know me,” grinned Samuel. “I can never stay away from you guys for too long. Someone hand me a bowl. I’m starving.”

  Basile passed over a bowl and Samuel ladled out a generous helping of stew for himself, tucking in as if it had been an eternity since he last ate.

  “Prudent! Careful! I see your table manners are as uncouth as ever,” observed Basile as a large dollop of stew fell from Samuel’s spoon and down his shirt.

  “Meh.” Samuel shrugged, scooping up more stew. “Shirts can be washed. I enjoy my food, and that’s what counts.”

  “So what did you and the High Marshal discuss?” asked Shafira. “Or are you sworn to secrecy?”

  “Quite the opposite,” Samuel replied. “I’m going to need you all on board if we’re to fulfil the mission Rimon has tasked us with.”

  “Rimon?” Basile raised an eyebrow. “So you and the High Marshal are on first name terms now?”

  “Something like that,” nodded Samuel. “He’s sending us on a quest.”

  “A quest?” Waleed butted in. “That sounds very dramatic.”

  “Like everything we’ve been through so far has been perfectly normal.” Josh rolled his eyes.

  “I’m not going to lie to you,” said Samuel. “There is a good chance that we’re going to be in even more danger. You see, the High Marshal wants us to track down the leader of the Knights of the Spring Dream, so that we can learn more about what exactly it was that Pin stole from the cave and take it back before the Bruard can use it against the rest of the world.”

  “We know what he stole,” pointed out Waleed. “It was just some random headdress.”

  “A random headdress with mysterious abilities,” Samuel corrected. “Nobody knows what the headdress is capable of, but all the evidence points to one of its abilities involving some form of mind control. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want the Bruard poking around inside my head and telling me how I should be thinking. Rimon thinks that the leader of his Order will be able to tell us more about what we’re up against. The only trouble is that, due to the secretive nature of the organization, he can’t give us more than vague instructions as to how to track down this leader. He can’t even tell me whether they’re male or female, let alone what they look like or what their name is. All he can do is point us in the right direction. It’s up to us to track them down. Apparently the very fact that we’re able to find them will be proof of our worthiness to win their trust, but we have no idea what kind of minefield we’ll be walking into. So what do you think? Are you willing to come with me to find this enigmatic leader and save the world?”