The Quest Of The Legend

by A. J. Cronin

  “Where is Rachel?” Gawain asks as he looks over the four.

  “She is coming,” one of the winged females answers, “and she brings with her two others: Lady Lisa and her guide.”

  Gawain turns to Alastor, confused, but Alastor keeps his eyes on the winged soldier.

  “Morrigan is here?” Alastor asks.

  “No, sir,” she replies. “The guide looked like a Lucian lieutenant, yet her heart was innocent, I believe.”

  Gawain’s heart slinks away from him as the dark of sadness overtakes.

  “She has died... I failed utterly.”

  “Archgeneral,” the soldier speaks up, “Lady Lisa is not dead. She is here, very much mortal.”

  “Are you certain?” responds Gawain.

  “There was no question, Archgeneral.”

  “How long until they arrive?”

  “We had stayed just out of eyeshot, as per Rachel’s orders to watch for enemies. They should arrive momentarily, sir.”

  Gawain nods and dismisses the four with a look of gratefulness. He glances back to Alastor both heartened and dismayed.

  “First you, now Amelia and Lisa, and still alive on top of it all. Lucius’ meddling with this realm is weakening it. Why Samael would allow this, I cannot fathom.”

  “Since when would Samael care about the natural order?” asks Alastor.

  “When that order is actually in his favor. This realm is for the dishonored, which was the sole domain of Samael until the foundation of Valkyr.”

  “Maybe it is Valkyr itself that has Samael using such desperate measures.”

  A shout rings out from the direction of the gates. Gawain sets his helmet back on, and the two men go to investigate.

  ~-~~-~

  Rachel stands inside Valkyr, beside the open gates, but Lisa and Amy are outside; the two keepers barring the way, their scythes crossed.

  “She is my guide!” Lisa shouts. “My friend! I told you this already!”

  Gawain walks up to Rachel authoritatively. Alastor remains behind Gawain, trying to stay out of sight.

  “What is this?” the Archgeneral asks gruffly, trying to mask his voice.

  “They will not allow the other one to pass,” Rachel answers the Archgeneral.

  “Their kind is not permitted here,” both keepers respond. “She belongs to the enemy.”

  “But she has recanted, abandoned Lucius!” Lisa argues.

  “One can never recant their blood, child. You would do well to remember this.”

  Amy remains silent, dejected. This was what she expected.

  “I know of this one, I can vouch for - ” Gawain begins, but is cut off.

  “With all due respect, Archgeneral, you have already made a claim, and this dishonored is not the one of whom you spoke.”

  “Then I will vouch for her! She is good, she is innocent!” Lisa exclaims.

  “Alas, you have not yet earned the right to make such a claim,” the keepers tell her with genuine kindness.

  Lisa looks to Rachel out of desperation.

  “I cannot,” Rachel tells Lisa with genuine sorrow. “I have already laid a claim as well...”

  Amy falls to her knees, unwilling to remain standing. Lisa looks to all whom are gathered, but droop their heads, hearts wilted, unable to do anything.

  “I can vouch for her,” Alastor announces, coming out from behind Gawain.

  The gate keepers turn their ears to Alastor, but their scythes remain crossed.

  “We are listening,” they tell the Knight.

  Lisa stares at this white haired man, not able to comprehend his identity. Amy slowly raises her head to this voice. The voice she has not heard in so very long, not since the days before she joined the numbers of the dishonored.

  “She came to this place because of me,” Alastor begins explaining to the twin keepers. “Her name is Amelia, and was a good and honorable woman in life. Any choices she made here were done so in distress because, from her point of view, she was wholly forsaken, and as such was left with no option but to follow Lucius. Had this place, this sanctuary, existed at the time that Lucius recruited her, I know with all my heart and soul that she would be standing here, on this side of your gate.”

  Silence grips all. The keepers look to one another, conferring together wordlessly.

  “Your words carry much weight, Alastor, son of Eoin,” they say. “Will you give us your undying word that she is deserving of being redeemed?”

  “Her very being here is proof enough. She came here knowing full well that you could have ended her at first sight.”

  “Her actions, past and present, are not of consequence, Lord Alastor. What we ask is your word, your promise, that her blood is redeemable. This is all that matters.”

  “You have my word. My promise,” Alastor says with the manner of a king.

  The keepers again look to one another. After a moment, they uncross their scythes.

  “A word of caution,” they speak solemnly, looking into Amy’s eyes. “Though you are now most welcome here, with a place of honor, your flesh still belongs to the enemy. Until you die, freeing yourself from Lucius’ bond, you cannot remain. Once Lord Alastor leaves, you will return with him to the world of mortality.”

  “I understand,” Amy says meekly.

  Lisa looks down to Amy with a smile before stepping into Valkyr. She stares again at Alastor, seeing but not seeing him. Amy stands, ready to step through the gates, but she becomes motionless, hesitant. Her eyes and Alastor’s meet. Gawain, still unrevealed to his daughter, takes Lisa gently by the shoulder, moving her to the side.

  “Watch carefully,” he whispers to her.

  Lisa has the immediate urge to come face to face with the large man in golden armor, but does not, watching instead as Alastor steps closer to the gate, holding out his hand to Amy.

  “Amelia, you can never know how sorry I am for what I did.”

  “You might have pierced my heart, Alastor... but I wounded you far deeper,” Amy says with a mock smile.

  “There is no excuse for my monstrous action.”

  “I was not blameless. I did come here after all.”

  Amelia takes Alastor’s hand and, with his help, steps through the gates. As she does so, energy and white fire engulf her in an instant, consuming her yet leaving her unharmed. Her skin, her wings, it all becomes like ash and falls away like a fragile veil, leaving behind her true self, the dark haired beauty, Amelia of Arkelon. Amy falls, overwhelmed by the change, but Alastor catches her, holding her. The clothes she wore, nothing more than tattered and singed rags have become a spotless white tunic. The people of the city cheer triumphantly.

  “Why do they cheer so?” Lisa asks the man behind her.

  “It is always a joyous occasion when one joins our numbers, but she represents something new. She is the first of her kind, the first of Lucius’ army to be brought back from that brink of desolation.”

  “There will be more?”

  “I very much hope so,” Gawain answers, unable to hide his voice in light of his happiness.

  Alastor helps Amy to stand, cradling her while she relearns how to control her body. Gawain allows the two a moment alone.

  “As much as I hated you, or thought I hated you, I could not bring myself to take revenge at the keep,” Amy whispers to Alastor.

  “You need never think of those things again, Amelia.”

  “So, what have you been up to?” she questions with a sly smile.

  “Fighting off legions of evil doers, trying to come to grip with who I am.”

  “Just as I left you? Well, I guess we will have to try and change that.”

  “Alastor,” Gawain calls, “if all is well, I do believe we have imperative matters to discuss.”

  Alastor nods, letting Gawain lead them away. Gawain stops though, looking to Rachel as a sudden thought comes to him.

  “Shall I join you, Archgeneral?” she asks.

  “Yes. I think it would be best that you did.”<
br />
  “Very well, sir. I will follow soon, but first I must speak with my soldiers.”

  Alastor takes a long look at Rachel, thinking for a moment he has seen her before. He cannot think long on it however, as she flies off swift and sure. Gawain resumes taking them toward one of the lesser buildings, away from a majority of the population.

  ~-~~-~

  They come into a meeting hall, fuller than one might expect: cabinets with their unknown contents, bookcases full of scrolls and volumes, silver lamp stands and in the center a wonderfully wrought table of wood, surrounded by likewise magnificent chairs, and a bowl of the best looking fruit any had ever imagined on the table’s center, alongside a crystal pitcher of some golden drink.

  Alastor brings Amy to a chair at the table, while Lisa stops to face the gold clad warrior. The beginning of tears forming, and with them a smile skirting across her lips.

  “Father,” she whispers as she moves to take off his helmet.

  Gawain takes her hands gently, stopping her. He looks to Alastor, who nods. Gawain loosens his daughter’s hands, letting her remove the helmet. Lisa smiles wide at seeing the face of her father, different as it is.

  “Hello, daughter.”

  Lisa drops the helmet, throwing her arms around Gawain’s neck, holding him tightly in spite of his armor. She eventually pulls away, perusing his face.

  “You look so different. Younger, I think.”

  “This is my true self, free of the woes and sicknesses I carried in life.”

  “But, you still look like you.”

  “Aye, why would I not?”

  “Alastor. He is almost a different man completely,” she says, turning to the Knight, who is oblivious to her words.

  “Alastor is... unique. An anomaly and a curiosity.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I am unable to say. When the time is right, all will know.”

  After making sure Amy, still reeling from her transformation, is well, Alastor walks to Gawain and Lisa, Lisa meeting him halfway. Her scrutinizing eye now falling on him fully.

  “Are you really my Alastor?” she asks, more of herself than the others.

  “I was unaware that I was yours, Lisa,” Alastor responds with a smirk.

  Amy and Gawain manage a laugh, but Lisa can only smile.

  “You are definitely he,” she tells him. “And that means we can leave.”

  “I am afraid, Your Highness, that I will not be leaving any time soon.”

  “What? Why not!?”

  “There is... a... task that I must first complete, Your Highness.”

  “What could be more important than Lucius! The longer we remain, the stronger he becomes!”

  “Lisa,” Gawain speaks softly, trying to calm her down. “Lucius will be dealt with in time.”

  As Lisa begins her objection, Rachel enters, bowing before all, then walking to Gawain with a peculiar expression.

  “How goes things?” Gawain asks his general.

  “I am unsure,” Rachel replies.

  “Unsure? What troubles you?”

  “Except for the fell spawn that attacked your daughter, we have had no sign of Lucius’ army.”

  “None whatsoever?”

  “Correct.”

  “Highly odd.”

  “Why is that, Gawain?” Alastor asks.

  “Lucius made no secret of his disdain for me and Valkyr. He delighted in causing mischief, attacking those whom we send out to search the dishonored. He even took Essain as his staging grounds, both here and in the living world, as a way to insult me.”

  “I think I know why you have not seen his army then.”

  “By all means, tell me.”

  “As Heimdal and I escaped from Cain’s prison, a covering of light began to encase Essain. It was solid, impenetrable and, from what Heimdal said, untouchable by Lucius’ minions, lest they should lose their forms.”

  “Most interesting.”

  “Wait, father... what do you mean by Essain being Lucius’ staging ground?” Lisa asks.

  “Daughter, surely you are not blind, nor deaf?”

  “If she is those things, than so am I, Gawain,” Alastor says on her behalf.

  “I have been recruiting from the legions of the dishonored, as he has been doing. He has raised an army, and so have I. What else do men use armies for?”

  “A war? Here?”

  “Not any war, Alastor. The War of Twilight.”

  Alastor lowers his head, the simple truth he suspected now known.

  “Now I understand why you need Eoin.”

  “He prepared for this since he was a child, though then he knew it not. As a man, he led wars, commanded many great men, commanded me. As a father, he prepared you, even though he had only a inkling of what role you might play. Here is his life, come full circle, Alastor. His being in the pit of the Madness is a technicality, the fulfillment of the rules brought about by Cain’s pact-curse, but it is a fate he does not deserve.”

  Amy and Lisa look to one another, not understanding what the two men mean. Alastor and Gawain step aside, speaking in hushed tones. Rachel takes notice of the confused Lisa and gently sits her down beside Amy.

  “My Lady,” Rachel says, her face now much kinder, even loving, as she speaks. “I should apologize for my earlier harshness. I had to make sure you were who I thought you were.”

  Lisa smiles and nods in acceptance of this apology, but having this winged woman call her ‘My Lady’ leaves a strange feeling in her heart. The Queen looks to Alastor and her father, noticing how the Knight almost appears to be the greater of the two, the age one was in the land of the living holding no credence in Valkyr.

  The Knight and the King come to an agreement, shaking hands, clasping shoulders. Alastor looks to Rachel, Lisa and finally Amy.

  “Pray for me, My Ladies,” he says before leaving the room like a bolt of lightning..

  Both Amy and Lisa rush after him, running across the court and to the temple, but Alastor is much faster, covering the distance in an instant. In the temple shrine, they see Alastor. Mostly. He has knelt before the golden table, becoming a faded image of himself and then descends through the floor like it was water. Gawain and Rachel walk in calmly.

  “Where did he go!?” demands Lisa.

  “Alastor has gone where no man should ever have to go: he has descended into the Madness, the lowest and most foul place of dishonor, where he shall rescue his father.”

  Amy’s eyes gloss over and her heart skips a beat as she becomes lost in herself. Lisa’s reaction is as opposite as can possibly be.

  ~-~~-~

  In a small room adjacent to the temple shrine, Lisa paces back and forth.

  “My Lady, please sit down. When your father returns, he will explain all,” Rachel says calmly to the frustrated Queen.

  Lisa stops, eyeing Rachel suspiciously.

  “Why do you call me that?”

  “What?”

  “‘My Lady.’ Why do you address me with those particular words?”

  “If it offends you, I shall stop. I was merely trying to show proper respect.”

  “No, it is not that it is offensive. Rather, I am only called that by one other person.”

  Rachel smiles unabashedly.

  “Would this other person by chance be Mikha’el?”

  “Yes! How can you possibly know that?”

  “Because Mikha’el is my brother, of course.”

  Lisa stops her pacing, stunned. Amy raises an eyebrow, but otherwise remains absentminded, her thoughts solely on what has happened to her, and more importantly in her heart, the well being of Alastor on his most demanding quest yet. She of course starts to entertain fantasies of what he goes through, and wishing more than anything she could be with him, helping in what ways she can.

  “Mikha’el never even alluded to having had a sister,” Lisa stammers.

  “Most likely because the memory of her death is still haunting him,” Gawain says while he enters th
e room. “Seeing you, dearest daughter, probably brought that memory back full force, like the opening of an old wound.”

  Lisa struggles to speak, Gawain’s words making her head swim in an ocean of incomprehension.

  “What would seeing me have to do with his memories?” she finally manages to speak.

  “I was always glad that you were too young to remember.”

  “Remember what, father?”

  “Lisa, what Mikha’el is to Alastor, Rachel would have been to you, except...”

  “Father?”

  “I died,” Rachel finishes with a removed smile.

  “How?”

  “Protecting you, My Lady.”

  “...father?”

  Lisa becomes light headed, the blood draining from her face. She swoons. Gawain and Rachel both move to catch her, but it is Rachel that proves the swifter.

  “My Lady, please sit,” Rachel whispers, helping the Queen into a seat.

  “Father,” repeats Lisa, sounding winded, tired and wounded. “I can understand others doing this, but why you? Why have you of all people kept so much from me? All these secrets. Pieces of history I have never been told. Why have I been kept in the dark about so much that would affect me?”

  Gawain sighs. He knows that he has wronged his daughter.

  “Lisa, you must realize that none of us; Eoin, Alastor, Mikha’el, not even Morrigan expected events such as those which have transpired to occur. We thought we were in control, that we had everything planned for what was foreseen. I saw no reason to tell you, because from our point of view, everything was in proper line. It was simply a matter of time for Alastor to do what was necessary.”

  “What, father!?” Lisa yells. “What was in proper line!? What is this conspiracy you all refer to yet never tell me about? What is this secret that has been decaying Alastor, making him do things that no man should have had to do?”

  “The destruction of Cain.”

  Lisa stares at her father.

  “Cain. The man bound under our castle?”

  “Yes. Did Alastor tell you?”

  “No. Just before Amy and I came here, I dreamt of him.”

  This comes as a disappointment to Gawain.

  “Then I will not lie. The man under the castle is indeed Cain.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Eoin told me many things about him, but as you might have gathered, he is the progenitor of their bloodline, and he was the first Black Knight.”