Forever Knight (The Champion Chronicles Book 3)

by Brad Clark

  Elissa did not respond. Even though the battlefield was a good distance away, she could still see each fallen knight. There were too many of them. Even though most of the knights were returning, either atop their mounts or on foot, the bodies of those who had sworn an oath to protect her were laying out there alone. It not only made her sad, it made her sick. These people died for her and her kingdom. She suddenly felt so unworthy of her position.

  “They do not pursue your knights,” Toknon observed, trying to explain what he saw to Elissa. “They do not counter-attack because they know they have the advantage of men and only bide their time knowing they have the advantage. You have lost many good knights, and they have lost some good centurions. But they have many more centurions to fill in the place of their fallen. How many more of your knights will die in vain? Yes, the catapults are on fire, but like Lord Kirwal said, they will soon be replaced.”

  Tears came to Elissa’s eyes and it made her mad. She could not understand why she felt like crying while the men around her stood so stoically, talking about death so easily. “You are right,” she said with a crack in her voice. “We must stop this! Bring the Taran diplomats to me, right now! We will end this fight. Surrender. Whatever it takes! We cannot win this fight!”

  Toknon glanced at Lord Martin and said, “Tell her.”

  Lord Martin said in his own shaky voice, “The Taran diplomats were the ones who tried to kill you, Your Majesty. They were spies. Assassins.”

  Elissa spun around, unsure that she heard him right. “What?”

  “Yes, it is true,” Toknon said. “Whatever they want, they do not want peace. They have come to fight.”

  “Why are they doing this?” she asked. Elissa looked from one man to the next, but no one could answer her question.

  After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Lord Kirwal said, “I have sent messengers to Tyre. We will have reinforcements in four days. Maybe five.”

  “How many men?” Toknon asked, even though he already knew the answer.

  “Not enough,” Lord Kirwal admitted.

  “In two weeks I can have Thellian soldiers here,” Toknon said. He felt the need to offer help that he knew would not be necessary. “But by then, the walls will surely have been breached.”

  “What do we do?” the queen asked, her voice still shaking with emotion.

  Lord Kirwal looked from Lord Martin, to King Toknon, and then back to Elissa. No one wanted to say what they were all thinking.

  But Elissa had no idea what they were thinking. Her emotions turned from fear to anger as she watched the most militarily intelligent men in her kingdom look at one another with a dumbfounded silence.

  “What do we do!” she said in a firm voice that had lost all its fear.

  Lord Kirwal looked directly at the queen and said, “We must send them all. Everyone.”

  His words surprised her and it took a moment for her to realize what he was saying. “What? Did you say all? Who will be left to defend the city?”

  “If we do not win this battle today, do you think there will be a city to defend? We must win today to win this war. We must send everyone. Anyone who can lift a sword. Men. Boys. Even women.”

  “I cannot…” Elissa’s voice trailed off. The anger that she briefly carried went away. No more words would come out.

  Lord Kirwal continued, “The Tarans will send out more catapults. Maybe it’ll be five or ten or even twenty next time. They might even have ten more ready to roll out of the forest right now. We cannot wait. We must attack with everything we have right now. And when this battle is over, after we have won the day, then we will send out a delegation to negotiate peace. We must prove our position of strength if we want our kingdom to survive.”

  “But will we have a kingdom left after this battle?” the queen asked meekly. “There are still so many of them out there.”

  Lord Kirwal looked down from the top of the wall to the soldiers that were gathering in the streets in front of the gate. The better armed and armored soldiers were at the front while the men and boys of the city had gathered to the rear. So many had answered the call to defend the city, they just might be able to defeat the centurions in a single battle. But the queen was right. There were still so many of them out there.

  “With them recovering from the attack on the catapults, now is the best time to continue the attack,” Lord Kirwal said. “We might just catch them off guard and surprise them.”

  “Remember, those are professional soldiers out there,” Toknon added. “They are going to be well drilled and skilled in their craft. But they will not be motivated like your people will be. Your people have something to fight for. Those centurions out there only fight for a handful of copper coins and a bed to sleep in.”

  Elissa felt her heart drop out of her chest. “There has already been so much death. So many good men have already fallen today.” She turned to Lord Kirwal and said, “There are more of them than there are of us and more than half of our number are untrained.”

  Lord Kirwal glanced down below the walls at the army that was waiting for orders to march. “Yes, that is true.”

  “How can we even win?”

  “We have the resolve,” Lord Kirwal said. “And courage. And honor. Things that a soldier would know about. Battles are not always won by the side with the most soldiers. They have invaded our kingdom and our men are ready to fight for it. Just like King Toknon said, they are motivated. Your Majesty, for you, we will win this day!”

  She bit her lip and nodded her head. She knew there would be great loss of life, and she had just killed many of her own people with that simple nod of the head. For all the good and wonderful things that a queen could do, this was the worst.

  “I will let the army know myself,” Lord Kirwal said with a solemn voice. He gave the queen a quick bow and departed to pass word to the soldiers below that they would soon engage the enemy in battle.

  Lord Martin then stepped forward and touch Elissa on the arm. “You must retreat to the castle where you can be better protected.”

  “Yes,” Toknon said. “For once I agree with Lord Martin. Your safety is important. Regardless of the outcome of the battle, for your kingdom to survive, you must survive.”

  Elissa happened to glance to the south and movement caught her eye. A group of a dozen men were running away from the river towards the city. She had seen many escape to the river and she had hoped that they would be able to get across the river or take a cog up the river to Tyre. The more that escaped, the better chance she would have of rebuilding her kingdom after this was all done. Those men had escaped safely, but were now going back into harm’s way. She could do no less.

  “My place is here,” the queen said firmly.

  Lord Martin continued to argue his point, but the queen ignored him. Once she said the words, she knew it was the right thing to do. Whether she survived this day or not, she would not do it from the safety and comfort of her castle. If her people were going to put their lives on the line for the kingdom, she would as well.

  ***

  Captain Janari had seen the ship anchored in the middle of the river, but had not paid it much heed. There did not appear to be anyone on board, so he didn’t really think about it other than to aim his ship away from it, giving it a wide berth. As the sea preparations were about finished, he was ready to call for the sails to be raised when he looked up to the see that ship, sails full, heading towards him. Even with the current against it, the ship was moving fast with a strong tail wind. There was going to be little he could do to avoid the collision.

  He jumped back to the bow, taking the rudder from the pilot and pushed hard, attempting to turn into the oncoming ship. He did not want to take the brunt of the blow along the side. If he could force them to hit head on, his bow was strong enough that it just might survive. A hit to the side would be fatal and it would not take long for the ship to end up at the bottom of the river. But a head-on bow-to-bow strike would at least keep his ship
afloat. It would not be sea worthy, but it might be salvageable enough to repair.

  But he was moving too slowly to make a fast enough turn. It was also too late to call his sailors to their oars to try and gain some speed. The only thing he could do was to shout out for them to brace for collision.

  The oncoming ship struck them just aft of the bow. If he had started the turn a minute earlier, he might have been able to complete the turn and take the collision head-on. The impact immediately stopped the ship, sending everyone tumbling onto the deck. Even the supreme natural agility of the elves could not overcome the force of the collision. The ship kept moving forward until it was firmly stuck into theirs. The current continued to push Captain Janari’s ship, but the ship that rammed them was still stuck in his bow, so they two ships began a slow, downriver spin.

  His sailors were not ready for the attack, but the sailors from the ship that attacked them clearly were. The moment the ships collided, they began jumping onto his deck, swords in hand. In the middle of them was an armored soldier who carried a wide bladed short sword. His eyes scanned the deck and fell upon Hargon.

  The former Taran emperor had been cast upon the deck, but his hands firmly held onto the box that held the Ark of Life. As soon as he saw the sailors and the centurion sergeant, he shoved the box inside his shirt.

  The armed intruders did not immediately attack any of his sailors, so Captain Janari did not order his men to take up arms. The weapons they did have were stored below decks, far from their reach. In elvish, he ordered his men to stand-to. He had already lost his ship. He did not want to lose his men as well. It might be possible to fix his ship, but he could not easily replace his seasoned crew.

  He marched straight towards the soldier who clearly seemed in command, and said in the common language of man, “Who are you! Why do you do this?”

  Sergeant Farrus looked curiously at the man who came at him, and then at the rest of the crew. They were dressed oddly, in light clothes that would be more suited for the summer and not winter. But their most intriguing feature was their pointed ears.

  Distracted by the strange crew, he asked, “Who are you?”

  With contained rage, Captain Janari responded, “I am the captain of this ship that you just rammed. What are you doing?”

  Farrus acted like he did not hear the captain, as he calmly asked, “What are you?”

  “He is an elf,” Hargon said. He had not moved, hoping that would prevent him from being thought of as a threat.

  Farrus turned back to Hargon and pointed his sword at his chest and said, “And you are a murderer. I will have your head!”

  Hargon put up his hands. “What? No! I have killed no one!”

  “Seventeen,” Farrus spat out, trying to control his own rage. “Seventeen of my men you slaughtered!”

  “Me? No, that was not me.” He turned to look towards the city. “The ones you are looking for just ran off. Right there, you can see them running to the battle.”

  “You were there, then?”

  “Simply an innocent bystander,” Hargon replied with a wide smile.

  Farrus lowered his sword as he looked more carefully at the dirty man in front of him. It wasn’t until Hargon had smiled a white, toothy smile that he was recognized. Farrus’ eyes narrowed and he said, “I know that face.”

  Hargon panicked as he suddenly recognized Sergeant Farrus. It had been many years since he had seen him, but even after twenty-five years, he still recognized the face of an old friend. It had been when they were just boys when the sons of an emperor were still allowed to have friends.

  “Emperor Hargon?” Farrus asked.

  Hargon snorted. “Of course not! The emperor is dead!”

  “Only an emperor would have such a white smile as yours,” Farrus said. “Even with that filth on your face, I know you. But you do not remember me, do you?”

  “Of course I do not know you.”

  Farrus’ confusion fueled his anger and he lifted his sword as he approached Hargon. “Do not lie to me!”

  Hargon, his eyes wide with fear, raised his hands and said, “Okay! Okay! I am Hargon! Do not kill me!”

  Farrus let out a low growl as he lowered his sword and sheathed it. “You have always been a coward. What are you doing here?”

  “Tarcious tried to kill me, so I did the only thing that I could do. I ran away.”

  “You ran right to my garrison and slaughtered my men!”

  “That was not me!” Hargon pleaded. He turned again towards the city and pointed. “There were two of them and I tried to stop them, but they had weapons. They are now running to the battle and they will surely be killed! Justice will be served.”

  Farrus looked at the battlefield. Although the terrain sloped up slightly from the river to the forests past the city, he could not see much of the battlefield itself. There were three tendrils of smoke drifting up into the sky and the occasional clash of steel on steel could be heard. Beyond, he could see the ranks of centurions mustering just in front of the trees of the forest.

  “It appears that Taran is attacking the Karmons,” Farrus said. “If Emperor Tarcious is there, I am sure he would like to see his brother.”

  “No!” Hargon shouted. “He will kill me!”

  Farrus stepped forward and grabbed Hargon by the front of his tunic and pulled him to his feet. “You killed seventeen of my men. You will pay for their deaths. But first, I will take you to the emperor to see what he wants to do with you.”

  He tossed Hargon onto the deck like a child’s doll. He turned to glare at Captain Janari. “I don’t know who or what you are. I don’t care. I will take this murderer and you can be gone.”

  Captain Janari took a step forward. Hargon had been given the fabled Ark of Life and if he were to be taken to the Tarans, they would surely lose it.

  “Don’t,” Farrus said, holding up one hand and putting the other on the pommel of his sword.

  But Captain Janari wasn’t going to let the Ark of Life be taken so easily. He was not a trained soldier, but that did not mean he didn’t know how to fight. And he knew how to use his superior quickness to an advantage. With two quick leaps, he was on Sergeant Farrus, striking him with two quick punches. But the sergeant was a veteran of many wars and many battles. Although the elf was quick, his punches were light and ineffective. A counter-punch sent the elf to the deck, which gave him just enough time to draw his sword.

  Lacking soldier instincts, Captain Janari did not anticipate what was coming next, which was Farrus stepping forward and thrusting his short sword through his side, directly into his heart. He died instantly.

  A chaotic melee ensued. Although the elves were able to get to some weapons, the Taran sailors, led by the experienced Captain Farrus handily prevailed. All the elves would end up sacrificing their lives trying to protect the Ark. They fought valiantly, but unlike the Taran sailors, they were not trained to fight. When the fight was over, seven Taran sailors lay upon the deck of the elven ship, badly injured. Three would eventually die.

  Captain Farrus ignored his ship captain’s screams about his damaged boat and his wounded sailors. He walked over to Hargon, who had huddled near the deck railing, out of the way of the fighting. Hargon had subconsciously placed a hand over the box that was hidden under his shirt. Although he considered pulling it out and tossing it overboard, he was too afraid to move. Farrus still had his sword in hand, and he didn’t want to give the centurion any reason to use it.

  Farrus pulled the former emperor to his feet and had one of the Taran sailors bind Hargon’s hands behind his back. “You really don’t remember much of me, do you?”

  “We were friends when we were boys.”

  Farrus laughed. “You were a spoiled bully. You treated me as if I was your slave. You might have thought of me as your friend, but I hated you. My father wanted me to be your playmate so that he could gain favor with your father. So go ahead and beg all you want, but I have no sympathy for you.”

  Wit
h Hargon silenced with fear, Farrus used his sword to cut a long length of rope from the ship’s rigging. Then he tied Hargon’s hands and pushed the former emperor to the edge of the deck.

  “Jump,” Farrus ordered.

  Hargon looked up, still unable to speak. He opened his mouth to protest, but no words would come out.

  “Jump or I’ll push you.”

  The two ships, still stuck into one another, had drifted to shallow water near the riverbank and became stuck. Hargon climbed over the ship’s railing and jumped into the water. He landed hard and fell face first into the freezing cold water of the river. Panicked from the cold, he splashed his way out of the river and up onto the riverbank. Farrus was right behind him and gave him a push to keep moving.

  “We have a long walk,” Farrus said. “Keep moving.”

  Hargon let out a whimper, but he did not protest. He let himself be pulled towards the Darkenwood where the Taran army was camped.

  ***

  With the catapults in full flame, their mission was done. Marik shouted the command for a controlled retreat. They no longer needed to push forward and attack, they now needed to pull back into a tight formation to defend themselves while they withdrew from of the fight. The knights that were still mounted covered those that were on their feet, using their horses to block any attempt by the centurions to start a counter-attack. A few courageous knights, knowing that this was to be their last battle, pushed forward to draw the fight away from the retreating knights, and to also take as many Taran centurions with them as they could.

  Every inch of Marik’s body was sore. Not only from the jarring blows and parries, but from the small slashes and cuts that passed through his defenses. He was not severely wounded, but he was physically wearing down. He glanced around him and he knew that he was not alone. Although they had trained for many hundreds of hours for battle, he knew training could not replicate the conditions of the battlefield. Their footing was horrible as the cold ground became a mess of wet mud. The stench of blood and exposed bowels assaulted his senses. The screams of the dying were as bad as the begging for mercy. The adrenaline rush that pushed him through the battle was slowly leaving him. And with it, his energy reserves as well.