by Morgan Rice
The men all screamed out in laughter, overwhelmed with their own jokes, and Erec reddened at the thought of it. He felt ashamed for her. For her to have to serve all of these types-it was an indignity that was too much for him to contemplate.
“And you are?” came another voice.
A man stepped forward, wider than the others, with a dark beard and eyes, a deep scowl, a wide jaw, accompanied by several seedy men. He had more muscle on him than fat, and he approached Erec threateningly, clearly territorial.
“Are you trying to steal my servant girl?” he demanded. “Out with you then!”
He stepped forward and reached out to grab Erec.
But Erec, hardened by years of training, the kingdom’s greatest knight, had reflexes beyond what this man could imagine. The moment his hands touched Erec, he sprang into action, grabbing his wrist in a lock, spinning the man around with lightning speed, grabbing him by the back of his shirt, and shoving him across the room.
The big man went flying like a cannonball, and he took several men out with him, all of them crashing to the floor of the small place like bowling pins.
The entire room grew silent, as every man stopped and watched.
“FIGHT! FIGHT!” the men chanted.
The innkeeper, dazed, stumbled to his feet and charged for Erec with a shout.
This time Erec did not wait. He stepped forward to meet his attacker, raised an arm, and brought his elbow straight down on the man’s face, breaking his nose as he charged.
The innkeeper stumbled backwards, then collapsed, landing on the floor on his rear.
Erec stepped forward, picked him up, and despite his size, hoisted him high above his head. He took several steps forward and threw the man, and he went flying through the air, taking half the room down with him.
All the men in the room froze, stopping their chanting, growing quiet, starting to realize that someone special was among them. The bartender, though, suddenly came rushing forward, a glass bottle held high over his head, aiming right for Erec.
Erec saw it coming and already had his hand on his sword-but before Erec could draw it, his friend Brandt stepped forward, beside him, drew a dagger from his belt, and held the tip of it out at the bartender’s throat.
The bartender ran right into it and stopped cold, the blade just about to puncture his skin. He stood there, eyes wide open in fear, sweating, frozen in mid-air with the bottle. The room grew so silent at the standoff one could hear a pin drop.
“Drop it,” Atme ordered.
The bartender did so, and the bottle smashed on the floor.
Erec drew his sword with a resounding ring of metal and walked over to the innkeeper, who lay moaning on the floor, and pointed it at his throat.
“I will only say this once,” Erec announced. “Clear this room of all this riffraff. Now. I demand an audience with the lady. Alone.”
“The Duke!” someone yelled.
The whole room turned and finally recognized the Duke standing there, by the entrance, flanked by his men. All of them rushed to take off their caps and bow their heads.
“If the room is not clear by the time I finish speaking,” the Duke announced, “each one of you here will be imprisoned at once.”
The room broke into a frenzy as all the men inside scurried to vacate, rushing past the Duke and out the front door, leaving their unfinished bottles of ale where they were.
“And out with you, too,” Brandt said to the bartender, lowering his dagger, grabbing him by his hair and shoving him out the door.
The room, which had been so rowdy moments before, now sat empty, silent, save for Erec, Brandt, the Duke, and a dozen of his closest men. They shut the door behind them with a resounding slam.
Erec turned to the innkeeper, sitting on the floor, still dazed, wiping blood from his nose. Erec grabbed him by the shirt, hoisted him up with both hands, and sat him down on one of the empty benches.
“You’ve ruined my business for the night,” the innkeeper whined. “You will pay for this.”
The Duke stepped forward and backhanded him.
“I can have you killed for attempting to lay a hand on this man,” the Duke scolded. “Do you not know who this is? This is Erec, the king’s best knight, the champion of The Silver. If he chooses to, he can kill you himself, right now.”
The innkeeper looked up at Erec, and for the first time, real fear crossed his face. He nearly trembled in his seat.
“I had no idea. You did not announce yourself.”
“Where is she?” Erec demanded, impatient.
“She’s in the back, scrubbing the kitchen. What is it that you want with her? Did she steal something of yours? She is just another indentured servant girl.”
Erec drew his dagger and held it to the man’s throat.
“Call her a ‘servant’ again,” Erec warned, “and you can be sure I will cut your throat. Do you understand?” he asked firmly as he held the blade against the man’s skin.
The man’s eyes flooded with tears, as slowly he nodded.
“Bring her here, and hurry about it,” Erec ordered, and yanked him to his feet and gave him a shove, sending him flying across the room, and towards the back door.
As the innkeeper left, there came a clanging of pots from behind the door, muted yelling, and then, moments later, the door opened, and out came several women, dressed in rags, smocks and bonnets, covered in kitchen grease. There were three older women, in their sixties, and Erec wondered for a moment if the innkeeper knew who he was speaking of.
And then, she came out-and Erec’s heart stopped in his chest.
He could hardly breathe. It was her.
She wore an apron, covered in grease stains, and she kept her head down low, ashamed to look up. Her hair was tied, covered in a cloth, her cheeks were caked with dirt-and yet still, Erec was smitten by her. Her skin was so young, so perfect. She had high, chiseled cheeks and jawbones, a small nose covered in freckles, and full lips. She had a broad, regal forehead, and her beautiful blonde hair spilled out from beneath the bonnet.
She glanced up at him, just for a moment, and her large, wonderful almond-green eyes, which shifted in the light, changing to crystal blue then back again, held him rooted in place He was surprised to realize that he was even more mesmerized by her now than he had been when he’d first met her.
Behind her, out came the innkeeper, scowling, still wiping blood from his nose. The girl walked forward tentatively, surrounded by these older women, towards Erec, and curtsied as she got close. Erec rose, standing before her, as did several of the Duke’s entourage.
“My lord,” she said, her voice soft, sweet, filling Erec’s heart. “Please tell me what I’ve done to offend you. I don’t know what it is, but I’m sorry for whatever it is I have done to warrant the presence of the Duke’s court.”
Erec smiled. Her words, her language, the sound of her voice-it all made him feel restored. He never wanted her to stop speaking.
Erec reached up and touched her chin with his hand, lifting it until her gentle eyes looked at his. His heart raced as he looked into her eyes. It was like getting lost in a sea of blue.
“My lady, you have done nothing to offend. I do not think you shall ever be able to offend. I come here not out of anger-but out of love. Since I saw you, I have been able to think of nothing else.”
The girl looked flustered, and immediately dropped her eyes to the ground, blinking several times. She twisted her hands, looking nervous, overwhelmed. She was clearly unused to this.
“Please my lady, tell me. What is your name?”
“Alistair,” she answered, humbly.
“Alistair,” Erec repeated, overwhelmed. It was the most beautiful name he had ever heard.
“But I do not know why it should serve you to know it,” she added, softly, still looking at the floor. “You are a Lord. And I am but a servant.”
“She is my servant, to be exact,” the innkeeper said, stepping forward, nasty. “She is inde
ntured to me. She signed a contract, years ago. Seven years is what she promised. In return, I give her food and board. She is three years in. So you see, this is all a waste of time. She is mine. I own her. You are not taking this one away. She is mine. Do you understand?”
Erec felt a hatred for the innkeeper beyond what he had ever felt for a man. He was partly of a mind to draw his sword and stab him in the heart and be done with him. But however much the man may have deserved it, Erec did not want to break the King’s law. After all, his actions reflected on the king.
“The King’s law is the King’s law,” Erec said to the man, firmly. “I don’t intend on breaking it. That said, tomorrow begin the tournaments. And I am entitled, as any man, to choose my bride. And let it be known here and now that I choose Alistair.”
A gasp spread the room, as everyone turned to each other, shocked.
“That is,” Erec added, “if she consents.”
Erec looked at Alistair, his heart pounding, as she kept her face lowered to the floor. He could see that she was blushing.
“Do you consent, my lady?” he asked.
The room fell silent.
“My Lord,” she said softly, “you know nothing of who I am, of where I am from, of why I am here. And I am afraid these are things I cannot tell you.”
Erec stared back, puzzled.
“Why can you not tell me?”
“I have never told anyone since my arrival. I have made a vow.”
“But why?” he pressed, so curious.
But Alistair merely kept her face down, silent.
“It’s true,” inserted one of the servant women. “This one’s never told us who she is. Or why she’s here. She refuses to. We’ve tried for years.”
Erec was deeply puzzled by her-but that only added to her mystery.
“If I cannot know who you are, then I shall not,” Erec said. “I respect your vow. But that will not change my affection for you. My lady, whoever you are, if I should win these tournaments, then I will choose you as my prize. You, from any woman in this entire kingdom. I ask you again: do you consent?”
Alistair kept her eyes fixed to the ground, and as Erec watched, he saw tears rolling down her cheeks.
Suddenly, she turned and fled from the room, running out and closing the door behind her.
Erec stood there, with the others, in the stunned silence. He hardly knew how to interpret her response.
“You see then, you waste your time, and mine,” the innkeeper said. “She said no. Be off with you then.”
Erec frowned back.
“She did not say no,” Brandt interjected. “She did not respond.”
“She is entitled to take her time,” Erec said, in her defense. “After all, it is a lot at once. She does not know me, either.”
Erec stood there, debating what to do.
“I will stay here tonight,” Erec finally announced. “You shall give me a room here, down the hall from hers. In the morning, before the tournaments begin, I shall ask her again. If she consents, and if I win, she shall be my bride. If so, I will buy her out of her servitude with you, and she shall leave this place with me.”
The innkeeper clearly did not want Erec under his roof, but he dared not say anything; so he turned and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Are you certain you wish to stay here?” the Duke asked. “Come back to the castle with us.”
Erec nodded back, gravely.
“I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Thor plummeted down through the air, diving, racing head first for the churning waters of the Sea of Fire. He entered it and sunk down, immersed, and was startled to feel the water was hot.
Beneath the surface, Thor opened his eyes briefly-and wished he hadn’t. He caught a glimpse of all manner of strange and ugly sea creatures, small and big, with unusual and grotesque faces. This ocean was teeming. He prayed they did not attack him before he could reach the safety of the rowboat.
Thor surfaced with a gasp, and looked immediately for the drowning boy. He spotted him, and just in time: he was flailing, sinking, and in a few more seconds, surely he would have drowned.
Thor reached around, grabbed him from behind by his collarbone, and began to swim with him, keeping both of their heads above water. Thor heard a whelp and a whine, and as he turned, he was shocked to see Krohn: he must have leapt in after him. He swam beside him, paddling up to Thor, whining. Thor felt terrible that Krohn was endangered like this-but his hands were full and there was little he could do.
Thor tried not to look all around him, at the waters, churning red, at the strange creatures surfacing and disappearing all around him. An ugly looking creature, purple, with four arms and two heads, surfaced nearby, hissed at him, then submerged, making Thor flinch.
Thor turned and saw the rowboat, about twenty yards away, and he swam for it frantically, using his one arm and his legs as he dragged the boy. The boy flailed and screamed, resisting, and Thor feared he might bring him down with him.
“Hold still!” Thor screamed harshly, hoping the boy would listen.
Finally, he did. Thor was momentarily relieved-until he heard a splash and turned his head the other way: right beside him, another creature surfaced, small, with a yellow head and four tentacles. It had a square head, and it swam right up to him, snarling and shaking. It looked like a rattlesnake that lived in the sea, except its head was too square. Thor braced himself as it got closer, preparing to be bit-but then suddenly it opened its mouth wide and spat seawater at him. Thor blinked, trying to get it from his eyes.
The creature swam around and around them, in circles, and Thor redoubled his efforts, swimming faster, trying to get away from it.
Thor was making progress, getting closer to the boat, when suddenly another creature surfaced, on his other side. It was long, narrow and orange, with two claws at its mouth and dozens of small legs. It also had a long tail, which it whipped about in every direction. It looked like a lobster, standing upright. It skirted along the water’s edge, like a water bug, and buzzed its way close to Thor, turning to the side and whipping its tail. The tail lashed Thor’s arm, and he cried out in pain-it stung.
The creature whizzed back and forth, lashing out again and again. Thor wished he could draw his sword and attack it-but he only had one free hand, and he needed it to swim.
Krohn, swimming beside him, turned and snarled at the creature, a hair-raising noise, and as Krohn fearlessly swam its way, it scared the beast, making it disappear beneath the waters. Thor sighed with relief-until the creature suddenly reappeared on his other side, and lashed him again. Krohn turned and chased it all around, trying to catch it, snapping his jaws at it, and always missing.
Thor swam for his life, realizing the only way out of this mess was to get out of this sea. After what felt like forever, swimming harder than he’d ever had, he swam up close to the rowboat, rocking violently in the waves. As he did, two Legion members, older boys who never spoke to Thor and his classmates, were waiting there to help him. To their credit, they leaned over and extended him a hand.
Thor helped the boy first, reaching around and hoisting up towards the boat. The older boys grabbed the boy by his arms and dragged him up.
Thor then reached around, grabbed Krohn by his stomach and threw him up out of the water, and onto the boat. Krohn clamored with all four paws as he scratched and slipped on the wooden boat, dripping wet, shaking. He slid across the wet bottom, across the boat. Then he immediately pounced back up, turned, and ran back to the ledge, looking for Thor. He stood there, looking down into the water, and yelped.
Thor reached up and grabbed the hand of one of the boys, and was just pulling himself into the boat when suddenly he felt something strong and muscular wrap itself around his ankle and thigh. He turned and looked down, and his heart froze as he saw a lime-green squid-like creature, wrapping a tentacle around his leg.
Thor cried out
in pain as he felt its stingers pierce his flesh.
Thor realized that if he didn’t do something quick, he would be finished. With his free hand, he reached down to his belt, extracted a short dagger, leaned over, and slashed at it. But the tentacle was so thick, the dagger could not even pierce it.
It made it angry. The creature’s head suddenly surfaced-green, with no eyes and two jaws on its long neck, one atop the other-opened its rows of razor-sharp teeth and leaned in towards Thor. Thor felt the blood being cut off from his leg, and knew he had to act fast. Despite the elder boy’s efforts to hang onto him, Thor’s grip was slipping, and he was sinking back into the water.
Krohn yelped and yelped, hairs standing on his back, leaning over as if getting ready to pounce into the water. But even Krohn must have known it would be useless to attack this thing.
One of the older boys stepped forward and screamed:
“DUCK!”
Thor lowered his head, as the boy threw a spear. It whizzed through the air but it missed, flew harmlessly by and sank into the water. The creature was too skinny, and too quick.
Suddenly, Krohn leapt off the boat and back into the water, landing with his jaws open and his sharp teeth extended on the back of the creature’s neck. Krohn clamped down and swung the creature left and right, not letting go.
But it was a losing battle: the creature’s skin was too tough, and it was too muscular. The creature threw Krohn side to side then finally sent him flying into the water. Meanwhile, the creature’s grip tightened on Thor’s leg; it was like a vice, and Thor felt himself losing oxygen. The tentacles burned so bad, Thor felt as if his leg was about to be torn off his body.
In one final, desperate attempt, Thor let go of the boy’s hand and in the same motion swung around and reached for the short sword on his belt.
But he could not grab it in time; he slipped and spun and fell face first into the water.
Thor felt himself dragged away, farther from the boat, the creature pulling him out to sea. He was dragged backwards, faster and faster, and as he reached out helplessly, he watched the rowboat disappearing before him. The next thing he knew, he felt himself being pulled down, beneath the surface of the water, deep into the depths of the Sea of Fire.
