Knightfall - Book 1 of The Chronicle of Benjamin Knight

by Robert Jackson-Lawrence

  The two men looked at each other and both realised that their long friendship was still as strong as it always was. It sometimes took a crisis to open your eyes to the truth.

  “So what do we do?” Mike continued. “Just sit here waiting for Ben to tell us how to sort this? What if it all comes to nothing? Are we still going to be sitting here when the home cities are burning?”

  “There's so much more to this than we know at the moment,” Matthew said. “Pete has already told us that members of the Regent’s Guard were here three weeks ago, taking supplies and conscripts for the war. Alexander has had this planned all along, and we're just trying to guess what his next move might be.” Matthew’s voice was getting louder as he spoke, searching for the answers that would instil trust in his followers. “There’s no point all of us going south like this if we have a chance, even a slight one, of getting hold of something that can give us an edge, a chance of stopping these armies before it’s too late.”

  The people only looked at him, unsure what to say or do next. They had followed him for years, and he had always led them to safety and prosperity. However, their hearts were telling them to go south, to warn their families and friends about the impending disaster that was about to befall them. For each of them, it was the first time since they had worked with the Road Trains that they truly doubted him.

  “What’s your plan, boss?” Carl asked. He squeezed Matthew’s shoulder as he said it, reaffirming the confidence that he held for him, hoping that his show of faith would inspire the rest of the group to feel the same.

  After taking a deep breath, Matthew outlined the finer points of his plan.

  “Okay, first things first,” he began. “Mike’s right; we need to warn Draxis what’s coming. Whoever goes, they’ll be on their own, so I’ll ask for volunteers.”

  “Hey, my idea, so my responsibility, right?” Mike asked, but Matthew shook his head.

  “No, I want you with me,” he told him. “Joe and Carl too. You’re too well known by the city militia and the people. If you run into a patrol or something, it’s all over.”

  “I could do it,” someone said from the back of the small group. Matthew looked up from the table, not instantly recognising the voice.

  “Go on, Matthew, you can trust me,” the voice said. “I'm faster than most of these anyway.” Stan pushed his way to the front, pleading with Matthew to let him go, but Matthew only stared at him, a thoughtful look on his face.

  Stan was only fifteen, but Matthew had to agree that Stan was the fastest of the group and that his father, Andrew, had taught him everything about hunting and survival. The thought of sending a boy to what could feasibly be his death still knotted Matthew's stomach.

  The boy had already lost so much this trip. His mother and father had been killed resisting the palace guard in the first assault, and then Andrea, his sister, was taken from his side to suffer the same fate as the other children that had travelled with them. Matthew considered his options and decided it was best if he took the proposal seriously.

  “As I said,” he told him, “you’ll be on your own for the entire journey. Think you can handle that?”

  “Sure, I guess,” Stan reassured him.

  “And if you were captured, they’d almost certainly kill you, you know that?” Matthew continued.

  “I know, but Matthew, please, let me do something, I need to help. I watched, saw my dad when they shot him. My mom too.” Stan was close to tears as he spoke, pleading. “I can travel faster than all of us together, move mostly at night. Dad showed me how to hunt. Matthew, please, I know I can do it.”

  Matthew could see so much of himself in the boy that it was hard to let him go, but he knew that Stan was right, and besides, if they didn't let him go, he would probably go anyway. He had grown up so much in last the last few days, so much stronger than many other members of the small group.

  Eventually, Matthew nodded. “All right,” he said. “Unless anyone has any objections, you’ll leave immediately. The sooner you get going, the sooner Draxis will be able to mount some kind of defence.”

  The second stage of the plan was for Tom to take a trip east and gather information on the enemy. He was tall and wiry, in his late teens. This had been his first trip with the Trains, learning from the drivers in the hope that one day he could drive a train on his own, so no one from Island City should recognise his face.

  After some consideration, Matthew decided that Tom would then go south also, to give the Baronies a firsthand description of what they were up against.

  “Whatever you say, Matthew, but I thought you wanted Stan to go alone?” Tom said, shrugging his shoulders dismissively.

  Stan looked up from the bag that he was packing, a hurt look on his face. “Please, Matthew,” he said. “I don’t need to be looked after like a kid. I thought you trusted me.”

  “I do,” Matthew insisted. “Tom will leave tomorrow, after he’s reported back here on what he’s seen. I want to leave a decent gap between you, so there’s no chance of you meeting up or getting caught together. I’ll be honest with you, there’s a fair chance one of you’ll be captured, perhaps tortured and killed before the end of this. I’m just hoping that between the two of you, we can get some word home, but if either of you want to back out, I’ll understand. Just tell me now and I’ll say no more about it.”

  The two of them looked at each other for a moment, thinking over Matthew’s words and the responsibility that he was putting on them. After a moment, they both smiled at each other.

  “No way, I’m in, all the way,” Stan said, the smile on his face growing broader by the second.

  “If the kid’s going, there’s no way I can back out now, is there,” Tom replied.

  Matthew smiled. He seemed to be winning back the confidence of his people, but the hardest, and possibly most dangerous part of his plan was to be delivered last.

  “How’s your uniform looking, Pete?” Matthew asked. Peter snapped his head around, surprised at his name being spoken. He still didn’t see himself as one of them and wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to be.

  “Bit shabby, but not too bad,” Peter replied. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Matthew told him. “Some misinformation, some sabotage, I’ll leave it up to you. How many people could know you were involved in our escape?”

  “A few, maybe,” Peter said. “I’m not sure. All the guards who saw us in the dungeons are dead, but there’s a chance maybe someone saw us in the streets that night, put two and two together. Of course, there’s them who’ll be asking where I’ve been for the last few days. They might suspect something.”

  “But on the whole, do you think you could get back in with the armies and be accepted?” Matthew asked. “I mean, you don’t think they’ll have orders to shoot you on sight or anything?”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Peter mused. “Besides, I can blend in with the general public, tag along at the front or back or something. Hey, not everyone in the city knows me.”

  “That’s not quite what I had in mind,” Matthew continued. “You'll need the uniform to get closer to anything vital, sensitive, that most other people won’t be able to get near to. I want you to slow them down, weaken them, do anything you can to delay their attack and to give us a chance to be able to defend ourselves.”

  “I don’t know what you think of me,” Peter said, “but from what you’re saying, I . . . look, I’m not on your side in this, but I’m not on theirs either. I won’t kill my own people, my friends, just to make it easier for the Baronies to kill the rest of them. I went against the new Regent because I know he’s wrong, quite possibly mad, but that doesn’t mean I’ve gone against my people. I want to stop this war, get back home, and make things like they were before, that’s it. Anything else, and it’s up to you. I want no part in it.”

  The room was silent as Matthew replied, not entirely sure what he was going to say. Peter had saved them all from certain
death at the gallows in Island City, but they hadn’t really thought about his role in the war. Carl, Mike, Matthew, and the rest of them were ready to fight and to die to defend their homeland, but they hadn’t thought for a moment that men like Peter were just who they were about to protect their homeland from.

  “I’m glad you feel that way,” Matthew told him. “It means that we’re fighting on the same side. I don’t want this war any more than you do, and I’m going do everything I can to stop it. That’s why I want to hear what Ben has to say, see what he has to offer.

  “I don’t want to fight, but if they force me, I’ll fight with everything I have. If you have to do the same for your side, I think I speak for all of us here when I say that we’ll understand. We each have to do what we think is right in this, Pete. If you can speak to the people in the armies, show them the truth and get them to turn around, we’ll all be better off.”

  “Just as long as you realise, I’m no traitor,” Peter reminded him. “Not to my friends, not to my people, not to anyone.”

  “Good, I wouldn’t want you any other way,” Matthew continued. “If you can count us amongst your friends, that’s good enough for me. Conrad and Simon here will go with you, Donald too, but I want you to know that you’re in charge.”

  Matthew offered his hand, but Peter only smiled. He still wasn’t entirely sure what was wanted of him and whether he was comfortable with it. After a moment’s thought, he decided that he would go along with it for as long as his conscience would allow.

  “All right, Matthew,” he said. “I’m in, for now. When do we leave?”

  “Tomorrow, maybe the day after,” Matthew replied. “After we hear what Ben has to say. Depending on what he has to tell us, maybe it won’t be necessary, maybe we can all stay together, but I doubt it.”

  “I’m going with them,” Catrina said as she approached the table. These were the first words that she had spoken since their escape and the room looked around as one in surprise as she entered the centre of the group.

  “I’m going with them tomorrow when they leave,” she continued, “and there’s no way you’re going to tell me otherwise, Matthew.”

  Everyone could see that Catrina had changed, that they all had, but perhaps she the most. She had spent the time since arriving on the mainland in a near comatose state, not eating or drinking, only sitting silently, arms curled around her legs as she gently rocked back and forth on the floor.

  “You heard him, Matthew,” she said. “He won’t do what’s needed. Whoever goes into the enemy camp needs to be able to do whatever is necessary to stop the armies before they get to our home, and that man just isn’t him.”

  “Catrina, you can’t go,” Matthew pleaded. “Please, look at yourself. You’re not well, you don’t know what you’re saying. Conrad, Simon, they’ll be doing all the things Peter can’t, we only need him to get them close.”

  “I’m going, Matthew,” she said defiantly. “Either I go now, on my own, or you let me go with Peter. It’s up to you.”

  Catrina turned and left the room, muttering to herself over and over, they have to pay, they have to pay. She entered the door to the second bedroom and slammed it closed.

  Matthew just sat there, the memories of the dungeon playing over and over in his mind. Edward's death. Catrina killing the guard in cold blood. The explosion of the handgun in the confined space, and then the incessant clicking as she continued to pull the trigger, over and over, only stopping when the gun was forcibly removed from her hand. He saw the scene from outside of his own body, witnessing the look on his own face as well as his sister's, the momentary look of pleasure that preceded the look of terror and then the silence that seemed to last forever.

  He knew that she was broken, but then so was he. He had lost his nephews, lost his friends. He hadn't really slept in three days and he didn't know how much longer he could hold it all together.

  Matthew stood and moved to the chair beside the fire in the living room, warming his hands before he sat down. If he had finished what he was saying, he didn’t comment, but he looked so tired that it was hard to believe that he was thinking straight at all.

  His eyes were dark and sunken, only half open as he sat back against the chair, looking as though he might fall asleep at any second. When his eyes closed, he was able only to steal a moment’s peace before the sight of his sister committing cold-blooded murder pulled him from his sleep once more. Arian sat beside him, pulling him close, stroking his face as he stirred once more.

  After the discussions were over, Carl took Stan aside, gave him a pistol, and advised him about how best to avoid capture. Stan stood and listened, though he thought he probably knew more about hunting and survival than Carl did anyway. Andrew had been an excellent woodsman and hunter, often providing large meals for the Road Trains members, and had taught his son everything he knew. Carl was out of practice and rusty.

  Matthew was left to himself while the rest of the group tried to make themselves busy, collecting together whatever food they could find. They would be in the forest soon, hunting for survival, and they needed to take anything with them that could help. Draxis was still so very far away.

  III

  At around lunchtime, Matthew gave up on trying to sleep and left the warmth and comfort of the room to sit on the small porch at the back of the building. Carl was already there, watching the dark clouds on the horizon as they moved closer and emptied their contents onto the land below

  “Did he get going?” Matthew asked as he sat down beside his friend, clearing away the dirt and dust before he did so.

  “Who, Stan?” Carl asked. “He left just after you finished. I gave him all the usual, you know, travelling at night as much as he can, staying hidden near the armies, but I think he’ll do okay. He’s a tough kid, that one.”

  “I hope you're right,” Matthew said.

  “And Tom left too,” Carl continued. “He couldn’t stand the tension any longer, and he said he wanted to get a good view in the daylight. With the way the weather’s going, looks like he was probably right.”

  “I guess so,” Matthew replied.

  “How are you holding up, Matthew?” Carl asked.

  “Me, I’m fine, just, fine,” Matthew lied.

  Carl threw away the small piece of stone that he had been turning over in his hands and turned to face Matthew. “Really?” he asked.

  Carl tried to offer a sympathetic look, but the days’ old stubble all over his face and head, and the purple scar running down his cheek made him look more like a psychopath than a caring and compassionate individual.

  “Really, I’m doing just fine,” Matthew insisted.

  “Then if that’s all you came here to say, I might as well go help in catching us some dinner,” Carl said as he stood. He had taken two steps across the yard before Matthew called him back.

  “No, wait, Carl,” he called after him. “Look, please, just sit for a minute, won’t you?”

  Carl did as he was asked, but said nothing more. Matthew would tell him what he wanted to tell him when he was good and ready, and no amount of badgering on Carl’s part would change that. It could only make matters worse.

  “Can I trust you, Carl, I mean, really trust you?” Matthew asked, fixing his gaze on the floor, not able to look him in the eye as he accused his lifelong friend of treason.

  “With your life,” Carl told him. “You should know that by now. I bounced you on my knee when you were no bigger than a skeever.”

  “I did, I mean, I do,” Matthew continued. “But, lately, I don't know. I’ve been thinking about this entire trip, the escape, what they did to Ben. I can’t seem to get it out of my head. I mean, it just seems a little too convenient, doesn’t it? How many guards did you see in the dungeons? Six, seven, maybe?”

  “Only six, I think,” Carl said, running through the encounters in his mind.

  “It was just too easy for us to get out.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Carl s
aid.

  “No, it was,” Matthew insisted. “It was just too easy. Think about it. What would you have said your chances of getting into the dungeons and breaking us out were? Slim at best, wouldn’t you say? But still, you get in, meet very little resistance, and then we all get out easily. I don’t think those soldiers even followed us past the first bend in those tunnels.”

  Carl scratched his scar as he spoke. “Maybe you’re right,” he considered. “I don’t know, but look at it from another way. Maybe the Regent needed the guards for something else, something to do with the war maybe.”

  “A war he’s been planning for a while, from what we’ve seen,” Matthew reminded him.

  “Well, yes, but maybe six guards were all he could spare, I mean, maybe we were just lucky.”

  Matthew stood and started pacing as he appeared to think about what Carl had said, hands stuffed tightly into his pockets.

  “No, something’s just not right about this whole setup, Carl,” he said.

  “I don’t know, maybe,” Carl replied. “Hey, why don’t you come sit back down.”

  Matthew did before he said anything more, though he still looked uncomfortable.

  “How well do you trust this sergeant, Peter?” Matthew asked.

  “I’m not sure, I haven’t really thought about it,” Carl said honestly.

  “Well, start thinking,” Matthew replied. “You’re usually a good judge of character, Carl. I can respect that, but it’s just that he seemed to be in exactly the right place at the right time, don’t you think?”

  “It wasn’t really like that, Matthew,” Carl told him. “I went to him, threatened him. He had plenty of opportunity to turn me in, but he didn’t. I, yes, I think I trust him, at least as far as not turning us in to the Regent. You heard what he said in there; he’s not on our side or theirs, and I reckon what he said is true. He just wants to get back home and make things the way they were.”