A Joust of Knights

by Morgan Rice

  Loc reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her wrist and shook his head in the darkness.

  “Please, my sister. Don’t do it. I beg you. For me. Save your fight for another time. You will kill one of them, and you will die.”

  “I will die anyway,” she said. “And at least I shall kill one of them. Why should I not?”

  “Because,” he said quickly, urgently, “I want to kill many of them.”

  She looked at him, surprised by his response and by the deadly seriousness in his eyes. Slowly, she released her grip and slipped the dagger back into her waist.

  “How?” she asked.

  The taskmasters arrived at the cell, unlocking it, and as they reached to extract another slave, this time Loc rushed forward.

  “We wish to volunteer!” he called out.

  There came a stunned silence, as the taskmasters looked him over disparagingly.

  “You?” one asked, laughing, mocking him.

  Loc flushed.

  “Do not pay attention to my hand,” he replied. “I can mine as well as any man. I’ve been mining my entire life.”

  “What are you doing?” Loti whispered to him—but he ignored her.

  “Mining!?” the taskmaster asked. “You know it is a job from which most slaves never return. No one volunteers for it. Nine out of ten will not come back.”

  Loc nodded.

  “I know,” he replied. “And I volunteer.”

  The taskmasters looked at each other, then one finally nodded to the other, and they pulled out Loti and Loc.

  “What have you done?” Loti asked him, as they were led off.

  He smiled back, a furtive smile that only she could see.

  “You will see, my sister,” he replied. “You will see.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Erec stood in the village center, one arm hooked around Alistair’s waist, and smiled wide as he relaxed for the first time and allowed himself to enjoy the festivities taking place all around him. He took a sense of pride in seeing these Empire villagers free from the grips of the Empire, all of them so jubilant, dancing and cheering all around him, such expressions of joy and laughter, the likes of which he had not seen in years. These people had been oppressed and enslaved for so long—he could see it in their faces—and now he had granted them the greatest gift: freedom.

  Music rang in the air, and they played drums and smashed cymbals as they danced, each grabbing the other, locking arms, dancing in circles. Erec soon felt a villager grab him, a tall muscular man with no shirt, linking arms with him and dancing around in a circle. Erec found himself caught up in it all, laughing as he joined in, while a woman linked arms with Alistair and danced with her. Erec felt himself passed off from one partner to another as he let his guard down and enjoyed himself. He noticed all of his soldiers looking to him, to see if it was okay to join in, and as he nodded back, they all, too, relaxed and joined. Erec spotted his brother dancing beside him, and he felt his men all deserved a break, and a chance to celebrate their string of victories.

  Oppression was a terrible thing, Erec knew, and having one’s freedom stripped was perhaps the worst form of oppression there was. Freedom, the ability to master one’s own destiny, was more than just precious—it was the essence of life itself. These people, now free, no longer feared danger, even though they lived in a land surrounded by Empire; they were free for this moment, and this moment was all that mattered. Whether they died later or not, this moment made their lives worth it.

  As Erec took a break from dancing, though, he glanced back at his fleet, anchored in the river beside this village, and he felt a flash of concern: far off in the distance, in the black of night, he could still see the flames of those burning ships, lit up against the night, a soft glow of orange. Erec knew that was a good sign—the Empire was still struggling with their blockade. But he did not know how long it would last, and he felt a responsibility to keep moving.

  As the latest song died down, Erec pulled aside the village chief, clasped him on the shoulder, and looked him in the eye.

  “We are most grateful for your hospitality,” Erec said.

  “It is we who must thank you,” the chief said. “How can we repay you? It is very sacred for our culture.”

  Erec shook his head.

  “Seeing your joy is repayment enough,” he said. Erec sighed. “I hate to say goodbye, but we must leave you now. I fear if we do not move on, the Empire shall catch up with us.”

  The chief’s face showed no concern.

  “You have nothing to worry about this night, my friend,” he replied. “Empire soldiers would never travel these waters at night. They will wait for morning to pursue you.”

  Erec looked back, puzzled.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “The snakes,” the chief replied. “Out there, in those black waters, there are monster snakes, the size of a ship, that surface at night. If they sense the motion of ships, they would drag them down.”

  Erec turned and examined the blackened waters with a new respect; he saw no snakes, but he took the chief at his word. The wonders of these Empire lands never ceased to amaze him.

  “Stay this night with us,” the chief added. “You will do us a great honor. You will be safer here—and we want to thank you, to celebrate with you.”

  He reached out and put a drink in Erec’s hand, took a drink in his own, and clinked cups with him.

  Erec hesitated, then finally leaned back and they drank together. Erec felt the warm spirits going to his head, and for the first time in a while, he felt relaxed.

  Two huge moons hung over them, illuminating the night, the smell of roasting food strong in the air, and all his men were happy and relaxed. He nodded back and smiled.

  “We will wait, my friend. Tonight, we celebrate.”

  *

  Erec walked with Alistair through the starlit night, the two holding hands, heading away from the noise and bustle of the village’s ongoing celebrations, after hours of dancing and eating and drinking. Erec felt lightheaded, the strong alcohol going to his head, and as he held Alistair’s hand, they moved through the brush, heading down towards the river. They had been in constant flux since they had departed the Southern Isles, and he wanted some time alone with her.

  Erec took in the skies and saw the two huge moons had long since dropped, the sky now black and replaced with countless twinkling stars, yellow, red, and green, punctuating the night, providing almost as much light as the moons. It was the first time he and Alistair had been alone together in he did not know how long. As he reflected on their past, on how she had saved his life, he felt guilty that they had never had time to wed.

  “Do not think that I have forgotten about our wedding,” he said. “One day soon, I promise, it shall come.”

  Alistair smiled back at him.

  “In my eyes, we are already wed,” she said.

  They walked in silence for some time, and he could sense her breathing shallow, could sense her tension, as if there was something she wanted to say.

  And then finally, she broke her silence:

  “After all, my lord,” she said, “our child will need a legitimate father.”

  Erec stopped and did a double take at her words, wondering if he had heard her correctly.

  “Child!?” he asked.

  Alistair stopped, too, and faced him, smiling back at him with a look of such joy and surprise.

  “We are with child,” she said.

  Erec felt a wave of ecstasy rush over him, and he reached out and embraced her, holding her tight, spinning her around, again and again, overflowing with joy.

  “Are you certain?” he asked, looking down at her stomach, his heart was slamming his chest.

  She nodded, her eyes filled with joy.

  “Yes,” she said. “I wanted to tell you for so long…but…the moment did not feel right.”

  Erec hugged her again, overjoyed, his mind swimming with a million thoughts. He was going to have a child.
It was hard to fathom. He had always imagined this day, but had never imagined it would come now, so soon. He thought of all the people he had lost, all the hardship they had suffered, and this good news, the idea of bringing new life into the world, made him feel restored again. As if hope could live on, no matter what.

  “You don’t know what this means to me,” he finally said.

  They continued walking until they reached the river’s edge and they both stopped before it and looked out at the river, hundreds of yards wide, like a vast lake, its black waters glistening beneath the starlight.

  “And do you sense if it’s a boy or girl?” he asked.

  She smiled, raising a hand and feeling her stomach.

  Finally she responded.

  “I feel it’s a girl, my lord.”

  The second she uttered the words, he felt they were true. He smiled wide, reached out and placed a hand on her stomach, thrilled. A boy or a girl—he was equally happy either way.

  “I only wish we were not bringing her into such a world, filled with war and strife and subjugation from the Empire.”

  Alistair faced him.

  “Perhaps it is up to us, my lord,” she said, “to make our world free. To change the world she will enter before she does.”

  Erec felt the wisdom in her words.

  There came a splashing in the river, and Erec turned and looked out and was shocked as he saw the outline of a huge snake, twenty feet long, rising up in the waters, only its body visible, a curve, rising from the surface then disappearing beneath it. He looked closely and saw the river was filled with the outlines of these huge snakes, splashing as they surfaced; the waters were teeming with them. He felt grateful not to be on board the ship, and realized the Empire the villagers had spared his life to keep him from the river at night.

  Alistair tightened her grip on his hand, and he could feel her anxiety at being so close to the waters. He did not feel comfortable here either, so close to these monsters, and together, they turned and walked back toward the distant glow of the village and its revelries.

  Erec was still spinning with the news, and he wanted to shout out, to share the news with everyone, he was so overjoyed. As they rejoined the festivities, though, the music slowly died down, and the villagers and Erec’s people settled around the great bonfire in the center of the village, and Erec thought he would wait for a better time. He sat down beside Alistair, beside all the rest of them, and as they did, an old woman, with long, braided gray hair, down to her knees, sat in the center, her back to the fire, and looked out on all of them. She had the glowing, white eyes of a seer, and all soon fell silent as she commanded their attention.

  The village chief, beside Erec, leaned over and explained.

  “If she chooses to join us, as on this night, it is an honor. Sometimes she will say nothing at all; other times, on holy days or special days, such as today, she will choose to speak.”

  As the drums quieted to a slow and steady beat, the seer slowly turned, looking all about the circle, until she finally settled her gaze on Alistair. She raised a finger, pointing at her.

  “Your child,” she began.

  Erec felt his heart beating as he saw the woman pointing at Alistair’s stomach, amazed that she knew. He was both eager and afraid to hear what the seer had to say.

  “She will conquer kingdoms,” the seer continued. “She will be powerful, more powerful than you both combined. She has a great destiny. A special destiny. And her destiny will be linked with one other’s….You have a brother,” she said. “And he has a son. Guwayne. Your daughter’s destiny shall be linked to Guwayne’s.”

  Alistair stared back, clearly shocked.

  “How?” Alistair asked.

  But the woman closed her eyes and turned away. Soon, the drumbeats became louder, and it was clear that her visions were done for the night.

  Erec was baffled as he contemplated her words. He was of course proud to father such a powerful child, and yet he did not understand what it all meant. He looked at Alistair and could see her confusion, too.

  “Tomorrow, when you depart from this place, you will have a choice,” said a voice.

  Erec turned to see the village chief beside him, his men gathered around, staring back at him earnestly, concern on his face.

  “As you travel upriver, it will fork,” he continued. “The eastern fork will lead you to Volusia, to your people. The western fork leads to a powerful Empire outpost, in our beloved sister village. In it are hundreds of our people, captives to the Empire, needing freedom, as we. If you free them, they will come to us, and we will be twice as strong, a growing army. If you do not, the outpost will soon arrive here and kill us. We are no match for their armor or weaponry. Our fate lies in your hands. I cannot expect you to help us anymore. If the freedom you granted us is just for this night, then even for this, we are grateful.”

  Erec stood there, looking out into the night, and he could feel all eyes locked on him. Yet again, he faced a difficult choice. It would, he knew, be a long and sleepless night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Godfrey sat beside Akorth, Fulton, Ario, and Merek, hunched over a bar in the back alleys of Volusia, and nursing his woes over a series of drinks. He took another long sip of ale, foam dripping over the sides of the mug, and once again he admired this Empire beer. It was strong, dark brown, with a nutty flavor, and it was so smooth going down his throat. He had never tasted anything like it, and he was sure he never would again. It was reason enough to stay in Volusia.

  He finished it, his fifth in a row, and motioned to the bartender for another. Two more appeared before him.

  “Don’t you think you should slow down just a touch?” came a voice.

  Godfrey looked over to see Ario staring disapprovingly, the only one of their group without a drink, Akorth, Fulton and Merek already deep into theirs.

  “I don’t understand a man who does not drink,” Godfrey said, “especially in times like this.”

  “And I don’t understand a man who does,” Ario countered, “especially you. You vowed not to drink again.”

  Godfrey belched, feeling disappointed with himself, knowing Ario was right.

  “I thought I would save Darius,” Godfrey said, despondent. “A lot of good that did.”

  Godfrey saw in his mind’s eye Darius being swept away from the city, in that iron carriage, and once again, he beat himself up for it. He felt it was all his fault he did not reach him in time. Now, purposeless, he felt there was nothing to do but drown his sorrows.

  “We did save him,” Merek said. “If not for our poison, he would have been gored by that other elephant and mauled in the arena.”

  A dog barked and Godfrey looked down and saw Dray at his feet, and remembered he was there; Godfrey gave him more scraps of meat from the bar and a sip of his ale, and he felt good about himself for at least being able to take care of Darius’s dog.

  “We saved him for a short while only,” Godfrey said, “only to be shipped off to an even crueler death.”

  “He might make it,” Akorth said. “He’s a tough one.”

  Godfrey looked down into his drink and he felt disgusted with himself. Saving Darius, as he had seen it, had been his chance to redeem himself. Losing him had put him into a deep depression, making him wonder what he had left to live for, what purpose he had in this life. He was supposed to help save Gwendolyn and the others; but now Gwendolyn was somewhere out there, lost in the Great Waste, probably dead, and all his people along with her. His infiltrating Volusia, as brave as it had seemed at the time, had turned out to be all for nothing.

  Godfrey snapped out of it as he suddenly felt a strong hand clasp him on the shoulder and turned to see several Empire soldiers smiling back at him good-naturedly.

  “Don’t mind our squeezing in beside you, friend,” one soldier said beside him.

  At first, Godfrey was caught off guard by their familiarity—but then he remembered that he and the others were wearing the Empire arm
or that the Finian woman, Silis, had given them, and he realized the soldier thought they were one of them. It was a perfectly disguise, he had to admit, the armor fitting them all perfectly, and hard to distinguish races with the faceplates they wore, giving them room only to drink their drinks.

  “Quite a bout today, wasn’t that?” one of the soldiers asked him. “Were you at the arena? Did you see the boy win?”

  “All too well,” Godfrey grumbled, wanting them to disappear, in no mood to talk to anyone—especially these men.

  “And what does that mean?” asked another soldier, an edge to his voice. “It was the greatest match of our time, the first time a Volusian won, would be shipped to represent us in the capital. You sound as if you take no pride in it.”

  Godfrey could hear the aggression rising in the drunk man’s voice, and in the past he would have slinked away, avoided confrontation. But that was the old Godfrey. Not he was a man pushed too far, a man bitter at the world, with nothing left to lose.

  “And why would I take pride in such a disgusting display of cruelty and barbarism?” Godfrey replied harshly, turning to the man.

  The room fell silent, a heavy tension in the air, as the soldier squared off with him, and Godfrey felt all eyes on them. He gulped, wondering what he’d gotten himself into.

  “A soldier who doesn’t like the arena,” the soldier said, examining Godfrey with a growing curiosity. “That is no soldier at all. What division do you hail from anyway?” he asked, looking his armor up and down.

  Again, Godfrey could have invented a lie, as he might have in the past, and diffused the situation; but something in himself would not allow him to. He was done hiding from people, done backing down. He felt something growing strong within him, the blood of his father, perhaps, the blood of a long line of kings coursing through his veins. The time had finally come, he felt, to stand up for himself, regardless of the consequences.

  He felt Merek’s, Akorth’s and Fulton’s cautionary hands on his shoulder, willing him to back down, but he shrugged them off.

  “I hail from no division,” Godfrey boomed back, standing straighter. “I am not of the Empire at all. I am man in disguise, whose goal is to save my friends from the arena, to sabotage your army, to sabotage this city and to destroy all of you.”