The Cavalier

by Jason McWhirter

  The Greever stretched its nine foot frame to its full height, its long muscular arms held wide, sniffing the air again, feeling the invisible tug of his master’s summons, eager for the blood that was soon to follow. The Greever was the ultimate killer, built solely for destruction. It resembled a man, but was much taller and more heavily muscled. Long sinewy arms hung down to its knobby knees. Its powerful legs were shaped like a goat, but instead of dainty hooves, long clawed toes like a dragon bore its solid weight. The Greever’s thick leather-like skin was gray and cold to the touch. Its body was completely hairless, except for the thick patch of black hair that covered part of its dog-like head and muscular neck. Sharp bony spikes were imbedded at the back of the demon’s elbows, the front of its knees, and the top of its shoulders and head, all of which it could use with flesh tearing devastation. Its red, deep set eyes glowed atop a thick snout above powerful jaws filled with teeth strong enough to break steel. The beast’s hands and feet were long and clawed with wicked talons, each the length of a dagger. Tucked into crevices on its back were long leathery wings, capable of carrying the demon long distances. For the Greever did not tire, did not relent from any hunt. At the end of each wing was a long sharp spike that it could wield as a deadly weapon. Everything on the demon was formidable, including its tail, which was as thick as a man’s arm and ended in a heavy sphere covered with poisoned spikes. Endowed with lightning speed and power, it could also hunt as quietly as a cat.

  The familiar fog began to swirl before it, and the beast entered the mist, eager to be sent to another world, to serve its master, because its master always provided him sustenance, and the Greever was hungry for new flesh.

  ***

  That night Jonas, Fil, Calden, and Bornius, another boy from the blue team, were sitting on their beds quietly discussing Jonas’s fight with Torgan. The black team was on the far side of the barracks and they couldn’t possibly hear their conversation.

  “I fear you’ve made a powerful enemy, Jonas,” commented Bornius as he changed into his sleeping shirt. Bornius was the son of a farmer and Fil and Jonas liked him immediately. He was a hard worker, kind, and looked to help others before he helped himself.

  “Jonas didn’t make anything. Torgan has had it out for him since he came here a year ago. It doesn’t matter what he does, Torgan has made up his mind he hates him,” Fil said, sitting on the edge of the bed above Jonas.

  “I’ve tried to befriend him, and even today I covered for him, but it matters not; we commoners will always be scum to him,” Jonas said.

  “I don’t understand how the king, or the other commanders, would promote Torgan to a position of power with such prejudices. How can he be a leader if he can’t inspire all his troops, not just the highborn?” asked Fil.

  “A lot of the highborn believe the same way he does,” said Calden.

  “I don’t believe the king agrees. He didn’t seem that type to me,” replied Jonas.

  “You’ve met the king?” asked Bornius incredulously.

  Jonas looked up at Fil, forgetting that these boys, their new friends, didn’t know anything about their story or how they were sponsored. They never asked so it never came up, and Jonas worked hard to cover his God Mark, which was almost an impossible task, but so far he had been successful in the deception. Master Morgan was privy to Jonas’s mark and he helped him in keeping it hidden. When it came to bathing, Morgan would provide time where Jonas could be alone.

  “Yes, Fil and I met King Gavinsteal over a year ago. We were both sponsored by Master Landon, a well-known merchant from Tarsis. Master Landon is a good friend to the king. He brings him dwarven weapons and armor to outfit his knights,” said Jonas.

  “How did you meet this Master Landon?” asked Calden.

  Jonas looked up again; shrugging his shoulders, Fil gave him a go ahead expression. So Jonas told them their abridged story. He left out information about his mark and the battle they had on the road, but he told them about the destruction of their town and their meeting with Airos.

  “I can’t believe you met a cavalier. What was he like?” asked Bornius.

  “Kind and generous,” said Jonas.

  “And someone to see in a fight. He was an incredible fighter, and he was inspiring. He made everyone feel like they could win. I’ve never felt like that before,” said Fil.

  “Yes, I’ve heard that cavaliers have the power to inspire courage and push back fear. I’ve heard Airos was one of the best. I would love to have met him. It saddens me he was killed. And what is a Banthra? I have never heard of one,” asked Bornius.

  “I’m not sure exactly,” responded Fil. “I think it is some sort of demon brought here by Malbeck, a minion of the Forsworn I think, but I never saw it.”

  All the boys except Fil and Jonas tapped their chests in the four pointed star at the mention of the dark gods.

  There was a stir by the entrance and the apprentices that were in the barracks quickly shuffled to attention. Jonas, looking towards the door, saw Prince Nelstrom briskly moving towards them. He wore a glossy black leather breastplate with the Finarthian symbol embossed on it. The prince’s breaches were made from supple black leather and a flowing silk cape hung from his strong shoulders. He wore knee high leather boots polished to a glossy black. His dark hair was cut short and his beard was trimmed to a point, giving his face an angular, strong look.

  The apprentices near the prince all bowed as he walked with long strides towards Jonas and his friends. Fil jumped down from the bunk and the other boys got to their feet standing at attention, bowing slightly as the prince moved directly to Jonas.

  “Leave us,” the prince said curtly, staring directly at Jonas.

  Fil, Calden, and Bornius quickly walked away toward the other apprentices who were watching intently at a distance.

  “Good day, Prince Nelstrom. It is good to see you,” Jonas said, matching his stare.

  The prince ignored his comment, looking him up and down. His blue eyes were piercing and shone with malice. “I heard what you did to my son,” the prince whispered, his voice laced with venom.

  “I did nothing, he attacked me…”

  “Do not address me unless I ask you to. You are nothing to me, a low commoner who has gotten lucky. Who are you to even consider crossing blades with my son? He is in line to be the king of Finarth and you are likely a bastard son of some common bar whore,” the prince continued angrily.

  Jonas’s eyes blazed with anger and his muscles tensed. A part of him wanted to punch the prince in the stomach.

  “What’s wrong, boy? Are you angry? Did my words offend you?”

  Jonas, controlling his emotions, replied evenly. “No, sir, they did not.”

  The prince smiled wickedly. “Stay out of my son’s way. Do you hear me? Don’t ever insult him or make him look foolish again. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Jonas, his eyes holding the prince’s gaze.

  “I see you’ve grown in confidence this last year. That is good. Maybe, in several years, you and I could cross blades. Do you think you could beat me?” the prince asked with an amusing smile.

  “No, sir, I do not,” replied Jonas evenly.

  “Good. At least you’re not as stupid as most of your lice ridden kind.” Their eyes locked again; the prince turned on his heels and strode briskly from the room.

  Jonas let out a deep breath and sat down on the bed. Fil, Calden, and Bornius moved back to Jonas quickly, eager to find out what had transpired between him and the prince.

  Fil sat down next to Jonas. “A private conversation with the prince; if only I was that lucky,” Fil said, smiling.

  “What did he say?” Calden asked with interest.

  “I think I’ve made an enemy of the prince and his son. He told me to stay away from Torgan and to never make him look bad again.”

  “What! Torgan attacked you and you did all you could not to fight,” exclaimed Bornius.

  “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t like
me. I will just have to watch myself and make sure that I don’t put myself in a position that might create tension between us,” replied Jonas.

  “That’s if Torgan doesn’t look for trouble,” interjected Fil.

  “Blue team! White team! Everyone up, it’s time for a night run!” yelled Master Morgan, entering the barracks. “Let’s go, move it!”

  “Here we go again. Two nights in a row,” mumbled Bornius.

  “Let’s go, Blue Team! Get moving!” bellowed Calden, getting up to put on his boots. All the kids scrambled to put their tunics and boots back on and move out into the cool night air.

  ***

  The Greever flew hard all night. It did not need to rest. Its powerful body was fueled by inert magic, magic born to the beast, and its hunger pushed it relentlessly. The Greever was a demon of a different world, it was born from magic, and the energy of the Ru’Ach pulsed within its veins. Its long leather wings beat the air rhythmically and its piercing red eyes scanned the Finarthian hills for its target. The beast, flaring its nostrils, caught the scent it was looking for. A quick flick of its wing sent it southwest toward the towering city of Finarth.

  ***

  The night’s run was long and Master Morgan had also made them do various other training maneuvers and exercises. The boys stumbled into the barracks, tired and sweaty. Even Jonas’s muscles felt heavy. They crawled to their beds still wearing their tunics and breeches and quickly fell asleep.

  Jonas awoke with a start, his chest itching and tingling. He opened his eyes wide with fright realizing what was happening. He looked around frantically, unsure of what to do. Shyann was warning him of something, but what? He couldn’t just wake up the whole barracks.

  He silently got out of bed and shook Fil to wake him. Fil, stirring in his sleep, slowly opened his eyes. “Fil, wake up, something is wrong.”

  Fil’s eyes focused as he saw Jonas. “What is it?” he asked groggily.

  “My chest, something is happening.”

  Fil got up quickly, knowing that Jonas’s warnings in the past had been all too real.

  “The warning is slight, but I can feel it. What should we do?” Jonas asked with concern in his voice.

  Fil got up and climbed down to stand next to Jonas. “We need to tell someone,” he said, putting on his boots.

  “But who? No one will believe us.”

  “The king will, or Prince Baylin, or even the high priests that know about you,” whispered Fil as he buckled his belt around his waist. “We could tell Master Morgan, he knows about the mark.”

  “We can’t go see them in the middle of the night. The guards will stop us.”

  “We have to try, Jonas. You know what this means. We are in danger.”

  “You’re right. Whatever the warning is, it is probably for me. I should get away immediately so I don’t endanger everyone around me.”

  “You can’t do this alone. Let’s go,” Fil said without waiting for his reply. Jonas quietly followed Fil through the barracks and outside into the cool night.

  Fil and Jonas ran to the east, towards the knight’s barracks as the Greever landed lightly on the roof of the boys’ sleeping quarters. The beast tucked its long leather wings into the crevices on its back sniffing hungrily for the scent of its prey. The demon smelled its target somewhere near, and its maw opened instinctively, saliva dripping from its long fangs. The deadly hunter leaped down to the ground landing lightly by the north entrance, its dark leather-like skin blending like a ghost into the shadows of the night.

  Jonas stumbled, his chest flaring with pain. Fil reached out grabbing his arm to steady him. Images flashed in Jonas’s mind, images of a great beast entering their barracks.

  “Fil! The Barracks! They are in danger!” Jonas said, his eyes wide with fear, seeing the images that Fil could not.

  Fil and Jonas glanced back toward their barracks. They were near the knights’ own barracks so they wasted no time and sprinted toward the main door. A knight in full armor stood outside the entrance, spear in hand as the boys neared. The knight quickly pointed his spear forward, standing in combat position as he saw the two forms stumble out of the night.

  “Who are you?” the knight asked. Then seeing their blue tunics he relaxed a bit and approached them. “What are you two recruits doing out this time of night?”

  “Quick, our barracks are being attacked! Raise the alarm!” yelled Jonas.

  “What?”

  “Do it now!” screamed Jonas grabbing the alarmed knight. Suddenly screams in the distance filled the night.

  “What in Ulren’s name is that?” asked the soldier looking out into the darkness.

  “I told you, we are under attack! Now get help!” Jonas yelled grabbing the knight’s sword from his sheath and running back into the night towards their barracks.

  The knight dropped his spear, grabbed the horn around his neck and blew the alarm. Fil picked up the man’s spear and ran after Jonas. The screeching blast of the horn combined with screams coming from the boys’ barracks awoke the battle hardened knights sleeping nearby.

  The Greever walked silently through the barracks, its padded paws making no sound on the rough stone. The demon’s long claws on its feet were retracted so it could walk quietly.

  There was warm flesh everywhere and the Greever’s fanged mouth was gaping hungrily. The Greever could almost taste the succulent feast so near. Its long powerful arms reached out as its bony head scanned the bunks for its prey. The demon could smell him; the entire room stank with his stench. To the demon, the boy’s goodness and pure heart left an odor that was disgusting, something to be destroyed by tooth and claw.

  One of the apprentices to the Greever’s right got up slowly; something had awakened him. The Greever stopped not more than two paces away, staring at the boy, its red eyes, like rubies, bright with anticipation. The boy’s eyes adjusted to the night and looked directly at the nightmare before him. He shook his head slightly, looking again, his eyes widening in fright as his mouth opened in a scream that never came.

  The Greever’s right wing shot from its back and the long spike on the tip speared the boy like a pig. The only sound that came from the boy was a gurgle as the demon ripped the spike from him, but the noise was enough to awaken several boys around him who groggily began to stir from their slumber. The Greever’s jaws opened wide hissing loudly, its powerful body crouching, ready to attack. And that is what it did.

  The Greever tore into the young boys, clawed hands ripping and tearing flesh. The demon was a whirlwind of death, spraying blood into the air, covering the walls with crimson splashes. The barracks were alive with the screams of the wounded and dying, and the Greever relished the cacophonous sounds of his carnage as he savored the coppery taste of blood.

  Jonas ran through the doorway and was assaulted with the chaos of death and terror. Blood was everywhere and unrecognizable bodies littered the floor. His heart pounded and fear gripped his body, immobilizing him briefly. Many of his friends were dead, and more were dying as he stood just inside the open doorway.

  Then anger filled his body and beat away the fear in his heart. Moving further into the room he desperately looked for some way to help his friends that were still alive. It was dark but he could just make out a large form at the far end of the room ripping and tearing, cutting a swath of death as it moved with unbelievable speed. Jonas heard more screams and hoped that some of his friends had made it out the south door.

  He held his sword out in front of him, but it seemed so puny against such a beast. In the murky darkness his eyes swept around the room frantically trying to come up with some sort of plan. Jonas prayed silently, pleading desperately for help from Shyann.

  Suddenly Jonas felt his body growing warm with an energy building deep within him. The feeling surprised him, but the screaming in the darkness forced him to focus his mind on the warm flood of energy coalescing inside him; and he prayed, concentrating on his belly where the force was centered. Suddenly his bod
y began to glow. It was as if a white light was slowly growing within him, starting in his belly and emanating outward surrounding his flesh. It was not the explosive light that Jonas saw from Airos, the cavalier, but a softer light, growing in strength the more Jonas concentrated. The light’s rays pierced the darkness, beating away the shadows and illuminating the horrible destruction.

  The beast pivoted quickly as the light touched it. The Greever didn’t like this light; it felt strange and unwelcome, stinging its flesh, but there, standing not more than fifty paces away was its target. The Greever’s nostrils pulsed with disgust taking in the horrible smell of its target. The demon hated that smell, hated all it stood for. It wanted him dead. It would take more than light to stop it from ripping the boy to pieces and feeding on his warm wet flesh. The hunter crouched, leaping forward with astonishing power and speed.

  Fil ran in behind Jonas, quickly taking in the scene. Jonas’s magic light flared brighter, exposing a scene that was beyond Fil’s imagination, but Fil didn’t have time to wonder about the light or the carnage around him. A huge beast with long arms and blood covered claws was running at them with incredible speed, jaws open, exposing long deadly fangs. He felt fear grip him, but he fought it back, leaping in front of Jonas, and hurling the spear with all his might. The spear took the demon in the chest, the impact stopping its charge momentarily. The beast looked down at the spear jutting from its flesh, momentarily shocked by the power of the attack. But a normal weapon could not harm the demon. The creature simply reached down, ripped out the spear, throwing it against the wall with a clatter. The thick leathery skin around the wound closed immediately and the demon crouched low, hissing at the boy who threw the weapon. Leaping toward him, the Greever snapped its wings forward, the sharp dagger like points piercing Fil through each shoulder.

  Fil screamed in pain as the spikes ripped through him, piercing through his back. The Greever used its powerful wings to lift the screaming boy in the air and fling him against the far wall.