Epik couldn’t find sleep that night, waking every hour until finally, he was over trying to sleep at all. First, he tried to think back to what Kavya had told him to look for—or feel for. But though he tried, he still felt nothing. He didn’t know what to do.
So, per usual when unsure what to do next, Epik went to his books. He found the second volume of The Art of Sorcery underneath his bed and lit a candle. His Shadow flickered against the wall, rocking restlessly.
“Do you really want to be free?” he asked.
The Shadow shrugged, palms to the ceiling.
“Fine.” Epik pulled the wand from beneath his pillow and sat up straight on the bed. He placed the tip on the top of his head and muttered the right words.
The Shadow slid across the room.
“Is that better?”
It nodded.
“Can’t you talk?”
It shook its head and shrugged again. Then it bounded for the door. When it got there, it waved and slid through the crack.
“I hope that was the right thing to do,” Epik said to himself. And not so weirdly, he felt more alone than ever.
Epik woke with drool pooling on the open pages of the book. He wiped it away. Fire and water repellent, he thought.
He went to breakfast; unease and hunger filled his belly.
He hadn’t seen any hint of his Shadow since last night—or Epiman’s Shadow, for that matter.
Sir Dom greeted him, less jovial than ever before. There was a distance in the knight’s eyes but the brightness was still evident.
“You remember our deal?” he whispered to Epik.
Epik nodded, thinking maybe Dom was prepared to go back on it, to just demolish Epik in two quick lances and be done. There was something odd in the knight’s demeanor, like he was recovering from something more than that loss to the Golden Knight.
“I can’t speak now. But trust me, Sir Epik. The deal stands.” The knight walked away, carrying his plate of food out with him.
Trust him? Those were the same words Epiman had used. Epik still had trouble thinking of Dune All-En’s king as his father, thinking of him as anything other than a liar. Why do I have to be so trusting? he thought. Why couldn’t he know the full story for a change? The last thing wanted to do was to put trust in anyone other than himself.
Kavya was waiting for Epik in his room. At least some of the anger washed away.
“Can I give you something?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Is not a joke,” Kavya said in her broken speech.
“Sorry,” Epik said, “I’m just,” he searched for the word, “frustrated. I didn’t expect to face Sir Dom, not yet anyway. Not that the Golden Knight doesn’t frighten me. It’s just I promised Sir Dom something. I don’t know if I can—”
Her last two kisses lingered in the back of Epik’s mind. He expected another. He hoped for one.
“Sure, you can give me anything. I’m ready,” he said, half closing his eyes and puckering up. He wondered if he should find a stool to make things easier.
“I will give you a kiss later,” she said. “But that’s not it.” Kavya fingered the chain of her necklace. “Remember, we spoke of moonstones…”
How could he forget? It was like those kisses, something that lingered, not to mention some of the damning evidence of his father’s betrayal.
“I want to give you mine. It will protect you from mortal blades.”
“Yours?” Epik scowled. “No, you need that for your own protection. I have magic. I’m learning a lot. Plus, I know how to defend myself.”
The last part was somewhat true. He hadn’t used Coe’s teaching, not really. And Epik’s magic was growing stronger; he could feel it. Though how the book worked was beyond him, the double, sometimes triple, speak in its text was harder to read than ever. And the reading was as dry as Sir Wallack’s chicken.
“Take this,” she said.
Before Epik could protest she had clasped it around his neck and sealed it with a kiss—at least three kisses but, honestly, when her tongue got involved, Epik lost count.
35
Thief of Time
Uncertainty drained every ounce of nerve Epik had gained in the previous jousts. The parade finished in a whirlwind as time did that thing it does where it goes into light speed with the hyperdrive of a racing mind.
Across the arena, Lucille, Sir Dom’s horse, rocked sideways. The knight looked as unsteady and as uncertain as Epik. At least, from what little Epik could glean from the body language of the green knight in full battle armor. He shook his head several times as if to shake off the defeat by the Golden Knight. What Epik understood to be Sir Dom’s only defeat.
The crowd was still on his side. They chose today to wear the Kelly green of the kingdom. Dom’s plump squire handed up a lance, and the knight hoisted it into the air to the roar of the Coliseum. They were his fans. This was his kingdom. Epik was an outsider. He looked down to no shadow. Where was Epik’s support?
Gerdy and Myra sat in the box but offered none. If anything, Gerdy looked away each time Epik looked up.
The black mare took her place at the end of the tilt and whinnied for Buster to do the same. The pony went without Epik needing to nudge him forward. He stamped eagerly but waited for the announcer’s call.
It was more commentary than Epik wanted to hear. He wanted this done and over with. Time slowed to make up for its earlier mistake.
“Will the Indomitable Knight regain his form?” The announcer answered his own questions. “I think so. I’m betting this halfling takes some brutal punishment. Brutal! Am I right?”
The crowd roared. The consensus was yes, a brutal punishment was in the offing.
“There’s the flag. Let’s get ready to battle!”
Buster didn’t want Epik to use the vanishing spell this time. And the pony was at speed before Epik had his grip tightened on the lance. Epik locked the end of it in the crook of his arm, lowered the lance, and calculated the distance between the horses.
This was his chance. But Epik hadn’t given it as much thought as perhaps he should have. He thought of lightning, how it buries itself in the ground, energy arcing in all directions. He felt for the magic in the back of his mind. He searched for the right emotions. He needed the anger that he had felt in the days just passed. That was as hopeless as finding the second of a pair of socks. Somewhere in the past few days, the resentment of Epiman had faded to nothing.
A touch of blue energy crackled to the tip of the lance.
True to his word, Sir Dom opened up his body, his shield drooping to the side, and his lance limp in his arm. The jolt of lightning hit him square in the chest, hard enough to rock him back but nothing more. The echoes of the blue energy coursed down his armor and then fizzled to nothing.
The crowd booed at the move or the lack thereof. The Indomitable Knight paid them no mind. He returned to his position and readied for the next lance. He nodded to Epik, acknowledging that he had done his part of the bargain just as the flag waved for the second lance.
“One lance to none,” the announcer said unenthusiastically. “Two points, though I think I'd call it one and a half to the Half Knight, Sir Epik. But, let’s be honest, one lance doesn’t win a joust. Let’s see what this pass has in store.”
Buster scurried forward, finding his pace. Flecks of the muddied and broken ground showered Epik’s visor.
He knew what he had to do—not only was it fair, it was what he’d agreed to. He had to take the blow. But fear, his constant ally, took over.
Sir Dom’s lance glowed white, something Epik had never seen.
Without meaning to, Epik vanished. The lance went through him, not doing him any harm. He reappeared at the end of the tilt.
The audience booed louder than before.
Epik waved to Sir Dom, and they met in the middle of the pitch.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. This next one is yours. I want to
be true to my word.”
Sir Dom opened his visor. “You’re a good lad, Epik. Trust me and take this blow well.”
Epik nodded and lowered his visor. “I will.”
“Still two points to none,” the announcer said as they readied for the last pass.
Fear had been a better friend to Epik than most others. Fear had never sent him off course. But fear wasn’t his ruler. He had let fear take over far too often.
Epik had to fulfill his end of the bargain. No matter if he died—which he probably would, he thought. Still, he couldn’t let the halfling inside him win out, and he was only half a halfling anyway. It was time to allow his inner human to call the shots. This was the part of Epik willing to sacrifice, to be noble for no reason other than because it was the right thing to do.
Epik urged Buster on with a kick. He threw his own lance and shield down to the gasping of the crowd. He needed to make himself tall. He wanted Sir Dom to have the best target possible. Epik stood atop the saddle. Stupidity was the word that came to mind, and the right one.
Dom’s lance glowed white. It hit directly in the middle of Epik’s chest.
BOOM!
The lights went out.
“Hello, is this thing on? Can you hear me?”
“Yes, Dada,” toddler Epik said.
“No, not you. I know you can hear me. I mean the other you.”
Epik nodded. Or, he thought he did. The vision, whatever it was, tilted back and forth. What Epik knew to be his father, Epiman in short halfling form steadied the younger Epik. They both stood on the bank of the river. Epiman’s shaggy dark hair covered his ears and forehead, it was matted and stuck to his face.
They were both wet. Epik realized this had to be just after his dealings with the plant man when his father had tried to force magic out of him, putting the young halfling’s life in danger. When nothing happened, well, that was when his father had left.
“I can’t tell if that’s you who is nodding or the baby version,” Epiman said. “Epik are you there?”
“I’m here,” Epik said. And his voice came out in place of the toddler’s.
“All right. There you are. Listen, I won’t have much time to explain. This spell is rather complex. It’s called a time-gap—a space in your memory that I’ve reserved for this conversation. Though both of us now reside in the future, I can answer your questions in the here and the now.”
“Okay,” Epik said. “Why weren’t you straight with me? Why didn’t you just tell me who I am? You’ve had so many chances.”
“Well, you caught on to this faster than I thought you would. Anyway, there’s a long explanation and a short. We have time for the short. I’ve been trying to find a way to will the magic out of you. But halflings seem to close themselves off emotionally. Something I didn’t understand until now.”
“I don’t get it,” Epik said. “Why were you—are you—in the Bog in the first place? Why are you pretending to be a halfling? Okay, this is kind of weird now that I think about it.”
“Look around you, well, not around you at the moment. But think about what you’ve seen in King’s Way. I had to escape my father. I’m ashamed of it, but I hid. I am hiding. And now my father has gotten wind of where I am. I can either take you along with me, or I can erase all memory that I was ever here. That’s what I plan to do now. Now that I realize the magic inside you isn’t ready to be let out. I imagine it will work. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“And what about Myra?” Epik asked.
“Who?”
“Your daughter—”
“I don’t have a…” Epiman paused a moment. “Myra,” he said, feeling out the word. “What does she look like?”
“Beautiful,” Epik said. “She’s part elf.”
“Really,” Epiman said. It wasn’t a question. “I can’t speak for the future me.”
“But I thought you’d planned it all! Playing inept wizard, the trolls…”
“Trolls? Did I plan that?” Epiman smiled slyly.
“You did… Oh.”
“Time-gap,” Epiman said. “It’s a bit timey-wimey.”
“Well,” Epik said. “How do we beat your father? He has a whole army outside the city. And more here in the kingdom at his disposal.”
“How do you beat any man?” Epiman asked.
Epik shrugged.
“Was it you or the baby who shrugged?”
“Me,” Epik said.
“Oh… All right. Listen, the way to beat any man is through his heart.”
Epik nodded, not fully understanding.
“Really, words work best. What you have to do is, you must find my mother. She’ll know exactly what to do.”
Epik’s dazed eyes opened slowly. There was still a roaring crowd, and still a horse under his feet. Across the tilt, Dom was on his back on the ground.
Dom lifted his visor when Buster arrived at a trot to greet Lucille.
“Good show lad.” The knight smiled weakly.
Epik nodded, unsure exactly what he meant. He was also unclear on how he’d taken a blow, magical or not, directly to the chest, standing atop a horse, and lived.
“Wow,” the announcer boomed. The audience agreed. “In all my years here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone take a lance like that. Two points for Sir Dom but three to Sir Epik—the Half Knight, he’s won!”
Buster cantered around the tilt where Todder was standing with a stupid grin on his face. “Might have been the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen,” the captain said. “And I’ve been in the Watch over twenty years.”
Epik dismounted and waved to the arena. They were his crowd now. He could tell the tide had turned. Then he led Buster into the tunnel. The cheers rang in his ears for hours.
36
A Memory of Enlightenment
Todder wondered what it was about him—what had changed. How had he gone from an oaf sitting on a chair beside the Wall in Dune All-En to these uncomfortable situations in close quarters with kings and high lords? This one was a particularly sticky case with an emperor of sorts, the Grand Sovereign.
He sat back on his velvet throne in what looked like a sort of trance, fingers steepled, unblinking, as Todder waited to be addressed. Todder knew what a trance looked like. His gran used to go into them all the time when she was cooking up potions. Whether love potion or a sleeping draft to fill an apple, potions required a delicate touch.
Todder found it odd that it was Myra’s yellow-eyed servant who had summoned him here instead of his usual girl, the one with headdress and the vibrant orange eyes.
Catarina had left him here to wait alone with his thoughts. Lately, Todder’s thoughts were only of the one person. He couldn’t help but wonder whether he would ever see Ashah again.
After several minutes—what felt like twenty but was probably on the order of four or five, Todder coughed purposefully.
After a few more minutes, he did it again.
This time, a faint quiver of something awful flashed on the Grand Sovereign’s handsome face—sallow dark pitted eyes, jagged wrinkles across pale almost-blue skin. They were gone almost before Todder saw them and the man was himself again.
“Oh, yes, Captain,” he said. “Come forward.”
Todder was leerier than he would have been before seeing that shadowy face.
“Is everything okay, Captain?”
“Fine, it’s fine,” Todder lied.
“Here, have a seat. Relax.”
A chair moved, greeting Todder’s knees, buckling them and toppling his large rump into the seat. If this was meant to relax him, it did everything but9.
“Perhaps you’re wondering why I called you here.” The Grand Sovereign rested his chin on his hands. “Actually, no, let’s not play games. My magic is powerful. I can see your every thought. I know you’re wondering why I called you here. Among other things… Yes, she is lovely, I guess, if a bit spotty. Anyway, you’re here because your mind might be able to tell me s
omething. Something I don’t think I can get outright.
“Tell me, did my son offer you any instructions before you left? What purpose do you serve here?”
Todder thought a moment—the scroll. He still hadn’t looked at it. Nor did he know where it was.
“Ah, so he did. But you failed him. Tsk Tsk. I would expect better from the captain of my city watch. You’re about to learn why you always read a scroll.” The Grand Sovereign’s face grew dark again. This time, he did not attempt to hide it. “Let’s find out what you know.”
Todder wasn’t ready for what happened next.
Instead of the usual tingling sensation—a slight warm fuzzy feeling that had embraced his mind from time to time, making him a forgetful, if observant, oaf— a burning pain exploded through every nerve in his body but starting at and pulsing down from the top of his head.
Todder burrowed down into the seat, unable to move, all of his extremities trembling with pain. Memories flashed before his eyes. And somewhere inside him, Todder knew it was not only his eyes but those of the Grand Sovereign were watching as well.
First, he saw his mother and father. But that was too far back. The pictures flashed-forward, and he was living with his granny in her house in the woods, watching as she brewed potions and smoked her pipe between clinched but barely-there teeth. Next, Todder was a young man. He looked around cautious but eager, hoping to be seen by no-one save a certain maiden as he stole a bronze colored horse and rode it down a path. His sentencing came next. The aged Grand Counselor offered him a pardon if he joined the Watch. Years at the Gate melded together as one.
Then he was meeting the halfling Epik, and time slowed, each interaction played in full. Finally, it stopped at a meeting with the new king, Epiman.
“Here we are.” The cursed and pallid visage of the Grand Sovereign grinned wickedly. “Epik is his son! My grandson. That makes sense. Those rumors were true! He did take up with the halflings.”
Knowing is Halfling the Battle: An Arthurian Fantasy Romp (Epik Fantasy Book 2) Page 17
