Eternal Knight

by Matt Heppe

  “I wonder how you get to be a noble.”

  Belor looked perplexed. “I don’t know. I don’t think you get to choose.”

  “Maybe the king tells you.”

  He shrugged.

  “They seemed to think I was strange,” Hadde said.

  “I think their warriors are all men. They—” There was a knock at the door and Belor stood to open it. One of the yeomen stepped into the room, his eyes widening at the sight of Belor, sword in hand, and Hadde with her axe across her lap.

  “Come in,” Belor said. “You are welcome.” He leaned his sword against the wall to make his words more convincing.

  The yeoman was filthy and reeked in the confined space of the cottage. He glanced nervously back and forth from Belor to Hadde. Behind the villager another face peered through the door. “Will you feast with us in the manor?” the man asked.

  Belor glanced at Hadde. Another whiff of the yeoman’s stench and a glance at his dirt-encrusted hands convinced Hadde she wouldn’t eat with him. She motioned toward the bubbling pot of pea porridge and said, “We have already cooked our meal, thank you. I think we’ll stay here and rest.”

  “I thank you as well,” Belor said. “But we’re tired from our long journey.”

  The man wrung his hands as if he didn’t know what to do. Hadde thought he hadn’t understood them. After a moment he nodded, apologized, and backed out of the hut.

  “I don’t like it here,” Hadde said after Belor closed the door. “These people make me uncomfortable. I hope all Saladorans aren’t like them.”

  Belor latched the door and sat down next to the fire. “I know. There’s something wrong with this manor. I think it’s because they don’t have a lord. I think they’re used to being told what to do.”

  Hadde looked at the closed door. “Do you think we should bar it as well?”

  “We don’t have much to fear from this ragged bunch. That last one was terrified at the sight of our weapons.”

  “They seem desperate.”

  “They are just miserable.”

  Hadde looked around the room at the broken tools and after a moment selected a few stout poles. She propped them against the cottage door and braced them against the floor.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Belor said.

  “It doesn’t hurt.”

  “As you wish.” He nodded at the small pile of wood in the corner of the cottage. “They didn’t leave us much.”

  “We shouldn’t be too cold in here out of the wind.” Hadde placed her axe next to her cased bow and served up two small bowls of porridge.

  Belor looked past her at a pile of broken tools. “We could always burn some of those if we wanted to.”

  “Do you think we should? They may want to repair them for the spring.”

  “This group? They’ll be lucky if they make spring. They’re hopeless.”

  ***

  Hadde woke, startled. For a moment she thought it was the cold, but it wasn’t that uncomfortable in the cottage. She lay still, listening for any noise. Dull red embers glowed in the remains of the fire. Belor still slept, his arm draped across her.

  A thud outside caused Hadde’s heart to skip a beat. Had something blown over? She shifted position and stared at the door, her ears straining against the night.

  The door’s latch rose in its slot.

  “Belor, wake up,” she hissed. Sitting, she grabbed her axe's handle. She heard more muffled noises outside as the door shifted against its braces.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Someone’s outside! They tried to open the door.”

  Suddenly alert, he scrambled to his feet and drew his sword. Hadde belted her bowcase around her waist, picked up her bow, and stepped to the door. Belor joined her.

  “What is it?” he whispered. “What’s going on?”

  She shook her head. “They can’t be up to any good.”

  Belor reached for one of the posts Hadde had placed against the door.

  “No, Belor, what if…”

  Hadde’s heart thudded as the latch lifted again. Belor grasped his sword in both hands as the door creaked. Hadde shoved her axe into her belt. Stepping back three paces, she nocked an arrow and aimed it at the door. The pressure on the door relaxed.

  “Hadde, don your armor and saddle the horses. I’ll guard the door.”

  “They’ll wait by the door and ambush us as we leave.”

  “They won’t expect us to charge out fully armed. Hurry with the horses.”

  Hadde saddled the horses and stowed their gear. She glanced up at Belor. "Anything?" she asked. He listened at the door and shook his head. "I doubt they just left. Hurry up."

  She pulled her mail over her head, tied her belt and joined him. “Your turn.” Before he could move the door burst from its hinges. Two men stumbled through the wreckage, a heavy beam held between them. More men crowded behind.

  Before the attackers could recover their balance, Belor swung his sword, striking the first man in the face. The intruder screamed in pain and reeled backwards, blocking the doorway. Shouting a savage cry, Belor took a full swing and cut down the man he had wounded.

  Hadde drew her arrow and shot the second attacker through the throat. He fell back gurgling and choking on the feathered shaft. She loosed another arrow into the crowd pressing from behind. A man fell to his knees clutching the arrow in his chest.

  There was no time for remorse, or even for fear. Three bodies, the ram, and the wreckage of the door blocked the entrance. Hadde loosed two more arrows in quick succession and the remaining attackers broke and ran. “Keep them back,” Belor shouted. “I’ll clear a path.”

  “Your armor!”

  “No time.”

  Hadde drew another arrow and aimed it out the doorway as Belor pulled the bodies aside. An arrow from the darkness cracked against the doorframe. She saw the archer standing, moonlit, twenty strides away, partly sheltered by another cottage. She shot him in the shoulder and he fell out of view.

  “Now, Hadde, mount up.”

  They ran from the doorway and leapt onto their horses. “Go left out the door,” Hadde said. “Back to the fort.”

  “Now!” Belor shouted as Quickstep leapt out the door.

  Too late, Hadde yelled, "Me first! Armor!"

  Hadde dug her heels into Lightfoot's flanks and they raced after him. Windwalker trailed behind, her lead tied to Hadde's saddle. Arrows whipped close by as they emerged from the cottage. Hadde loosed an arrow as soon as she cleared the lintel, but didn’t watch to see if she struck her target.

  In front of her, Belor swung his sword in a vicious arc and struck down a spearman who attempted to bar their path. More arrows flew past, but Hadde didn’t spare the effort to respond. She bent low in the saddle and raced for the safety of the night.

  They had just cleared the village when Belor sagged in his saddle and fell. Pulling to a halt, Hadde sheathed her bow as she dismounted and ran to him. Belor sat on the ground, his hand holding Windwalker’s reins and his sword lying on the ground next to him.

  “Belor!”

  He gasped and fell to his side. An arrow protruded from his abdomen.

  Hadde looked toward the village. They were too close. Already, figures approached out of the darkness. “We have to get away from here. Can you ride?”

  “I have to,” he groaned.

  “I’ll take care of you, Belor. Just hold on!”

  “I won’t make it.”

  “You will!” She helped him onto his horse. He gritted his teeth in pain as he settled himself.

  “We can do this! Ride!”

  ***

  Belor could barely keep in his saddle. Hadde wanted to help him, but they dared not stop until they reached safety. She winced every time his horse stepped over a rough patch in the darkness and he hissed in pain.

  They had gone a few dozen arrowflights when they stopped in a sheltered gully. Hadde quickly dismounted and helped Belor as he half fell from his
saddle. She eased him to the ground as best she could.

  “I have to take it out,” she said. His face looked deathly pale even in the dim light of pre-dawn.

  “No, just leave it,” he gasped.

  “We can’t leave it in there. I have to treat your wound.”

  “I’m dead. You can do nothing for me. Let me go in peace.” He grimaced and his head fell back.

  “Don’t say that. Don’t give up hope. Let me do what I can.”

  “At least the Wasting won’t take me.” He moaned in agony.

  “Old age will take you, Belor. Not this arrow. Not the Wasting.” He lay still. Fear raced through her. She scrambled forward and felt his neck for a pulse. He groaned as she moved his head.

  “For nothing,” he whispered and closed his eyes.

  “No! You’re not going to die!”

  He gasped and passed out. Hadde scoured their supplies and grabbed everything she thought she would need. Bending over him, she examined the arrow. It had pierced the right side of his abdomen. She caught a foul odor and recoiled. His intestines had been pierced. Blood soaked his breechcloth and leggings.

  She fought back the grief that welled up in her. The wound was worse than she had thought. Hoping the arrow wasn’t barbed, she grasped its fletching. “Hold still,” she commanded, although she knew he was beyond hearing.

  She took a deep breath to calm her own nerves and then pulled the arrow free. Belor cried out and convulsed once before lying still. At least it had come out smoothly. She tossed the arrow aside.

  “Can you hear me?” she asked. He was still and silent. Hadde bound his wound as best she could. He had lost much blood, but there was nothing she could do about it. Hadde froze at a noise in the distance. She scrambled up the gully and peered toward the manor. Torches flickered as a line of men approached. Cursing, she slid back down.

  The fort they had stayed in the night before was a half-day journey, but it was her only real hope of keeping Belor safe and sheltered. She quickly constructed a drag-litter by fastening two poles to either side of Windwalker and tying a blanket between them. It wouldn’t be an easy journey for him. But she had to get Belor to the fort. She had to save him. He was her friend. He was her love.

  He would not die.

  Chapter Six

  Hadde turned in her saddle to check on Belor and found him sagging in a wretched heap at the bottom of the litter. She leapt from the saddle and ran to his side. Tying him in place hadn't worked and she feared moving him was doing him great harm. But what choice did she have? The Saladorans would have discovered them back in the gully. Even now the villagers could be in pursuit, although she hadn't seen a sign of them in hours.

  Carefully, Hadde straightened Belor on the litter. The blanket she had covered him with had fallen askew, but when she reached out to fix it she found it soaked with blood. His bandages were a red ruin.

  "Oh, Belor, you're so cold." She glanced in the direction of the tower and spotted it in the dim light of dawn. But seeing it did nothing to lift her spirits. Belor was dying. Getting to the tower was meaningless, she realized. There was nobody to save him. Nothing could save him. She sat beside Belor and, as gently as she could, lifted him and rested his head in her lap. His body was limp and heavy as she moved him.

  "Shhh, all will be well, Belor." Tears welled in her eyes as she cradled him. He was almost gone. His breath was shallow and his face deathly pale. "I'm so sorry."

  Unbidden images of evil Saladorans flashed through her mind. The man she had shot through the throat reeling backwards in pain and shock. Belor crumpled on the ground with an arrow in his side. "I should have left the cottage first," she said. "I was in armor."

  He gave one last shuddering breath, and then lay still.

  One of Hadde’s tears fell on his cheek. She wiped it away only to leave a bloody smudge. "I should have known you would charge out the door. I should have stopped you. My mail would have turned the arrow."

  She was the leader. She was responsible. They should have turned back and never tried for Sal-Oras. There probably wasn't even an elementar-king anyway. Mor-Oras was so much closer. Why had she let him convince her to go on? Belor would never see Landomere again. He wouldn’t even feel the Great Forest’s embrace in death.

  Hadde led the horses off the broken path and into the woods, searching for an appropriate place. She found it at the base of a young oak. She cleared the ground of debris and placed Belor under the tree’s sheltering branches. His arms lay across his chest and he looked as if he had stopped to rest under the tree while on some pleasant journey. She paused a moment and then pulled his cloak over his body.

  After removing her armor, Hadde gathered stones from a nearby creek bed. It took most of the afternoon to complete her work, but when she was done Belor was entombed under a sturdy cairn.

  “Become one with the forest, Belor,” Hadde said. “I’m sorry it isn’t Landomere. But this tree is young and strong and has resisted the Wasting this long. Lend it your strength so that you may help it grow into a giant of its kind. May your spirit find happiness as it wanders amongst the trees.”

  ***

  Hadde dumped her gear on the floor of the fort’s gate tower. She lit a fire and curled up in her blankets. It was still day, but she was exhausted. Wind and rain hammered against the tower’s shuttered windows, waking her. For a moment she wondered where she was, and then the horror of the past day’s events came to her. She grimaced at the memory and stared into the embers of her fire.

  Somewhere to the west was Landomere. Hadde regretted the moment she had left her borders. She pulled the golden chain from beneath her shirt and looked at it in the firelight. Helna’s Orb glimmered back at her. “Not much of a gift. More a curse.”

  She roused herself as the sound of rain faded and climbed the stairs to the top of the tower. Only a passing shower, she thought. She stood and watched the sun descend. The wan light did nothing to warm her. Tomorrow she would start her journey home.

  Just as she turned to crawl through the trap door, a faint noise came to her on the breeze. The distant call of a horn. Her first thought was of Landomeri hunting horns, but that joy quickly faded. There would be no Lanomderi hunting party here. More likely the Saladorans had caught up to her. She leapt down the ladder into the tower, snatched up her bowcase, and returned.

  A stronger horn blast pulled her eyes to the south. Her heart beat faster as she caught sight of a party of horsemen galloping up the ancient highway. They had just emerged from a patch of woods near where Hadde and Belor had first spotted the fort.

  The slanting sunlight flashed off of steel as the strident horn called again. What would they do when they arrived? She felt a flash of fear. The tower door was locked, but the gate to the fort stood open. It had taken both Belor and her to close it the first time. She felt a flash of regret that she hadn’t found a way to close it again.

  Hadde studied the approaching party. There were more than just horsemen, she saw. A band of warriors on foot pursued the five riders. She tried to make sense of the scene. The riders seemed to be breaking free, when four men sprang out from ambush and hurled javelins at them. One of the riders toppled from his horse. A flame-red banner dipped as a mail-clad warrior lowered his lance and charged. A footman attempted to dodge, but the lance caught him and sent him reeling to the ground.

  The remaining horsemen rode down the ambushers and charged for the fort, their pursuers hard on them. Hadde frowned. The footmen were too fast—almost keeping pace with the riders. But still the riders managed to gain a dozen strides on them. Not just riders, but knights, she realized. Saladoran knights. And she didn't need to see their eyes to realize who the footmen were. Their clothes and arms were identical to those of the strange warriors who had joined the Kiremi raiders.

  It seemed the knights would break free when the lead pursuers cast a last volley of javelins. Two struck home and a horse stumbled and fell. The rider disappeared under his mount.

  The
fallen knight’s companions wheeled their horses and raced to save their comrade. To Hadde’s surprise, the thrown horseman sprang to his feet. One of the foot warriors struck at him with an axe, but the knight deflected it with his shield and cut the man down.

  Hadde lost sight of the knight as his companions crashed into the crowd. Two of the knights leveled their lances and impaled their enemies. Another rode to the aid of the dismounted knight, pulling him onto the saddle. The rescued man and his savior broke free and rode for the fort, the other two knights guarding their escape.

  Hadde pulled some tension into her bowstring. A slight crosswind blew from left to right. A stone post beside the road looked to be two hundred strides away. Her first arrow would land there. She adjusted her aim.

  A javelin pierced one of the horse’s flanks. The steed kept running, but fell behind the others. A knight riding a huge roan slowed to keep pace with the straggler. The roan’s rider was the only knight still holding a lance; its red pennant fluttered in the wind.

  Two of the silver-eyes closed on the last horseman as they passed Hadde’s aiming post. She loosed an arrow but didn’t watch its flight. As she shot her second arrow the first struck home. The lead silver-eye fell.

  The slowest rider desperately swung his sword at an attacker. Another leaped forward and stabbed the horse. It reared up and fell, but the knight leapt clear. The roan knight charged, knocking aside two assailants. Three more attackers ran at him, thwarting his effort at rescuing his comrade.

  Hadde loosed another arrow. One of the silver-eyes staggered back, wounded. The dismounted knight hacked at his enemies but was hopelessly surrounded. Hadde loosed more arrows into the crowd of attackers, but it was to no avail. The beleaguered knight fell under the relentless attack.

  The knight on the roan turned from his fallen comrade and spurred for the fort. Hadde reached to her bowcase for another arrow, but it was empty. Six unwounded attackers remained. She clutched her useless bow as the knight raced for the gate.