Eternal Knight

by Matt Heppe

  “This meal is unbelievable,” Hadde gushed. “I’ve never had anything so good.” She took a long pull of wine. “I never knew anything like this existed.”

  “It’s just a simple meal,” Maret replied. “I apologize that it isn’t enough. Shall I have a servant bring more?” Hadde stared at the nearly empty tray. A single slice of cheese and an end of bread were all that remained. “More? I cannot remember when I’ve ever eaten so much. I’m about to burst your dress.” She sighed. “My poor family. My people. They aren’t eating like this. They have nothing.”

  “The Wasting is strong on your manor?”

  “In our village, yes. Worse than here, I think. I hope the king can help. I hope I can see him soon.”

  “You could be with us for some time. The king has very important affairs to attend to. I’ll try to make your stay here comfortable.”

  “Well, don’t worry about having that dress made for me. I don’t intend on being here long. I want to go home as soon as I can.”

  “But you need some clothes… unless your baggage is still in route?”

  “I have my own clothes.” Hadde drank more wine. “You sent to have them cleaned.”

  “You can’t wear those in court. They’re not proper.”

  “Not proper?”

  “I don’t think the steward will let you enter the Great Hall in those clothes you were wearing. It would be as if you were naked.”

  Hadde finished off her goblet of wine. A flush of warmth spread through her veins. “I’ll see him naked. It doesn’t matter to me.”

  Maret’s eyes widened.

  Hadde smiled and yawned a tremendous yawn. “Would you like to hear about the time I went into battle naked?”

  Maret’s mouth worked open and closed, but no words came out. “I,” she started, but was interrupted by loud knocking at the door. She frowned. “It’s late for visitors.”

  Lady Celena barged into the room before the maiden had a chance to open the door. “A summons,” Celena said, her hands clutched in front of her. “The king has called for Hadde of Landomere.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Now?” Maret asked.

  “Immediately,” Celena replied. “Four Knights of the House wait to escort her.”

  Hadde stumbled as she stood, catching herself with a hand on the chimney. Her head spun with wine as her heart pounded a heavy drumbeat in her chest. “Everyone said it would be later.”

  “His Highness wishes to see you now. Hurry!”

  Glancing at the pitch-dark window, Hadde wondered how late it was. She took a deep breath. “Very well. This is what I came for.”

  “She must have a cap and veil,” Celena said to Maret. “And her feet are bare.”

  “I’ll fetch a hat and shoes, my lady,” Maret said as she rushed from the room.

  “I’ll tell the escort that you’ll be with them shortly.” Celena departed as suddenly as Maret.

  Hadde found herself alone in the room, her hand still on the warm chimney. What would she say? How would the king react to her? She had thought so much of this moment, and now that it had finally arrived she had no idea what to do.

  Maret reappeared bearing red slippers and a red flat-topped hat. “Sit and I’ll prepare you.”

  As Maret combed Hadde’s hair she asked, “What do I do? How do I speak to a king?”

  “Always call him ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Your Highness’.” Maret quickly fashioned Hadde’s hair into two long braids that ran in front of her shoulders. “And never turn your back on him. The king isn’t cruel. He won’t mistreat you. But he’s serious and deliberate. He doesn't tolerate fools.” Maret placed the cap on Hadde’s head, pushing the attached veil away from her face.

  Hadde blanched. "Doesn't tolerate fools? I'm half-drunk and wearing this silly hat!”

  “Oh no, it’s not silly,” Maret said. “You must keep it on in public.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “I shouldn’t have given you so much wine. I didn’t know it would have such an effect on you.”

  “I was so hungry and sleepy. And I thought he wasn't going to see me. You don’t think the king will notice?” Hadde stood straight and brushed off her dress.

  “Maybe we should tell the king you are sick from your journey.”

  “No! I’m not missing this chance. I came to see the king.”

  Maret shook her head. “Just think before you speak. Now, try these shoes.” She forced the tight shoes onto Hadde’s feet. “Perfect!”

  “I can’t wear these.” Hadde hobbled across the room. “Where are my boots? Or my moccasins from my pack?”

  “I put all of your things in the chest. But you cannot possibly wear your shoes with this dress. They don’t match.”

  Hadde opened the chest, and after yanking off the red shoes, put on her moccasins. “These will have to do. And look, the dress covers my feet.”

  Celena appeared in the doorway, wringing her hands. “What’s keeping you?”

  “I’m ready,” Hadde said.

  The three women walked down the hall. Maret held Hadde’s elbow, propelling her in a straight line. Hadde spotted the two squires on guard duty, and opposite them, the four fully armored knights standing at attention.

  “I present Lady Hadde,” Celena said to one of the knights.

  Hadde swallowed at the sight of the knights. There was no sign of the Wasting on them. They were tall and broad and wore mail from head to toe, with gleaming helms on their heads and long red tabards covering their torsos. Their visors were up, but it didn’t matter, all were stone-faced.

  “Hadde of Landomere, I am Captain Palen. Please follow me,” a knight said.

  “Good luck to you, Hadde,” Maret peeped as Palen motioned Hadde down the hall.

  Hadde took a few strides and then halted so quickly one of the knights ran into her. What am I doing? she wondered. She needed Maret there to keep her from acting the fool. She turned past the knight, peering back at Maret. “Wait,” she said, “can’t Maret come as well?”

  “She was not summoned,” Palen said. “The king awaits your arrival.”

  “But—”

  “She was not summoned.” The knight's face showed no emotion, no hint of any sympathy.

  “No! She has to come.” Hadde pushed back against the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

  “Hadde,” Maret said, her hand on Hadde's shoulder. “Please, don't argue. Just go with them and see the king.”

  Hadde ignored her. “Why can't she come?” she demanded. Somewhere in her mind, she realized her folly, but it wasn't enough to overcome her wine-enhanced outrage. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

  “Are you refusing the king's summons?” Palen asked. He edged closer, towering over her.

  “No, she isn't,” Maret said. She turned to Hadde. “Please, Hadde, this is why you came. Don't spoil it. You don't need me.”

  Hadde's eyes locked with Maret's. The girl was right. This was the entire purpose of her mission. Belor had died so she could get here. She felt shame at her fear. She had killed Kiremi and varcolac and now she trembled at the thought of meeting the king? Was he more dangerous then they were? He wasn't going to kill her.

  But maybe he was. If he couldn't help Long Meadow, it would mean the death of them all. Everyone she knew would perish to the Wasting. She drew a deep breath. She couldn't fail them. “I'll go,” she said in a quiet voice. “Take me to the king.”

  Without a word, Palen turned and marched down the hall. Hadde followed with Maret's good wishes pursuing her. They wound their way through several dark corridors, the only sound the creak of the warriors’ leather, the metallic rustle of their armor, and the stomp of their boots on the stone floor. Hadde felt woozy, but managed to keep pace with the knights. She felt the eyes of the knights behind her, and hoped she didn't look the fool she felt.

  With the exception of their small party the keep seemed abandoned. Hadde hugged her arms around her body. Her mind still foggy with wine,
she focused on placing one foot in front of the other. Over and over she rehearsed the words she would say to the king. And don't forget Maret's instructions, she thought. Don’t appear the fool.

  Hadde imagined a dark chamber filled with a pall of smoke and lit by a single candle. The king would be cloaked and hooded, his eyes glowing with magical fire. He would look into her soul and know that she was a fraud—that she was no ambassador.

  They halted in front of an iron-bound door. “We have arrived,” Palen said as he knocked twice at the door. He pulled it open without waiting for a response. “Please enter.”

  Taking a deep breath, Hadde strode through the portal. Tall glass windows let moonlight into the large chamber. Shelves lined the walls, each filled with hundreds of decorated boxes. The boxes appeared to be made of leather, and all had swirling decorations in silver or gold on their sides. Four lit candles atop a round table drew her eyes to the corner of the room. Four stuffed chairs surrounded the table, one filled with bundled blankets.

  Hadde jumped as the door slammed behind her. Her stomach roiled with fear as the room seemed to close in on her. She spun as a voice called out to her, “Greetings, Hadde. It has been a long time since I’ve seen one of my fellow Landomeri.”

  She wheeled toward the voice and was shocked to see an ancient man sitting on the blanket-covered chair. She had seen no one there before. The elaborate quilts covered him from head to toe—only his face and right arm lay exposed. He looked as if he had been seated for some time.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t see you sitting there, Your Majesty.”

  The man’s wizened visage broke into a smile and he laughed. It was a beautiful sound that brought her visions of sunny spring mornings in Landomere.

  “I’m not the king, Hadde. My name is Orlos.”

  She gazed at him in awe. The spiridus.

  “Come, sit with me.” He motioned her to a chair opposite his own. “The king will soon arrive.”

  Heart pounding, she made her way to the chair. She stumbled as she sat. “I'm sorry,” she said, cursing both the wine and the unfamiliar dress flapping at her legs.

  He smiled. “Don't fret a moment.”

  “You don't look like a spiridus,” she blurted out. The words hung there for a moment before she clamped her hand over her mouth. Her head sank as she removed her hand. “I'm acting such a fool.”

  “You've seen many spiridus?” Orlos asked, his tone light. Hadde shook her head, too embarrassed to speak. “I’ve looked this way for a long time,” he continued. “A very long time. I think I’ve forgotten what I really am. I’ve not taken spirit form in more than a hundred years.” He glanced out the window into the darkness before turning back to Hadde. “When you’re spiridus it means you’re one with the forest. That you can sense all of the life around you. It means freedom from want or need. It means never having to hurry.”

  “I didn't mean to pry. I'm at such a loss here.”

  “Ask me anything you wish. How often do you meet a spiridus?” He laughed, but the laugh quickly turned to a cough. The cough was deep and wracking. Hadde leaned forward, suddenly concerned for the ancient man.

  “Should I summon help?” She started to rise, but Orlos waved her back down. She sat, helpless as his fit subsided.

  “A couple of centuries hang heavy,” Orlos said as he produced a handkerchief and wiped his mouth. “I'm sorry if I scared you.”

  “Is there someone who can help you? An herbalist or a healer?”

  He shook his head. “There's nothing to be done. There is no cure for time.”

  “Can you become... take spirit form again? Maybe you could return to Landomere? You belong there.”

  “Landomere doesn’t want me. I’m exiled. I cannot return.”

  “Why?” She cursed herself for blurting out again.

  Orlos closed his eyes and shook his head. “I would not speak of it.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. And even if I wished to return, I’m far too old. No, I would rather hear your story. I see that Landomere has presented you with a Token.”

  Hadde touched the chain around her neck. “I found it.”

  The door swung open and slammed against the wall. Hadde spun in her chair as a tall gaunt man strode into the room. He wore a tan tunic and dark brown trousers tucked into his high boots. A golden circlet kept unruly hair from his face. He appeared to be only a few years older than Hadde, but the years seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders. Although he wore no armor, he was armed. He had a golden-flanged mace stuck through his belt and a shield slung on his back.

  “You're late, Your Majesty, ” Orlos said.

  Your Majesty. Hadde sprang from her chair as the realization hit her. What had Maret told her to do?

  “Your chair, ” the king warned.

  Hadde frowned in incomprehension as her chair crashed to the floor behind her. She spun toward it and started to lift it when she remembered Maret's warning. Don't turn your back on the king. She spun back toward him. “Your Majesty,” she gasped.

  Shaking his head, the king strode toward her. Hadde took an involuntary step back, wondering what she should do, when the king reached down and lifted her chair upright. "Please, be seated," he said.

  Hadde shrank into the chair, humiliated, as the king took his seat. “I am Boradin, King of Salador. ” He shoved his shield aside as he sat.

  “I—” Hadde choked. He was not what she expected. He was young, and disheveled, and dressed in common clothes. “Why the shield?” she said. Her mouth dropped open as the king glared at her. The wine! She hadn’t meant to speak aloud.

  “It is my curse—it is my gift, I can never let it go. Give me—”

  “But, why?”

  The king's eyes narrowed at her interruption. “Who do you take—”

  “Show her, Boradin,” Orlos interrupted. He gave Hadde a reassuring smile. “You’ve scared the child to death.”

  “Very well.” The king shifted the shield so that Hadde could see its face. Unlike those of the other knights she had seen, this shield was round. But like theirs it was painted red and bore two crossed lightning bolts upon it. Several black scars marred its face.

  “It is Forsvar,” Boradin said. “I must keep it with me all the time.”

  “Forsvar?” Hadde said. “His Gift? But…it’s a legend.”

  “It is the first of the Three Gifts,” Orlos said. “Not a legend.”

  “And not the last,” Boradin said. “We will find the Orb and all will be made right again. But enough of this. Show me the Spiridus Token, Hadde of Landomere.”

  Trembling, Hadde drew the chain over her head and then, with fumbling fingers, dropped it on the table. As Boradin took the necklace, his gaze flicked over the candles and they flared, doubling in brightness.

  Hadde gasped. “Was that magic?”

  “Be silent,” Boradin murmured.

  Hadde's hat veil fell in her face. “Bother this,” she muttered and pulled the hat off her head. Orlos chuckled as she dropped it on an empty chair next to her. Boradin spared her a single glance.

  After silently inspecting the Token in the bright light of the candles, Boradin handed it to Orlos. “Tell me how it came into your possession,” Boradin said. Neither man interrupted as she recounted her story. When she finished, Orlos said, “It is an authentic summoning. Landomere manifested herself in the form of the stag and led you to the Token.”

  “Where are you from, Hadde?” Boradin asked. “Western Landomere, by the look of your facial markings. Kiremi descended, no?”

  “I’m from Long Meadow, Your Majesty. A small village in the southwest. But we’re not Kiremi.”

  “There is spiridus in her as well,” Orlos said.

  “Really?” Hadde asked. “Part spiridus?”

  Orlos smiled. “Let us say, from time to time the spiridus would... mingle with the humans living in the borders of Landomere. Her essence has touched y
ou.”

  “Enough of her ancestry, Friend,” Boradin said. He turned his gaze on Hadde. “Tell me, when you touched the Token, did a voice speak to you?” Hadde shook her head. “Did you feel anything?”

  “No.”

  Boradin frowned at her. “Your guide was a stag? What were you thinking when you saw the stag in the forest?”

  “I was thinking that if I should take it, it would help feed my people, Your Majesty.”

  “Did you feel a compulsion to come to Sal-Oras? Did a voice in your mind ever speak to you at a later time?”

  “I came at the urging of my friend, Belor. I came because I was desperate. Belor thought maybe you could help us—that your elementar magic could fight the Wasting….” She glanced at the candles.

  “It cannot.”

  The words hung for a moment as Hadde digested them. They were so final. “But... but you are an elementar, aren't you?”

  “I am, but it doesn't matter one bit. Elemental magic has no bearing on the Wasting. I cannot call fire and burn it away. I cannot call the wind to blow it away. The Wasting is, simply, death. My magic is useless against it.”

  Hadde's head sank and she stared at her hands. All for nothing. Belor's death. Her family left behind. “I suppose I'll sell it.”

  “The Token? You thought of selling the Token?” Orlos asked, frowning.

  “Is there something wrong? We thought to sell the token if all else failed. We would use the money to purchase supplies.” She glanced from Orlos to the king and back.

  “Someone gifted with a Token would never think of selling it,” Orlos said. “Before the veden came and murdered the spiridus, the forest would often give us Tokens as a sign of some mission we were to accomplish. The Tokens took many forms. Some were specific to a certain task, such as a bow, a cord, or a knife. Yours, like mine, is a golden pendant.”

  He opened the blankets at his neck, revealing a necklace identical to hers. “But the Tokens always came with a voice,” he said. “Landomere always spoke—.” A coughing fit seized the spiridus, bending him almost double. Immediately, Boradin left his chair and knelt at Orlos's side. Hadde rose as well, but was lost as to what to do. She circled the table and stood beside Orlos, her hand on his back.