Benedict

by Jackson Bennett

  In front of them could be seen the insubstantial, ghostly images of men and women that were dressed in garments of a style and make not seen by the three of them, that looked as if they had been woven from gold and silver. All around them small beautiful birds with multi-coloured plumage landed on out stretched fingers.

  The image flickered and crackled.

  The scene had changed in elevation, pointing to a blue sky with not a cloud to be seen. Across the field of view passed a bird, for it could be nothing else, which glinted red in the sunlight and then disappeared.

  The image flickered and crackled.

  The sky darkened and the twin moons of Volar shone white in the black, star filled sky.

  With sudden speed Mark whipped the crown from his head, where it had begun to crackle and pop ominously, and let it go as sparks arched into his fingers. As it hit the ground the crystal shattered into hundreds of thin sharp shards with a thunderous pop, each shard turning black. He picked the crystal less crown back up and replaced it on his head.

  Nothing happened.

  “What was that?” he asked with wonder in his voice.

  “Another riddle that is beyond me,” said Richard. “Come we need to keep moving,” and with that Mark replaced the crown on the skull where he had found it and they continued on their way, with Dorina glancing over her shoulder with a hunger evident in her eyes.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Benedict

  Half an hour later they reached the last of the town’s derelict buildings that had been strangely cut in half by the dense vegetation that completely covered everything now to their left and right, obliterating any sign of the buildings that should have been there. The town appeared to come to an abrupt end as did the road on which they travelled, the vegetation slicing cleanly across it in a slight curve that now that they looked could be seen to continue through the buildings on either side. In front of them lay dense woodland that just to their right a faint trail that was no wider than a man and rarely travelled, for the woodland had begun encroaching upon it, though it had recently been used.

  “What happened here?” asked Mark, eyeing the sliced buildings warily.

  “I couldn’t begin to guess... ” began Richard in reply, but he was distracted before he could finish by a strange vibration coming from the belt pouch in which he had placed the small glass orb earlier.

  He removed it and stood staring at it as it vibrated in his open hand, as if it was an egg with its chick inside trying to break free. Then the sensation of magic being used increased and was coming from the direction in which they travelled, but this time the feeling was different, for as he noted the direction his vision began to swim and blur as if he was travelling at great speed.

  He sped through the forest undergrowth unimpeded by the dense vegetation and out across a vast volcanic like crater to its far side. After passing a dozen or so dead and dying Shadows, he came to an abrupt halt in front of a powerful figure all in black, Benedict. He was stood there tall and proud with his shield of black on his left arm and a spear of shining silver in his right.

  He was being attacked by two heavily armed soldiers and a single Shadow, and as Richard watched he was overpowered by his three attackers, being driven to his knees, and as he went down Benedict turned his head towards him, his voice echoing in his mind “Hurry.”

  Richard’s vision swam again as he was pulled backwards as if he was attached to power piece of bungee cord with a greater speed then which he had gone, his surroundings nothing but a blur.

  He glanced at the others who were still staring at the orb in his open palm, seemingly unaware what had just happened, and without a word plunged into the forest and along the barely visible trail.

  Despite the trail the woods were so dense that Richard had to take out one of his short swords and hack at the vegetation around him to allow himself to pass. It was hard going and for an hour he hacked and forced himself along the path in front of him, his arm aching with the effort.

  Suddenly and without any kind of warning the forest opened before him and just in time he realised that so did the ground. Fortunately Mark and Dorina were far enough behind him that they were able to stop before careening into his back and plunging them all to their deaths.

  Laid out before and below them was a crater some two miles across and several hundred feet in depth. The sides sloped quite steeply down to the floor where they met barren, lifeless soil from which rose smoke from various sized holes that marred its surface, the resulting air from which was heavy with the rotten eggy stench of sulphur, which until now had been masked by the vegetation that had surrounded them.

  Just to the right of them the crater wall had collapsed, leaving a gentler slope of shale that led to the floor below and so, seeing no other path to follow they started down, it’s loose shingle skidding dangerously beneath their booted feet.

  As they neared the bottom of their precarious decent, a flash of light caught their attention at the far end of the crater, followed seconds later by a crash as if of thunder. Richard already knew where Benedict was, now so did the others.

  They reached the bottom without losing their footing and headed off across the constantly rumbling floor, weaving their way through the belching vents that choked the air all around them, the feeling of the flowing lava beneath their feet disconcerting.

  As they reached the other end of the crater they came across what remained of the Shadows in their gruesome states of death, out-numbered by the scores of men all of whom were equally dead. What was left of the Shadows revealed the same fur covered bodies that they had seen earlier, that came in varying colours; reds, blacks and golden, and all man shaped. Those that had been living when Richard had passed before were now dead.

  All the corpses were fanned out in a rough semi-circle that surrounded a dark recess in the crater wall in front of them, but there was no sign of Benedict. Were they too late?

  As they drew closer, three Shadowed figures materialized in front of them, as if forming from the darkened recesses of the shadow filled walls, and began to hurl magical balls of fire at the opening. From the entrance strode a dark figure in black armour with a shining sword in each hand, which it used to block and repel the magical attacks, causing the rock to melt where the deflected energy struck.

  The dark armoured warrior could be no other, it was Benedict.

  Benedict strode towards the three Shadows, the weapons in his hands becoming a blur of silver as they blocked and parried the increasingly ferocious attacks. He was fast, faster than anyone Richard had seen before, but that wasn’t fast enough and some of the attacks began to penetrate his defences. As they struck his armoured body sparks showered the ground and he took a small step backwards, flinching with the pain, then another and another until they were driving him back towards the cave from which he had emerged.

  Richard, dropping his pack to the floor, drew his short swords from their leather sheaths and ran at the back of the pre-occupied Shadows before him. The sword in his right hand plunged deep into the soft unprotected back of the nearest and middle of the three, smashing through the vertebrae and severing the spinal column. As the blade bit into the soft yielding flesh the Shadow screamed with pain and anguish that was joined a heartbeat later by two others, and then silence as the three limp and lifeless corpses crumpled to the ground.

  Richard looked to his left and right where both Mark and Dorina stood with their blood drenched swords in hand and a corpse at their feet. He turned to Benedict, who had fallen to one knee, and watched as he pitched sideways to the dusty floor.

  Richard rushed to his side to help, he could hear him breathing, but there was a large amount of blood seeping from the fresh rents in his black armour.

  “Mark, help me get him inside,” commanded Richard as he placed his hands beneath the stricken warrior’s arms.

 
Mark ran across and took a hold of his legs and between them they reverently carried the stricken Benedict into the cave where a small fire burned in one corner. In front of this fire they lowered him to the floor whereupon Mark and Dorina returned outside to fetch the packs they had dropped while Richard tended to Benedict.

  Propping him against the cave wall he placed his hands on his helmet and attempted to remove it, but it wouldn’t budge, it was as if it was a part of the man beneath. Again he tried to remove, applying a much greater force. Two hands grabbed his wrists and firmly prevented him from continuing.

  “It is not time yet for you to remove this helm,” said the deep rumbling voice of Benedict from behind the helm. “My part in this story is about to come to an end, then it will be time.”

  “What do you mean?” Richard quizzed his hero. “You are badly injured and I need to treat your wounds.”

  “I am dying, and will not see out the night, no matter what you do,” was the stark reply, the one reply Richard had not expected. “At that time someone must step forward to protect our people from the coming threat,” Benedict added in a breathless voice.

  “I don’t understand,” said Richard, not wanting to hear the words that were being spoken.

  “You will... ” he said trailing off as Mark and Dorina returned with the packs and placed them in the far corner of the cave.

  “There are a lot of dead out there,” stated Mark, admiration for the power of the man in his voice.

  “Aye,” replied Benedict as he pushed himself to his feet and left the cave, “and they are about to be joined by more,” he added as he stumbled and righted himself on the entrance wall.

  Richard was right behind him and would have caught him had he not done so himself, and so with his swords drawn and a look of grim determination on his face, for no matter what the man said he wasn’t about to let him die, he followed his hero into the jaws of death.

  Leaving the relative safety of the cave they were confronted by two of the Prith Shadows and by their side a lion like creature the virtual size of a cow. “We shall succeed where those failed,” said one of the Shadows with a strange throbbing voice that put Richard in mind of a purring cat, of which Volin was full.

  As if the spoken words had been the signal to attack, the Shadows launched simultaneous balls of red lightening streaked fire at Benedict in an effort to overwhelm him, obviously seeing the others as little or no threat. The lion on the other hand appeared to have other ideas and bounded straight for Richard, its huge sword like incisors bared and dripping thick white saliva that splattered the ground around as it vigorously shock its head.

  Sensing Mark and Dorina stood behind him as the lion charged, Richard sidestepped its charge at the last possible moment, plunging his left sword into its side with all his strength as it passed him by, the blade biting deep and snapping through several of its ribs before ripping free in a spray of crimson blood. As it passed Richard just managed to avoid its sharp teeth and claws that swung towards him as it tried to come to grips with him.

  The lion screeched in pain as the rib snapping blade tore free, and thrown of balance cannoned into Dorina who wasn’t fast enough to get out of its way. The lion’s shoulder hit her squarely in the chest and she was thrown against the wall behind her, cracking her head on the hard volcanic rock, and slumped unmoving to the ground. As the beast regained its balance it turned to face Richard, blood pouring from the savage wound in its side, and with pain and malice in its eyes it readied itself to charge.

  Richard braced himself for the charge lowering himself to his haunches, his muscles bunched and tense, ready to propel him from the beasts path as he knew that to stand and fight would see him dead within a heartbeat, but before the beast could release its pent up fury an arrow flashed past Richard’s right ear, the feathered shaft raising goose bumps on the flesh where it gently brushed against it, and plunged into the broad chest of the beast, the shaft burying itself clean to the feathered end. The beast threw back its head in pain and in doing so exposed the soft fleshy underside of its jaw into which struck a second arrow, its broad head exiting from the top of its head.

  The beast slumped to the ground its lifeless eyes fixed on Richard, eyes which even in death were filled with malice. Richard turned to see Mark behind him, arrow notched in his yeoman bow, drawn and pointing right at him.

  Mark released the arrow with a fluid grace born of years of practice. The arrow flashed past Richards left ear causing his head to follow. To Richard it seemed to go in slow motion as he whipped his head round and he just caught sight of the arrow burying itself in the throat of a Shadow who had not been there a moment before. The Shadow clawed at the arrow protruding from its neck and slowly sank to its knees, from there it slumped to the floor where it lay motionless next to the knife that had been intended for Richard’s heart.

  Richard turned to face Benedict to see how he was fairing with the other shadows. As he turned a blast cast him from his feet and left him prone on his back. To his horror in front of him, Benedict was prone on the floor alongside one of the shadows whom had been decapitated. The other was standing above him with a long knife in the same design as the one they had seen earlier ready to plunge it into the prone figure.

  Richard drew back his right arm with his sword in his hand and released it, hurling the blade at the shadow; the blade struck it in the centre of its chest, driving deep and sending it back a couple of paces.

  The shadow collapsed to the ground with not a sound from its feline lips staring at the sword buried to the hilt in its chest, the knife still clasped in its dead hands.

  Richard ran to the side of Benedict, rolled him to his back, and tried to remove his helmet, but was unable to.

  Benedict raised his left hand and touched the Silver Star in the centre of his head. The helmet melted away as if being sucked into his head.

  Richard nearly dropped Benedict with shock, for as the helmet vanished, it revealed the man beneath as his father. There could be no doubt for those features were etched in his memory though, there was more grey hair and lines on his face then there had been before.

  “Father?” he asked plaintively.

  “Yes son,” came the faint reply. “Sorry... I am finished... you must... take... my ... place,”

  “What do you mean, take your place?” he asked, unaware of anything but his father’s face.

  “As I did... and he... before... me... Benedict... the people... need... him... but to all... you ... m... ust ... be... dead,” he told him, his voice cracked and lacking any power. “Did you... get ... the ... book?” he asked, his breathing laboured.

  “Yes,” replied Richard with tears in his eyes.

  “Good... you will... be... the ... greatest... and... last of... us,” he told his son.

  His father died in his arms then, his eyes staring and glazed in death before Richard was able to ask him what he meant. The memory of all those years ago, when he had lost him for the first time came flooding back.

  “Where’s daddy Tom?”

  “Your daddy won’t be coming home I’m afraid, he was taken by the angels to live in the heavens,”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Daddy is gone Ritchie, he is dead.”

  The grief and despair that had engulfed a young child threatened to engulf the adult, as the armour melted away leaving its dead host and forming a pool of black and silver liquid on the floor beneath Richard and his father.

  Richard sat there holding his father in his arms. Words entering his mind:

  “Richard of the race of man

  For you to enter here,

  There will be a price to pay

  For you perhaps too dear:

  None who enter uninvited,

  Through the gate of stone,

  Ever see the ones they love,

&
nbsp; Or ever journey home:

  If you chose to stay your path,

  Place hands on the stone that glows,

  But remember words spoken here,

  Forever be alone.”

  He knew what must be done.

  He placed his father’s lifeless body on the floor, closing his dead eyes with the symbol of peace, saying “I will take your place.” As he spoke the words the pool of liquid that he was knelt in began to move. It climbed his legs and knees covering them with black and silver. As the liquid neared his waste pain shot through his lower limbs causing him to grasp his legs with his hands. Pain then shot through his arms and as he stared at them the veins there began to bulge and expand travelling up his arms then through the pores, flowed the liquid with an odd grace, merging with the other liquid around it.

  Pain then shot through his spine as the liquid penetrated and merged with the structures there.

  Then the pain ceased.

  He opened his eyes having shut them against the pain in his back, for it had been the worst pain he had ever known. His body was now covered in black armour as had been his fathers.

  He moved his arms testing the weight and feel of the armour. To his surprise there was no weight, it felt as if he was naked and the armour was part of him.

  When the armour was in place Richard remembered Dorina and Mark. Looking around his gaze fell on the two prone figures.

  He approached them and bent down to check that they were ok. They were still alive, just unconscious, Mark knocked out by the blast that had killed the shadow and Dorina from when she had been thrown against the wall.

  Richard returned to the lifeless figure of his father, “For you father,” he said with a bowed head and touched the Silver Star on his forehead.

  Pain shot through his skull, like hot needles, over powering, invading his thoughts and blurring his vision. He fell to his knees, barely able to stop himself from falling on his face, images swirling in his mind’s eye.