Knight Purged

by Jason Hamilton

  “Are you alright?” Guyon said as he rose and took several steps in her direction.

  She looked at him incredulously, as if wondering how he could even ask such a question while he looked so terrible.

  He dabbed at his nose, and his fingers came back covered in blood. “Yes, I’m sure I don’t look all too well.” Groaning, he sat beside her and the squire.

  “Was that Pyrochles I saw?” she asked as he began unstrapping himself from his breastplate.

  He nodded, “I’m sorry we did not subdue him in the end. He could have been a useful guide to the Bower of Bliss.”

  Una immediately shook her head. “I would have killed him on the spot. The man is not to be trusted.”

  Guyon finished removing his chest armor and took the opportunity to lie down on his back, taking a deep breath as he did so. “I am not opposed to killing under the right circumstances, but killing out of deep emotions like anger or revenge are not going to provide you with the peace you seek.”

  “It doesn’t have to be revenge,” said Una. “He’s a menace to everyone he comes across.”

  “And yet, by not killing him, I learned a few things about Acrasia that we would not otherwise have known.”

  He then proceeded to tell her everything Pyrochles had revealed, including why he was suddenly more powerful and what he had said about Acrasia.

  “Well there’s hardly anything new in all that,” replied Una when he had finished. “We know Duessa is trying to permanently unleash the Otherworld into our world and take it for themselves.”

  “Yes, but the way he said it made me think their plans were more specific,” Guyon mused.

  They sat in silence for a time, Guyon simply soaking up the sunlight and allowing the bleeding in his nose to stop while he lay on his back.

  Suddenly the squire, who had not spoken a single word since Pyrochles left, said, “My name is Phedon. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

  Guyon smiled and twisted his head to look at the squire. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Phedon. Why don’t you tell us a little bit of how you came to be here. I’m not planning to leave this spot for a long while.”

  Archimago sailed north through the sea above Anglesey. His mind was coursing with emotions and stray thoughts. He had failed again! Or at least, it would seem that way to Acrasia and to Duessa. Even though Duessa had let him out of confinement in the City of Pride, he had been demoted in a way, forced to accompany Pyrochles and Acrasia, forced to serve them as they went about doing “more important” matters. Acrasia refused to teach him what she knew of magic, though hers was powerful, almost more so than any of the other Sins. Except Duessa of course, and possibly Wrath.

  His boat was small, meant for only a handful of occupants, with a single sail to propel him forward while he manned the rudder. He was alone, but with Acrasia’s blessing, he sailed past all of the obstacles with ease. Only those in her service could make it this far, and the journey even took far less time than was usual. Magic carried him forward every bit as much as the wind or the water.

  When he finally landed on the Bower of Bliss, he stared upward at the towering fortresses and the enormous gardens that framed them. Had he not feared what Duessa would do to him, he might have spent the rest of his life there, lost in never-ending contentment. He didn’t even need women. Lust was about so much more than the pleasures of the flesh, and so was Acrasia. Oh, you could find those pleasures here, but you would also not want for anything else. It was enough to tempt anyone to stay and serve her for the rest of their life.

  But that was not why he was here. He needed to find help.

  He proceeded up the embankment and onto a path that led inside one of the lush, green courtyards.

  He’d left the battle once Furor had taken Pyrochles’s head in his hands. There was no way Pyrochles had survived that encounter. Furor was an unstoppable force when Occasion was involved. And after the beating he received, Guyon would not have chosen to stop Pyrochles’s death even if he could. And if he didn’t, once that witch girl awoke, she would make quick work of the man who had tried to rape her.

  That girl was powerful, though how powerful Archimago was not certain. Duessa had told him to leave her alone, but it was fortunate that he’d managed to immobilize her with his darts. Useful tools those. Science held a magic of its own.

  He found the tower he was looking for and began climbing up the stairs. Towers like these unnerved him now. They reminded him too much of the tower where Duessa had imprisoned him for days without food or water. She was right to punish him, but he would never forget that experience. And he would never enter that tower again if he could help it.

  At the top, the air grew humid, and Archimago entered a large chamber full of warm steam and pleasant aromas. At the center stood a large pool, its water providing the steam and its surface covered in scented bubbles. In the pool lay a man, and all around him were half-naked damsels, some leaning up against his bare chest, or playfully splashing each other in the water.

  Archimago faced the man squarely. “Cymochles,” he said, firmly.

  His voice inspired little response. None of the maidens so much as glanced at him, but the man spared him a short, irritated look. “I’m busy, come back later.” He took one hand and traced the jawline of one of the girls who leaned up into him.

  “Oh, get over yourself,” said Archimago with disgust. “The Sins didn’t bring you through the breach so you could wallow in bliss.”

  “Is this not called the Bower of Bliss?” said Cymochles, spreading his arms to gestures at everything around him. “Why should I not have a little joy while in this realm?”

  Archimago let out a breath. “I understand what you’re going through. You lose a battle to one knight, and…”

  “I didn’t lose that battle!” Suddenly Cymochles was on his feet. Thankfully he was wearing a loose cloth around his loins. “That coward ran, and the Mistress of Pride denied me the chance at revenge for my brother.”

  “Well then,” said Archimago, hiding his smile. “Would you avenge your other brother?”

  Cymochles frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, Pyrochles has been defeated, killed I expect.”

  Cymochles’s face fell and he stepped forward, completely ignoring the woman that clutched at his legs. Soon, all the women in the room simply vanished, revealed as the illusions they were.

  “Do you mean to tell me,” said Cymochles in a dangerous tone. “That I am the last of my brothers?”

  “I believe so, and I’m sorry,” said Archimago. He had no remorse for the man, but he kept his expression somber to keep from ruining the mood. He needed Cymochles to come with him, to help him correct the mistakes he had made. Well, they were more like Pyrochles’s mistakes, but Duessa wouldn’t see it that way. But if Cymochles could help now, then perhaps there would be no need for punishment later.

  Cymochles’s chest began to heave, and his shoulders shook. Grunting, he looked around like he wanted to throw something in anger, but there was nothing nearby. So instead he took a menacing step towards Archimago. The magician did not back down. “Who?” Cymochles yelled. “Who did this?”

  “Another knight,” Archimago explained, calmly. “His name is Guyon. I’ve been following him for some time.”

  “The Sins want him turned?” asked Cymochles, narrowing his eyes.

  “The Sins want him dead,” Archimago clarified. It wasn’t exactly true. He’d received no specific orders to kill Guyon. But from what he knew of the knight, the man was too entrenched in his devotion to the Faerie Queen and too hideously good to be fully swayed by Acrasia’s whiles. If the Sins didn’t want him dead now, they would later. Archimago was just saving them the trouble before it began.

  “Then I will find him,” said Cymochles, proceeding to the doorway into the chamber where his clothes lay. “I will find him and I will kill the vermin for what he’s done to my brother.”

  There was also the small matter o
f Furor and Occasion, but those two were likely long gone by now. They wouldn’t be so foolish as to keep traveling with Guyon, which meant they were no longer a direct threat to himself or to Cymochles.

  There was always the problem of the girl. Archimago knew that if he or anyone else killed her, they would answer to Duessa, and no amount of apologizing or making excuses would save them. Archimago valued his life, so he would leave her alive. He could always try his darts again, but there was no guarantee that would work twice. She would be on her guard.

  No, they just had to separate Guyon from the girl somehow, much as they had done with the Red Cross knight. And based on what Archimago knew of the pair’s destination, he had the perfect solution.

  18

  Guyon walked gingerly along the half-forgotten road. What would have taken them three or four days to travel, and possibly less with a horse, had now taken them over a week. His face still pained him, though it had dulled, and he no longer bled from the nose at any increased rate.

  But his head still pounded when he exerted himself too far. In the beginning, he had barely been able to keep down any food due to the ache in his head, which was new for him, but common among soldiers he’d known to hit their heads too hard. But after a few days, he was relatively back to normal, apart from some sore limbs.

  They said goodbye to the squire, who was a very nice boy with a compelling story, but not one that concerned them directly. He had his own journey ahead of him, and they had theirs. In the end, they had agreed to go their separate ways.

  Una stayed uncharacteristically silent after their encounter with Archimago and Pyrochles. Chances were she was blaming herself for not being conscious and not being able to help, especially considering the fact that she’d come across these two before, and it had not been a pleasant encounter. Not at all.

  For that reason, Guyon was almost glad she had been unconscious for most of the fight. He wasn’t sure what she was capable of, but he suspected a lot after he’d personally witnessed the way she healed that woman several weeks ago now. That power was beyond all but the most powerful sorceresses to his knowledge, though he knew little of what they taught in Avalon. He’d always stayed clear of the place.

  But Una had not trained in Avalon, which confused him further. No one should be able to do what she did without at least a little training. It bothered him. Instinct was not capable of directing such complex magic, of that he was sure. So if it wasn’t instinct, what was it?

  “I think we’re getting close,” said Una, surprising Guyon.

  “Close to the Idle Isle?”

  She nodded, “I can… I can feel something ahead.”

  Guyon looked in the direction she was staring. They were already along the northern coast of Anglesey, but he could see no islands, though there was some fog obscuring the bay ahead.

  “Your magic again?” he gave her a knowing look.

  She hesitated but nodded. “They...it senses things, gives me an intuition of sorts. At first I didn’t think I could trust it, but it has proven right more than once.”

  “Then let’s hope it proves right again,” said Guyon. “We can’t afford to waste much more time.”

  They hadn’t heard any new reports that would indicate Acrasia was taking any more men in the area. But they had also not come across more than the occasional farmer or shepherd. And to get to the Idle Isle, they had to go somewhat out of the way of any major villages. But that being said, Acrasia was still out there somewhere. Either they simply hadn’t heard what she was doing in the region, or she was off in some other part of Britain. Anglesey wasn’t the only region vulnerable to her influence.

  “Tell me,” said Guyon as they continued walking down the coastline. “Why did the Faerie Queen send you to me?”

  “Excuse me?” she looked at him quizzically.

  “I mean, when you think about it, why you at all? You said she’s recruiting knights, but you are not a knight, nor did I need your help for recruitment. The Faerie Queen already has my loyalty, and neither of us knew about Acrasia before we met, so why would I even need your guidance?”

  He expected her to act indignantly as she often did, to tell him that he needed to better appreciate her value or something along those lines. But she said nothing, turning instead to stare at the path ahead.

  When she didn’t respond, Guyon continued, “I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’re more than just a messenger. I think the Faerie Queen has some kind of plan for you.”

  Una scowled, which was odd. That hadn’t been the reaction he was expecting. “I’m not a tool of the Faerie Queen like some people, like you practically are.”

  “I know her strength, her purpose.”

  “You know nothing about her,” she snapped. Why was she growing so defensive? “You’ve never even met her apart from your dreams. You, who claim to be so fair, so balanced in your approach towards life. You’ve never served a lord, or a government like the Romans, but you’ll willingly serve the Faerie Queen simply because you feel good about her?”

  Guyon stopped walking. Una stopped as well and put her hands on her hips, as though getting ready for a fight. But Guyon did not retort, he merely took a deep breath. He locked gazes with Una and did not look away. “You want to know?”

  Una nodded, “Yes, I’d like to know.”

  Guyon set his jaw. This was not a story he had told in a long time. But Una deserved the truth. They’d been companions for a while now, and it was time he opened up a bit. Perhaps if he set the example, she would follow suit. He knew there were things that she was not telling him about her magic.

  “When I was a boy,” he began. “My parents, my sister, I came here, to this very island in fact. While we were here, my younger sister wandered off.”

  Una raised her head a little in understanding. “Amavia.”

  He nodded. “Now you know why her death impacted me so much. It was the first time that I’ve seen her since that day. For while we were searching for her, we were beset upon by bandits. They robbed my parents of everything they had on them, food, money, even their clothing. I then had to watch as they raped my mother and slowly tortured my father.”

  Una’s face slowly fell from indignation to shock. She unfolded her arms and looked like she was about to say something apologetic. But Guyon didn’t give her a chance to interrupt.

  “They would have killed me too,” Guyon kept his voice as hard as steel. “But shortly after my parents died, two knights appeared, clad in armor I have never seen before or since. It was almost organic, like it was made of nature itself. They killed all of the bandits and saved my life.”

  “The Faerie Queen’s knights,” replied Una. “Guyon, I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

  Guyon held up a hand. “Let me finish. The Faerie Queen arrived once the bandits were dead and told me I was safe. She told me if I was good, I would see her again someday, but that I had to stay away from the passions and vices that plagued the bandits. I later learned that was the true reason for their misconduct. Not malice, but a lack of control, an imbalance, a desperate thirst for riches and pleasure that had overridden their minds.”

  Una said nothing, but in her eyes he spied something: disagreement. Based on her experience, he would guess that she did believe men had malice. But not Guyon. Malice could manifest in someone, certainly, but one could always trace the root cause of anger, hatred, and desperation, to something within.

  “I stayed with them for a day, but eventually one of the knights took me to a small village near Tintagel where I stayed with a gentle woman until I was old enough to set out on my own. I later vowed I would do all I could to become one of those knights myself. I trained as hard as possible. I travelled to Rome and learned what I could there. But I have come back to serve the Faerie Queen, for giving me life when I was on the verge of losing it.”

  Una stayed quiet for a time. “I’m sorry,” she repeated after a moment.

  “It was many years ago,” he said. “I have accep
ted it. Dwelling on the past as more than a learning experience risks becoming a slave to oneself and one’s emotions. That, as with other things, is a lack of temperance, and something I avoid.”

  “Have you ever wondered why the Faerie Queen couldn’t have come sooner?” asked Una. “Why she couldn’t have saved your family too, or helped you find your sister?”

  Guyon shrugged. “At first. But what good are such thoughts? It’s not what happened, and that is that.”

  Una nodded slightly, but looked away. “I...I cannot tell you what my imbalance is, Guyon,” she said. “I know you want me to open up, to tell you everything I know, and everything that I wish I knew. But I can’t, not now.”

  Her words surprised Guyon, but he said nothing in rebuke. “I understand.”

  “I have already told you most of what I know,” she said, and her voice wavered. Guyon’s eyebrows lifted. He’d never seen her emotional before, or at least, not this brand of emotion. “I told you about Castle Silene and my parents. You know I have magic. But right now, that’s all I’m willing to say.” Trying to act casual, she wiped away a tear that had formed in one eye.

  Guyon nodded and took her arm, gently leading her forward so they were walking again. “Let’s just focus on pushing ahead, and once we’ve defeated Acrasia, we can return to the Faerie Queen and demand some answers.”

  “Demand?” she said, looking at him. “Not exactly the word I would expect you to use.”

  He shrugged. “Well, perhaps it would be good to discuss her side of my story, to ask the questions I’ve never been able to ask anyone but myself.”

  “Alright,” she said. “After.”

  He stared forward at the path ahead. “Yes, after.”

  They walked in silence again, though this time something was different. There was an understanding between them, a bond that hadn’t been there before. And though she had not entrusted him with her darkest secrets the way he had, Guyon was certain she would open up eventually. And he was ready to help her find answers to whatever questions she had. That would be his next great quest.