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The Noble Fool

Page 14

by Heath Pfaff


  I gasped aloud, and had to clap a hand over my mouth to stop myself from making any further noise. I hadn't expected the pain, or the brightness. I moved the hand from over mouth to cover my eyes instead, and noted that I couldn't feel any noticeable scarring or damage in the area around my eyes. At least the flesh had finished healing. I opened a small gap between my fingers and tried just barely opening my right eye. Pain assailed me, like knives being stabbed into my brain and I had to close the eye immediately. I had seen vague, formless shapes and color but nothing else before I'd had to snap my eye shut. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself. Another terrible roar blasted through the air, coming from the vicinity of the south wall, where the sound of battle was the loudest.

  I forced myself to peer out between my fingers again, and again the pain was intense so that I could only look for a short time. I managed to make out some patterns through the blurs, but not enough to feel confident about moving forward. The best that I could judge, from the little I had glimpsed, was that the front of the building was mostly caved in, including the door frame and part of the first set of rooms. I would need to climb over the rubble to extract myself from the building, otherwise I would have to risk going to my room and hoping that there was a safe way out through the hole that had been blasted there, and I couldn't even be certain that the hole there was large enough to exit. I grabbed up my bandages from where they lay at my feet and went to work tying them, in a single layer, over my eyes. That done, I tried opening my eyes again and found that while I still encountered terrible pain, the significant dimming of the light through the fabric was enough to allow me to leave them open. The trade-off was that I could barely see anything through the fabric and what I could see was distorted by the cloth, as well as blurry and full of artificial halos of light that I took to be an effect caused by the incomplete healing of the eyes I possessed. I felt a pang of guilt as I recalled the source of my new eyes but I forced it away. Grief would have to wait, for now I needed to find myself some place safer, and someone to tell me what was going on. I moved carefully to the pile of rock that had been the entryway to my building. The going was slow and once I began the process of climbing it was slower still. Often I would place a foot only to find that the rock I stood upon was not stable where it lay and then I would tumble back down the crumbling remnants of what had been my home for the last four months. I was near the top of the pile when I heard voices coming towards me, speaking in quiet tones. I stopped my climb and listened.

  "...explosions came nearer this area than we thought." One voice said.

  Another answered, but it was quiet, and I couldn't make out anything the second voice said.

  "Yes, in this building. He should have been in the room with the broken wall, but..." The voice broke off as the rock beneath my right hand slipped from my grip and fell back behind me. I had to struggle to keep myself from following it. I hadn't wanted to let my position be known, not sure who owned the voices I heard, but there was little I could do.

  "There he is!" I heard the voice that had been speaking before say, obvious excitement and relief in the tone.

  The other voice mumbled something, so quiet I couldn't hear, and then I felt a stirring of air and saw a motion before me, little more than a faint blur.

  "Lithe, is that you?" I asked, hoping to identify whether or not this person was friend or foe. A roar swallowed up any answer the person standing just in front of me, on top of the pile of rubble, may have made. The terrible sound of the Lantern Eye, for that is what I believed was roaring with such ferocity, was followed by the ever nearing sound of its footsteps, and then, there was a giant, moving darkness in my vision. Something large, five or more stories tall, obscured the faint light that stung at my eyes and a putrid smell of death and char crept over me.

  I felt a sharp pain in my arm, and looked up to see the blurred figure of a man, the one who had climbed the pile, leaning over me with something in his hand. I wondered if he had stabbed me and I was about to raise my voice in protest, but the world began to get loose and shaky around me. I found that my tongue felt heavy in my mouth and a moment later darkness swept over me, taking me far away from the world of monsters and mysterious voices.

  When next I woke, the smell of smoke was in the air and the sky was bright with midday light. What was more, I could see the brightness of the sky and felt no pain in doing so. I moved my hands, feeling grass against my flesh. I was outside. I sat up and looked around where I lay. It was early fall, the trees were changing color about me, and I felt like I was seeing the phenomenon for the first time in my life. Every detail of every leaf was laid bare to my vision, from the smallest hole in their green fabric, to the subtle way two leaves brushed against each other in the slight breeze of the day. It was all crystal sharp and vibrant. Things that moved seemed to leave almost a trace of their path, though it was not so noticeable that it distracted from the picture of the whole, simply another part of the tapestry of existence about me. A fly swept across my field of vision, and my eyes tracked its movements with ease. I could even make out the pattern of the wings as they moved, though the motion was a blur. The path the insect cut through the air was lit in a soothing shade of blue that faded quickly but gave me a particular insight into the direction the fly was traveling. I wondered, only for a moment, if I was lost in a dream, but the truth of situation was plain to me. I was seeing the world through the eyes that Kye had given to me and it was truly a beautiful sight. I suddenly felt close to her again, a surge of joy rippling through me and I wanted nothing more than to tell her about how beautiful everything looked. At that thought reality took hold and I was forced to face the brutal truth. I would never talk to Kye again. I closed my eyes, feeling ashamed that I should be taking joy in the world around me while she was dead and gone.

  "All the world is a wonder the first time you see out those eyes, isn't it?" A voice asked, and I jumped in surprise, my eyes snapping open instantly. I thought I was looking at a floating head for a split second, before my new eyes began to pick up on the rest of the details of the figure before me. He was a Knight from what I could judge, dressed in a cloak, different from those I'd seen on the other Knights of Ethan, but of a similar styling. While the Lucidil Cloaks I'd seen had always seemed to distort the edges and shift the appearance of the Knight wearing them, this individual's cloak seemed to be somehow reflecting the colors of the world behind him. The effect was that he seemed to almost blend in to his surroundings when he was sitting still. The illusion wasn't perfect, as the lines of the man's body still broke the pattern the fabric was trying to hold and the cloak seemed unable to exactly match every detail, but overall the effect was far more powerful than the shifting attire I'd seen before. Next I noticed the other features of the man staring at me. He had scraggly black hair that hung roguishly about his face and a short beard that matched his hair in haphazardness. His features were soft at first glance but there was a hard edge about his eyes, a hint that he could draw on a commanding force of presence if he needed to. His hood was back, revealing a set of dark gray, wolf-like ears poking up through his black hair, but it was his eyes that were the most startling thing about him. Most of the Knights had black eyes, though Ethaniel's eyes had held a barely visible tinge of blue. The man looking at me now, had eyes as red as heart's blood, deep and crimson, broken only by the white circle of a pupil and its strange electric lines, constantly moving and shifting.

  I pushed myself to my feet, taking a cautious step backward. The man didn't move from where he was sitting on the ground.

  "Who are you? Where are we and what has become of Fell Rock?" I asked, firing off the questions as quickly as they came to my mind. Had I had a weapon, I would have drawn it, though I sensed no menace from the stranger. There was a cooking fire between us. The fire caught my eyes for a moment, flashing and tracing patterns through my vision that were so hypnotic I had to tear my attention away forcefully to get it back on the sitting man.

  "That is
a lot of questions for one to ask the man that so recently carried them away from certain death, but I suppose I can be nice and answer you, Lowin." The red-eyed man leaned back, his arms out behind him to hold himself in a reclined position. Now that I could see the hands, I could see that he had dark gray-furred arms and clawed hands as well. I had not seen a Knight with limbs completely covered in gray fur before and my curiosity rose further. He seemed to be basking in the warmth of the sun, his hair falling back behind him. "Since I know your name, it is only fair you know mine. I think that is as good a place as any to begin. Among the Knights I am known as Weaver." He introduced himself. "I was Second in service under Ethaniel. I came to Fell Rock in order to see you, the latest Knight of Ethan, because I had heard that you held great potential."

  "When I arrived at the Post, I found it besieged and had quite a difficult time getting myself in. The grounds were in chaos and the other Knights were already falling back. I was getting ready to join the fray myself when I spotted you lying on the ground, about to be devoured by a Lantern Eye. I saw the bandages around your eyes, that you were unconscious, and knew that if I didn't act quickly the newest Knight - and all of his potential - would be converted to fertilizer. I'll not bore you with the details, but I managed to get you free from Fell Rock before it was beat into the ground."

  I sat down heavily. "Does that mean... they're all dead?" I asked, thinking of Malice and feeling a new burden of pain falling upon me.

  "Oh no, Lowin, you misunderstand. The Knights abandoned Fell Rock when they saw that it was lost. They will reassemble elsewhere, gather their strength, and decide how best to proceed." He explained hastily, obviously seeking to offer some comfort to my frazzled emotional state. "Some few have perished, of that I'm certain, but the majority will have fled to fight again."

  I was still confused, the events of the night before didn't make any sense to me. "Why didn't we go with the others?" I asked.

  Weaver shrugged. "It's standard procedure to divide and travel separately. It makes us less of a target for those who might be looking for us."

  "Then we go to the rendezvous point to meet up with the others?"

  "We will be heading south, where we will meet up with the rest of our forces," he answered in a no nonsense manner.

  I gave a sigh of relief. Malice was a brilliant fighter, she would have survived, and I would have the chance to meet up with her again when we reached wherever we were going. I couldn't quite dispel the nagging worry that she had fallen during the battle, but at the same time I at least had some hope. Weaver, I thought, must be quite able as a warrior if he was able to save me from the giant beast that had come with the attackers at Fell Rock and then carry me away from the battle. What was more important was that he knew where we needed to go. Of course, maybe I didn't want to go back to the Knights. Maybe I would be better off striking out on my own. I thought about that for a short time, but came to the realization that I needed to at least see that Malice had survived the siege of Fell Rock before I could leave. I had too many burdens on my heart already. I would feel better if I could alleviate at least that one. A thought occurred to me then, seeming to spring out of thin air.

  "How did you know my name?" I asked the red-eyed Knight.

  "We do not have new Knights so often that one cannot learn their names. You are the only new addition we've had in three years- a long stretch by even our standards. You are obviously, please excuse the term, 'new blood.'" He said the last with a smile. In the blink of an eye he was suddenly crouched directly in front of me, mere inches from where I sat. His strangely beautiful red eyes were locked on my own, his smile widened. "Oh my, I had suspected but... Have you seen your eyes yet, my boy?" It seemed strange that he called me "my boy" when he seemed barely older than I, but at the same time I remembered that he was, in reality, probably nearly four hundred years old.

  I tried to hide my surprise at his sudden approach, and shook my head in negative. I hadn't had the chance to see much of anything during the events of the last few days. I told him as much.

  "Hmm, you should." He replied, and in another flash he was back to the other side of the fire, lifting a pack from the ground and tearing through it, tossing things out on the ground as he went. "Ahha!" He said, there was yet another flash, and he was back in front of me again, holding out a mirror. I noticed that I could see a faint trail left by his motion from one side of the fire to another. He had moved so quickly I hadn't seen him shift but the trail remained as sign that he had indeed done more than simply disappear in one place and reappear in another. "I keep it for shaving..." He paused for a moment, thoughtfully rubbing his beard, then added, "Not that I ever shave. ...face gets cold." I took the mirror from him and held it up in front of my eyes, noticing the peculiar way my own motion left a trail. I looked for the first time at my new face. My features had changed entirely, though I could still see myself at the base of my appearance, as though all the new additions were simply improvements of the old. Where I'd been weak, the peculiar magic had made me stronger. The line of my jaw was firm, and the cut of my cheek was graceful yet powerful. I was far more attractive than I had ever been before, but the four scars from Wisp's attack still ran the course of my face, from my forehead to my chin, forever marring an otherwise amazing face. All of this, though, I noticed only peripherally, and cared little for either way.

  What held my attention, what riveted my gaze to the mirror were my eyes. My eyes, Kye's gift to me, were a purple so close to the shade they had been in their original body, that for a moment I thought I was looking through the veil of death. I dropped the mirror, noticing subconsciously the way it trailed down to the ground. "They're still her eyes..." I gasped in a whisper.

  Weaver's ears perked forward, catching the words, and for just a fraction of a second a look of profound, debilitating pain crossed his face and then his smile was back. "You and I, it seems, have some things in common."

  It took me a few moments to gather myself enough to speak again but once I had, a multitude of questions surfaced in my mind. "Why do we have color in our eyes while the others have black eyes?" I asked the most obvious question my mind could latch onto.

  Weaver sat down in front of me. "That is a difficult question, my friend. Of the lot of us, only Ethaniel, you, and I have eyes that are not pure black. I have often speculated on the reason for that, but I feel certain that it is tied to the bonding experience that takes place before..." He looked away, and I could see a hard line of anger on his features. "Before we become Knights." He finished in a quiet tone. I waited for him to say more, but he had gone silent and I could tell that he would not be forthcoming on this subject any longer. The question had been difficult for me as well so I did not mind letting it go at that, for the time being.

  "What of my body? I didn't grow the clawed arms or the wolfish feet the way so many of you have. Does that mean I'm not as powerful, or is that something that will happen later?" I asked, and it was a question that had been bothering me for some time. At the heart of the question, was my desire to know why all the Knights of Ethan were different if the process of their creation was the same.

  "Haha," Weaver laughed heartily. "I forgot that they don't tell trainees absolutely anything about the nature of the Knights. Suffice to say, for now, since I don't feel like getting into the matter too deeply, that those aspects will indeed come later. As for the power of the individual, that is a difficult attribute to measure. The eyes are telling... how long it takes to heal, how well a Knight," I noticed a strange inflection in his voice when he said the word 'knight.' "...can each master their skill. In your case, your Bound One," he paused after the term, watching me, and I knew that he saw the wince that I couldn't avoid as he used the term. The term "Bound One" had become something offensive in my mind and I hated to think of Kyeia that way. I wasn't sure what Weaver expected from me, or if he was disappointed or satisfied with my reaction, but he went on anyway. "She told the king before she even found you that you we
re going to be something special; a knight of a different caliber of strength. This hadn't happened before. The interest in you was quite high."

  Kyeia had always thought I was special, and I still wondered whether she had possessed some great insight into my future, or was simply projecting her feelings for me into her expectations. In the end, it didn't matter. I hoped she had been proud of me in her life and, for my part, I would continue to grow to the best of my abilities and stand for what I believed right. I didn't yet know what was right, or how to be the best, but I don't think anyone ever really knows how to get to the top of the mountain when they're standing at the bottom. One has to find the way while on the path. I realized that I had been silent for too long, creating an awkward emptiness, so I nodded my head and said, "I'm going to be the best."

  Weaver smiled, and I sensed that there was something hidden behind his smile, something that shouldn't have been there at all. It came like the shadow of a bird across the sun, just a split second and it was gone and Weaver's smile was as open and honest as ever. "I don't doubt that, Lowin. I can sense the potential in you already, but you'll need to train your new abilities. They don't just work on their own and if you don't learn to use them properly you'll never be the best at anything."

  Like the look of sadness I'd seen on his face earlier, the hidden aspect of him I'd seen beneath his smile nagged at me. I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind for the time. This red-eyed Knight, I thought, was one I would need to watch carefully. "Will you be training me?" I asked him.

  He nodded. "I intend to. The trip south will take us through some hostile territory and it won't do to have you unprepared to defend yourself." His eyes opened wide as if something had just occurred to him and in a flash he vanished from where he was sitting in front of me and appeared at the opposite side of the fire, rifling through his pack again. After a moment he seemed to find what he was looking for. He took it under his arm and picked up a sword that had been lying on the ground near his pack. There was a flash of motion and he was back in front of me again, holding out a cloak like the one he was wearing and a scabbard containing a Knight of Ethan's sword, a fine blade with a silver crosspiece and handle wrapped in the finest black leather. The weapon had a belt and scabbard as well, both of the same fine black leather as the handle, though the scabbard was of a firmer finish.

 

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