A Knight of the Sacred Blade

by Jonathan Moeller

  Blackness filled Arran’s vision. “You can’t stop me.” He raised the gun to his temple, his finger tensing over the trigger.

  But Siduri was faster. She leaped to her feet and flung out her arm, shouting a phrase in a language Arran did not recognize.

  White light flashed from her fingers, and unseen force wrenched the gun from Arran’s hand and flung it to the sand.

  Siduri shuddered. “Don’t make me do that again. It’s draining.”

  Arran stared at her in stunned astonishment. “Who are you?”

  “I’ve told you before, Siduri wife of…well, Siduri of the desert now, I suppose.”

  “No!” Arran snatched his gun and jammed it into its holster. He stalked across the sand and glared at Siduri. “No games. Why do you care so much? Any reasonable woman would have left me for dead in the desert after the fight with Baal-Mar-Dan. How far did you have to drag me to your Hold?”

  Siduri shrugged. “Four or five miles.”

  “I wanted to die, and yet you insisted on healing me,” said Arran. “And now this…” He remembered his stupor while he lay recovering in Siduri’s chambers. “I saw you! You made gestures and chanted. You were casting a spell. Are you some manner of demon, some creature of the black magic?”

  Siduri laughed at him. “Black magic? Hardly, Arran of Carlisan. I am no Ugaoun.”

  “Then you know the white magic?”

  Siduri nodded. “Some. I had to use it when I thought you would die. I could think of no other way to call you back.”

  She knew the white magic? “But…how? Marugon killed all the Wizards.”

  “Undoubtedly,” said Siduri. “But I am no Wizard.”

  “Then just who are you?” said Arran.

  “I am who I told you I am. But I shall explain nevertheless,” said Siduri. She paused for a moment, green eyes distant. “How to say this? I…haven’t always lived in the desert of the clans.”

  “What do you mean?” said Arran.

  “When I was a young woman, I visited the nation of Carlisan for a time.” She smiled. “It was as wonderful as you said, Arran of Carlisan. A beautiful city. Of course, many of the people were weak and fat, but in such prosperity, who could blame them? While I was there, I met an old Wizard, a man named Alastarius.”

  The hair stood up on Arran’s neck. “Alastarius?”

  “You know of him?” said Siduri.

  “He was the Master of the White Council, and the mightiest Wizard of our age,” said Arran, bitterness in his voice. Alastarius had also persuaded Sir Liam to fly on a fool’s errand to the Tower of Endless Worlds, convinced that young King Lithon could save them all.

  “Does he yet live?” said Siduri.

  Arran shook his head. “He was betrayed and killed after the fall of Castle Bastion. Goth-Mar-Dan, king of the winged demons, tore Alastarius apart limb from limb. Sir Liam saw it.”

  Siduri sighed. “I am grieved to hear of his death. He was a very wise man, and he taught me many things I had never dreamed. He also taught me a few minor spells of the white magic, as you have seen. He…also told me part of a Prophecy.”

  Arran flinched. It has been on account of Alastarius’s Prophecy that Sir Liam had been willing to cross a continent’s length to the Tower of Endless Worlds. “What did he say?”

  Siduri met his gaze. “He said that one day I would find myself in mortal danger from a thing of the black magic…what we of the clans call an Ugaoun, and what you call a winged demon. But a dark man would save me from it. Alastarius told me I had to do everything in my power to help this man, else a darkness would come that no light could ever break.” She titled her head. “He also told me the hour of my death. Which I admit was disturbing, but everyone dies someday.”

  But Arran barely heard her.

  “Damnation!” said Arran. “Damn it!” He paced in a little circle, pounding his thigh with his fist. “Damn him! Damn him and his Prophecies!”

  “You do not seem pleased,” said Siduri.

  “That damned Wizard’s Prophecy has brought me no end of grief,” spat Arran. “Sir Liam believed him, and because of that, we spent a year seeking the Tower of Endless Worlds.” Arran stalked back and forth, mad fury burning him. “Gods damn him and Liam and Lithon! I wish I could have met Alastarius so I could see the charm that made so many believe him. I wish he yet lived, for I would tear his head from his neck!”

  Siduri laughed, her shoulders shaking.

  Arran spun on her. “What in the blazing hells is so funny?”

  “I have left the Hold and Jabir, but I have not thrown my life away,” said Siduri. “Just because you have given up, do not think that I have.” She leaned forward. “Arran. I can help you, if you but let me.”

  “There’s no help to be had,” said Arran. “There’s nothing left. Marugon has triumphed. Antarese was my last hope, and now it is dead and gone.”

  Siduri snorted. “Antarese might have been your last hope, but there are others.”

  “Such as?” said Arran.

  “The desert of the clans is vast,” said Siduri. “On its far side, over a month’s journey, is a great ocean that no man of the High Kingdoms has ever seen. And on that shore dwells the Oracle of Time.”

  “What is that?” said Arran.

  “No one knows for certain,” said Siduri. “It is a creature of magic, one with great power. We of the clans call it the Oracle of Time, for our legends say that it has vast knowledge, and can see things from the past, the present, and the future. The elders’ stories tell that in times past, warriors of the clans went to the Oracle seeking guidance. Most did not return. But those who did rose to greatness.”

  “So what good would this Oracle do me?” said Arran.

  Siduri snorted. “Thick-headed fellow. Alastarius told me, long ago, that if I did save you, I had to take you to the Oracle of Time. It would show you the way.”

  “And just how are we to get there?” said Arran.

  “I may not know the path of your life, but I know the path to the distant sea,” said Siduri. “Tribes of fishermen live there, and we of the clans sometimes trade with them. The Oracle’s abode lies near the villagers of the fishermen. I can take you there. I know the desert. I know the safe paths, where dangerous creatures live and things of old magic dwell, and where we can rest safely.”

  Arran looked at the ground. “I…”

  Siduri shrugged. “I know you do not care. You think you have no purpose left, no? Then what does it matter? Come with me. You have nothing to lose. You may die in the desert, we may die on the journey…or you may find what you seek. Think on it.”

  Arran’s mind whirled. Ten years of defeat and constant destruction had crushed the hope out of him. But, then, what did he have to lose? If he died when he shot himself, or if he died seeking this Oracle of Time, what did it matter?

  Arran licked his dry lips. “You said I was going the wrong way. Well, which way, then?”

  Siduri smiled. “I’ll show you.”

  Chapter 11 - I Don't Know What I Did

  Anno Domini 2012

  The day after graduation, Ally drove to the park.

  She looked at the parked cars lining both sides of the street, scowled, and pulled Simon’s Ford Focus into an empty space about a block distant. Ally climbed out of the car, taking an envelope and tucking it into her pocket. The cool night air brushed at her face, and she pulled her green coat tighter. She felt much more comfortable in a T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes than in a dress and heels.

  It was a good night for a party.

  Rows of picnic tables had been set up, their surfaces covered with pizzas, chips, cookies, and juice. Coolers marked “SODA: LIGHT”, “SODA: REGULAR”, and “ALCOHOLIC” stood at the end of the tables. A scowling elderly man guarded the “ALCOHOLIC” cooler, glaring at anyone underage who happened to wander past. A crowd of people stood around the tables, eating and talking. A horde of little kids played some sort of game with a bright blue beach ball.

>   “Bill!” said Ally. “Congratulations.”

  Bill stood by the coolers, a soda in hand. Behind him stood his parents, each dressed in a severe lawyer-like black suit.

  Bill beamed at her approach. “Ally! You made it!”

  “I said I was going to come, didn’t I?” said Ally.

  “I’ll be going to your party, don’t worry,” said Bill. “It’s on Saturday, right?”

  “Right,” said Ally. She handed over the envelope. “Happy graduation, Bill.”

  Bill took the envelope, opened it, laughed at the card. “A twenty-five gift certificate to the book store!”

  Ally shrugged. “You’re always reading those long books about goblins and knights and wizards and stuff like that. I can never keep track of them, so I thought you could pick out what you like with this.”

  That, and she didn't like to read them. Reading about wizards always seemed to trigger her nightmares.

  “Thanks, Ally,” said Bill. “Thanks. This is a really cool gift. Now I have to get something good for you.”

  “We’ve heard quite a bit about you, young lady,” said Bill’s father, a balding man with a severe face. “I’m William Ryan.”

  Ally shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Jill Ryan,” said Bill’s mother. Ally shook her hand as well. “I hear you gave William Junior quite a run for valedictorian.”

  Ally shrugged. “It was pretty close.”

  “Well, I never had any doubt William Junior would come out on top,” said Mrs. Ryan.

  “Mom,” muttered Bill, his ears turning red. “You heard what Dr. Burton said. It was close that anything would have tipped it.”

  “True, true,” said Mrs. Ryan. She kissed her son on the cheek. “But you didn’t tip it, did you?”

  “Dear.” Mr. Ryan touched his wife’s arm. “The Coltons are here. We’d best go say hello.”

  “Of course,” said Mrs. Ryan, straightening up. “Stay right here, Junior, we’ll bring the Coltons over in a minute.” The Ryans hurried off, leaving Ally alone with Bill.

  Ally raised an eyebrow. “William Junior?”

  Bill sighed. “Don’t ask.”

  “You have to stand here all night?” said Ally.

  “Yeah,” said Bill. “My parents bring the guests over here, and I say hello, they say congratulations and good luck and, my, how tall I’ve gotten, and then they go to talk business with Dad.”

  “That sounds like a real pain,” said Ally.

  “It is.” Bill took a drink of his soda. “I was thinking about sneaking some beer, you know, just this once to celebrate. But Grandpa Ryan won’t stop guarding the cooler. He’s Baptist and thinks alcohol is the devil. I hope your party is better.”

  “Me too,” said Ally.

  “I’m sorry about my mom,” said Bill. “It was pretty rude, what she said.”

  “That’s okay,” said Ally. “I don’t think she meant anything by it. It was close, after all. I mean, if you’d gotten sick an extra day, I probably would have gotten it.” She still did not understand why it meant so little to her.

  It was as if more important things had already happened to her.

  “Ally. Um…I…” Bill looked at his shoes.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s…I’m not sure I should tell you…”

  Ally frowned. “Bill. What’s wrong?”

  Bill sighed. “Mary was here.”

  Ally stiffened. “She was? When?”

  “Just twenty minutes before you got here,” said Bill. “She…she doesn’t look good, Ally. And Nathan Jameson was with her. Mary tried to talk to me, but Nathan stopped her. I think he was stoned or high or drunk or something. My dad told them to leave or he’d call the police.”

  Ally scowled. “Did they leave?”

  “No.” Bill pointed at a rusty black truck parked against the curb. “At least, Nathan’s truck is still here. I think they went off into the woods together.”

  Ally turned. “I have to talk to her. Sorry, Bill.”

  “Ally. Don’t,” said Bill.

  Ally frowned. “Why not?”

  “Nathan’s high on something, I’m sure of it,” said Bill. “And he was mad. He was mad when he showed up, and he was even madder when my dad made him leave. He hates you. He might try to hit you if he sees you.”

  “I can take care of myself,” said Ally.

  “He’s a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than you!” said Bill. “Ally! Come back…”

  Ally headed towards the woods on the far side of the park, her shoes sliding against the dew-damp grass. She spotted a path leading into the trees, and followed it. Worry churned in her stomach. She had tried to get in touch with Mary dozens of times in the last four months. Mary had never returned her calls or her emails, and Nathan had screamed at her a few times over the phone. Then Nathan had been expelled for drug use, and Mary quit school to move in with him. They disappeared off the face of the earth...

  Ally heard voices, one loud, angry, and male, the other soft, terrified, and female.

  “You bitch. I do not believe this. You dragged me to that stupid prick’s party. And then…I don’t believe this! After everything I’ve done for you. I let you move in with me. I let you eat my food. I don’t believe this, I don’t believe this.”

  “Nathan, please.” It was Mary. “I wanted you to marry me. Why won’t you marry me?”

  “Bullshit,” said Nathan. “Don’t tell me you believe all that church bullshit?”

  “It…it just wouldn’t feel right,” said Mary.

  “It’d feel right to me,” said Nathan, his voice slurring. “Oh, come on, baby. I’m leaving for boot camp in two days. Just give me what I want.” His voice grew hard and angry. “I gave up everything for you. I’d have gotten that football scholarship, but I spent so much time on you. It’s your fault I had to join the Army. So you owe me. So just give me some more money.”

  “No!” said Mary, her voice shrill. “You lost the scholarship because of all those drugs!”

  There was silence for a moment.

  “You bitch. You did not just say that. Apologize. Now.”

  Mary began to cry. “I won’t! I thought you’d be rich and famous. But you’re a bum, you’re just a drunk bum. And look at me. Look at me! I have to work in a cocktail bar to pay our bills. I do that to pay the bills and you still call me names and hit me. I’m tired of it, Nathan! I’m tired of you. I’m leaving, and I never want to see you again.”

  “You…” Nathan’s voice rose in an animal scream of rage. “You bitch!”

  Ally heard the sound of flesh striking flesh.

  She sprinted down the path, her mind churning with a mixture of rage and terror. The path ended in a deserted bike trail, the path and the surrounding trees illuminated by a few lamps.

  She spotted Nathan and Mary beneath a tree. Mary lay writhing on the ground, her face mottled with bruises and blood. Nathan stood over her, fists clenched, eyes glittering with manic rage. He looked high on something.

  “Oh my God,” said Ally. “You bastard. You bastard!”

  Mary turned her head. “Ally. Run. Don’t stay. Don’t…”

  Ally reached for her pocket, intending to grab her iPhone and call 911.

  Except she had left her phone in the car.

  Oops.

  Nathan turned, that crazy light in his eyes growing brighter. “Well, well. It’s the ice queen.” He staggered toward her. “You put that attitude into Mary’s head.”

  “Ally,” whispered Mary. “Run. Please run. He’ll kill you.”

  “Let her go,” said Ally. Nathan stalked towards her, and Ally felt a stab of fear.

  He was so much larger than she was.

  Nathan laughed. “Guess what, ice queen? There’s no teachers or cops around. We’re all alone. I’m going to teach you a lesson. I’m going to break that pretty little nose of yours and knock out a few of those white teeth.”

  “Go away,” said Ally. Her voice s
hook. “Now.”

  “What, are you going to make me?” said Nathan.

  Ally blinked. One of her premonitions struck her, and she knew what would happen to Nathan.

  “You’re nothing,” said Ally, her voice cold and calm. Her fear had vanished. “You were a third-rate quarterback from a fifth-rate high school football team who squandered his moment of glory. Now you’re nothing but a drunken brute.” Nathan flinched. “You wasted your past, you have no present, and you have no future, and you know it. You’re going to wind up standing on street corners begging for change so you can buy your next drug fix…”

  Nathan bellowed in rage and charged her, his fists swinging. Mary screamed and huddled against a tree.

  Ally stood her ground. Katrina had dragged her to self-defense classes for years, and she knew she should run. But Nathan was big and slow, so slow, and it was almost as if Ally could see into the future and know exactly what he would do next.

  He swung at her face with a wild roundhouse punch. Even without the strange foretelling whispering inside her skull, she would have seen it coming a mile away. She pivoted just as Katrina had taught her and swung her foot. Her heel slammed into the back of Nathan’s knee, and he stumbled several steps with a cry of pain.

  Nathan staggered to a stop and spun. “You bitch! You kicked me!”

  Ally circled him. “Perceptive.”

  Nathan roared and lunged at her again. Ally veered to the side. He was big and strong, but the booze and the drugs had slowed his movements, and he shot past her with a curse. It was as if a fire burned in her blood, telling her exactly what he would do next.

  He turned to face her, snarling, hands raised to grab her neck.

  Ally kicked him in the groin.

  He staggered back, face going red, but the blow did not hurt him as much as Ally expected. The chemicals coursing through his bloodstain must have taken the edge off his pain.

  “Bitch!” said Nathan. “I’m going to make you bleed!”

  Hot fury blazed in Ally’s mind. The fire in her blood spread, made her brain and chest felt like they were burning. “Just like you made Mary bleed?”

  He roared and came at her, murder in his eyes.