Hope

by Sam Rook

  As they gathered their breakfast onto their wooden breakfast plates, they looked for a place to sit in the crowded Meal Room. The Meal Room resembled a huge cafeteria, but with comfortable chairs and nice wooden tables. They sat at an empty table in the back of the room and began to eat warm bread and fresh fruit, the customary breakfast of this world.

  They ate in silence, their norm this early in the morning. Kathryn generally tuned out the hum of Av’lorish while she ate, but now she found she couldn’t ignore it. She knew it was Av’lorish, but she could understand it as if it was English, not even needing to translate it into English in her mind before she could understand it. She held her bread before her mouth and just listened to the conversations going on around them.

  "Is something wrong, Kate?" Hal sounded concerned as he looked at her in confusion.

  "Um, I’ll talk to you about it later, not here."

  "Okay, whatever you want." He shrugged it off and they finished their breakfast.

  For the next few hours she listened to Rielle translate all of Sir Lanclor’s Av’lorish for her. In a sense, she had to listen to every conversation twice. She found that Rielle translated most of the conversations, but chose to ignore anyone whom insulted them in some way. Kathryn heard some of the candidates, none of whom she helped train last night, make a comment about her sword work.

  "She can’t use a sword very well and she never volunteers for a spell demonstration. It’ll be a miracle if she makes it into the Knighthood," one of them said with a sneer.

  Another answered, "If she does make it, it’ll probably be on her back." The others sniggered to this and quieted as Sir Lanclor glanced their way. He shook his head and looked her way. He saw her angry stare and clenched fists directed at the other candidates and tilted his head, as if he had pieced together her understanding of their words.

  The rest of the morning, her anger transferred to her sword while she drilled with Hal. Hal always held back to keep the pace with her. Her anger increased her speed and power, but she could feel what little energy she had left ebbing away.

  "Are you okay?" he asked in between bouts. "You seem agitated."

  "I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind." She reined in her anger and finished the rest of the training without incident. On her back indeed.

  Chapter 12

  Borith crouched in the dark passage and wondered if he should kill them. The flickering torchlight glinted off the armored guards, giving them the appearance of metal statues. The pair stood in the small antechamber before the main entrance of the Council’s treasure room. Their eyes were always moving, their hands upon the pommels of their swords. He wasn’t worried about them.

  He knew he could deal with the mercenaries. One quick spell would get rid of them. No, he was far more worried about the spells protecting the treasure. The Council wouldn’t just rely upon the muscle of the mercenaries. The mercenaries’ role was to intimidate ordinary thieves and he was far from ordinary.

  Rising to his feet, he ended the waiting game. "Mel’ati E’athos!"

  The guards swung their heads in his direction, but slumped to the ground as an unseen force struck them. Stepping into the antechamber, his black silk outfit absorbed the light from the torches. The stumps of the severed wings protruding from his back gave him the appearance of a disfigured angel. His brown eyes dismissed the unconscious mercenaries.

  He stepped around the bodies and stood before a long darkened hall. "Canto’o Ay’e!" His new spell probed for magical shields or other dangers as he proceeded. The hall turned up ahead, and he saw a ruddy light bouncing off the far wall where it angled into the unseen room. The light glowed blue as his probing spell identified a threat and dissipated.

  Unsheathing his dagger, he slashed at the line of light and the tunnel erupted in flames. The searing heat drove him to his knees and he dropped the dagger, shielded his face with his arms and curled into a tight ball. The inferno subsided and the passage was again dark.

  No light showed on the wall from the unseen room. Borith loosened his body and sat up, feeling for damage. His left palm burned, but he couldn’t see the extent of the injury. Knowing the danger might not yet be over, he pulled off one of his leather boots. Dragging himself from the corner, he then heaved his boot ahead. He heard it thump to the ground. Nothing happened.

  He crawled toward the turn and felt around the dirt floor until he found his boot. His palm burned as he pulled it on. Sighing, he continued his search and brushed the hilt of his dagger as the grit of the floor ground into his skin. He gripped it, bringing it around in front of him. "Canto’o Ay’e!" He inched along the passageway behind his new probing spell and felt the passageway open, a spell triggering with his presence.

  The spell lit the room with a dull white glow. Millions of gold coins and amulets covered the floor of the chamber, only allowing a narrow and winding path ahead. He felt the power emanating from some of the amulets. The Presence in some of them screamed for release into the world.

  "Corrupt bastards."

  According to the histories, the Knighthood destroyed all artifacts with a Presence, or a True Soul, centuries ago. These amulets with Presence contained the actual souls, not just the memories, of long-dead people. Unlike the Soulbearers of the Knighthood who only contained the memories of ancient warriors, anyone who chose to wear one of these amulets would be taken over by the soul of the person trapped within.

  He cringed when he thought about some unseen force controlling his body. They would know his every memory, his every thought. They would control his body, maybe even forcing him to kill those he loved. It reminded him of the Manipulation spell and he almost laughed aloud. He didn’t hesitate to use that spell at all. Tossing away his brief fear, he concentrated on the mission.

  The gold coins covering the path clanged as his brown leather boots sent them rolling. The Order’s idea to just walk right into the Chamber and take the Orb was ludicrous, but his master had volunteered him to be the thief. His master either had great faith in his abilities or wished to be rid of him.

  The Chamber stretched on for a few hundred feet. When he reached the end, he held his breath. The Orb stood before him, floating above a raised dais. Black and spherical in shape, it spun as if someone had thrown a ball and willed it to spin in one place. He sensed an odd spell. Any casual observer would have dismissed the spell as the one causing it to spin, but he was far from casual. Something just wasn’t right.

  He extended his dagger toward the spinning sphere. It passed through the Orb and he stood there in astonishment. Reaching out with his left hand, it passed through as well. An illusion. Impossible! The Order was going to love this. They had searched for the Orb for almost a century. Someone had beaten them to it. It would have been hilarious if he hadn’t based the rest of his entire existence on obtaining the Orb and returning to Earth. He had to find out who had it.

  He ran his hands through his black hair in frustration. Sighing, he removed the canvas sack from his belt and knelt among the wealth. The gold coins quickly filled the sack and he shouldered the burden, leaving his sword arm free. He retraced his steps and disappeared into the dark catacombs. The mercenaries’ painful groans echoed behind him. Their headaches would be the least of their problems when the Council found out they had failed. Borith shook his head. Maybe it would have been kinder if he’d killed them.

  Chapter 13

  Hal and Kathryn sat in the Common room and listened to the Av’lorish conversations going on around them.

  "Do you think this is right, Hal? Learning the language through a spell, I mean. I feel like a cheater." She looked down at her hands, unable to look him in the eye.

  "We can’t survive on this world and still have a chance of learning enough to return home if we don’t even speak the common language. If you want to, we can tell one of the instructors or we can just wait long enough so it appears we’ve learned the language on our own. I think the latter would be the best. I don’t think it matters anyw
ay. They told us we should learn the language, but they didn’t even offer us a teacher. We used our own method."

  Most of the conversations around them involved the upcoming Assessments. Next week, they would find out if they made it into the Knighthood. She wasn’t great with a sword, but she could perform all sword and formation drills without a problem. Sir Lanclor had already declared their entire group as passing the weapons portion of the Assessment. Now, they only needed to demonstrate their magical ability.

  They had a few days to relax before the beginning of the Assessment. The Magical Assessment spanned three days at the end of the week. The first day consisted of a written assessment of their knowledge of the ten spells, including the pronunciation, purpose and any precautions for each spell. Half of the group would perform the individual demonstration of each spell in front of the entire group, one at a time. She would join her study group and a few others to demonstrate their knowledge on the last day of the Assessment.

  The next few days passed quickly as everyone hurried to prepare for the Assessments like students cramming for a final exam. Their group was calm, while the tempers flared for the rest of the candidates whom had trouble performing the spells. Kathryn offered to help some of them, but the majority refused any help from an Earthling. Those who welcomed her help ended up joining the study group—now up to 15—and progressed rapidly toward their goal.

  The first round of magical demonstrations only welcomed seven new knights out of 25. Kathryn had the honor of presenting first the next day. Assessor Jakara crossed his arms and sat among several other knights at a long table facing an upraised platform. The rest of the Assessors sat in silence awaiting the arrival of all of the candidates. The doors of the room closed with the last of the candidates taking their seats.

  Assessor Jakara rose from his seat and the room quieted. "The first candidate for this Assessment is Lady Kathryn, originally from Earth. We’re here to witness her demonstration of the ten spells required for entry into the Knighthood. Lady Kathryn, I’m sure you know the order of the spells, so please begin when you’re ready." He took his seat. She expected him to scowl at her, but his face remained neutral.

  Standing in front of everyone, she no longer felt nervous. She looked all of the Assessors in the eye and set her jaw, preparing to actually speak the spells and not just think them when performing this demonstration. All of the Assessors sat up straight in their chairs as she completed her flawless demonstration. She stood with her arms by her sides while the Assessors conferred in quiet voices. They all nodded, including Assessor Jakara, and announced her acceptance into the Knighthood.

  She sat among the other candidates as all fifteen members of the study group along with five others who were able to learn the spells on their own entered the Knighthood. For the final day of the Assessment, the Knighthood accepted 20 out of 25 new candidates, a number she heard they hadn’t seen in a single session for decades.

  On the day of the wing ceremony, Hal and Kathryn both dressed in a tank top-like shirt with two slits in the back and short pants with no socks or shoes. Several knights led them into a large chamber that contained about fifty rectangular pools of thick, dark gray, gravy-like liquid. The pools, the size of a double bed on Earth, contained a floating log to keep their heads from submerging. A knight led her to her own pool and told her to enter using the steps on the left side.

  As Kathryn placed her foot into the organic mixture, she found it surprisingly warm. The mixture reminded her of a thick beef stew with small slivers of beef giving it an almost grainy texture. She didn’t want to know what the small pieces were in that pool and she knelt down to lie on her side with everyone else with only a small portion of her body above the liquid, her head resting on the log. Marinating before the slaughter. Too bad it smells like dirty feet.

  "Keep your heads firmly on the log." An unnamed knight bellowed to the room.

  Three knights stood around an upraised dais in the front of the chamber. She was too far away to hear the incantation and felt a buzzing in her head as the spell passed into her body from the log. The buzzing turned into a tingling that slowly spread from her head down to her back. The tingling turned to discomfort, then suddenly to a pain so intense she thought someone scraped a knife along her back, peeling the skin off one layer at a time. She wasn’t the only one who screamed for that whole hour.

  The pain subsided and turned into discomfort. She remained in the pools for two more hours as the spell gathered the organic material around her back to form her wings. It was the longest two hours of her life where she thought of nothing but each particle slowly gathering to her back. When the generation finished, she noticed the clear water for the first time. She tried to look at her wings, but agony accompanied any movement of her neck or back.

  "Come." A suit of black armor with wings offered her his hand.

  Her wrinkled fingers reached for the faceless comfort and he gripped her arm to draw her from the pool. She shivered in the cool air as a second knight toweled off her body, then gently let the damp towel absorb the liquid from her wings. Without the weight of the water, the wings felt much lighter, almost like carrying a backpack with a few books.

  The black knight escorted her back to her room and gestured to the bed.

  "You should lie on your stomach and rest your new muscles." He helped her do just that. "They’ll be sensitive for a while, but it will pass. You should feel better in the morning. Be safe, Lady Kathryn."

  She heard him leave the room, but the throbbing of her new back muscles had the rest of her attention. Her foggy mind realized Sir Lanclor had escorted her, not some stranger. At dinnertime, she found she had no appetite and chose to spend the remainder of the evening and night in a fitful sleep.

  The next morning, Kathryn arose from her bed stiff and sore. She had a hell of a time trying to squat over the bucket without toppling from the added weight on her back. Discovering how to use her new muscles was like a video game without an instruction manual. After a while, she could lift her wings a few inches. A long time after that, she extended them to their full width, their ends brushing the walls.

  She turned her back to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. The contrast between her light skin and the dark wings unsettled her. It almost looked like someone had just glued them to her back until she moved them and saw the unusual ripple of her new back muscles. Her stomach flipped and she decided if she thought about them too long, she would never see the beauty of them.

  Her new gray uniform opened in the back with a flap of fabric that extended down between her wings. Straps connected to clasps on each side. She practiced folding her wings slightly apart on the bottom so she could sit in a chair without bending them. Even walking was a chore when she had to concentrate to keep her swinging arms from hitting her wings.

  "These are a pain in the ass."

  A few hours after she awoke, Kathryn finally found her way down to the Meal Room. Hal and some of the other new knights sat at a table in the corner where she went to join them. They all nodded to her, too sore to do much else. The other knights in the room went about their business and occasionally glanced their way with empathy in their eyes.

  As the days passed, so too did her discomfort. Her wings still felt foreign, but she often found herself forgetting about them while walking or doing other tasks. She stroked the edge of her wings while standing in line inside the armory. The idea of having to wear armor all of the time made her nervous. Her training armor had been uncomfortable and only a fraction of the size worn by the knights. The line moved along and she reached the tables lined with mounds of chainmail, plate armor, helmets, and what looked like gray spandex suits.

  "Ah, Lady Kathryn. I’ll have someone help you to get your armor and carry it to the courtyard." Sir Garrent gestured to a knight she didn’t recognize.

  The knight gathered items from each pile, handing her the smaller pieces and carrying the larger ones himself. By the time he finished and le
d her to a corner of the courtyard, she staggered under the weight. How the hell would she walk in it, let alone fly? She wasn’t strong enough. The knight stepped away and she stared at the pile of metal, forcing the tears from her eyes.

  "Now that you have your new armor, it’s time to put it on and finalize the spells." Sir Lanclor’s voice boomed across the courtyard as he paced among the new recruits. "What’s piled in front of you is crude, heavy and not very functional. You’ll first don the gray jumpsuit, then a knight will assist each of you with the proper way to put on the rest. The jumpsuit will bridge the magic between your wings and that of the armor and mold itself to your body. You’ll barely notice the weight once we’re done. Now get started!"

  Kathryn eyed the jumpsuit. Spandex-clad bikers came to mind and she groaned as she pulled the fabric over her gray uniform and then pulled the hood over her head. It exposed every curve of her body and she flushed with embarrassment. The same unknown knight handed her the chainmail first, gesturing where it fit while muttering the names of each piece. She pulled on the hauberk with slits for her wings and then came the chausses and coif. Clenching her jaw, she willed the spell to work before she collapsed in front of everyone.

  Warmth spread across her skin and she felt the weight of the chainmail suit lessen as it hugged her body. She bent her arms and legs, feeling no more resistance than wearing denim. Next, the knight helped her into a cuirass, fauld, cuisses, greaves, spaulders, sabaton, gauntlets and finally her helmet. The names of the armor felt familiar although she knew the words were alien to her.

  The plate armor forced her to her knees and she counted each second until the spell took effect. She cried out as the heat from the plate burned along her entire body. Cries echoed around the courtyard. Just as she feared her cheeks would blister from the helmet, the heat lessened and the armor molded itself around her. She rose to her feet and did her best to look at the final product through the eye slits of the helmet. Her helper chuckled, showing her the ways she could manipulate the sections of the visor.