Knights Without Kings

by J. M. Topp

  ‘We’re running out of time.’ Trystrem grabbed Elymiah by the shoulder, and they both walked down the Royal Square encampment. Robyn ran up beside Elymiah, and they walked into the command tent. Knight-Captain Ansfrid and a few of his men were standing over a map of the city.

  ‘Your men turned tail and ran, Knight-Captain,’ said Trystrem, walking right up to Ansfrid.

  Ansfrid stood and straightened his back. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘They need to learn more discipline from your weak outfit.’

  Elymiah stepped in-between the two men. ‘Knight-Captains, we are here to talk about the next step.’

  ‘You killed them?’ Ansfrid asked through his teeth.

  ‘They are hanging before the Insolvent District gates,’ said Trystrem with a cruel smile.

  Ansfrid bit his lower lip as Korhas Leadcloak stepped into the command tent.

  ‘What in Oredmere’s name do you think you’re doing?’ Trystrem said as he turned to the Lord of the Greenwood.

  ‘Piss off, fancy britches.’ Korhas turned to Elymiah. ‘You fought bravely, knight. I was wrong in calling you a cunt stain. That title clearly belongs to someone else.’ Korhas glanced at Trystrem and then looked at the other men in the tent. ‘What? Your masters aren’t here to hold your leash, so you all run around like chickens with your heads cut off?’ Korhas grabbed his sword and swung at the map of Weserith. The blade caught in the wooden table beneath it. ‘I may not be Weserithian, but I loved this city. I loved the people in this city. You all fucked it up for us. Now you need my help?’

  ‘We don’t need your help, lord. We are trying to mount a defensive.’ Elymiah shook her head, grabbed the sword from the table, and shoved it back into Korhas’ hands. The Leadcloak smiled at her.

  ‘What about an offensive?’he asked, squinting at Elymiah.

  Elymiah looked at him in confusion, as did Ansfrid and Trystrem.

  ‘We were planning on destroying you bastards with our reserves of blackstones. But seeing as our friends have broken through the city, I feel like it would be wise to use it on them.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Korhas?’ Trystrem stepped in front of the Lord of the Greenwood. Though Trystrem was taller than he, Korhas was built stockier and didn’t get intimidated by the height. ‘The walls of the entire city are lined with caches in barrels of blackstones—enough to decimate the dark within them.’

  ‘You were planning on using it on us?’ asked Trystrem, glaring at Korhas.

  ‘Aye, and I still might, you prick.’ Korhas stepped into Trystrem’s face, but Elymiah pulled his shoulder and stepped in-between them. Korhas grinned and wiped the tip of his nose. ‘We light the caches within the walls and blow them all to hell, except for the eastern end of both walls. With enough luck, we can hold the Dark Armies back long enough for everyone to escape through the night.’

  ‘You do realize that the only thing holding the Dark Army back is those walls, right?’ said Trystrem.

  ‘Aye, so it must be done swiftly.’

  ‘Those barrels will cause massive damage. How can we prevent our own men from going up in the explosion?’ asked Ansfrid, glancing over a map of the city.

  ‘My men and I will be among the ones staying. We were hoping you would spare some of your men as well. That way, the explosion would take those near enough to the walls out, and then, amidst the chaos, we go in and kill as many daemon bastards as we can,’ said Korhas.

  Trystrem snorted and shook his head. ‘You have a penchant for drama, lord. As if you could pull off a stunt like that.’

  ‘More than drama, Knight-Captain. A way out. We must wait until the sun comes up.’

  ‘I’m not sure we have enough time,’ said Elymiah. ‘The gates may not last against a battering ram such as that.’

  ‘Maybe not, but our best shot is with daylight. I have noticed that these creatures don’t like the light. I believe our odds are increased with the sun overhead.’ Korhas licked his lips and sheathed his sword. ‘This is our best shot.’

  ‘I agree,’ Ansfrid said finally. He had been contemplating the words going back and forth in the tent. Trystrem scowled, but he didn’t say anything. It really was the only choice that could see them through this attack.

  ‘What’s wrong, Trystrem?’ asked Elymiah, noticing his hesitation.

  ‘There is more news. The queen is about to give birth. Her pains are more frequent. We have to leave before the baby is born. If the baby is born before, leaving will be more complicated.’

  ‘It will make things complicated,’ said Korhas, rubbing his chin.

  ‘I just said that.’ Trystrem rolled his eyes and placed a small brown diagram on the table. ‘The queen and the Hallowed Masters are the top priority. We need them out of the city as soon as…’ Trystrem glanced at Korhas. ‘As soon as the bombs go off, we escape through these prison cells. The Holy Silver Angels Platoon will lead the queen and the royal guard through the prisons. They will take fifty soldiers. The rest of us will mount an offensive and drive back the Dark Armies, giving Knight-Captain Farnesse enough time to escape and meet up with the queen and Elymiah near the Kingsoul River.’ Trystrem pointed at the far edge of the map. Elymiah looked at the corner where the Kingsoul River was marked in blue. It seemed so far away.

  ‘I will stay with the defense of the city.’

  Elymiah slowly turned to the voice of the man who entered the command tent. Robyn stared at Elymiah. ‘I want to stay here, Knight-Captain Farnesse.’

  Elymiah’s face turned red.

  ‘Rescind that request, Lieutenant.’ She clenched her fists at her sides. Robyn stifled a half-smile. Elymiah wanted to smack the look off his face. What has possessed him?

  ‘I want to stay here, Knight-Captain Farnesse.’

  ‘We could use him here, Elymiah.’ Trystrem spoke thoughtfully, but Elymiah didn’t even look at him. She was staring holes into Robyn.

  ‘Fine. I give you my permission.’ Elymiah glanced at the other knight-captains. ‘We are done here. Prepare to move out, and Korhas…’ Korhas looked up to Elymiah. ‘As soon as you are ready, we leave.’

  Elymiah left the command tent seething in anger.

  WINDS BEAT FIERCELY against the knight at the top of the gate battlements. Elymiah clutched her long blue cloak to her body. She huddled into it as she leaned on her halberd. Not much could be seen overlooking the lost districts—nothing more than fog and the sickening stench of death. Elymiah kicked at a small pocket of ice on the stone floor.

  ‘So you will be leading the exodus, Knight..?’

  Elymiah turned to a man in a bear cloak. Korhas’ breath escaped his mouth in wisps of smoke. He smiled at her, like a bear would smile at another.

  ‘Elymiah Farnesse.’

  Korhas stared at her for a moment, as if the chills had finally frozen him over.

  ‘Farnesse. I’ve heard that name before.’

  Elymiah turned to face the lord.

  ‘Ah, I thought I recognized you,’ said Korhas. ‘In this strange light, you do look like him.’

  ‘You knew my father?’

  Korhas put a hand on his sword and looked out among the battlements. ‘We met at a tourney long ago. I should have known it was you. You are cut from the same cloth as he is.’

  ‘Is?’

  ‘Was.’ Korhas hung his head to his chest. ‘He was a great man before…’

  ‘Before he went mad.’

  ‘That’s not what I was going to say,’ Korhas said with a soft chuckle.

  ‘It’s ok, my lord. I have learned to live with my father’s disgrace.’

  Korhas chewed on his lip. Elymiah leaned on her halberd once more. ‘Where did you meet him?’

  ‘That is a story for a different time, Knight-Captain. You fight much like he did—savagely yet with precision.’

  Elymiah sighed. ‘Thank you, Lord Korhas. I know it may not mean much, but you might have saved the queen’s life.’

  ‘Oh, don’t
thank me. The worst is yet to come,’ said Korhas with a laugh. ‘I didn’t know if I would mention it, but the gates are lined with explosives. The problem is, it can only be lit from the other side if the plan is to work properly. Whoever goes over the gate to do so will probably not return.’

  Elymiah gasped. Who would volunteer for such a thing?

  ‘Don’t fret your britches, knight. I’ve decided I will go, along with the remaining men and women from the White Dagger Guild. We don’t want to live in a world where all the shitty things that took place, take place. I’m done with all of you.’ Korhas hawked and spit a wad of mucous from his mouth. ‘You sparrows would botch it up anyway.’

  Korhas pulled a pipe from his cloak and filled it with a small clump of leaves. Despite the cold weather, he was able to light the pipe and take a drag. ‘In all the battles I have seen, this has never broken—no matter how bloodied or beaten I was.’

  Sounds of dark creatures writhed and shrieked on the other side. Even then, Korhas took another long drag.

  ‘It’s going to be an amazing display of fire and light. Enjoy it for me.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A Knight's Vacuous Honour

  THE MOON WAS hanging high amidst billowy night clouds by the time Ayda returned. She looked a little surprised to see Bendrick still resting under the shadow of the old tree. He had put on the clothes she had given him, which consisted of grey breeches and a dark-red, torn shirt. There had been a brown hooded cloak amongst the items, and Bendrick had it drawn over his head. She chewed on her lip as she poured the contents of her sack on the floor. Three potatoes and a slice of leathery roast rolled from the sack. The roast looked old, but Bendrick wouldn’t complain. Ayda sat on the ground with her legs folded in front of her and bit into the potato. She frowned at it but continued chewing.

  Ayda glanced at Bendrick from the corner of her eye. ‘Eat. Gods know the last time you had something to chew on,’ she said, handing a potato to Bendrick. He and Ayda ate in silence. Ayda, when she had eaten her fill, patted her belly with her left hand and chuckled. Bendrick wiped saliva from the edge of his mouth and rested his head on the tree, staring up at the Uredor ruins.

  ‘What are you doing in such a creepy place?’ asked Ayda. ‘You’re not a daemon, are you?’

  ‘A daemon?’ said Bendrick. Normally, he would have chuckled at the joke, but now, he wasn’t so sure. Ayda looked up at the tree behind Bendrick.

  ‘Nice tree you picked to sleep under, mister,’ Ayda said, folding her arms in front of her and hugging her chest with a shiver.

  ‘Does it scare you?’

  ‘Yeah. And it should scare you too.’

  ‘Oh? And why is that?’

  Ayda looked up at the tree and swallowed hard. ‘It is called the Tree of Forfeiture. An old friend would tell me the stories. Offenders of the worst kind never went to prison here in Uredor. Instead, their hands and feet were nailed to the tree. Then the chosen Chastiser would rape them. Their screams could be heard all the way from Duren to Flodden to Whitetree Mills. It didn’t matter if they were man, woman, or sometimes children,’ Ayda said, looking down at the dirt and poking it with her good hand. ‘The Chastisers placed all their efforts and research into finding ways to punish people in the worst way possible. The louder they screamed, the harder they would be raped. When the Chastisers were done with them, they would tie ropes to their middles and pull them with horse carts, with their body still nailed to the trees.’

  Bendrick looked up at the tree. What had looked like bark sticking out from it now had the distinct look of old and charred bone. Skeletal hands were hanging like leaves from the bolts in the tree. A shiver crawled up Bendrick’s spine as he inspected the tree. Suddenly, one of them twitched. Bendrick blinked, thinking that it might be his eyes, but then, strange whispers began to emanate from the thick bark.

  Bendrick jumped up and drew his sword, not knowing what was occurring.

  ‘Get back, Ayda.’

  ‘Hey, what the hell?’

  Bendrick grabbed her by the good arm, but as he turned to run, he realized their path was blocked. Splotches of charcoal tar on the cold, hard ground collected in their path ahead. Dark ooze began to spill from the bark.

  ‘Oh, what the fuck—what the fuck—what the fuck?’ Ayda whispered, shaking her head and blinking her eyes rapidly. She stood as close to Bendrick as she dared, cradling the stump of her arm close to her chest. Bendrick furrowed his brow, eyeing the dark ooze.

  ‘Dark magic resides in these ruins. It was a mistake to stay here,’ said Bendrick, his eyes darting back and forth from pool to pool. From the ooze, black skeletal figures began to rise. A red glow emanated from their empty eye sockets. They carried rusted swords and axes and advanced in unison. They whispered as they did so. Bendrick’s brand begun to glow in a blue hue, but he ignored it.

  ‘Set us free,’ the skeletons moaned, clutching their weapons.

  ‘It’s the dead villagers!’ Ayda screamed. ‘They’ve come back.’

  Bendrick clenched his teeth, let go of Ayda’s hand, and squeezed the hilt of his sword. A dozen skeletons leered at him with jaws wide open. He knew that this many skeletons could overwhelm him if he did not attack first. Bendrick raced across the muddy terrain and plunged his sword into the torso of a skeleton. It immediately fell into a pile of bones. The skeletons attacked in unison. Bendrick turned to see them race to Ayda. Ayda covered her eyes. Bendrick leaped and with a downward strike cleaved through the bones of another skeleton. He swung his sword back and forth, cleaving bone from bone. A skeleton struck at his arm, cutting into it. Bendrick grunted but punched the head of the skeleton, sending it flying. He twirled his sword and grabbed it by the hilt with the blade behind him. Bendrick spun with sword outstretched and hacked off an arm of a skeleton. Bendrick kicked it, sending it sprawling into the mud. Before he knew it, all the skeletons had been dismembered and lay in piles. He struggled to catch his breath. It was over.

  ‘That was easy,’ Bendrick whispered to himself.

  Ayda looked over the piles of bones in silence.

  ‘Look, something is happening to them.’ She pointed with a gasp. Bendrick turned, and to his horror, the bones were pooling into small pits of black muck and rising again. They seemed bigger this time. A bony hand grabbed Ayda’s ankle, and she shrieked, freeing herself and jumping behind Bendrick.

  ‘We’re so fucked.’

  ‘Stay alert. Don’t get near to them, got it?’

  ‘You don’t say, mister! Don’t get near them? Well shit, I was about to…’

  The skeletons screamed, interrupting her sassy remark. She gasped and held her good hand to her chin. Bendrick once again attacked first. He swung his blade back and forth in a glistening arc, cleaving bone from bone, but they would not stay in the ground. For every skull he crushed, for every bone he broke, a pool of black muck would collect, and from it, a bigger and stronger skeleton would rise. Bendrick’s arms burned, and his chest heaved, gasping for breath. His blade sliced with the sharpest edge, yet no matter how many times he downed a daemon, another stepped from a dark pool.

  Then, as soon as it had started, it was over. Bendrick realized that he had been standing still for a few moments. The tar-coloured skeletons were all down. Ayda was standing beside him once more. She touched his shoulder. ‘What are you?’

  A gurgling sound made Bendrick clench his jaw. He squeezed the pommel of his blade and looked beyond the tree. The fallen bones were melting into black muck, same as when they had risen. It was different this time. The bones began to converge upon each other and melted into one large pool of sludge. Dark steam rose from it, and it boiled as the muck collected. A bony hand shot from the pool and grasped the mud beside it. It lifted itself from the pool, rising high into the sky, coal liquid dripping from its limbs. Its skull was the size of a large boar. Its eyes glowed white instead of red like the others. Its shoulder blades rose far above its head. Small, bony horns protruded from his skull. It growle
d as it stepped from the pool. It carried a large, curved great-sword. Bendrick knew that one strike would completely destroy his own bastard sword. The giant skeleton roared, sending a wave of wind from his jaws. Bendrick clutched at his head as a piercing pain cracked through it. Ayda shrieked and ran behind Bendrick.

  ‘Get underneath the tree, Ayda. Now!’ whispered Bendrick.

  Ayda scurried to the tree, and he grasped his sword with both hands as he faced the giant skeleton. It took a step to Bendrick and raised its sword above its head. The mud beneath it dried up and cracked as it took another step to him. It lashed at Bendrick without warning.

  Bendrick rolled out of the way of the strike at the last moment. The blade crashed deep into the mud, breaking the stone deep beneath the foundation. The skeleton leered at Bendrick with glowing eyes.

  ‘Stand still!’

  The skeleton swung its blade in a wide arc, slicing through the air. Bendrick ducked as fast as he could, but not fast enough. His ponytail fell onto the ground, cut at the base. Bendrick’s hood was also ruined. He had to do something quickly. At this rate, the giant skeleton would chop him piece by piece.

  ‘No! Let me go.’

  Bendrick whipped around to see Ayda being attacked by two skeletons. One of them held a long black nail in one hand, and the other skeleton gripped a large hammer. They were holding her to the tree. Ayda struggled and screamed.

  ‘You care for a half-elf? Scum of all the races.’ The giant skeleton’s scratchy voice sent shivers up Bendrick’s spine. ‘Worry not. She will join the fingers she lost.’

  Bendrick turned to the daemons attacking Ayda. He couldn’t do both. If he ignored the giant skeleton to save Ayda, they would both surely perish. Why do I care so much? If there was a chance he could to save his own life, why wouldn’t he? He wasn’t about to be attached to someone else again.