Cursed Knight

by Elmon Dean Todd

With a start, Althea realised she was staring and the boy’s eyes had met hers. It wasn’t like meeting the eyes of other boys like Claudius or Vaughn, who teased her mercilessly, but at the same time made flirtatious comments. This boy looked at her seriously, intently, the cold eyes piercing deep within her, touching something that made her catch her breath.

  At that moment, Stella came outside and greeted them, though she had evidently been waiting from the open doorway for a few moments. ‘Welcome home, milord! Have your travels been well? Eh? Who do we have here? A boy?’

  Stella’s appearance caused the boy to tear his gaze from Althea, but not before the dwarf had noticed the silent exchange.

  ‘This is Kairos,’ said Galen, clasping the boy on the back, and at the same time guiding him forward. ‘Kairos, meet my daughter, Althea, and my trusted maid, Stella.’

  Althea felt her cheeks redden. There was a pause, but the boy was no longer looking at her. Instead, he glowered at Stella.

  ‘A dwarf,’ he snarled. ‘I don’t like dwarves.’

  ‘Quite the charming lad,’ Stella replied in a caustic manner. She seemed to have much more to say, but did not want to antagonise Sir Galen’s guest with rudeness.

  ‘Now, Kairos, not all dwarves are bad,’ Galen admonished kindly. ‘Stella has been a part of our family for several years. Address her as you would me.’ The last words were spoken with warmth, but held the edge of authority that caused the boy to lose his rigid posture.

  ‘Hail,’ Kairos mumbled reluctantly.

  He and the dwarf regarded each other coolly. Finally, Stella forced a smile, and Kairos gave a curt nod in return.

  With that, Galen ushered Kairos forward and turned to Althea. ‘It’s been a long journey. Thea, would you mind helping Stella prepare dinner?’

  Althea was more than eager to help, happy to be away from this strange boy. She kept finding herself drawn back to his piercing eyes. When he had finally turned away – his attention focused on Stella –Althea felt as though she had been released from one of the spells that the Mana Knights used to ensnare outlaws. She immediately felt a surge of guilt. She should be more interested in talking to father when he had just returned from his trip, yet she wasn’t expecting… this.

  She followed everyone inside the manor and waited until her father had escorted the newcomer into the parlour, and when she thought both had turned away, cast a furtive glance at Kairos as Galen was giving him a tour of the house. As if the boy sensed her gaze, he turned his head. Their eyes met again for the briefest moments. Stella immediately interrupted, asking Althea for assistance in the kitchen. Grateful for the respite, she rushed into the kitchen to help the dwarf fire the stove with her magic, convincing herself that the heat from the fire was what was making her face burn.

  * * *

  The sight of Althea, Galen Avenal’s daughter, was enough to make Kairos forget his weariness from days of travel. Her beauty conjured the image of Farina to his mind. He felt a chill shudder through his body as he realised how similar Althea was to the ill-fated girl. They could easily pass for sisters. He couldn’t help staring at her – it was as if Rudras had brought Farina back as a reminder of his failure to save her. Althea had seemed equally interested in him, which made Kairos all the more unnerved. During his introduction with Althea and Stella, Kairos struggled not to see Farina’s scalped and blood-drenched face staring up at him from the hay-strewn floor of the barn. He had not spoken to anyone of Farina. He banished that secret to the darkest depths of his mind and sealed it away. But its presence lingered and burdened his conscience.

  In contrast to the gloomy day of death and pain in Milbrooke, it was now warm and cheerful in the Avenal Manor, with the exception of the dwarven lady who continuously gave him suspicious looks. Althea bounced about with vibrancy, looking at him with a warm interest that both excited and scared him. By Rudras, she was gorgeous.

  Kairos stole a quick glance at her as Galen was showing him the house. To his embarrassment, he found himself staring straight into her eyes. He quickly averted his gaze, but not before noticing the curves under her dress. He followed Galen, pretending to take an intense interest in a painting of a castle on the wall. His cheeks burned and they reddened further when he noticed Stella’s disapproving stare. In an effort to divert attention away from him, he commented on the architecture of Galen’s manor.

  ‘Your home is impressive,’ Kairos said, feeling more uncomfortable and very much out of place as he ventured through the manor, which with its magically glowing lamps and the silken cushioned couches offered more comfort than the most luxurious accommodation back in Logres. He was overawed at what he had seen of Vadost and its people, who seemed so far above him in appearance, culture, education, and... Magic. They might have been direct descendants of the gods themselves. He didn’t belong here. He recalled when he had first entered Vadost, pointing and gaping at the magical splendours of the city with a naiveté and childlike wonder that made him a figure of fun to all observers; he saw their stares, their laughs and smirks.

  Dinner at the Avenal Manor further disheartened Kairos’s first impression of his new life. The ‘table manners’ of the Avenal family contrasted hugely with the Einar mead halls. First, Stella brought out a washing bowl, requiring everybody to wash their hands before eating. Then, the dinner table was a quiet affair. There were no shouted stories of grandeur, drunken toasts amongst warriors, or fights resulting in overturned tables. Even though he tried to copy Galen (because he would rather starve than mimic a single action from a dwarf), Kairos brought chaos to the table. When he grabbed the entire bowl of soup and began drinking directly from the bowl, Galen cleared his throat in an expression of disapproval and jerked his head towards Stella, who was eating the soup with a spoon. Althea giggled at these mishaps, though she turned red and looked down when Kairos glanced her way. Stella sighed in disapproval. Ashamed and embarrassed, Kairos sullenly finished his meal in silence.

  Althea tried to speak to Kairos, but Stella hissed at the young girl whenever she did and sent her to her chamber immediately after dinner. The dwarf glowered at Kairos as his gaze lingered on Althea leaving the room. He instantly knew his enemy.

  ‘He’s not going to be staying here,’ Stella said, casting Galen a fierce look as if that settled any dispute, ‘It’s improper, I tell you. Especially at their age. You’re asking for all sorts of trouble.’

  ‘It’s only temporary,’ Galen said.

  Kairos listened quietly as they decided his fate. Although he wanted to be around Althea, Stella’s presence bothered him, and he felt his temper rising the longer he was near her. His short experience with dwarves brought nothing but painful memories: Thylar, Farina. He immediately tried to banish those thoughts, but ever since he had arrived at the Avenal Manor, Althea’s presence was a constant reminder of the Milbrooke girl. He also wondered what had become of Farina’s brother, Henrick. Kairos felt a twinge of guilt intermingled with responsibility to help the boy. However, Galen said he was going to live with relatives and left it at that. Kairos did not dwell on Henrick’s well-being for too long. He had his own concerns.

  ‘He cannot stay here,’ Stella said, ignoring Kairos as if he did not even exist at the table. ‘Even if it’s temporary.’

  ‘It’s just for tonight,’ Galen said. ‘I already have a caretaker in mind.’

  Stella’s eyes widened. ‘Don’t tell me–’

  ‘Yes, it’s Mr. Dubose.’

  The dwarf slammed a hand on the table. ‘You know he won’t approve of this. You remember the last lad you brought over there. He didn’t last two days!’

  ‘Do you have any other suggestions? Or should he stay here, after all?’

  ‘Absolutely not!’ Stella said. ‘Very well, to Mr. Dubose’s house on the morrow, then.’

  After dinner Galen expressed that he was worn out from his trip and retired early for the evening. Stella showed Kairos to his sleeping quarters, set the clean linen on the bed, and coldly bid him good-ni
ght. He did not deign to reply.

  That night, he sat in bed thinking about his fate. He felt so helpless, subject to the whims of these strangers. Yet, that wasn’t so different than living with the Einar, he supposed. No one called him ‘Kairos the Coward’ here. But he didn’t belong in Ordonia. He belonged in Logres. This land was too different, and tomorrow brought even more uncertainty. He didn’t know who Mr. Dubose was, and dreaded the thought that this man would be like Uncle Vinh. Either way, he was getting away from Stella. He had had enough of dwarves.

  Just before he drifted off to sleep, his thoughts lingered on Althea. He would figure out a way to overthrow Stella’s authority. He resolutely decided that he was going to see Althea again regardless of what that dwarf said.

  * * *

  The next day was Zemdag, or Zemus’s Day, though few in Vadost ever thought of it in those terms, considering the gods had long since vanished from the world. Some still paid tribute to them on this day, visiting the temples to pray and meditate; a few of them believed that the gods were still around and would reward the faithful. For many others though, Zemdag was a day of pleasure and shopping, because most of the schools and services were closed. Throngs of youth took advantage of this to crowd the marketplace and spend their parents’ hard-earned money. Many of the adults relaxed till past noon, due to the late night drunken revelries of the prior day.

  The Avenal family – not one to partake in spirits – was up with the dawn. They ate breakfast, everyone marvelling at Kairos’s appetite; Stella muttering something about Mr. Dubose being ‘eaten out of a house’ as she watched the boy devour over half a dozen eggs and several scones whilst still wanting more. She also admonished Althea for wearing her best dress for such a simple outing.

  Althea turned as red as the strawberries on the table and furrowed her brows. ‘You’re being such a fusspot,’ she complained.

  ‘Yes, you are fussing more than usual,’ Galen added.

  ‘I am not fussing!’ Stella yelled.

  Unlike Galen, the dwarf noticed Althea’s flushed face and quickened breathing at the breakfast table. She saw that the girl avoided talking to, even looking at, Kairos. The previous night when Stella had voiced her concerns to Lord Avenal, he shrugged her off with a laugh, stating that Althea had several ‘crushes’ over the summer, and this was no different. But this boy was different, Stella surmised. Her guardian’s eye saw what the doting father’s had not: the immediate danger in his handsome good looks, which seemed only accentuated by the filthy grime that lingered despite his bath. He wore his long dark hair loose, the thick locks framing the stern jawline of his serious face, and his accent had a sharp exotic twang to it. As if these traits weren’t enough to turn the head of any young girl, there was a sense of raw animalistic passion and serious purpose about the boy that was lacking in the typical Ordonian youth, and that Stella found particularly disturbing.

  After breakfast, Stella told everyone that she was staying behind, despite many attempts of Galen trying to persuade her otherwise. She knew that Galen was going to take Kairos to his new home today – to Mr. Dubose’s house. But how long would that take? Galen’s nature was to spoil his only child, and Stella knew he would allow his daughter to run off unattended with this boy, and the thought appalled her. She had not watched over this lovely girl, the closest thing to a daughter, for the past several years for some urchin to whisk her off into trouble now. And this boy was trouble.

  As she watched Galen, Kairos, and Althea travel down the cobblestone path that descended into the city of Vadost, Stella hoped that the boy would settle into Mr. Dubose’s house and never come back ever again.

  * * *

  Considered one of the most beautiful and magically advanced cities in the world, Vadost, meaning ‘valley town’ in the ancient tongue, started out as a humble monastery dedicated to the god, Zemus. The monastery attracted followers from around the world, and they settled the valleys surrounding Lake Turquoise. After the Celestial War, the Mana Knights erected the large tower called Valour Keep nearby in one of the valleys to house their newly acquired Sapphire Shard, which was rumoured to be a large essence of the fallen Zemus, himself. The knights and engineers discovered a way to harness the god-like power within the shard to provide an infinite supply of energy to the surrounding area, powering everything from street lamps to carriages to industry.

  The land prospered. The keep became a large fortress. Merchants and craftsmen came to settle near Valour Keep, eager to ply their trades, and soon several small towns and villages sprang up around the lake, flourishing from the support of the Knighthood and the Sapphire Shard. More and more people moved away from the outside world of chaos and violence and into this area of peace and security, and the towns and villages eventually merged into the city everyone enjoyed today.

  Kairos’s attention took in the sights (when it wasn’t focused on Althea) as Althea explained the history of the city to him. He had arrived during the previous evening when everything was dark except the street lamps and house lights, which illuminated the valley like a thousand fireflies, reflecting their myriad colour of lights on the surface of Lake Turquoise. Now he saw the city with a new coat of bright, daylight paint. He gawked at the surrounding architecture – the colourful stone houses and the clean cobblestone streets that neatly connected everything together. They contrasted with the crumbling stone fortresses, wooden cabins, and muddy roads that were common in Logres; trees, flowers, and well-manicured shrubs gave the city a luscious appearance, as opposed to the dreary, grey landscape of his home.

  The people were also another source of wonder.

  Townsfolk filled the city, good-naturedly engaged in the marketplace, eating at the restaurants, buying the latest fashions, bargaining with the vendors – or haranguing the gnomes, who were everywhere they didn’t belong, tripping the taller humans, as they skipped carelessly into their paths.

  The City Watch and a few Mana Knights patrolled the streets, keeping a watchful eye on the citizens, ready to intervene if there was trouble. Trouble seemed rare in Vadost, though. Unlike the Einar, Kairos noted, everyone conducted his or her business peacefully, and seemed more likely to resolve disputes with the sparring of words rather than blades. Kairos relaxed a little, but he was still glad he had his dagger concealed in the rucksack he carried over his shoulder.

  An elderly man stood outside the door to his general goods shop, tracing a glowing pattern in the air with his wand to levitate a shipment of crates from the street into the second-storey window. He furrowed his brows in concentration as he guided a particularly large crate from the ground.

  Kairos watched the whole process, mesmerised. Even the average citizen could use this power, he mused.

  ‘Watch out!’ Althea said.

  Kairos was staring upwards at the levitating crates as he walked forward – until he inadvertently bumped into the old man.

  The spell fizzled and the crate fell, threatening to crush them both. The old man quickly traced a pattern, but equally quickly abandoned that idea and threw his arms above his head, his wand looking like a feeble stick compared to the cart-sized crate of imminent death that was descending upon him. Kairos did the same, knowing he could not move out of the way in time. Just as he thought he was going to become one with the street, the crate suddenly stopped, hovering a few inches above Kairos’s face. Not understanding what was happening, he watched the crate slowly ascend upwards, depositing itself safely inside the second-storey window of the building.

  Kairos looked around in wonder and saw a faint glow dissipating from Galen’s hands, the knight’s gaze directed upwards.

  The old man stooped over, breathing heavily and clutching his chest as though he were about to have a heart attack. Once he recovered and realised he wasn’t dead, he rounded on Kairos with fury. ‘You bloody fool! Are you daft? Watch where you’re going. You almost killed us. Couldn’t you see I was in the midst of a spell?’

  ‘My apologies, sir,’ Galen said, l
aying a gentle hand on the old man’s shoulder. ‘He’s new here and admiring our great city so much that he forgot himself. I trust you can forgive him?’

  The man’s anger dissipated like steam in the wind. ‘Lord Avenal! A blessed day to you, milord. W-why yes, there’s been no harm, I suppose.’ The man bowed. ‘Don’t tell me that it was you who saved us? It’s an honour, milord.’

  Galen dismissed the praise and, before it evolved into worship – so enamoured was the man of the knight – guided Kairos away. Galen was not wearing his knightly armour, but people here seemed to recognise and admire him, Kairos thought. In this regard, he was similar to Karthok, but Galen seemed to command respect with a warm and friendly demeanour, rather than the iron fist of fear and authority.

  ‘You mustn't bother people when they're casting spells, Kairos,’ Galen chided. ‘That goes double when they’re using levitation spells and moving heavy objects, mind you. It would be a shame for you to survive Malus’s army only to be scraped up from the street.’

  ‘Can everybody here use magic?’ Kairos asked, unfazed by the severity of what he had done.

  Galen and Althea paused and stared at him as if he had sprouted horns on his head. ‘What do you mean?’ Galen said. ‘Of course they can.’

  Kairos looked away, realising he had said too much. He did not want to reveal his weakness. The Einar weakness. It was only because no one had taught him, he told himself. He looked up at Galen, who was regarding him with a keen, knowing eye, as if the man could read his thoughts.

  ‘Just where are you from?’ Althea asked in a shy, innocent tone. ‘I forgot to ask. Your accent sounds foreign.’

  Kairos did not answer. He remembered Galen’s words: Do not tell anyone else that you come from across the sea. Do not tell them about Logres, the Blight, or about your people. He wondered if that applied to Althea. She was Galen’s daughter, after all.

  ‘Thea, please don’t trouble him with such a question,’ Galen answered instead, much to the boy’s relief. ‘He comes from afar, and he’s been displaced as a result of Malus’s army. It’s not proper to bring up such bad memories.’