Knight Errant

by Paul Barrett

  “I’m okay,” a higher voice said in slow motion.

  “Yes, I’m okay,” Gerard echoed weakly after several interminable seconds. He wiped a hand across his pale face. “That’s what happens when your connection to power is taken away and then suddenly given back.” He sat up against the rough wall. The short-term assault had passed and he already felt himself gaining strength. He frowned when he saw Hawk helping Trey stand up. “What happened?”

  “Trey suddenly got dizzy and fell,” Hawk said.

  “I’m alright,” Trey assured him. “I felt like something punched me in the stomach.”

  Gerard considered the implications of Trey’s extraordinary mental senses as the boy helped Hawk push the pallet of spikes out from under Wolf. It could make his training much easier…or infinitely harder.

  Hawk turned the winch, lowering Wolf to the floor. The winch did not pop as it had going up, but it emitted a sharp twang every third or fourth turn as the thick cable smacked the edge of the feeding wheel.

  “Someone’s coming,” Ashron hissed from the doorway. Hawk stopped turning the winch. Ashron tensed, ready to attack anyone that walked through. Gerard stood up.

  They waited as Ashron listened. The others could hear nothing through the thick wall and door. They relied solely on Ashron’s heightened auditory capabilities.

  Seconds passed. They all heard the sound of a key inserted into the lock. Nothing happened for several more seconds, then the door swung open slowly. Two guards stepped in, sub-machine guns held to their sides. A third guard followed with a tray of food.

  Before the sentries could even register that their captives were loose, Ashron leaped on them. He pushed his way past the two startled guards in front, forcing them to stumble forward and almost lose their weapons. Using one hand, he grabbed the food bearer by the throat, cutting off air and keeping him from screaming.

  With the other hand, he snagged the tray before the guard could drop it. Yanking both tray and guard into the room, he used his tail to slam the door shut. The guard grabbed futilely at Ashron’s muscled arm, trying to break the hold on his throat. Ashron slammed the man’s head against the stone wall. The impact made the soldier go limp despite the brass helmet that sat on his head; he ceased struggling.

  Hawk launched himself across the room toward the other two guards. As they raised their guns he slammed into them, his arms spread. They all hit the floor. The weapons fell from their hands. One of the guards received the full impact of Hawk’s tackle and lay stunned from the collision. The other flailed wildly and started to scream. Hawk smashed the heel of his hand into the man’s jaw. The force of the blow knocked the man’s helmeted head into the stone floor. The flat ring of metal on stone echoed through the chamber; the man quit yelling. Both guards lay stunned on the floor. Hawk rendered them unconscious.

  Ashron set the tray of food on the floor and cracked open the door. The key still sat in the lock, so he removed it. After a few moments, he said, “No one’s coming. Let’s get Wolf down and get out of here.”

  Hawk returned to the winch and continued turning the crank. “Not yet. We have to wait for the right moment.”

  Ashron walked over to Hawk. “What right moment?”

  “The right moment.”

  “You’re deliberately abstruse just to irritate me, aren’t you?”

  Hawk smiled at him.

  They soon had Wolf free. He swooned a little as his blood returned to its regular circulation.

  Ashron hauled the guards next to the winch and gagged them. Tying their feet with the cable, he hoisted them into the air until they hung suspended upside down. “See how you squinks like it,” he said

  Meanwhile, Gerard had begun chanting an equation and waving his arms with his eyes closed.

  “What’s he doing now?” Ashron asked.

  “Wait,” Hawk took off his shoe and removed a large silver disk. Laying it on the floor, he said, “Good thing they didn’t check our feet.”

  As Gerard’s chanting quickened, the coin glowed bright red. Its intensity increased in syncopation with the volume of Gerard’s voice. After about thirty seconds, Gerard moved both his arms in a downward gesture and pointed at the disk. “Pascare.”

  The disk gave a bright flare and disappeared, replaced by a rectangular metal crate, roughly a meter by a meter and a half. It had fins on all four sides and a small jetpack on the back.

  Gerard leaned against the wall, hand to his head.

  “You okay?” Trey asked.

  “Yes, but it wasn’t the wisest thing to do that so soon after regaining my connection.”

  “What is that?” Ashron asked.

  Hawk walked over to the crate. “Remember when I bumped the atmosphere?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was a distraction so I could let this go,” Hawk explained, opening the top of the crate.

  Inside were four auto lasers, Wolf’s Mini-Gun of Awesomeness, spare clips and belts, a handful of grenades, and a field medical kit.

  “You know, sometimes you’re a genius,” Ashron said as Hawk began distributing the weapons.

  “No, I’m a genius all the time; I only let it show sometimes.”

  “What about the introduction of technology thing?” Trey asked.

  Gerard shrugged. “Sometimes you have to take chances.”

  Ashron cocked the weapon “So, what next?”

  “Now,” Hawk said, smiling at Ashron. “We wait for the right moment.”

  Ashron hissed derisively at him.

  18

  Forced Hospitality

  Laura kept her intentions hidden as she walked with her head down. She bent her entire thought on figuring out a way to escape, despite the guards on either side that held her arms, their hands gripped tightly around her biceps.

  As they trod the drab stone corridor, she glanced from left to right, searching for side halls or anything else that would facilitate her getaway. She spotted a few branching passages, but until she had a better idea of the fortress, the thought of flight was little more than an exercise to occupy her mind.

  With Fralor leading, they ascended a long flight of stairs, through a small, bare anteroom, and into a spacious and opulently decorated throne room. Large, elaborate tapestries embroidered with scenes of bloody battles and gentle landscapes of verdant hills dotted the walls.

  An imposing throne covered in silver and filigreed gold occupied the center of the end wall. Intricately carved pillars of blue stone held up the roof, which towered ten meters above the floor. Guards dressed in shining chain mail stood between each post. Red tabards emblazoned with a stylized, six-legged animal covered their armor coats. She counted twenty soldiers standing at attention, the machine guns slung over their shoulders incongruous in the medieval surroundings.

  Fralor walked up the dais steps and sat in the silver chair. As she waited, Laura wondered if Unicybertronic Technologies was funding this highly illegal corruption of the planet, what their purpose was, and why they had involved the Knights or, more specifically, Ship.

  Fralor clapped his hands. From the shadows of the throne, a young man and woman emerged to stand beside the dais. Laura judged them to be between eighteen and twenty. Dressed like the guards, minus the chain mail, they both had honey-colored hair. The boy’s short and straight: the girl’s long and wavy. Their bright green eyes stood out from their buff-colored skin, the predominant hue of Meta Brévé’s inhabitants. Laura guessed them as brother and sister. They seemed well cared for, though their haunted expressions made her think they lived in constant fear. Suspecting Fralor would be a harsh master, Laura could well understand their countenance.

  Fralor looked at the young man. “Fertä stala tûe viztu.” To the young woman, he said. “Lugew vin en pradeca.”

  The two servants ran off on their errands. The guards released their grip on Laura’s arms and took a few steps back. Laura flexed her arms and hands to shake away the guards’ grip. She stopped when she heard the ring of cold
steel behind her.

  “Not a wise idea to try and cast magic when twenty armed men surround you,” Fralor said with a smirk that couldn’t completely hide his brief flash of fear.

  Laura said nothing. Though she had no powers of manipulation, letting them keep their misconception might give her an advantage.

  They waited in silence until the servants returned. The boy carried a plain wooden chair with a dark blue cushion. The girl bore a large silver tray which held two goblets, a pitcher, and a bowl filled with pink and purple fruits. While the girl placed the tray on a small table beside the throne, the boy sat the chair down behind Laura and stepped away. Laura continued to stand. At a motion from Fralor, one of the guards stepped up behind her. He put a hand on her shoulder and exerted gentle downward pressure. She didn’t budge.

  Fralor sighed. “I’m doing my best to make this civil. You’re my prisoner and will continue to be so for several days. Why don’t you accept the fact and try to enjoy what you can of it?”

  “If you want me to enjoy it,” Laura said, “put me back in the dungeon with my friends and out of your sickening presence.”

  Fralor gave a tight smile. “Don’t try my patience. The only reason I haven’t let my men take a turn amusing themselves with you is because I’ve been informed you are a gifted healer, which makes you worth more than you would be as a whore.”

  “And who told you such a thing?”

  “A friend,” Fralor said, still grinning. His teeth were almost the same color as his skin. The girl poured wine from the pitcher into the two goblets and offered one to Fralor.

  After taking a long drink, he said. “I assume the young boy downstairs is your son or someone you’re fond of. Unless you want one of my guards to bring him up and cut him open in front of you, I suggest you sit down.”

  He stated it with so little emotion that Laura almost didn’t believe him. The cold stare in his dark eyes convinced her he meant every word. She sat.

  “Have a drink,” At a motion from him, the girl offered her the other cup. Stiffly, she accepted the proffered goblet and swallowed a portion of the liquid, not even paying attention to the taste. The girl withdrew to stand near her brother.

  “I’m not your enemy,” Fralor told Laura as he picked up a triangular shaped purple fruit with light green dots. “I’m simply a small noble on a small planet whose eyes have been opened to the beauty of commerce with other worlds.” He popped the fruit into his mouth.

  Laura let out a bitter laugh. “Looks to me like you’re a petty little chieftain on a backwater planet who’s been corrupted by money and technology.”

  Chewing, Fralor spoke around the fruit. “Why is it the people who’ve lived with money and technology all their lives think it hasn’t corrupted them, but anyone just being introduced to it must be? The people who want your ship are the corrupt ones. They’re the ones bribing protection outpost leaders and killing innocent people. I’m simply the―,” he paused a moment, swallowing. “―broker.”

  “So, what’s your commission for bringing us in?”

  “For bringing you in? Nothing but what I can get for myself. Which is why I was so pleased to learn of your medical abilities. However, bringing your vessel in is another matter entirely.”

  Laura tried her best to sound casual. “What does our ship have to do with anything?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Fralor answered, “The company is interested in whatever special capabilities it has.”

  “What company?” Laura asked.

  Fralor chuckled. “I may just be a ‘petty chieftain on a backwater planet,’ but I’m not stupid.”

  “If you’re going to keep us prisoner and sell me away as a slave, what’s the harm in telling me?”

  “If you’re going to be a slave, what’s the point in you knowing?”

  “It’ll be much easier if you tell me now, instead of having it forced out of you.”

  “Forced out of me?” Fralor asked with an amused expression on his face. “You don’t seem to be in a position to force anything. Now, why don’t you drink some more wine before I become upset?” His face took on a dangerous frown.

  Laura lowered her head and quietly said, “I’m getting tired of this pompous ass, so anytime you guys are ready.”

  “Give us the word,” Gerard said.

  Picking up the wine goblet, Laura said, “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me who’s after Ship? After all, you’re not my enemy.”

  “No, I don’t think it’s that important, and you shouldn’t either,” Fralor answered.

  “Does anyone else know about this company?” Laura asked.

  “A few others. Why?”

  “I wanted to make sure the knowledge didn’t die with you.” She smiled, then whispered, “Go ahead, Gerard.”

  Fralor gave her a curious cock of his head. “You have a strong will, and I admire that as far as it goes. We’ll have to break you of that before we se-”

  A deep rumbling originating somewhere under the floor stopped him. Fralor’s eyes dropped toward the floor, his face uneasy. “Go see what that is,” he snapped at one of the guards.

  “Goodbye,” Laura said. She jumped from her chair and backed away.

  Fralor looked at her, head still cocked. As she smiled at him and the rumbling grew louder, his mouth and eyes widened in a wash of fear. “St—”

  The floor underneath him erupted like a long-dormant volcano suddenly gone active. Shattered stone flew in all directions. Flames belched forth like the fires of Hell. Fralor had no time to scream, his body instantly immolated. He burned like a piece of dry tinder as he fell through the hole created by the fountain of fire. The throne cracked in half. The gold and silver filigree turned into molten globs before vaporizing.

  Laura dropped to the floor, trusting Gerard to avoid her as the intense heat washed over her. The conflagration arced a meter over her prone form and caught the two guards standing behind her; their tabards and leggings burst into flame and chain mail melted into their skin. They ran a short distance, blind and screaming in pain, before toppling over, their skin still burning.

  The guards positioned between the pillars turned to run. They reacted too late. Spikes of orange-white flame sprang from the central column, which now scorched the stone roof ten meters above. With unerring accuracy, the flaming spikes found the soldiers, spearing them through the chest and igniting them like paper. Their dying screams echoed through the chamber with the crackling of the flames, blending into a concerto of the doomed.

  The sound attracted Fralor’s elite guards. They ran into the throne room to discover what was happening to their liege. Witnessing their comrades’ fate, many of them turned pale, sickened by the sight and stench of burning flesh. Though shaken, they did not retreat. They drew pistols and hefted their small metal bucklers.

  Partulas, Ranking Thaumaturge of the Brévé City-States, was disturbed not by the noise of the flames and dying men in the throne room. Those sounds were too far from his opulent chambers to be heard. But the bright, loud tone of powerful magic being wielded sang to him like a palla bird chirping boisterously upon his shoulder. He jumped up from the tome he was poring over, grabbed his bone staff from its ebony rack, and chanted.

  A few seconds later he teleported to the throne room, which had become an inferno. He stepped back and threw his hand up, trying to shield himself from the intense heat. At the same time, he barked a command. His staff flared, and a light green nimbus encompassed his body, protecting him from the fury of the flames.

  He studied the scene. Several charred bodies lay on the floor. A white-hot spire of flame reached to the ceiling, burning where the throne once sat. The woman they had taken from the clearing crouched nearby, the fire arcing well above her head. Other than the sweat that beaded her forehead, she seemed unaffected. Either she was magically protected, or the mage wielding the flames had exceptional control.

  Ten of the lord’s elite guard stood nearby, weapons drawn and shields in
place. They milled about, unsure what to do. The woman had not noticed him yet. Partulas moved toward her, darting from column to column until he stood in range to cast an enchantment and bring her to him. He had no fear she had caused this destruction; somehow the other magician had been freed from his bonds. His only hope was to catch this woman and use her as a hostage. Despite his boasting, he could not win in a contest of will with the metal-armed mage.

  He had taken only one step toward her when something in the flame caught his eye.

  Like a demon rising from the depths of the Abyss, Gerard floated through the hole in the floor. He stood in the center of the pillar, the flames coursing around him with no effect. Ascending until he stood level with the floor, he stepped out of the burning column as calmly as a man would leave an elevator. There was a determined set to his colorless face and a cold gleam in his pale eyes. He waved his hand; the incandescent shaft behind him winked out of existence, creating an audible pop as air rushed to fill the vacuum. His eyes locked with Partulas and he said. “Do you wish to challenge me now?”

  Terrified almost beyond the ability to speak, Partulas shouted, “Guards, kill him.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as weak to them as it did to him.

  The guards moved forward, taking up the positions their training instilled into them, and raised their guns. Gerard calmly turned and faced the soldiers, his back to Partulas. Raising his cybernetic arm and flexing his fingers in an intricate pattern, he said, “Surrender or die.” He did not scream it theatrically, his voice booming, but stated it in a manner so soft Partulas barely heard him.

  The men halted, uncertain, and turned to their captain. The captain considered the destroyed landscape that had been the throne room. His lord Fralor was gone, nearly twenty soldiers lay in ashen heaps, and the man responsible for the cataclysm bore no scars, nor even seemed strained from the effort. The captain holstered his gun and lowered his shield. The soldiers, relief evident upon their faces, followed suit.