Knight of Light

by Deirdra Eden

  “So, you are competing for a place in the guard?” he asked in a friendly tone.

  I nodded.

  “We are in the same barrack,” he said.

  Panic washed over me. Same barrack? I wasn’t getting my own private room? Even the mercenaries let me have privacy, but, of course, they knew I was a woman.

  He continued, “I can tell by the color of your belt.” I glanced at my green belt then around the room. All the trainees wore one of three colored belts: blue, green, and red. “Some of us are practicing tomorrow morning before the big competition. Would you like to join us?”

  I only heard part of what he said, but nodded.

  “Is this your squire?”

  Ruburt growled in his deep voice. “Do you have a problem with that?” Ruburt sounded intimidating, even for a dwarf.

  The young man hesitated. “At least you have a squire. Most of us came on our own. I was a squire when I arrived, but I’m going to leave a knight.”

  I let out a soft smile. He was so adorable. I wished I could adopt him as my little brother.

  Some other men advanced toward us. I stiffened. They handed the boy a large glass of wine and pulled him away.

  “Well, good luck,” he called back.

  “That was close,” I whispered to Ruburt.

  “It’ll get worse, trust me,” he grumbled.

  I ate my meal while watching the men get drunker. Men are such barbarians when they think women aren’t around. I tugged on Ruburt’s sleeve. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I retired to the barrack with the green stripe above the doorway. My heart sunk and my stomach twisted until I felt sick. A dozen men occupied the room. They danced and roughhoused in a drunken stupor. More entered the room. This just kept getting worse. I skittered toward the two vacant cots in the corner of the room and covered myself with the wool blanket provided. I was just going to lay here and pretend to be asleep so everyone would leave me alone. Ruburt sat on the cot next to mine. I stared at the rainbow ring on my hand. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. I thought it would be exciting to have a secret identity, but instead, it was more of an inconvenience.

  I rolled over, turning my back to them, and eventually, fell asleep. When I awoke, all of my unwanted roommates lay passed out in heavy sleep. Wine soaked the ground like blood. These young men, who hoped to become knights, would no doubt have nasty headaches when they awoke.

  Right now I had a bigger problem.

  “Cassi,” I whispered. Cassi stirred awake and crawled out of Ruburt’s beard. “We have to come up with a better disguise or I will be executed before I get a chance to serve my country. What can we do?” I asked Cassi because she would never suggest that I cut my hair or learn to belch on command.

  Cassi thought for a moment. Her tired eyes brightened with an idea. She clutched her fairy wand and snickered at Ruburt who still slept beside us. “Auriella needs fairy magic. Just wait and see what Cassi do to Ruburt.” She laughed.

  Hopefully, Ruburt would forgive us.

  The young men of my barrack marched down the hallway to the trial grounds. Almost all of them had hangovers and couldn’t walk in a straight line, let alone in unison. I prayed we would be tested individually and not as a whole group or I would have no chance of winning this competition against the blue and red teams.

  Once we reached the arena, the crowd cheered wildly. King Henry sat with the captain in the front row. From the stands, Ruburt waved gruffly. I smiled and waved back. He must have found out about Cassi switching our voices. I had tried to convince Cassi to give me Ruburt’s beard as well, but the pixie utterly refused to make me ugly, even if it would have made Ruburt prettier.

  I glanced across the arena at my competitors. Every one of them looked alert and ready for a fight. I assessed them and their weapons as the captain explained the rules of the competition. Two men would enter the arena and duel for the duration of the hourglass, which was about four minutes. The king and the captain would evaluate their skills during this time. Four minutes was a long time to fight.

  I waited as, one by one, the men from my group were called for their duels. I wished I could have been first, just to get my duel over with. I chewed on my nails. Lady Hannah always scolded me for biting my pretty nails when I was nervous, but I didn’t need pretty nails now.

  The herald called the man before me. The contestants behind me sat, hunched over or leaned against the wall for support. Sweat beaded on their foreheads, above their glazed eyes. At least I stood a chance in this fight. So far, no one from my barrack had won their duel. After four minutes, the guard at the gate motioned for me. I took a deep breath, gripped my sword, and stepped into the arena.

  I felt pretty good about this fight, until my competitor entered the arena. He was twice my size, in weight, and a good foot and a half taller. He laughed, and his voice sounded like thunder. I forced myself to stay relaxed and ignore his taunting. If I could beat Philip then I could beat him.

  “Kneel when ready,” the captain commanded.

  My competitor knelt impatiently in the center of the arena.

  I mechanically saluted the king and captain and then knelt beside my competitor. The king motioned for us to arise and said, “Begin!”

  My competitor immediately forced me on the defensive before I could get a proper stance. He swung his sword hard, but was careful to stay in control.

  I parried and waited for him to slip up and leave an opening for me to reach in and disable him. I blocked his blow, forcing him to overextend. The tip of my sword shot up and knocked the helmet off his head. He looked stunned, as he blinked his eyes and shook his head like he was trying to shake off my attack.

  Black blood oozed like tar from a cut on his chin where my initial strike hit. His lips quivered and his teeth gnashed together. He wiped the shadowy blood from his chin and licked it off his fingers. How repulsive! I forced down a gag. Why did his blood look so different? The veins in his neck bulged as he struck again with more intensity.

  I rebounded and aimed for the vulnerable areas of his body to end the fight quickly. I hit him in the belly with the flat of my blade. He doubled over and dropped his own sword. I struck his knees, and then slammed my weapon on his collarbone.

  He stood and gripped his sword.

  I shook my head. That beating should have taken him out for the rest of the fight.

  He roared. His eyes flashed with a faint orange glow, and his skin cracked to reveal smoldering embers under his mortal shell. What was happening? I pressed my eyes shut and reopened them. Other than his irate countenance, he looked normal again. “I’m just losing my composure,” I told myself. An unsettling feeling hit the pit of my stomach and goose bumps covered my skin.

  My opponent tossed his sword at me like a spear. I dodged, but that was enough to draw my attention away from him.

  I didn’t even see him charge before he slammed me against the ground. My body hit the back of my armor and the world spun. He knelt over me, punched me across the face, and dislodged my helmet. With his strong legs, he pinned my arms to my sides.

  I bent my knees and moved my hand to the dagger I carried in my boot. I grasped the handle of the blade. The arena filled with the sharp shrill of metal against metal as I scraped it against his armor. He stopped squeezing my throat and turned to look behind him. He released the grip on my arms enough for me to writhe free and hold the dagger to his throat. Our eyes locked. His gaze held shock and ferocity.

  “That will be enough! Very good!” the captain yelled.

  My competitor stood and backed away from me. I jumped to my feet and reluctantly lowered the dagger. I didn’t trust him and, somehow, I felt this fight wasn’t over.

  The king clapped and shouted, “Bravo, bravo!”

  I touched my lip. It was bleeding. I wiped my mouth so no one would see me bleed, especially when I had fought poorly. I could feel my competitor’s eyes scrutinizing me. I cast a quick sideways glance at him. He stared at the blood on my
lip with a ravaging hunger. I blinked. What a pervert. Or was it something else? Why was he looking at my blood like that?

  He didn’t take his eyes off me until the king asked both of us for our names.

  My competitor said, “Lord Randal, from Tundis.”

  I had never heard of it before, and I knew my geography well. He was lying.

  “I am Bronson,” the dwarf’s voice answered from my own mouth.

  “Bronson, you are a well-trained tactician,” the king complimented.

  I started to curtsy, then stopped halfway and gave an awkward bow.

  “I wish I could have a show like that every day.”

  It was kind of gross how the king thought this was a game. Someone could have died. I twisted my lips and forced a smile.

  The captain continued, “There are three groups of thirty, which means each of you will fight again tomorrow before you are accepted into the guard. From there, you will serve your king and prove if you are worthy of knighthood.”

  My teeth snapped together and I inwardly groaned. One more fight? I just wanted a good long soak in a warm tub.

  The king dismissed us, and I retreated through the open gate. I kept my stride and tried not to limp like an injured lamb, at least not until I got into the hall. I couldn’t believe I had gotten distracted and allowed him to pin me. That could’ve ended badly.

  I limped to my barrack where Ruburt waited for me. My defeated comrades had already packed and left the castle. “At least I have my own room now,” I scoffed in Ruburt’s deep voice, though the price wasn’t worth the luxury.

  I pulled a glittering object out of my pack.

  “The necklace!” Ruburt exclaimed in a silvery soprano tone. He coughed, and I chuckled at him in his own voice. We both looked at Cassi.

  The pixie waved her wand over us. “Voices change back to where voices came.”

  The dwarf tested his voice once more, “Uh, hemm …” He shook his head and scolded, “Warn me before you do that again! You have no idea the uproar this pixie magic caused when I answered someone who asked me for directions to the armory!” Cassi snickered. Ruburt ignored her and turned to me. “I thought the necklace was still at the manor.”

  “Alwaien gave it back to me.” I averted my gaze and hoped Ruburt wouldn’t press for the details of that horrible night. “I am going to use it to heal these bruises from the duel. The captain wants me to fight again tomorrow. I think he’s counting on the beating I took today to wear me down.”

  “That scoundrel!” Ruburt growled through his teeth. “That’s the kind of low blow I’d expect from someone working for the Shadow Legion.” He crossed his arms and mumbled something incoherent. “You should wear the necklace during your duel. And feel free to spit fire into his eyes.”

  “Ruburt,” I tried to sound serious, but the image of me actually spitting fire into the captain’s eyes was so out of my character, it made me laugh. “Then everyone will know I’m a Neviahan.”

  I slipped the chain around my neck and fastened the clasp. I closed my eyes as a wave of hot wind seemed to flow through my body. I opened my eyes and watched my bruises and scrapes disappear. “It’s working.” My mind felt clearer. My memory of the fight became distinct and crisp. I recalled Lord Randal’s eyes flashing like embers and his flesh starting to burst off his frame before he stopped himself from revealing what was underneath his skin. “This Lord Randal,” I said out loud, “I’ve seen him before.”

  It became horribly clear. He was the same man who tried to convince my village that I was a witch when I was thirteen. I could barely get the words out, “He’s a Shadow Lord.”

  “What?” Ruburt asked.

  “It’s him. I’m sure of it. That’s why he was looking at my blood with hunger.”

  From the hall, chainmail clinked together and heavy boots pounded in a furious stride.

  “Hide. Now,” I whispered. My eyes darted around the room.

  “There.” Ruburt pointed to a pile of wood next to a fire-pit. We crouched low to the ground behind the messy pile of wood.

  Randal burst into the room. His irate expression and burning gaze flashed like a firestorm in his eyes, drowning out all natural color. His round pupils focused and shrunk to a long slit like a snake’s.

  It was he who started this whole mess. He started the fires that killed my parents and dozens of children. My fingers strained with hate. I had never wanted to kill anyone so badly. Ruburt kept his hand on my shoulder, as if keeping me still when my body shook with rage.

  The captain of the guard ambled behind Randal casually. “I highly doubt his blood was Neviahan. You’re just irritated because you didn’t obliterate the only sober person in the competition. We tried to get them all drunk so they couldn’t fight. I guess one slipped through.” He looked at his fingernails nonchalantly and leaned against the doorframe. “Besides, if that warrior was a Neviahan, he would have killed you.”

  “I’m positive he was one,” Randal said. “I could feel myself getting stronger as I imagined drinking his blood.” His gazed stopped at the firewood where we hid. I peered through the cracks in the wood. Randal approached our hiding spot. His feet hit the ground like an executioner’s drum. My muscles tightened as I reached for my dagger.

  The captain grabbed Randal’s tunic and spun him around. “I am the one who gets the Neviahan blood.”

  I met Ruburt’s eyes. He looked like he was about to faint. He mouthed the words, “Shadow Lords.”

  The captain continued, “Surely, you understand that I have to do something to get Erebus’s attention. Just think of what I could do with Neviahan power. When the time comes, you can take King Henry’s body. Then we will both be powerful.”

  “Forget the king’s human blood. I’m tired of human blood,” Randal complained. “I want Neviahan blood. Maybe we can share the Neviahan’s blood and the power.”

  “I get all the Neviahan blood and power,” the captain argued. “The king’s identity is not a bad trade—the Neviahan for the king. At least you will get to rule England.”

  Randal crossed his arms. He didn’t look convinced. I had the feeling this was going to be a race between the Shadow Lords to see who would kill me first.

  I’d been through several lifetimes of changes—from an orphan, to a member of a noble family, a mercenary, and a knight in training.

  But who was I? Was I really supposed to be the hero of this story? Could I, an absurdly awkward girl, fight the Shadow Legion and save the kingdom?

  The sunlight beamed though the window and sparkled off my opal skin. The Shadow Lord had been right all along—I wasn’t human. I was something much more powerful.

  I had to warn King Henry about the two Shadow Lords. I stood to rush down the hall, but stopped. If I did, then the king would know I was an imposter pretending to be a man … and pretending to be human.

  I turned to Ruburt and Cassi and said, “There is only one way I can approach the king without risking a death sentence.” I pulled off the hood of my cloak and continued, “I must tell him who I really am–the Lady of Neviah.

  Somehow, I had to get to the king before the Shadow Lords did and without anyone discovering me. My black stow-away outfit came in handy once again. It was a horrible outfit for a woman, but just what I needed for stealthily dodging into the shadows of the late hour.

  I slinked through the castle toward the king’s room. An ambience of the Shadow Legion’s presence haunted the hallways. I couldn’t believe they were actually in the heart of London. If the Shadow Lords were able to steal the king’s identity, as they had been talking about doing, they could destroy the government and enslave all of England.

  I peered down a long, red-carpeted hallway, lined with suits of empty armor. At the far end of the hall, a single torch flickered. Its speck of light marked the location of King Henry’s chamber doors.

  I slid along the wall behind the armor and watched for any sign of movement. It seemed like hours passed as I inched my back against
the stone. My muscles ached from the slow, controlled movements.

  A soldier’s boots clicked against the floor. I crouched low to the ground behind the armor. The captain rounded the corner. Panic sprang from the pit of my stomach and my mouth went dry.

  “Captain,” a man called from behind and caught the captain’s attention. “There’s a Shadow Wolf waiting at the gates with a report.”