Bloodless Knights (9 page)

Vivian
walked toward the window and pondered something outside, “What if ye don’t make
it back? What if slaying the dragon is thy destiny, Tristen? Maybe the army
can’t slay it without thee.”

I
wanted to shake some sense into the woman. My decision was final. If I didn’t
have her then the dragon could destroy the world, me, and everything else. In
fact, I would want the beast to burn me to ash if I couldn’t have Vivian. But I
spoke none of this to her, I only told her there were many “if’s” in life but
right now I wasn’t entertaining any of them. I saw her conceal a grin that
sealed my decision to go with her.

I
knew I needed to meet Patrious soon. While Vivian returned the quilt to the
bed, I asked if she wouldn’t mind gathering my things. I told her I would leave
Flash with her to pack for our departure and that I would bring another horse
when I met her. She agreed to everything and seemed satisfied to let me leave.

I
wrapped myself in the longest cloak I owned and pulled the hood over my
disheveled hair. As I opened the door to leave, Vivian hurried beside me and
with smooth, soft lips delivered a sweet kiss to my cheek. I had never been
happier.

My
aching feet reminded me that I disliked traveling without a horse. I had nearly
arrived at the place I kept my treasures hidden. So far nobody had ever
disturbed my precious goods. I had promised Patrious I would compensate the
soldiers before we left and I needed to keep my word.

I
pulled the warm cloak tighter around my body as I descended the rocks into the
cave I had found as a child. As far as I knew, I was the only person to ever
find the slight opening in the crag. The sun offered enough light that I could
see everything inside. Against the back wall of the small room was a large rock
I had rolled over a long tunnel. I moved the rock and found all of my things
still in place, including a brown canvas sack full of gold coins. I had
recovered the coins after a battle between my army and the Osman’s, which was a
wealthy, but stupid, bunch.

After
rolling back the heavy stone over my cache I tied the weighty gold-filled bag
to my belt and hurried to the village. On my way, it surprised me to see vast
armies riding toward the castle. I wondered if I had enough money with me to
pay everyone who showed up for the foray. Excitement swelled in my chest
knowing that in just a short amount of time, I would be on my way with Vivian.
I was going to spend our entire trip convincing her that she needed to stay by
my side forever.

As
I approached the gate, thunderous pounding hoof-steps came from behind me, and
a voice: “Out of the way, peasant!” Four riders speedily raced passed me as if
they were late for an important event. I recognized the yellow flower crest on
their shields as being from the house of Marrin, I noted that for later.
Peasant, indeed! This
peasant
had taken down the house of Marrin a few
notches when they got a bit too big for their britches; perhaps they needed it
again.

What
I saw inside the village gate awakened the warrior inside of me. A multitude of
armored soldiers and a sea of wagons laden with supplies, told me that Patrious
was indeed a great leader worthy of my respect. In a mere few hours, a
terrifying military force had been forged. The smell of battle enveloped the
air and drew out the barbarian inside me. As much as I wanted to follow Vivian,
I was slightly saddened I would not be traveling with this impressive militia.

My
entire life had been spent training for battles. It was deeply engrained in me
to protect what I loved and defend what couldn’t preserve itself. I was a born
leader and had learned through my travels to be just and kind, but to handle
problems that wouldn’t resolve any other way but by blade. The fighter in me
wanted to put down that dragon worse than any other thing I had ever done. I
convinced myself I would take care of Vivian first then assist my colleagues in
destroying the beast.

I
headed toward the tavern, but Patrious spotted me first. “Sir Tristen! Over
here.” He beckoned to me indicating I should join him. A few soldiers dressed
in surcoats identical to his stood nearby. They sized me up with darkened eyes
but not one of their serious expressions changed.

“Majesty,
I’m impressed with the force ye have created in such a short time.” I took the
man’s hand in mine and enthusiastically shook it. He grinned. His teeth seemed
to be a bit cleaner than the last time we met, but they still made me cringe.

Patrious
dropped my hand and responded, “Marshal Phil is a godsend. All I said to him
was that ye sent me, and things started happening rapidly! We have supplies for
months and horses that seemed to have appeared from the ground. I’ve never seen
such organization!”

I
smiled. Marshal Phil had served me well through many preparations. He was truly
a devoted man to my cause. The thought encouraged me to take him a few gold
coins anon. “Aye, he is a wonderful man,” I paused. “My Lord, something has
come up. I will not be joining thee on the first half of the trek; I will meet
up with ye anon. My attention is required somewhere else, but I assure thee I
will join the expedition before ye reach Montour.”

The
king pursed his lips together, vertical lines appeared between his eyes as he
wrinkled his forehead, “What dost thou mean, thou will not be joining us right
now? These men are counting on thee to lead us to a victory. ‘The great Sir
Tristen Dow!’ The power I derived for this great gathering was from thy name,
Sir. Ye cannot rob these men of the promise I gave to them.” Patrious’ face
looked disgusted, as if he had just eaten a sour juniper berry.

I
grabbed the gold pouch from my belt and handed it to him. He held up both of
his worn hands to hold it. The coins jingled together and I knew from the greed
in his eyes he knew exactly what he was holding. “Gold, sir. That is what they
want. It’s not
me
that drives them, it is wealth. They want their money,
give it to them and they will not notice I’m missing. I will also pay any
living soldier his remaining fee. Be sure to disperse that justly.”

“Of
course I will. When will ye join us, sir?” Patrious stopped abruptly. He and I
noticed concurrently a procession of armed palace soldiers pour through the
gate of the castle. All heads in the village turned toward the convoy. I had a
bad feeling. I didn’t know what was happening and felt completely lost as to
the motives and intent of my father these days.

A
loud voice in my mind yelled “escape”, but curiosity quelled the influence. The
soldiers trailed down the village trail and somehow knew where to go; they
headed straight toward me. The group was led by a man I didn’t know, but when
he dropped from his horse and spoke the voice was familiar; the man in the
hallway who my father had ordered not to let me leave. “Tristen Dow! The royal
crown of Tirrus Dow has placed thee under arrest. If ye resist, ye shall be
slain.”

I
looked at Patrious. The surprised look in his eyes told me that he had not
betrayed me, but someone surely had.

Having
arrested many men myself, I knew my weapon would be stripped from me. As I
reached to take off the scabbard that held the sword my grandfather had given
me, soldiers ran toward me. I thrust the sword to the ground at Patrious’ feet,
yelling at him, “Take the army and go! Go quickly! Here’s my sword to carry
with ye until I arrive. I will keep my promise!”

I
had the urge to flee, but knew that chance had disappeared. I was clearly
outnumbered and if I tried to run I would most definitely be killed. I didn’t
yet trust the army Patrious had formed, therefore, I put my hands in the air;
indicating my peaceful surrender. I figured I would convince my father to let
me go and yielded to two brawny men wearing coats, displaying my own family
crest. Our crest was comprised of a black bull with horns wearing a crown. The
head was separated, one half on each side of a red and yellow,
horizontal-striped banner that resembled the family flag.

The
guards shackled my hands behind my back and roughly urged me to walk the
direction of my father’s palace.

Patrious
picked up my sword from the dirt and signaled to his men with a nod. He seemed
worried, but determined to leave. I didn’t know how I would keep my promise to
him and the army he had vigilantly gathered, but I knew that I could not let them
down.

Suddenly,
something worse than letting the men down smashed over me: I couldn’t meet
Vivian in the situation I was currently in. I groaned inwardly. I had to do
something smart and fast to get to her. The chains tightened around my hands,
urging me to come up with a plan.

I
tried dragging my feet, but was pushed. I saw no way out of the current
predicament so I cooperatively followed the men. I again decided that speaking
to my father may help. Common sense told me that probably wasn’t going to happen,
but hope kept me calm and sane.

Once
inside the castle gates, I noticed things had changed in a short time. There
were guards lining every wall and corridor which wasn’t in itself incredibly
strange. What struck me most was the stifling smell of paint and bright
pictures varnishing every wall we passed. Glamorous depictions of angels
covered everything; even the stones on the stairways and floors. Some of the
angels had halos atop their heads, while others smiled with innocent faces but
were crowned with horns. The pictures were beautiful but horrific. What
unsettled me most was the life-like quality in the faces and bodies of each
piece. The illustrations seemed real enough to walk out of the wall and have a
conversation with me.

The
colorful wall storytelling continued through the halls. Great palaces had been
drawn with vast hillsides and pastures filled with horses and other livestock.
Forests and mountains with waterfalls elegantly flowing from them made me feel
like I could lick the wall and have my thirst relieved. The only common theme
among the paintings was little angels hovering patiently. Most of the scenes
were serene and lovely. I felt inclined to pull up a chair and simply stare at
the walls for a time. But the prodding of armed guards reminded me that I
wasn’t allowed any free-will for the moment.

I
was dragged to the dungeon where the most terrifying piece had been painted. A
grinning, horned angel with shining eyes and a warm friendly glow enclosing it
was brutally stabbing another angel that lay lifeless on a bed of autumn
leaves. The only indication that the angel was “bad” was the set of horns and
the slight fact that he was viciously stabbing another being. The look on the
fallen angel’s face was nothing short of gruesome.

The
dagger the evil angel used to induce death appeared encrusted with jewels that
looked like I could touch and they would land on my palm. Surrounding the
mortally wounded angel were the bodies of two other angels with cuts and
slashes that literally appeared to bleed from the stone walls. Even the flesh
of their lifeless bodies looked like I could touch it and feel the chill on
their deceased skin.

A
peaceful forest framed the scene but something hiding on a branch of one of the
realistic pines brought shivers to my spine that radiated to my fingers. A
long, pointed tongue pierced through the cursed mouth of a fat and vile
serpent. The snake seemed amused as it overlooked the bloody scene below the
tree. The thing that bothered me most was the snake appeared to be an exact
replica of the one painted in the chapel of the church; the despicable reptile
I had vowed to paint over.

“Get
in the cell, Dow.” The unidentified blond man uncuffed me but violently slung
my body into the stone chamber. He slammed the wooden door shut behind me and
glared through the slats of a square window. “The king will be here shortly.
Don’t go anywhere.” He laughed, proudly stating the obvious.

What
a dumb bloke, I thought. I decided to ask him something he may be smart enough
to know, “Who art thou?”

“I’m
the new sheriff. That’s all thou needs knoweth.” He turned away from the door.
A few different sets of footsteps in the hallway got further away and I knew I
was alone.

I
frowned at the straw covered, stone floor. The new sheriff’s words had me
confused. I again wondered where the former sheriff was and if he was ever
returning to the palace. Thoughts swirled through my mind like water twisting
down a drain; I needed gather my wits.

I
decided to focus on the dungeon cell and see if there was some way out. I
kicked dingy straw around the floor with my brown boot. The entire floor was
covered with the dirty straw and a large pile of it filled the center of the
room. I tapped on the walls with my knuckles. There were no noticeable fissures
or openings anywhere except one small window at the top of the room. In a way I
was proud my father had built such a sound dungeon but that thought was quelled
by the frustration that I was a captive in the admirable prison.

This
wasn’t my initial unlucky time serving as prisoner. The first time I was
arrested had been at the small city of Surgaton. I was a prisoner of war that
the general thought would earn a handsome ransom for; he apparently didn’t know
my father had left me there to rot. My escape route was a crazy, but lustful,
princess who thought I would propose to her if she released me. Like I said,
she was crazy. With a slight kiss on her puffy cheek as a grammarcy, I
disappeared from the gluttonous city as soon as the homely lady unlocked the
door.

My
second incarceration was at the castle of Bingstown. I was, yet again, a
prisoner kidnapped from the battlefield, expected to earn ransom upon my safe
return to the homeland. The escape from that decaying hole was mere luck. My
platoon simply crushed through the side of the cell wall with a battle ram. The
men didn’t know I was in the castle and were literally inches from smashing me
to death. However, as soon as the ram knocked down the wall, I leapt through it
with my hands waving in the air. The astonished men were happy to see me.

Never
before had I wanted out of a cell as desperately as I did this one. I had to
get to Vivian or I feared I may lose her forever. I reminded myself again that
I had no idea where she was from. I smudged the thought that I may never leave
the cell from my brain. I
had
to get out!

I
sat on the floor, not wanting to feel defeat. It just wasn’t in me to give up.
I did, however, worry that this time my father had me beaten. I went from
second in command of his pathetic, emaciated army to being a prisoner in his
jail. He was probably ecstatic as he painted a dark-haired angel, who “didn’t”
look like him, smiling with a shiny pair of chains around his wrists.