Holy Knight

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. Emptied river canals dehydrated the woodlands of her namesake lands, Illaria. The drought wrought chaos upon Ilaria’s courts, eventually befalling the peasants who tilled the bare earth. But from the bottom of one canal, one man’s burdensome prison finally dried up.

The Holy Knight, heavy with pain, sin, and guilt, stood a free man breathing fresh air for the first time in centuries.

The Holy Knight, unable to die, chained by his ankles to suffer an eternity of drowning by Illaria herself, was finally free. He rose from his bonds, his golden armor glimmering in the sun from his helm to his feet. Life surged within him. Finally able to summon the strength to move, he severed his eternal bonds with the Gargoyle Great Sword. The heaviness of his punishment, washed away so unexpectedly, for “may you suffer death for eternity, for as long as I live,” were the last words he remembered hearing before undergoing torment for the past five hundred years. Or so he guessed by now.

Queen Eternal Illaria is dead? The knight shook himself loose, sheathing his weapon, surveying the landscape. A few feet wide and many deeper, there were only two directions to take. He opted to move forward. Seemed as good a choice as any whilst mulling over the state of things. A drained river, a path with no way out, and apparently a commuted sentence. Or a judgement forestalled.

I suppose no one is truly immortal, are they? Dead or not, it seemed unlikely to the Holy Knight that Illaria would drain all the rivers to set him free. Even with his breath restored, he would need a miracle to get out.

It did not take long for a miracle to reveal itself. A rope descended from far above, where the knight looked up to see a group of others standing and shouting above him. It may well be the most futile thing to debate whether this was divine intervention, pure dumb luck, or an outright trap. A way out was a way out. Those stuck in a prison would not think in otherwise. He grabbed the rope without question, his newfound strength returning to him like a long-lost friend. The joy of movement and using his strength to heave himself free could almost glisten through his armor and helm. But it did not last forever when he reached the top, greeted by a band of four questionable folk.

“Look here lads,” a tall, long-bearded, noble looking man dressed in all violet said to the knight, “let us remember this day in infamy. The legendary, the one and only Sir Reynar, the Protector. The Holy Knight himself. I told you he was real! Wait now, you are Sir Reynar, are you not?”

“Aye, that would be me,” Reynar said, “my thanks for bailing me out of that nightmare. Who do I have the…honor of addressing?”

“Why I am none other than Count Eiken of the East Illarian Riverlands,” the Count said, pridefully waving his hand in the air at nothing. His other hand played at his cropped black hair while looking Reynar up and down with dissatisfaction. As if he knew who he was addressing. The three others accompanying Count Eiken; a short fat man, a burly and woman, and tall but too thin of a man, all gawked behind the Count like any thoughtless lackeys would. “My family has been charged with the safety and prosperity of these lands for generations, you see. This is Stout, Laudra, and Laurant,” he pointed to the three of them from shortest to tallest, “my attending servants.”

“Charmed,” Reynar said, bowing his head with a feint of interest in his eyes. But, luckily, with his helm still on, no one else noticed that Reynar could not care less. There were other matters to attend to, and seeing to the state of a fallen kingdom felt a tad more important than speaking to a man in charge of dried-up river lands.

“In case you have not taken notice, you are doing a poor job on the prosperity of these lands,” Reynar said as he looked around, marching past the foolhardy Count Eiken. But the burly woman Laudra, whom he now noticed also carried a large battle hammer at her side, stepped in front of him. he glanced to his right. At least I know who hammered the stake pegged to that rope. Couldn’t have been any of these other fools. “Out of my way now,” he said to the woman as he returned hand to the hilt of the Gargoyle, “It’s been a while since I’ve killed, but I promise you, I remember how to.”

“It has been a while,” Count Eiken said. “Five hundred and sixty-three years by today’s reckoning, I say. You were sentenced so long ago that you passed into legend for us mere mortals. They’ll be shocked to see how right I was.”

Reynar froze. The Count’s tone turned stern. He heard the triumphant steps from behind catch up to him, followed by the clasp of a clammy hand on his armor. “Killing Queen Illaria was a calculated risk,” he said, “but her loss gains us you, the Holy Knight of Illaria, The Expeller of Demon Spirits,” he sneered with an air of superiority, “come to save us.”

Reynar reached over to break the hand of the Count that so arrogantly rested on his left shoulder. But Laudra knocked him back the just the handle of her hammer, even knocking some of the wind from Reynar. He stumbled on the first step but regained his balance on the second. He measured the other two lackeys, both of whom had moved little, not revealing the measure of themselves yet. The more he saw of the woman’s movements, the more inclined he was to believe the other two lackeys had some skill to move in a fight as well. Reynar was outnumbered, but that was no strange thing for the Holy Knight of Illaria, a responsibility given to him by the Queen herself that he did not take lightly. And her very killers stood right before him, bailing him out of the prison she put him in. I deserved to stay there.

“If you know who I am, then you know I can take three of your men,” Reynar said, “but if you knew anything more of me, you should at least know that I loved Queen Illaria,” he continued as he drew his great sword, “I was sworn to her, and you killed her. Seems there’s only one thing for me to do.”

“Yes,” Count Eiken said, “like killing the demons who plague this land. Yes, quite right, Holy Knight.”

“The demons were long returned to shadow. I killed their king. Lorith the False King was vanquished before I was sentenced. You can’t—”

“Can, and have,” Count Eiken said, “perhaps you did kill Lorith, but someone has taken to his mantle now. Your Queen has been powerless to stop these growing threats. Her Consort Amir fell a fortnight ago and already incapacitated her beyond competency. Though if you ask me, she never seemed competent in my lifetime. In fact, I—”

Reynar quickly maneuvered around Laudra, striking her right hand and disarming her hammer. He moved with elegance despite his heavy armor. His blade was just shy of the Count’s throat, stopping right at the threshold of opening his throat and watering the ground with his blood. But the blade pressed just enough to draw some blood as he held the blade to Eiken, whom Reynar thought may was better named Eiken the Arrogant. But if Reynar pressed his blade just a little further into the Arrogant’s flesh, he’d all but certain sever his head.

“Make your last words count by telling me why I should not kill you where you stand,” was all Reynar could ask as he restrained himself and his blade. He kept his eyes on the woman to his left, once again ready to swing at Reynar with her hammer half-cocked. The short bald man’s stance shifted into readied stance to charge him. As Reynar looked more closely, he noticed the man’s balled up fists were teaming with white flames. Fascinating.

The tall, thin man had not moved a muscle. Maybe he’s the one to watch.

Reynar saw nothing for them to do. The Arrogant’s henchmen, servants, or whatever he called them, showed strength, but they lacked his experience. They were mortal after all. But were they also this stupid to boot? Eiken must have known this would bring retribution. The three servants did not advance their position any further, for they could not, lest they risk losing their master’s head. But the more he heard the words of ‘killing Illaria,’ the more he thought about ending this man right here and now.

“Out with it,” Reynar said, “Grant me closure so I may grant you death.”

“By the Gods man,” Eiken sighed, “have you any idea what changes in five hundred—”

“Focus now, Count Eiken the Arrogant, for your last words shall matter,” Reynar snapped. He was growing impatient. He remained tense, with his blade pressing on Eiken’s throat, puzzled by how the imminence of death did not catalyze further urgency. I bet lots of people would like to kill this man.

“Alright, alright now,” Eiken said in a squealing tone, “the new False King took Amir’s corporeal flesh, you know, where she divested where she divested some of her god-like power to?” I did not. And to Amir? Really, Illaria? “It’s made him, whom we now call Amir the False, a substantial threat to these lands and the larger continent. He would see these lands Unformed again.”

Just like Lorith.

“And this gave you the bright idea to kill Queen Eternal Illaria, to drain these lands of their vitality, further aiding this demon’s cause?” Reynar asked.

“I told you,” Eiken said, “it was a calculated risk. The Queen’s strength failed us and you are the last hope. The Queen Eternal, Gods rest her soul, even said so. J-just the problem was you’d never come as long as she lived. I don’t know what you did, but seemed worth springing you out to save an entire nation don’t you think? You have to consider the bigger picture.”

The bigger pictured is blurred by the dark deeds I carried out for Illaria. Even this arrogant Count would not understand. But Reynar found no utility in dredging up the past whilst being so far into the new future.

“I think you are right,” Reynar said, “you don’t know what I have done to be placed below the deepest canals of the Illarian Riverlands. And it’s for worse things than you can imagine, even for someone such as I, the Holy Knight, the Protector. You are not well protected from me,” Reynar said looking around at the other three lackeys. “I could kill you all where you stand, and I just might now. I’ve faced worse numbers.”

Laudra made ready to cock her hammer. But an interceding voice of another man stopped her. The tall skinny man, who until this moment remained silent and still, advanced forward. “Perhaps I can help my Lord’s situation,” he said as he took a few steps forward. He looked sickly, as though Count Eiken were starving him. The other two servants with Eiken seemed purposed for nothing but fighting. This man Reynar did not know.

“I am his Scholar, Laurant,” the man continued with a graceful bow of the head, “a pleasure to make your acquaintance, good sir. My Lord, the Count, has not yet had the chance to show you this,” was all Laurant said before he held out something he had not seen in an age: Illaria’s stone dagger. It looked just as he remembered, and an ancient dagger shaped like a scimitar with sharp studs as the base of a blade near the hilt.

Reynar released his blade from Eiken without further question to take the dagger in his hand, always having trembled at the thought of embracing the accursed dagger ever again. It cannot be coming to this already.

“In her dying words, she wished to bequeath it to you,” Eiken said, “she was surprisingly insistent about this as in her final breaths. I don’t know what use that is to you however, it’s not sharp, and it’s made of complete stone.”

“It’s not a weapon you dolt,” Reynar said, “it’s a key.”

“A key to what?” Laurant asked.

“To where is more like it,” Reynar said, “the Netherworld.”

“The Netherworld!” Eiken shouted. “The bloody Netherworld? What on earth for?”

“So I can visit someone there,” Reynar said, “and you’re coming with me.”

“I’ll be damned if I am.”

“You already are,” Reynar said, “it was a calculated risk that you are not washed of, yet. You will come with me, and if you survive, you survive.”

“Then you will help us?” Laurant asked with eagerness. “Can you save us?”

“I can,” Reynar said, “and if the Queen has given you this, then it’s worse than I thought. I’ll need to take this to the gate to the Netherworld straight away.”

“What kind of hope lies in such a place?”

“None, but hopefully the prospect of striking a deal.”

“With who, dammit?”

“The Ghoul King,” was all Reynar said he sheathed the Gargoyle and moved forward, eyes to the horizon. There was a deal to be made, and the Ghoul King never took kind to him showing up empty-handed. Perhaps this Count Eiken, the Arrogant but Savvy, would be enough collateral for him should things go south. Not to mention the three other servants. Ghouls need to feast.

They think the title of Holy Knight means holy works, don’t they? Just like the others, sadly mistaken and profoundly ignorant. I doubt they still know the true nature of my sentencing. Reynar the Holy Knight looked back to see the babbling company of four stumbling to catch up to him, quipping and questioning him further.

Reynar knew they were ignorant, for he heard the Count prattling on with stupid questions from behind. But he cared little, for he was free now. Five hundred and sixty-three years later, the burden of the crushing tides washed away at last. But as he thought back to his days with Illaria, especially the better days, he knew he was still as heavy with pain, sin, and guilt as he was before.