Bloodless Knights (7 page)

Vivian
closed her eyes and hummed that hauntingly arresting song. I knew I must leave
quickly before I couldn’t move at all.

The
palace grounds were alive with soldiers, peasants, musicians and children
running around playing games. I was shocked at the difference one night could
bring. The tavern was open and serving; troubadours had traveled from afar to
sing outside of the castle walls. The drunkards were dancing and feigning sword
fights; or at least they appeared to be pretending from the slow way in which
they engaged. The air was cold and the flowers that had been blooming only a
few hours prior seemed to hunch over in disappointment.

My
main interest was on the castle gate. It was still locked tight with armed men
guarding, the difference was there were now about twelve men, instead of two.
It seemed that all inquiring soldiers had moved away from the gates. I wondered
if anyone had been allowed in.

“My
Lord, yourn here!” Jadorion’s familiar voice pierced my thoughts from the back
of my head. I turned to see him and Friar Thespis approaching.

The
friar was carrying a monk’s robe. He asked Jadorion to take my horse to the
barn, as he needed to speak with me. He assured Jadorion as he led Flash away,
“He’ll find ye anon, lad.”

I
nodded in agreement and waved at my squire. I had no idea what the friar
wanted, but I blindly trusted that a man of God would not lie to the young man;
or me for that matter.

The
Friar furrowed his brow as he leaned toward me, “My Lord, thy mother has
requested to see thee. However, the only persons allowed into the castle at
this time are the monks and servants. I ask thee to put on this robe so I may
sneak thee to see her.” He pushed the brown robe into my arms.

I
didn’t care how I went about seeing my mother; only that I did. I greedily
grabbed the robe from the religious man’s hands. He guided me around the corner
of the apothecary and I pulled the itchy, wool, hooded-dress over my head. I
made sure my sword wasn’t visible. I assumed the friar would ask for it; he did
not. He simply looked me over and held his thumb up in approval. I kept my head
lowered and followed him through a plethora of people toward the gate.

“Don’t
look now,” Thespis whispered. “There’s a man staring at thee.” Of course I
turned to look. I saw a curious Patrious, watching the entire scene while
nursing a tin of ale at a worn table outside of the tavern. He simply raised
the tin my direction and didn’t take his eyes from me as he took a long pull of
the alcohol.

I
turned away from the man just as we arrived at the gate. Not a peep was made as
the tall wooden entry creaked open. The guard let us through without even
questioning who we were. If I would have known how easy it was to get in the
castle I would have done it yesterday. The Friar blessed the soldiers as we
passed. I kept my head down in silent prayer.

The
soldiers smashed the door shut behind us; we were alone on the castle grounds.
The feeling inside the gate was eerie; I felt as if I didn’t belong there. That
could have been contributed to the fact I was wearing a monks robe or something
else entirely. I wasn’t sure.

“Friar
Thespis…may I bid thee a question?” I whispered as if at a funeral. I watched
my breath appear in the air; it was a cold day indeed. At least the robe kept
me warm. I stayed quiet as the friar pressed open the castle door. We quietly
made our way through the cold halls of the castle.

“Of
course ye may, however, I’m not sure if I can answer the question, but ye are
always free to bid.” The friar kept walking forward toward the stairs leading
to my mother’s chambers.

“Oh
it’s naught really; I just haven’t seen Sheriff Albott for a few days. Does
thou knowest where he is?” I didn’t expect an answer.

The
Friar was silent for some time then replied, “Thy father sent the sheriff on a
quest about one week ago. I knoweth not where or why, but I saw him ride north
last Sunday.”

As
odd as that seemed to me, I didn’t question him further, merely thanked him as
we approached my mother’s door. “They think she has the cholera. Be careful not
to get too close to her. I’ll lead as we go in. Stay silent.” The Friar pushed
open the door. I followed him in.

The
room was colder than I imagined a tomb would be. No fire burned, but light came
from dozens of candles glowing brightly on one side of the room. My mother’s
canopied bed had the red velvet draperies pulled shut. A large glass pitcher of
water sparkled near her bed, alongside a tall tin glass. Mother’s
lady-in-waiting, Sheifa, was sitting quietly in an ornate oak rocker, knitting.
Two healers that I did not recognize were standing on the opposite side of the
room speaking softly. All the rooms’ occupants turned their attention to us as
we entered the depressing cavity.

“We
have come to say prayers for the queen. I must bid that ye all leave the area.”
The Friar’s authoritative voice was a sign he meant not to be trifled with.

No
questions were asked, the parties drifted from the room without a fuss. They
all bowed their head toward the friar as they exited the room. I felt rather
impressed with Friar Thespis. Although I had always respected him as a man of
the cloth, it never occurred to me that others feared him as well.

A
few moments passed. The Friar told me he was going to the hallway to be a
lookout while I spoke with my mother. He sternly raised a brow at me, “Please
hurry, Tristen.”

I
assured him I would be quick as he swiftly left the room and silently closed
the door behind him.

I
rushed to the bedside of my mother and pushed back the curtain. She shielded
her eyes with pasty hands making me pull the drape almost shut again as I
peeked my head in only allowing enough light to see her by. The bed was dressed
with a plain sheet and many down pillows surrounded her. I pushed back the hood
of my robe to see her better.

My
mother looked ghastly pale. Her usually gleaming hair was pasted to her neck
with sweat droplets. Her snow white bed-gown was soaked and clung to the sheet
like fresh washed laundry begging to be hung on the line. My mother’s eyes were
dark and sunken into her head; the blues were completely blacked-over with
dilated pupils. The lady’s lips were cracked and bleeding; she looked more like
a monster than my mother.

“W…a…ter…”
she hoarsely cried at me.

I
poured some water and propped her head with pillows to help her drink. Her
breath smelled of garlic and her tongue was black. I felt sick seeing her this
way. I would take her place to stop her hurting. It bothered me to know that
just yesterday she seemed fine and full of life.

After
she drank, her eyes focused on me, “Tristen, my boy?” Her fiery hands touched
my cheeks. She tried to see me and hold my hand, but exhaustion took hold and
her hands fell to her chest.

“Mother,
it is me.” I took one of her hands and clasped it between mine as I brought it
to my heart. Tears tried to overcome my eyes but I would not let them fall. As
devastated as I was, I would not let my mum see me cry.

“Tristen.
Thou must go away from here as quickly as ye can. The devil has turned thy
father mad.” Her slow speech tired her; she paused to gasp for air. “Please
find the dragon and destroy it before it destroys everything. Don’t worry about
me, my son, I love thee dearly. Very shortly I will get away from here too.”

Her
hand relaxed in mine and her lips tried their hardest to present a smile, but
she couldn’t do it. Strength was leaving her body causing her to shrink before
my eyes. It seemed she had held on just long enough to talk to me. The last
words from her mouth before she closed her eyes were, “Ye must stay alive
Tristen! Now go!”

“Mother?”
I didn’t know if she was completely gone or just resting but she blinked her
eyes slightly as if telling me she was ok but too weak. “I love thee, mother. I
will doeth as ye bid.” I wanted to lift her frail body from the bed and take
her with me but I knew I couldn’t take care of her or nurse her back to health.
I stood at the side of the bed feeling an utter defeat, unlike any I had ever
felt before.

A
knock came at the door. I lifted the hood over my face and made my way to
leave. The Friar threw open the door and said, “Let’s go now! I can hear thy
father’s voice.”

We
hurried out of the room and down the back stairway. The friar paused halfway
down the steps to listen. I stopped at the direction of his upheld hand. A few
sets of footsteps thudded across the stone floor. My father was approaching
from the opposite hall. I heard his viscous voice cut the ice cold air of the
castle, “Send men out to find Tristen; he must not leave without seeing me
first, doth ye understand maggot?”

“Aye,
your majesty.” An unfamiliar voice yipped at my father. The footsteps turned
back the way they came.

Ladislas’
footsteps stopped, “What the blazes are ye all standing out here for? Why
aren’t ye attending to my wife like ye should be?” Muffled whispers dragged the
air.

“Friar!”
The footsteps were on the move again, echoing louder as they came closer.
Thespis and I snuck away as quietly as we could. I heard the door to mum’s room
open and slam shut. A deep sense of urgency welled up in me. I felt like
running away as fast as an arrow shot from a cross bow. It would only be a
matter of time before father sent someone after the friar. I glanced at him but
the stone-solid look on his face gave away nothing of his feelings.

We
left through the back and underground entrance that only a few people knew
about. I kept the robe on for safe measure as we made our way to the village. A
hand pressed hard on my shoulder. I turned around to see Patrious’ dark brown
eyes piercing directly into my skull.

“Sir
Tristen, I knoweth thou saw me watching ye from the tavern. Tell me what ye
have found in the castle? Did the king tell ye how to proceed with all these
men who have been awaitin’ to move out of here?” Patrious smelled of beer but
he seemed directly focused on me and wasn’t apparently drunk.

“Patrious…is
it king Patrious?” I paused, waiting for him to answer. I figured if he
expected me to be honest with him then perhaps he would put forth the first
effort.

The
man was clearly uncomfortable at my allegation. He stepped from one foot to the
other for a moment and then looked at Friar Thespis who had stopped close by.
“Let’s take a lonely little walk and then I will talk to ye, sir.”

The
Friar was listening and nodded at us before he turned to keep walking. Patrious
and I headed a slightly different direction, away from the large gathering in
the village square. Since I had no information of the man I was “taking a
lonely little walk” with, I was glad I had my sword with me.

We
walked until we came to a vacant area where a few pine trees were rooted.
Patrious stopped and smiled, revealing some teeth that had probably seen much
better days…when he was about seven years old. “Who told ye that I’m a king,
sir?”

I
smiled back at the tall man, “Methinks that’s not the question ye should be
asking, sir. In fact, for a king to travel this far for a tournament seems
strange. There is something ye either need or want. That is the question ye
should be posing. Bid for what ye want; tell me the reason ye are here.”

Patrious
was clearly uncomfortable. Although I had completely guessed in the dark, I
understood from the way he lowered his head to the ground to kick at rocks that
my speculation had been correct. I felt time wasting away as he determined what
to indulge my ears with. I cleared my throat to get his attention. He raised
his head. The wet look painting red in his eyes told me he was remembering
painful, horrific memories strong enough to tear a man apart inside.

The
next thirty minutes ticked away as the ruler of a powerful place told me
stories of terror, fright, and oddly, inspiration. Patrious confirmed my fear
that the dragon meant business but was strangely being passive for the time
being. The disguised king declared that the dragon had arrived roughly one week
before the tournament and had decimated the castle and most of its inhabitants
before taking his place in the caves of Montour.

He
went on further saying the dragon had driven away or killed all of the
villagers and town’s people; however, the castle was unharmed at the time.
Patrious had escaped with many of his soldiers but had lost the queen and his
two daughters along the way. He hadn’t seen what happened to them, nor knew if
they were alive, but he hoped.

He
told me that he and his men knew of the tournament at King Dow’s palace and
felt it would be a great place to find soldiers to help them recover their home
and slay the beast.

“Sir
Tristen, I’m asking…well, begging for thy help to get my palace back in order.
If ye help me I will be indebted to ye for my entire life. That dragon, as ye
saw at the tournament, is absolutely terrifying. He attacked one of our camps
on our way here. He killed half of my men and wounded so many who remained. I
myself received this.” He carefully lifted his surcoat, chainmail and linen undershirt
to expose the side of his slightly fat-padded ribs. Across his body was a long,
deep scratch that clearly came from a claw of some kind. I gasped at the sight.
It was still red and slightly oozing. He winced as he straightened his
clothing.