The Knight Read online

  “What is it, sir?” Erasmus asked, noting the knight’s expression.

  “Why did my father not come, Erasmus? Why does he hate me so much?”

  “I doubt that is the case, Sir Rhys. Perhaps when we get to Kenilwurt, you will know what kept him away.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Rhys blinked away the tears that threatened to form in his eyes, willing himself not to cry over things he had no control over. He had fought this same battle for his father’s acceptance his entire life and it seemed that even after achieving such a high honor as being knighted by the king, his father’s satisfaction was not attainable.

  When they reached the bridge to the town of Caerleon, the three turned to take one last look at the magnificent castle. Its sand-colored stone walls shone golden in the light of the rising sun and the dew glistened magically on the lush, verdant hillside. The woods around the plain were just waking up and the sounds of birds were audible everywhere. Rhys noticed a small herd of deer grazing at the edge of the forest and paused to watch them. They looked at ease. Then he noticed as the stag raised his head suddenly and sniffed the air, then lowered his great horns again to the ground to feed.

  It must have heard something, but found nothing on the wind to alarm him, Rhys thought.

  And then it happened. Rhys hardly had the chance to bring Richard and Erasmus’ attention to the attack before it was over and the stag had been dragged behind the dark tree line. A huge, black creature had erupted from the forest and pounced on the stag’s back, bringing the deer down under its weight alone. Then, with one dip of its jaws to the neck, the animal was dead and bleeding and being dragged away and out of sight.

  “What was that?” Rhys murmured, half to himself.

  “I didn’t see it,” Richard replied.

  “Neither I,” Erasmus chimed in.

  “It was no animal that I have ever seen before. Come on. Let’s get going.”

  Chapter Nine

  Arcadia

  “He knows, your Majesty,” the cloaked being said simply to his king.

  “What do you mean he knows, Drow?”

  The cloaked man was suddenly angry at the derogatory title and threw the hood back from his head to face Oberon.

  “My name is Erandur, King Oberon. It may suit you to remember that I, too, am a king of my people.”

  “Indeed, friend. Forgive me. These are such difficult times that we are facing and it just hurts more to think that the humans may have discovered our plans.”

  “Indeed.”

  “How much does the boy know?”

  “It is difficult to tell, but he has been doing a lot of travelling lately. Arthur recently knighted him at Camelot and fostered him as his surrogate among the Sons. I think they intend to gather them.”

  Oberon’s face became red with anger. He threw the cup he held in his hand across the hall and shouted at the attendants.

  “Bring the Advisors’ Council in to me immediately,” he boomed across the throne room.

  He was confused and furious. The visions he was having recently had left him feeling suspicious and unsure, but he was certain that if their uprising against Eon and Mordred’s overthrow of Arthur were not successful, it would mean certain doom for him and his people as well as all his forces and the Dark Princes on Earth. The Advisors came walking into the room and took their respective seats in front of the high throne.

  “I have seen what Mab sees in her dreams,” he started. “I do not like it.”

  “What does she dream of, Sire?” asked the First.

  “You know that I cannot see everything as she does, only parts of it,” he cautioned, “but I am sure that she has dreamt of the next Coming.”

  The Advisors gasped in unison, exchanging worried glances and muttering amongst themselves.

  “Silence!” Oberon shouted and a hurried hush fell over the five seated before him. “It is known that the Coming must happen occasionally if life in Eon is to continue; it is we who have made it so. We, of Arcadia, have concerned ourselves with it less and less over the centuries; however, I sense from her emotions that there is more to it this time.”

  The five remained quiet out of fear of further reprimand from their King, but their worry and discontent was tangible within the room and written on all their faces. Oberon shuffled uneasily on his throne and beckoned to a nearby steward to fill his cup. He drank deeply from it and gestured that cups be brought for the Advisors.

  After the brief refreshment, he resumed his oration.

  “My Advisors, the Coming does not bother me, but is seems that Mab knows something of the war that is approaching. She now suspects that they will engage attacking forces in Eon within the year. It will not be an easy fight for us; she is going to be well prepared.”

  Finally, the First spoke. He was the governor of the council and the king’s chief advisor in all matters.

  “The vision may be correct, Sire,” he said and the king looked at him with intent. “The Second has reported a myriad of goings on throughout the four realms and the increased reports over the last weeks have been disgruntling.”

  “Indeed so,” the Second chimed in.

  The Second was in charge of news gathering throughout the four worlds and he often knew of the happenings in Eon and on Earth before anyone else did. However, he did not possess the wit to always deduce what the news meant; that was the job of the twins, the Third and Forth advisors. They were the wizards who had accompanied Murganth into Eon to start the war and had failed. Oberon had secretly kept them alive and had taken them to Arcadia with him as a line of defense against Mab’s magic. They were gifted seers, talented at divination, sign reading and astrology.

  The Second continued his report.

  “My spies tell me that in Avalon, Morgana has named the next Three Sisters and that preparations have begun to begin the Thirteenth Age of the Sisterhood. On Earth, it is discovered that the line of the Dumnonian Dragon is alive in the Midlands and have become very powerful, boasting many brave men. The youngest has left Avalon and now rides beneath the standard of Gascogne, his mother’s house, to gather the Sons of the Round Table in Arthur’s name. His cousin, Richard, the true heir of Dumnonia, rides with him. And now we know that Eon prepares for invasion.”

  “This is not coincidence,” Oberon said. “It cannot be by chance that two sons of the House of Dumnonia are abroad in England at Arthur’s will at the same time that dreams of the Dragon Prince spread among Eon’s royalty.”

  “I think not sir; it is too convenient,” the First replied.

  “How could Anlawwd Wledig’s line have survived?” Oberon asked. “He bore no sons and his kingdom fell to the hands of Cunedda. The Dragon is dead!”

  “Aye, the Dragon’s line is dead,” the First agreed. “What say you, Twins?”

  The Third and the Forth shook their heads and clucked their tongues. As if they were one person, they simultaneously stood from their seats and as they stood there, they began to sway in circles. Oberon leaned forward on his ivory throne and watched with eager eyes. The other three Advisors stood up and stepped aside to get out of the way of the two wizards; a lesson they had learned many years ago. The swaying continued and became accompanied by mumbling and then outright chanting.

  The Fifth spoke up at that time and asked the stewards to remove the five chairs immediately. They had barely removed the last one before the Twins grabbed hold of each other and fell to the floor, still in their trance. Silence reigned over the throne room for several minutes until the two showed signs of revival. The First and the Second helped them to their feet, while the Fifth ordered the stewards to return the chairs to the center of the room. They all took their seats.

  “The news is not good, Sire,” the Twins said in eerie unison. “We must summon Anebos immediately.”

  The king did not hesitate.

  “Summon the cambion to me now!” Oberon bellowed, sending several pages running from the room to do his bidding. “First and Second,
you must find out how this is possible. If the house of Draig had no heir, how can the line live?”

  “Yes, your Majesty.”

  ***

  Liverpool, England

  When Derrick received the parchment with the crest of King Arthur clearly imprinted into the sealing wax, his eyes filled with tears of gratitude. He had been praying to the gods for a suitable reason to leave home for months. His uncles had taken over the running of the estate and the managing of the land since his father’s departure and there had been a growing resentment between them for a while.

  He took their decisive actions and their exclusion of him from the business as an indication that they truly believed his father would not return from the mainland. That Arthur’s campaign against the Romans would end in failure. As a knight of Arthur’s court, he considered that high treason. He would rather leave Liverpool and let his uncles continue to dig their own deep graves. When his father returned and saw the steps they had taken against him, it would be obvious that they had thought ill of the king and his plans and they would be brought to trial for it.

  Derrick said nothing to anyone after he had read the letter; neither did he show it to anyone. He packed his bags, readied his horse and rode from the castle in the dead of night. He had decided to ride east, then south if needed until he met up with Rhys and the others instead of spending one more day on the estate.

  Why should I care? he asked himself as he kicked his horse into a full gallop down the road toward Manchester. They probably will all celebrate when they find me missing in the morning.

  He was so lost in his thoughts that he never noticed the many pairs of glowing yellow eyes that watched from the surrounding forests as he rode the horse hard to the east.

  Earth

  Just outside of Thoks’ Bury, they stopped along the banks of the river and took rooms at a roadside inn. They bathed and rested and took a light meal of roasted lamb with bread and cheese in the main hall of the inn. The innkeeper, a merry fat lady called Maeve poured ale into their mugs silently and left them alone together.

  “We are more than halfway there now,” Rhys said, smiling broadly.

  “Yes, we are,” Erasmus agreed. “We have made excellent time and the wagons have been keeping up with us the entire journey. Tomorrow’s ride will also be easy; there is no rain coming for a few more days at least.”

  “Yes,” Richard said. “Even though I know the men would have already taken turns to eat their supper, I am sure they would agree with stopping to water and rest the animals and themselves here before continuing for the night.”

  “A wise suggestion, Richard,” Erasmus said, nodding his head approvingly.

  A short while after finishing his meal, he walked out into the road and waited until he saw the cart come into sight. He signaled to the men to pull over to the side of the road.

  “Let the horses and cows have a drink of water before you continue. It is close to Kenilwurt now so rest, then push on ahead. Sir Rhys, Sir Richard and I will continue the journey.”

  “Yes, sir!” they replied in chorus, happy to have the permission to rest for a while.

  Once their men had settled at the inn, the three readied themselves to ride out again. In the stables, they saddled their own horses and mounted them. Rhys was eager to be back on the road.

  “Let’s be on our way then, Erasmus. I am suddenly anxious to get home.”

  Rhys kicked Emrys lightly on his sides and the horse erupted into a bright gallop up the road. Erasmus laughed and kicked his own horse into a fierce gallop to catch up with him. They rode steadily, but not as hard as before and the green countryside rolled past them quickly. The evening sun had just started to descend over the horizon. They had traveled for most of the afternoon, stopping only to water the horses at a brook and allow them to graze on the green grass by the river bank.

  They slowed to a walk just as the outskirts of Brum’s Grove appeared. At the crossroads outside of the village, they took the eastern road toward Worwick. Rhys started to get visibly anxious at that point. Richard just complained about being unable to wait any longer for some of Irelli’s cooking. Home was less than an hour’s ride away and Erasmus noticed Rhys’ troubled demeanor.

  “Sundown is approaching and we will not make it to your home before nightfall. Your grandmother will not receive you in the dark.”

  “You are right, Erasmus. Shall we stop at the inn?”

  “Yes, sir. I have made arrangements for us at Kenilwurt Cross to bathe and have some supper and rooms to rest.”

  “Excellent! Somehow, I am quite grateful for the reprieve. I do not feel ready to see Kenilwurt Hall just yet,” Rhys replied.

  Richard grumbled and made faces. He was not looking forward to another night of inn food and stiff mattresses.

  “I understand, Rhys. It has been over two years since you have been home. You must fear that everything and everyone has changed.”

  “I do, sir.”

  “Then a familiar place and some friendly faces will surely help to ease you into it!”

  “Don’t puff up like that, Richard,” Rhys said, slapping him on the shoulders. “If ever I could compare another’s cooking and hospitality to my grandmother’s, then it would surely be Anika. You will have nothing to worry about at The Cross.”

  They rode into the yard of the small inn a short while later. The owner and his wife stood in the yard awaiting their arrival. They were tenants of Anlawdd and Rhys knew them well. He slid down from his horse and ran to hug the woman and shook the man’s hand vigorously.

  “Welcome home, Master Rhys. It is truly great to see you here again,” Gregor said.

  “I am happy to be here, Gregor; very happy indeed.”

  Gregor’s wife, Anika, led the men into a room where two tubs steamed with hot, soapy water. Piles of white bath sheets lay on a table nearby.

  “Give me your riding clothes so that I may clean them before you are ready to leave.”

  “Thank you, Anika.”

  They handed the cloaks and boots to her and she left the room, closing the door silently behind her. The two men sat soaking the dirt of the road off their bodies in silence for a long time before Erasmus finally cleared his throat.

  “Yes, Erasmus?”

  “Sir?”

  “You wish to say something?”

  “I am quite curious to know which of Morgana’s gifts you will give to each of your sisters?”

  “I have thought only briefly about it, but some decisions should be made on the first impulse.”

  “Yes, this is true.”

  “However, you will have to wait until I present them tomorrow.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  When they had bathed and dressed, they went back out into the yard to find that the horses were eating oats and the stable boy was brushing the dirt from them. Anika clucked at them to come in and eat; it was already dark and the dinner was getting cold. When they had eaten, they retired to their rooms and fell dead asleep upon the soft straw mattresses. In the yard, their horses whinnied with glee at the prospect of a long rest for the night.

  Chapter Ten

  None of them knew what the time could have been when they heard the roars of the charging beasts approaching the inn from across the fields.

  All three had leaped from their beds, dressing quickly in bare armor and drawing their swords as the first of the arrows flew toward the building. Soon there was the crackle of flames coming from the yard and they could hear a woman screaming. The men were already running around trying to put out the fires.

  “Get up! Get up! Fill the buckets and pass them down the lines,” they shouted.

  As soon as the patches of fire were put out, the men had to run for cover. Another barrage of arrows fell on the building. Rhys couldn’t believe his eyes. He looked out the window and over the field to see the same strange black beast that had killed the stag at Camelot, but this time he had a rider. It was the dark cloaked man.

  “Set
tle in against the archers,” Rhys called down to the residents who had gathered in the yard.

  They had no defense against arrows; in fact, they had no defense at all. Two knights and a valet against what looked like a forty-soldier army. The only thing Rhys could think of was evacuating everyone to the forest and deserting the inn.

  “Come with me,” Erasmus suddenly said to them both.

  They went down the stairs to the kitchen where Anika stood pacing the floor, wringing her hands.

  “Who are these people? Why are they trying to kill us?”

  “We don’t know, Anika, but we do not intend for anyone to die tonight. Get your husband.”

  When Gregor arrived in the kitchen, Erasmus turned to the boys.

  “Go with Anika and get all the women and children out of the building and into the woods before the soldiers get any closer, then come back here to me.”

  “Yes, Erasmus,” they replied in unison.

  “Gregor, get every able-bodied man and boy in here right away. I need them to bring thick stable rope, clay jugs and bottles and all the lamp oil, hoof oil, black tar and lantern fuel that they can find.”

  “Right away!”

  When the men brought in the supplies, Erasmus quickly showed some of them how to prepare the containers, the fuel, the wicks and the flints to build and operate the makeshift bombs he was constructing. When the process was complete, they carried them up to the catwalk above the yard walls, lined up and waited.

  When Rhys and Richard returned, Erasmus gave them each three of the flammable bottles and sent them to a post along the inside of the wall. Crouched down beside the men and boys of Anika and Gregor’s inn, they waited for the soldiers to advance.

  It wasn’t long before the creature on top of the big black beast shouted the command and when he did, everyone assigned to Erasmus’ first wave struck their flints and lit the fuse on their first bottle. They counted to ten, then stood and threw the missiles as far as they could into the field. When they hit the ground, a line of burning soldiers were screaming and writhing in the illumination from the fires that broke out everywhere.