Knight Fall (The Champion Chronicles Book 1) (26 page)

Marik turned his horse towards the darkness that was the mountain peaks to the south.  "Now we must ride.  Are you strong enough?"

Brace nodded.  "It does not matter.  We will ride."

With much of the night still ahead of them, they rode towards the looming White Mountains and the wide gap between two of the tallest peaks.

***

The king sat upon his great white horse at the head of the column of knights.  The knights had mustered outside the main city gate, allowing thousands of the city’s citizens to see them off.  Their armor was buffed, polished, and shimmered brightly in the bright morning sun.  Squires had worked diligently to prepare their knights for the ride, most of them getting nothing more than a wink of sleep before they were woken to help with the morning preparations.  Most of the older squires were on horses themselves, clad in a variety of chain and leather armor.  They would be all ready to fight, if called upon.  But they would hang back at the supply wagons, guarding against attacks from behind.  It would only be if things went bad that they would see any action.

King Thorndale turned towards the city and the men, women, and children who were cheering on their beloved leader.  He lifted the face guard of his helmet to show his wide smile.  His mouth moved, saying some great words of wisdom and encouragement, but only those nearby could hear him.  The cheering erupted into an explosion as he waved his hand and pointed forward, directing his knights to proceed towards battle.  The knights, their own face guards lifted, did not smile like their king.  Their serious, somber expressions reflected their duty towards their kingdom.  Next came the squires, who could not hold back their excitement.  None of them had ever been in battle before, so they did not comprehend the death and destruction that was yet to come.  They waved at their family, at their friends, or at anyone who would wave back, smiles plastered on their faces.  In their minds they could only see themselves as heroes going off to protect the kingdom.  They did not, nor could they, think about the true cruelty of war.  Following them were the farmers and merchants who had answered the call to war.  Some carried swords.  Some carried axes.  Many carried nothing, waiting for someone else to fall so they could grab a weapon to fight.  They marched grimly, unlike the squires.  They knew about life and death and knew that death was always just around the corner.  But they didn’t fight for honor or glory, they fought to defend their kingdom from the evil to the north.  And so they marched, many believing that they would never see home again.

Princess Elissa watched from the top of one of the tall watchtowers that guarded the northeast corner of the city.  Tears streamed down her face.  She had no idea about battle or the devastation that truly came from it, but she knew about death.  She knew that some, if not many, of the knights would not come back.  The tears fell for her father, whom she loved.  In the pit of her stomach, she had a bad feeling that the vision that she saw now of her father would be the last one that she would see.  But as much as she was sad and distressed, she was proud of him.  He was a good king and the rousing sendoff reminded her that the kingdom loved him, too.

Melanie was there, standing next to her, holding her hand firmly.  Percy, head of the Royal Guard was there as well.  Conner stood behind them, still not comfortable in his place.  He watched the Royal Guard carefully and could see the obvious look of envy on the man’s face.  He was as capable as any other soldier in the kingdom, but his duty was not to fight the battles in the field, but to defend the castle and the royal family.  Maybe it was relief, Conner wondered, that he didn’t have to go to war.  It was beyond anyone’s memory since the last time that fighting had come to the city and the Royal Guard had taken up arms in the kingdom’s defense.  There were four other Royal Guard that stood back behind them all, their swords at their sides, ready to jump to the defense of the princess.  Conner then realized that he did not have his sword on.  He was wearing his comfortable white tunic cinched at his waist by a thick leather belt.  A belt that should be holding sword.  He vowed that this would be the last time that he would be seen unarmed.  He had a duty to be prepared for anything.

Despite the tears that flowed down her cheeks, the princess stood stoically.  She watched the procession, listening to the cheers.  She did not move until the last of the wagons had departed, following the well-worn two-track path towards Lord Neffenmark’s castle.

“Your highness,” Percy said softly.  “We should return to the castle.  Lord Martin has already arrived and is requesting that you stay on the castle grounds.  For your safety, of course.”

Elissa did not respond.  She continued to look out the open window, continuing to watch the procession.  The mounted knights led by the king were now out of view, having followed the path into the woods.  Only the trailing line of supply wagons and peasant fighters were still in sight.  She watched as one-by-one, first the wagons, and then the everyday citizens of the kingdom, disappeared into the coverage of the woods.

When the wagons were no longer in view and the din of the city hand begun to settle down, Melanie released Elissa’s hand and said to her, “Princess, it is time to go.”

But she did not move.  Her eyes were dry, but her cheeks were stained from her tears.

Conner let a few more moments passed before he stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder.  Instantly, Elissa burst out into more tears, spun, and buried her head into Conner’s shoulder.  He held her tight, holding her close, his own eyes closed.

The sight of Conner and the princess in such an embrace was disconcerting to Percy on many levels.  Not only did he not like the idea of a member of the royal family being so close to someone not of highborn birth, he simply did not like Conner personally.  He cleared his throat, but to no avail.  A few seconds became a few uncomfortable minutes before Elissa gently released herself from the embrace.

Percy motioned towards the ladder that led down to the lower level of the tower.  “Princess, shall we?”

Two of the royal guard started down the ladder, followed by Princess Elissa, then Melanie.  When Conner tried to follow, Percy put a hand on Conner’s shoulder and gave him a slow shake of his head.  He held his hand on the shoulder until the other two guardsmen were down the ladder and the princess was clearly out of earshot.

“Now that the king is gone, it is time for you to leave and return to your place,” Percy whispered to Conner.

Conner pushed Percy’s hand off his shoulder.  He knew his place, and knew it to be next to the princess.  He was not going to let anyone get in his way anymore.  Percy put his hand directly on Conner’s chest.  The Royal Guard was older and bigger and in a closed quarter fist fight, would probably turn Conner into a pile of broken bones.  Knowing that it was not the time or place, Conner let the head of the Royal Guard descend the ladder first.

By the time Conner got down the ladder and jogged down the winding stairs to the ground level, the princess’ carriage had already left, escorted by the Royal Guard.  Percy was on his horse, trotting to catch up to the carriage.  Since he had left the castle in the carriage, Conner’s only recourse was to walk back to the castle.  The walk did little to soothe his bruised ego and simply made him angrier with each step.

It was because he was seething in anger and was not paying attention to his surroundings that he stumbled over an old man.  The man fell to his knees, spilling an armful of bread.  Conner stumbled himself and it was all he could do to not fall onto the top of the old man.

Instantly all anger left him when he realized his clumsiness.  "I am so sorry!" Conner repeated several times, helping the old man back to his feet.

The old man grumbled some words to himself while he brushed dirt off his clothes.  But then he looked up and saw who was helping him back to his feet.  "It is you!" the old man said.  He held onto Conner’s hand, and gripped it tightly.

"Huh?" was all Conner could say.

A small crowd had gathered around them to help pick up the spilled bread.

"It is you, is it not?" the old man asked.  "At the Summer Festival, the one who beat up on the squire?  With broomsticks!"

Conner’s face turned beet red.  Although he had felt so good about what he had done to Hollin, the more time that passed the more he regretted it.  In the beginning the recognition of what he had done was wonderful.  He liked the attention.  But now, it was embarrassing.  His goal was not to impress anyone other than Princess Elissa, but it seems that everyone else was impressed with him.

"It is Conner, the Princess’ Champion!" someone shouted from behind him.  Cheers erupted from the small crowd.  In moments, the small crowd became large.

Conner looked around, unable to move, unable to think of what to say.

"You inspire us all!" the old man said.  "With our brothers and sons going to war, knowing that you are here to protect the princess..."  He could not finish his sentence as the crush of people had pushed him away.

Everyone had a question for him, but he could not answer even one of them.  There was pushing and shoving as everyone wanted to touch him.  He looked around for an escape, but he was surrounded.  There was no getting away.  He did not even know what they wanted.  They asked questions, but they did not wait to listen for an answer.  Many seemed like all they wanted to do was to touch him and as soon as they got close enough, they just stood there, unable to speak.

Finally he put up his hands and yelled, "Stop!"

But they did not listen.  They kept pushing on him and he had to scream at the top of his lungs, "Stop!"

This time they did.  They backed away at his anger.  "Listen, I am just like you."  He looked around, making eye contact with those closest to him.  "I am nothing special."

The old man, the one he had run over, pushed his way back to Conner, side.  "No," he said.  "You are special.  We saw what you did.  We’ve all seen knights fight and joust.  None of us has seen that before.  You are better than any knight!"

The crowd let out a roar of approval.

"Hold on," Conner said.  "I am not better than a knight.  The one I defeated, he was just a squire."

The old man shook his head.  "You did something great.  Something that every one of us has dreamed of doing.  But none of us could ever do.  You showed us that you don’t have to have noble blood to do great things!"

The crowd rose up again in cheers and shouting.

As Conner was enjoying the attention and cheering, more shouts came from the back of the crowd.   Conner could see the crowd start to part as the shouting got louder.  He could see the helmed heads of Royal Guardsmen as they pushed their way through the crowd with Percy in the lead.

"What is all this commotion?" Percy shouted.  "Break this up at once!  Go on with your business!"

The crowd noise died down, but no one moved.  In fact, most of the crowd turned to Conner, as if he could, or would, do something.  There were only five guardsmen and maybe a hundred in the crowd.  Even though they had weapons, they were heavily outnumbered.  But they were not an angry crowd, just excited at seeing Conner walking among them.

Percy approached Conner and held out an arm that pointed back through the crowd where the carriage was now standing.  "Let’s go," he commanded. 

Conner followed, to the dismay of the crowd.  As he reached the carriage, he looked back at the crowd and they were all watching him.

Princess Elissa, from behind the curtained door said, "I made them come back for you."

Percy gave Conner nudge, but Conner didn’t move.   Instead, Conner said, "I’ll walk back."

"Move!" Percy demanded, putting a hand on Conner’s back and gave a harder push. 

Conner shoved his hand off his back and gave the royal guardsman a stern look.  "No," Conner said.

Princess Elissa pushed her head through the curtains that covered the opening and the murmuring of the crowd grew.  She looked around for only the briefest of moments before she climbed out of the carriage.  Percy started to protest but she raised a hand to him and gave her own look back to him.

"I will walk back, too," she said.

"Your highness," Percy protested.  "It is my duty to protect you and escort you safely throughout the city."

Conner, a wide smile on his face, turned to the crowd, which now was in the many hundreds and shouted as loud as he could, "Princess Elissa is in need of an escort back to the castle!  Who shall join me!"

The crowd responded with a resounding cheer.

Percy stepped forward and grabbed the princess by the arm. "Princess Elissa.  This is not wise.  We are at war."

Elissa pulled her arm out of Percy’s grip and replied back with a scowl, "These are my people.  I will walk with them."

Leaving Percy and his guard behind, the Princess and Conner were escorted back to the castle by a crowd that only continued to grow.

Chapter Twenty-One

Conner stood atop the castle’s highest tower.  The sun had long since fallen below the western horizon behind him, casting darkness across the kingdom.  The moon was nowhere to be seen, nor were there any signs of stars.  The clouds had moved in soon after the king led his army northward, and they had yet to leave, making the days dreary, and the nights dark.  Lights from lamps, torches, and outdoor fires dotted the darkness.  There were many of these pinpoints of light, but not enough to make a dent in the night.  He felt exposed atop the tower, but he knew that no one could see him.  In the light of the day, unless the sun was directly behind him, his dark outline against the blue sky would be visible.  But in the dark of night, he knew that he was unseen.

He shivered in a sudden cool breeze.  It had been three days since the king had left to lead the army north.  He knew that messengers had come and gone, but there was no news.  It was a fairly easy march, but it was a slow one.  The knights could have ridden ahead, but then they would have outridden their support.  The city had been subdued for a day, but then it slowly crept back into its daily routine.  But the castle was empty.  There were servants to keep the castle running, but the halls eerily silent.  He spent his days training with the Royal Guard.  He would have like to have spent some time alone with Elissa, but Percy's men took their role seriously and stayed close to her.  Elissa was sound asleep three floors below his feet.  He knew he could be there in only ten heartbeats.  He knew because he counted.  But he needed this time alone, to feel the cool summer breeze on his face.  He had forgot how wonderful it felt.  He had spent too many days and nights in the castle.

The creak of a door and the flash of light caused Conner to break from his stare upon the city.  A shadowed figured appeared in the doorway that led to the stairwell.

"It is chilly up here," the man said.

Conner recognized the voice and cringed.  It was Percy.  "It is," Conner replied, not sure how to take the intrusion.

Percy leaned against a chest high battlement, looking upon the city himself.  "Standing watch over the city?"

Conner wasn’t sure if the question was genuine, or if Percy was trying to make fun of him.  After a moment, Conner answered, "No."

"I come up here on occasion to clear the head," Percy said.  "I like to look upon the city and watch it move."

"Move?" Connect asked.

Percy smiled.  Conner could barely see the man’s face in the darkness, but he could see just enough to catch a glint of white teeth.  And it was the first time he had ever seen him smile.  "The city moves.  It lives and breathes.  You really can’t see it at night, but during the day, you really can see it.  The people move.  They move from one part of the city to the next, doing their jobs, or whatever errands they have for the day.  Sometimes I recognize someone, but usually it is just faceless bodies, moving around.  They live.  They work.  They die."

Conner waited for more, but Percy seemed to have run out of words.  He turned back to the city, to see if he could see it move.  But he could only see darkness and small specks of light here and there.

"I saw you come up," Percy confessed after some time.

Conner again waited for the head guardsman to continue, but he stayed silent, his eyes cast out upon the city.

"You’ve been training with my guard," Percy said after a few more minutes passed.  "At least those that are left."

"Yes," Conner said cautiously.  He prepared his defenses, as he felt an offensive attack coming.

"It is good," Percy replied, eyes still focused straight out towards the city.  "You push them."

"Master Goshin taught me," Conner said.

"He taught you well.  Even the guardsmen who don’t train with you see you.  They see how you train and push yourself.  They see the results."  He finally turned to Conner and locked eyes.  "They saw the results.  They all saw what you did to Hollin and saw what it would be like to be you.  They want to be able to stand up to the knights."

"Stand up to the knights?  Aren’t we all Karmons?  Aren’t we all fighting the Thellians?"

Percy broke eye contact and looked back towards the city.  "We are, I guess.  But it is the knights that lead the army.  My Royal Guard who remain here feel left out.  They feel some shame in being left here."

"Some must stay and defend the city," Conner replied.  "The city and the castle cannot be left unprotected."

"I know that and you know that.  But where would you rather be?  Here?  Or marching north with the king?"

Conner knew he did not need to answer, but he did anyway.  "We all have our duty.  We cannot be ashamed in that."

"No, but how will you feel when the army comes back victorious, and you know that you had nothing to do with it, other than babysitting the city."

"I would be out there, you know," Conner said.  "If I hadn’t come across the Princess in the woods.  I would have answered the call to arms.  I would be marching north right now, following the king.  But instead, I am stuck here, as you are.  But we still have our duties."

"I have duties," Percy countered.  "I have men to manage.  Patrols to coordinate.  Posts to man.  Training to schedule.  What precisely are your duties?  Protect the princess?  It is my men who stand guard outside her apartment.  When was the last time you stood the night watch at her door?"

Conner opened his mouth to angrily respond, but Percy lifted a hand and shook his head.  "No, I should not have said those things.  I am sorry.  It is not fair of me to say those things.  It is not you who is at fault.  I am a soldier.  A guard.  I trained for my job, and I earned it through my training.  When I was seven, my father brought me to the castle, and for the next ten years of my life, I trained to be who I am now.  Every day I work and I train, living in a small room with ten other men just like me.  I put on my leather armor, pull my surcoat about me, and walk the halls of the castle, protecting the king and his family from the Thellians and whoever else decides to declare war upon us.  I am not a knight.  I was not born to the right family.  Knights train hard.  But so do we.  They are given their station because of their birth, not because they earned it.  And that is what makes me angry."

"That is why you hate knights?" Conner asked.

"I do not hate them!" Percy retorted.

"It sounds like you do," Conner said.  And then he added, “And me, too."

More silence, followed by a short sigh.  Percy said, "It is not your fault.  You saved the princess and you deserve to be rewarded."

"But not like this," Conner observed.

"I did not say that," Percy replied defensively.

"But you thought it," Conner said.

“I have devoted my life to serving the king.  The knights protect the realm, but it is the guard who protect the king within these walls.  It is my men who stand guard outside the royal apartments day and night.  We walk the halls, man the gates.  And then when it is time to defend the realm, we are left here to sit idly by while the knights lead the army into battle.”

“Many will not return, though," Conner said.

“It is better to die upon the field of battle, than of old age," Percy said.

“I would agree with you, if you have nothing else to live for.”

Percy turned to look over Conner closely.  “You really don’t talk like a farm boy.”

Conner grinned and replied, “Master Goshin taught me more than just how to swing a sword.”

“So where is the old man?  I heard he left a while back with a fully packed mule in tow.”

Conner scanned the sky, looking for the star, but the clouds were too thick to see it.  He ended up pointing in the general direction.  “Out there is a star.  It grows brighter by the day.”

“I have seen it," Percy said.  "On some nights, it seems brighter than the moon.”

“Master Goshin believes it foretells some great event.  He had a bunch of scrolls from some far away land that spoke of this event.  He left to try and figure it out.”

“What does it mean for Karmon?” Percy asked.

“I do not know," Conner replied.  "Master Goshin did not know.  But I think the king is worried about it.”

“The king has more things to be worried about now.  The threat from Thell is real.  This shining star, how much of a threat can it really be?”

They stood in silence for some time.  They watched the darkness, the dance of the lights of the city.  Conner realized that maybe Percy wasn’t so bad after all.  At least now he understood where he was coming from.  And in some ways, the guardsman was no different than himself – an outcast from the aristocracy establishment.  They weren’t better men than him, or even Percy.  They weren’t necessarily better fighters.  He had seen Percy train, and he was equal to just about every knight he had gone up against.  But he felt inferior.  Sometimes it was because of what others did to him, but in reality, it was more than that.  He felt inferior because in the eyes of most, he was.  Because of his bloodline.  He didn’t have a mother or a father of noble blood.  He was born and raised on a farm, a peasant in servitude to his liege, the king.  He was on the lowest rung of the ladder.  The most important rung, because without the farms and the peasants to work the land, there would be no food to feed the residents of the city.  But no one ever seemed to recognize that fact.

He had heard that Percy's father was a merchant.  And that would make Percy one rung up from him.  Far from being a noble, but still far above the lowly peasant that Conner was.  He thought it ironic that Percy would treat him with disdain because of who he was, and yet, hated the way the knights treated him, because of his blood.  It confused Conner.  Even after long nights of talking with Master Goshin about it, it still confused him.  He lived among them and he could not see them any differently than him.  At first, many of those he came across could read and write, while he could not.  But Master Goshin had taught him well, and although he couldn’t read as fast as others, or write as well as others, he could read from nearly any one of the books that filled the king’s library.  Many times others talked differently than him.  Used words that he had never heard of, but words that were just more fancy versions of words that he used.  When he was cleaned up and dressed in his fancy silk tunic, he looked no different than they did.  And yet, they treated him differently because of his blood.  He had seen his blood, and he had seen the blood of knights.  Both were red.

Percy stiffened.  The sudden movement caught Conner’s eye and broke him from his thoughts.  “The gates have opened.”

Conner squinted into the darkness, searching for the gates, much less the city wall.  “I do not see…”

“There are lights outside the gates to light the way up to the wall.  We have doubled the fires to ensure that no one could sneak upon the walls without being seen.”  He pointed towards where the gate was.  “There is a large light there now, one that was not there a moment ago.  I believe it is because the gates were opened.”

Conner looked harder, but he could still not see what Percy was talking about.  A moment later, a trumpet blared twice. 

"Someone of importance has arrived at the gate," Percy declared.  "It is very unusual that the gates would be allowed to be open at this time of night.  It better be someone important, or I will be looking for new gate guards.  Come.  We will meet them at the castle gate.  I want to personally see who it is before we open the castle to them."

"Me?" Conner was surprised at the offer.

Percy gave the young man a long look.  "You are not a knight. You are not a guardsman.  I can say you are a soldier, though.  You handle a sword better than I’ve seen in my lifetime.  At worst, you can take the first charge."  With a flash of a smile, Percy turned and strode quickly towards the door that led to the stairs.

They heard the thunder of the horses long before they saw them.  There were four of them. Two were clearly guards, their surcoats billowing in the wind as they drove their horses to the gate.  The identity of the two others were hidden in the darkness.  Conner stood, a single sword strapped to his side, but his hand resting on the end of the handle.  Percy had called other guards; he stood in front of three others.  His sword was drawn, but tip pointed down into the ground in as unthreatening manner as he could muster.  If it were someone of political importance, he didn’t want to insult them.  But he also wanted to be prudent.

Three of the riders dismounted.  Sensing no danger, Percy gave the signal to raise the portcullis.  With the castle now open, the three who were walking led their horses through the gate, while one remained atop his horse.

"Captain," one of Percy’s gate guards said in greeting.

"Varen," Percy replied with a nod.  He wished others would address him with his title rather than his name, like his men did.  It was minor in the scheme of things, but he always felt that the knights slighted him and the concept of the Royal Guard by not addressing him and lieutenants by rank.

Varen turned to the cloaked walker to allow him to address Percy himself.  With a quick flash, he pulled his hood off.

"Marik!" Conner shouted, stepping forward.

Marik gave Conner a quick smile in greeting, but he addressed Percy.  "Sir Brace is injured and will need to be attended to."