The Forest of Adventures (#1 of The Knight Trilogy) (20 page)

Vivian lent in and whispered,
“He’s requesting his hard armour to be removed. In a match that’s
going on as long as this there’s a serious danger of suffocation.
Both men will have to agree to it because one can’t it take off
without the other doing so.”

I nodded, showing that I
understood, but the thought of Blake’s protective shell being
removed caused a peak in my anxiety level.

“So they’ll be unprotected but
still fighting like that?”

The sound of metal on metal as
weapon hit armour was still ringing in my ears and with horror I
understood that was about to stop. Now it would be weapon on flesh,
a much softer, more brutal sound.

“No, their pages will bring out
their hauberks; their chain mail.” She placed a hand on my knee,
“Don’t worry Mina, it’s a good thing. Blake prefers it to the
heaviness of the hard armour. It’ll put him at an advantage.” Her
attempt to comfort me fell short.

The change in dressing took
over an hour and gave everybody a welcome relief and I was pleased
at least that Blake was getting some rest. The men returned to the
field. I’d hoped that without the surety of their armour that the
fight would be less violent but within minutes it was as if they’d
never left the field at all. As I watched on horrified, I began to
understand that they were locked into some deeply cosmic battle; in
an act of primal survival. No part of me believed that either of
them would call for mercy. One of them was going to die out
there.

The warmth of the midday was
intense and shone down as the two knights were still held in their
fearsome battle; the brutality of the two men was at once both
repulsive and riveting. They were godlike, seeming to have no human
need for rest. No one stopped for lunch.

By mid-afternoon the sun was
being replaced with brooding thunderous clouds. Both men had had
various parts of his mail hacked away and the blades of grass in
the field were now laced with their blood. They’d fought all day,
running and colliding together time after time with the ferocity of
scrapping lions.

Only when thin trails of blood
snaked their way down from under the helmets of both men where
their sweat had turned to blood, did they respond for calls to stop
and refresh.

By late afternoon, a faint
drizzle of rain began to fall, causing the already churned ground
to become dangerously muddy and making it difficult for the
previously agile men to avoid each other’s blows. The mud caused
them to slip and make sudden, clumsy hits and within minutes of
returning to the field, Blake had slipped into the full swing of
the Dark Knight’s mace which came down with such a force that it
caused Blake’s shield to shatter and his chest to become vulnerable
to the trajectory of the mace.

Blake crumpled hard to the
ground. Gasping for air, he fought with his helm, pulling it off
and throwing it aside into the mud. His blood sparkled against the
chainmail mitten as he clasped at the wound. My entire focus was
glued onto the drops of his blood that made their way down into the
mud.

As Blake stumbled to get to his
feet, the Dark Knight wielded his mace high in the air and took aim
to smash into Blake’s beautiful, unprotected head. It would be the
fatal blow that would win him the field.

I sprang from my seat, standing
horror struck as Blake fell to the floor and rolled himself out of
the way of the oncoming mace. It landed deep into the softened
ground, sending up a spray of mud. Blake was now positioned behind
the Black Knight and he found his feet, turning the mud to his
advantage. As he pulled himself up, he planted his dagger into the
back of the Black Knight’s knee, causing the knight to fall. Blake
rooted himself in the mud and raised his sword.

“Call it! Call it! Call
gramercy! Call mercy for heaven’s sake!” Blake’s roar could be
heard clearly across the field.

The Dark Knight’s response was
to reach for his dagger and make a dangerous plunge backwards. In
return, Blake brought down his sword, planting it deep within the
back of the knight’s neck.

The knight fell and everybody
knew instantly that the blow had been fatal. Blake had finished the
battle and the field was his.

The crowd greeted the finality
of the fight with a quiet reverence and began to politely applaud
but this awkward praise stopped as they watched Blake struggle in a
chaotic frenzy, pulling at his hauberk and screaming out.

Blake’s earlier injury was
worse than it had first appeared and he now fell to the ground
pulling his page down with him so that the boy’s ear was close to
his trembling lips. The page listened closely and then responded by
going over to the dead knight and caught between protocol and his
master’s command, searched round for some assistance. None
came.

Blake was now lying on the
ground, fighting for breath but the whole focus of his eyes were on
his page and the dead knight at his feet. Nervously, his page
stooped to unlace the helm of the dead knight and reveal his
mystery identity. The audience had all made their way to the roped
off edge of the field also eager to see who the dead knight was. It
was to the general exclamation of horror that the page lifted the
helmet from the dead knight’s body to reveal Leo’s death-carved
face.

Gasps filled the air and all
that looked on wept for pity. Blake’s eyes closed and as they did
so he choked out a whispered and broken,

“Forgive me.”

The page looked to his master
and then to me his eyes pleading with mine. I knew that Blake was
desperately ill, if not already dead. I stumbled past Morgan’s
empty chair. She’d already left, aware that the members of The
Realm were dangerously horrified at the level of her cruelty.
Either way she had set out to destroy Blake. Whatever the outcome
of the battle had been, Blake had always been set to lose.

I ran out across the field
towards him, slipping and sliding on the slick mud. I fell onto
Blake’s unconscious and bloodied body and kneeling on the cold
ground, I pulled his head into my lap. A mighty roar of thunder
boomed through the sky and with an unnerving certainty I knew that
it was the angry voice of an angry God.

“Can we have some help here,
please? Please somebody get some help! Please God,” I screamed out
to the silent, weeping crowd.

25. AFTERMATH

Blake had been returned to
Meadowlake and been placed into bed. His condition was serious and
Vivien told me that I was to prepare myself for the worst. The
physician that had been employed was monitoring him, waiting for
him to stabilise before he would put him under the knife to remove
the shards of rib that had planted themselves in his lung.

I showered; glad to remove the
sodden gown stained with mud and blood. Vivien had called Martha,
telling her that I’d had an accident on my bike and it would be
best that I wasn’t moved until the bruising came out. I imagined
Martha’s general tone of resignation at her increasingly wayward
daughter.

I selfishly declined the offer
to sit with Vivien and made my way to Blake’s room. I pulled out
one of his shirts from his wardrobe and put it on, breathing in the
smell of sandalwood and ocean before walking through his room,
touching the things that he’d touched, flicking through the pages
of the books that he’d flicked through. The day had drained every
last bit of energy from me and I went over to his couch and lay
down, pulling the warm blanket up over me. I was asleep within
minutes.

It was early morning when I
woke. I could hear the birds just beginning their dawn chorus. The
morning light was weak and pale and gave Blake’s study a slightly
smoky air so that when I turned my head to see a figure sitting in
the chair I put it down to a trick of the light.

“Good morning, Mina,” Morgan’s
silken voice reached me from the shadows. She seemed
uncharacteristically frail.

Dressed in a plain, black dress
she appeared as if she had already begun her mourning.

Even though moments before, I’d
been in the thick of deep sleep, seeing Morgan here in Blake’s
space, watching me sleep caused me to spring from the couch in full
force, “How dare you. How dare you come here! After everything
you’ve done!”

“Technically, I haven’t done
anything. Blake initiated the challenge; he took charge of his own
destiny. The only thing that I’m guilty of is fulfilling my duty to
the code.”

Her eye contact never
wavered.

“Keep telling yourself that if
you must, Morgan but both of us know that you are the one
responsible for the things as they are now. You’re the one who put
Blake in an impossible situation, and you’re the one who pitched
brother against brother, and now the whole of The Realm despises
you for it. What the hell did you think was going to happen out
there on the field?” My words came out venomous and with the
intention of hurting.

“I’m not here to dissect the
events that have happened. The past is never of interest to me. The
reason I’m here is to offer you a choice over Blake’s future –
which is generous of me when all things are considered.”

Morgan rose from her seat
regaining her full powerful form.

“There’s nothing you have to
say that could interest me. Two people who I love most in the world
are both on their deathbeds and so it would seem that at the moment
I don’t have the luxury of considering the future. Leave us in
peace and take your bitter, twisted games with you. You’ve done
more than enough already.”

“But Mina, that’s exactly why
you can not afford to ignore my proposal. I can save them both.
That is what you want isn’t it?” She cracked a smile, confident
that she had me where she wanted me. “Or… maybe not... Maybe you
would be happier if Sam died; that would leave you free to be with
Blake wouldn’t it?”

“How dare you. You have no idea
what love is Morgan – not anymore.” Tears needled my eyes.

“Well your choice should be
easy; especially if you’re as selfless as you suggest.”

“Say what you have to say and
then leave,” I commanded.

“As I said, I’m about to offer
you a choice. You can use the sword and cloth that Blake has
rightfully won in order to save him. He would be fully recovered by
this afternoon but the price will be that Sam will be dead by
tomorrow morning. A simple life for a death deal; the sword and
cloth can only heal one and none of your medical intervention can
cure Sam.

Alternatively, I can visit
Blake now and use my powers to cure him and on my way out pass the
sword and the cloth to Vivien. She would then take them to the
hospital and cure Sam. He would be completely recovered and home
with you and Martha by the weekend. You can go back to your lives,
back to where you belong and you can put all this behind you like
some wild and curious fantasy. Two lives for the price of your one
heart.

“And Blake?” I whispered.

“Rest assured Mina that Blake
will be fine, just fine. I’ve an adventure I need attending to. A
small matter of a meeting with a very old friend but Blake’s
company would be useful. Being that I cured him, it would be the
least he could do to try and clear his debt to me. After all
there’s nothing more satisfying than a beautiful man in debt to
you, wouldn’t you agree? Oh, maybe one other - a broken hearted man
in debt to you.”

Once again a smile cracked
across Morgan’s face.

“Are you foolish enough to
think that he’ll come to love you? If you do then you are deluded,
Morgan. Blake already hates you. Even if he could ever find it in
his heart to forgive your betrayal on the field, he will never love
you.”

“You don’t understand how the
world works yet, Mina. You’re still full of youthful hope. Blake
will learn to love me as any dog learns to love his master, no
matter how hard it’s been beaten - and don’t forget, I have all the
time in the world.”

“Yes, but Blake doesn’t. He’s
mortal. He’ll age and die and then where will you be?”

“You’d be surprised what a
small obstacle mortality is in my world.”

Everywhere I looked, I knew
that I was in checkmate and she knew it. In truth, the decision was
easy even if the answer wasn’t.

“You could do the right thing,
try and make up for the horror that you committed out on the field
yesterday. You could give Vivien the sword and the cloth to cure
Sam and you could use your powers to cure Blake with no conditions.
You could give Blake his freedom.” I couldn’t help the note of
desperation that this revealed.

Morgan’s laugh filled the
air.

“Mina, please – as if! You have
until noon. Time is slipping by and neither of them can afford your
indecision. I’ll meet you at the far side of the lake. Don’t be
late and don’t waste my time if you don’t have an answer – that
way, they’ll both die.”

Morgan turned and walked out of
the room.

I sat at Blake’s desk and held
out my hands imagining Blake and Sam in each of my hands, as if I
could weigh my love for each of them. It was impossible. I loved
Sam as if he was my own brother, my own blood but I loved Blake as
a lover and my future happiness. Sam was my earth and Blake was my
air. I didn’t know how I could live without either of them.

Instinct told me that the right
answer was to ensure that Sam was cured. He was innocent in all of
this and was the only one who had not had the chance to make any
choices. Whatever the sacrifice, it would be unbearable.

The hours passed too quickly.
With just one hour left, I went downstairs and walked into the room
where Blake had been lain out. He reminded me of the dead knight in
the Chapel of Perils, but in place of the lovingly made shroud, he
was covered in bandages and although his wounds had been freshly
dressed that morning, rose blooms of blood still seeped over the
white gauze in parody of the red roses sewn so beautifully into the
cloth that he’d cut. It seemed poetic justice had been served.