This is just the first part of the third part of “The Knights.” I appologize for the incomplete story, but my mind is otherwise occupied with my upcoming wedding. I’ll have more up the week of June 22nd. Until then, read and be happy!

~Harry

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Hugo thrashed wildly in his sleep. The dreams had found him again. Aaron watched quietly as his friend went through his nightly torture. Hugo had told him the details of the recurring dream some time ago. The dream was of Hugo’s past, long ago and far away. When Hugo was younger, he served as a knight in service to the church. To him, swordplay was a prayer, and physical training was his pennance. Daily, he would push his body to the extremes of endurance. On one such day, he pushed himself too far; he asked too much of his body, and it betrayed him. Lying fevered and ill, Hugo had a vision of God.

God invited him to sit at the foot of His throne. He offered a life in eternal service as a warrior. Hugo eagerly agreed, but found himself awake in bed before he made the vow of service. A monk named Theodore witnessed Hugo’s enraged awakening. Though his boy was weak, Hugo threw himself from the bed. He was reaching out; the monk believed that Hugo desired water, but in truth the knight was reaching for his sword which leaned against the wall far from the bed. Hugo dragged himself across the floor, yelling that he promised to be of service and pleading for a return to Heaven. Theodore rushed to console the knight, but Hugo just weakly pushed him away. With his strength depleted, he broke down in tears. Weeping, he told Theodore of his vision of God, and of his longing to return to His side.

Theodore consoled the knight, and pulled him back to the bed. He told Hugo a tale that would alter the young knight’s life; he told him of the sacred desert of the East, where the prophets of God would wander and seek guidance. Hugo decided that it was his path to go to the desert and find a vision from his God. Once he felt well enough, Hugo began his quest. He traveled for over a year, ever eastward, doing good where he could. When at last he came to the last known settlement on the skirts of civilization, his heart filled with doubt. He was staying at a tiny inn where he met a woman named Miranda. She was young and beautiful, but carried the child of another man in her belly.

Hugo was entranced by the woman, but knew that she could never be his; his life was a holy life, and he chose to deny himself the pleasures of life as a way of honoring his God. His feelings for her were forbiddingly intense; he dreamt of giving up his vows and joining her, especially when he discovered that her child’s father had died. He told himself it would be a more noble thing to become her husband and the father of her child. However, his dedication to his God was even stronger. He left the village an walked into the wilderness as the moon rose high in the sky.

Wandering the unforgiving desert, Hugo’s devotion was tested. His body thirsted and hungered, his mind amble back to the village and Miranda. The nights of walking and days dedicated to mere survival in the inhospitable place wore on the young knight’s devotion. He found himself considering the journey back, dark until he saw the prophet of the desert, Uriah. The prophet was tall and lean; his silken robes rippled in the wind as he strode across the rocky expanse. Uriah payed Hugo no heed until the  young knight cried out:

“Prophet! I have heard of those that walk the earth searching for God. Are you truly one?”

“I am.” said Uriah with quiet words that could have blown away with but a soft zephyr. “What do you desire?”

“I need to know how to have a vision of God. I need to return to His feet and give Him my service.” said Hugo. Uriah leaned on his walking staff and contemplated…

Aaron sat by the fire and honed the blade of his flamberge. Hugo was intently polishing his armor and humming quietly to himself, losing himself in the simple task. Aaron thought back over the last year that he had been traveling with Hugo. Hugo had saved him from a trio of knights that had been told that Aaron was a rapist. While Aaron had done no such crime, the three knights seemed not to care. They waited until Aaron was in his cups and then swooped down on him like a thunderstorm across the prairie. The first nearly cracked Aaron’s skull with a heavy cudgel; Aaron swayed out of the way of the blow and pulled at the knight’s over extended arm and pulled him from the saddle. A second rushed in on foot brandishing a long sword and screaming for revenge on the behalf of some woman that Aaron had never heard of. Aaron tumbled drunkenly and rolled to his feet, meeting the third knight as he was drawing a short sword. Aaron’s head crashed against the third knight’s unprotected skull. The first was getting to his feet as the long sword grazed Aaron’s ribs.

Hugo, dressed in his best white surcoat and red, silk tunic saw the knights pummeling a drunkard and demanded an explanation. The three knights continued their assault against Aaron, who was beginning to regret having left his weapon at the inn. He tried to wrench the long sword away when a plated boot landed square in his crotch. Falling to the ground, he could see the cudgel swinging down. Sucking in what should have been his last breath, Aaron winced. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the knight backing away, the head of his cudgel sundered off. Hugo engaged the sword wielding knights with an impressive display of defensive swordsmanship.

“Why do you beat this man so?” he demanded. “No one deserves to die in the street like this!”

“He’s a rapist and a thief!” called back the knight with the short sword as the leaf-bladed weapon clashed against the side of Hugo’s broadsword. Hugo changed his stance and let the blade of his sword slide up to the short sword’s hand guard; the cross-bar wasn’t thick enough to bear Hugo’s blade as he pushed forward with his entire weight. The cross-bar spiraled off the hilt and the sword fell to the ground, along with two fingers. The knight with the long sword charged at Hugo in his blind spot, but Hugo was experienced enough to anticipate the attack and met it with the side of his blade.

“Stop now, and we will talk of this as knights should.” offered Hugo, but pride flared up inside of his opponent, who slashed wildly at Hugo’s head. Hugo stepped away, letting the knight spend his energy. Once he saw an opportunity, Hugo launched his sword forward. The wide blade bit into the knight’s groin and blood poured from the wound. The knight fell, crying out loudly. Soon, the cries of pain subsided into a wailing, tear-filled cry.

“Save me!” the knight begged. His comrades had run away long before, and it wasn’t to bring help back. Aaron approached the fallen man and smiled at him drunkenly. He pulled at the man’s surcoat and tore off a long strip of fabric. Hugo knelt beside Aaron; he pushed the armor’s tassets out of the way and unbuckled the cuisses. He tossed the broken armor away and studied the shattered rings of the chausses.

“That was some hit.” complemented Aaron as he pulled broken pieces of mail from the wound. “He’s going to die no matter what we do.” Despite his comment, Aaron spat on the wound several times and bound it tightly. The fallen knight’s skin was as white as milk and he was coated in a veil of sweat. Hugo called for a healer, but there was little her herbs and poultices could do for the grievous wound. Aaron sobered quickly when he had realized the totality of what had transpired. He sat next to Hugo, who was praying quietly.

“I’m sorry.” said Aaron. Hugo wanted to stay stoic and ignore the interruption, but he wanted answers as much as he wanted guidance. Not moving, he asked Aaron his name, and he also asked why the knights were trying to kill him.

“They said I raped some woman from the bar.”

“Was there truth in it?” asked Hugo softly but sternly.

“None. They were just looking for a fight, I guess.” replied Aaron, drinking some fresh water and trying to clear his head. “Then again, maybe they were just looking for a reason to fight me.” Aaron never thought that he would actually tell someone his story. The town was so small that everyone knew it, and visitors seldom paid a disgraced knight any attention. “I made too many mistakes in my life to have many friends. So instead of friends, I have enemies.”

“Why?” inquired Hugo, trying to keep Aaron at ease. He was taking his measure of the man, trying to understand him. He was also trying to rationalize killing someone in order to save him.

“I was knighted five years ago. My lord sent me to tournaments, but I was a poor jouster. He decided to send me on other business; he wanted me to be his killer. I didn’t want to, but I was a knight…”

“And a knight does as his lord asks.” said Hugo with sympathy.

“One day, my lord sent me to dispatch of his son’s mistress. She bore him a son, and my lord did not wish his son’s bastard to be able to grow up to challenge him, or a rightful heir, for his seat. I went, and I did what I was told. But then I left my armor behind, as well as my knighthood.”

“Why did you do it if you were going to leave your lord?”

“Because if it wasn’t me, it would have been another knight. One that wouldn’t have done his job so swiftly; perhaps one who would have taken pleasure from the killings, and maybe more.” Aaron sat, reflecting on Hugo. This knight was everything he had wanted to be when he had become a page. Hugo seemed like he was made of valor wrapped around honor. Aaron looked at himself and saw a drunkard that probably deserved to be beaten to death. “Friend, today has opened my eyes. I don’t want to be what I am any longer. I want to be something more. Something better than I was. I want to be like you.” Hugo turned and glared at Aaron.

“You don’t want to be like me.” said Hugo without passion, as though it were irrevocable truth. Aaron didn’t understand what Hugo meant, but he learned over the year. Now, as he set his flamberge aside and started to mend his armor, he knew what Hugo meant. However, he still wanted to be like Hugo, or at least he wanted to be like he thought Hugo was. Hugo continued silently polishing his armor, thinking about his own path, wondering where he was going and trying not to think about where he had been.

“We’ll find the King of Dragons, Hugo. Soon enough, you’ll be rid of me and this quest.” said Aaron with a smile, “You’ll be able to marry Miranda, and you’ll have a dozen kids. Hey! Why don’t you name one after me?” Hugo simply looked up at his friend and shook his head, smiling. The road often seemed unending and lonesome, but it helped to have someone to be lonesome with…

Hugo gingerly squeezed his legs and his horse took a few wary steps forward. His full plate armor glistened in the early morning sun as he poked his spear at the knight sleeping under the gently waving tendrils of the willow tree.

“Wake up Aaron!” he called, gently poking his comrade on the side. Aaron woke, startled and nearly tripping over his legs. His hand reached for his flamberge, a blade nearly as tall as him, which jutted out of the ground. Naked and filthy, he slapped the spear away with a wave of the hefty sword. His long, matted blonde hair tumbled near his waist and swayed like a field of wheat as he launched himself forward, tugging at the horse’s bridle. Swiftly, he pulled himself up so he could look Hugo in the eye.

“Don’t wake me with a spear, or that damned thing will find its way into your heart!” threatened Aaron. Hugo resisted belting his friend with an armored fist, but instead calmly explained that he had all ready tried the most gentle of measures of awakening his traveling companion and needed to resort to more drastic measures. “Bah!” dismissed Aaron as he leapt from the horse. “What’s the rush anyways? The dragon isn’t going anywhere. Bastard’s been asleep ten years, and he’ll probably be asleep tomorrow and next week, and for many months to come. Another morning won’t make much of a difference.” Despite his grievances, Aaron started to dress for battle in his suit of boiled leather and chain mail. Tucking his open-faced helm under his arm and slinging his sword onto his shoulder, he walked slowly beside Hugo.

Hugo looked down on Aaron and smiled at the bull headed knight. Aaron never rode war horses; he always had a love for swift animals and prided himself on his acrobatic prowess. In truth, Aaron was less of a knight than Hugo, but he certainly was a better fighter. Hugo never underestimated his friend’s skills; while Aaron may never had jousted in a tournament, he had proven himself again and again. Despite his laziness, he made for a good traveling companion. He had good eyes and knew his way around a battlefield. Aaron loved Hugo as a brother, and had an equal respect for the accomplished knight’s skill.

“So the dragon will know. I’ve heard that too many times. ‘The dragon is old, the dragon is wise,’ Bah! The dragons are a blight on the earth and an affront to the gods. A snake with feet and wings; liars and thieves the lot of them.” complained Aaron as he walked through the thickly wooded forest. The trees shaded them from the sun and kept them cool as the day became warmer.

“Just another mile and we’ll find out where the truth of the matter is. There’s good and bad in all things; I saw a giant save a child from a well and I’ve watched a serpent-man lay his life down for his human comrades. Villagers always say these things are evil, but they never truly know, do they?” Hugo said softly.

“Bah, I say! Bah! I never heard any of those stories from anyone but you. You’re young and full of ideals that just don’t hold up in the real world. A giant may save a life, but how many will he take in a month? Anytime he’s hungry, that’s one less kid in the world and one more pile of dung. I say track ‘em and kill ‘em.”

“I hope you aren’t thinking of talking to the dragon like that.” said Hugo, trying to make the phrase ring as a warning to his friend’s ears. Aaron responded with silence; they were getting closer to the creature’s lair and he was starting to get on edge. Hugo strapped his shield to his arm; the leather straps groaned as he fastened the stag emblazoned shield’s buckles tightly. He said a quiet prayer, hoping that his God would bless him with the power to overcome the dragon peacefully. Aaron’s mind simply focused on his task. He would not pray to his gods, because he didn’t want to owe them any favors. He sneaked through the woods towards a giant cave that expelled a sulphurous and skunk-like stink. A purring sound rumbled out of the cave; the sleeping dragon simply stayed inert, oblivious to the possible dangers that lurked near it. Aaron entered the cave first, followed by the mounted Hugo.

“Awake, Thule! Awake and listen to me!” called Hugo, masking the sound of Aaron’s steps as he picked his way through a heap of gold strewn on the floor of the dragon’s lair. The dragon stirred in the darkness and opened its cat-like eyes. Sleepily, the dragon considered the mounted knight.

“What do you want!” boomed the dragon’s voice, “I’m tired and need rest. Why did you wake me?” Hugo felt the hot, rancid breath of the dragon wash over him. He slid his spear into its sheathe on the saddle and produced a small sack of gold. The dragon’s eyes flooded with greed as the bag flew through the air and crashed heavily to the ground. The dragon pulled at the bag’s drawstrings with its immense claws and let the coins spill out.

“Ask, then, if it is a question you want to ask.”

“I want to know where the father of dragons is.”

The dragon chortled deeply, not knowing that Aaron was in the shadows, readying his sword. “He is deep within the earth, at its core, far from the sun. Seek him at your peril. Why do you ask?”

“My reasons are my own.” responded Hugo, his hand on his spear.

“Keep your secret; your gold is good.”

“How do I get to the lair of the father of dragons?” asked Hugo. The dragon’s eyes narrowed evilly.

“What do you want with him!” demanded the dragon, whose ire was rising. Aaron tumbled out of the way as one of the dragon’s feet crashed into the ground near him. Aaron wanted to plunge his sword hilt deep into the creature, but he knew that Hugo would chastise him severely. Instead, he waited.

“He has something that is mine, and I wish to reclaim it.” responded Hugo. Tension rose as the dragon crawled forward slowly. Stalking Hugo, like a cat stalks a ball of yarn, the dragon licked its lips. Hugo began to worry when he saw the drool dripping from corners of the dragon’s mouth. Hugo pulled his spear from the saddle sheathe and drove his spurs into his horse. The dragon roared, blowing a stream of fire at Hugo. The thrust of the flame drove Hugo from his saddle with a force greater than any jousting lance could. The shield absorbed the heat from the flame, and glowed brightly. The dragon snapped its jaws at the prone knight, but whirled its scaly head about as Aaron plunged his sword into the dragon’s belly.

The dragon shrieked and rolled as Aaron held onto the sword with two hands, pushing and pulling the sword back and forth, aggravating the grievous wound. Hugo found his footing and launched his spear at the dragon. It found its mark deep in the dragon’s skull. The creature shrieked again weakly and then stopped stirring. Battered but uninjured, Aaron tugged his flamberge from the dragon’s carcass.

“Where do we go now?” asked Aaron wearily.

“North, to find another dragon. One will know where the father of dragons is; one will be able to tell me how to get back my soul.”