Lady Night

A stray beam of sun light cut through the stale air of the old church, giving Ashley's

dark hair a heavenly aura. The service was a mournful one. She tried to keep her thoughts

on the uncomfortable hard wood pew below her, but not even a bed of nails could distract

her as her dark eyes from filling with sadness.

"...and before this mass is brought to a close, Sir Galen will read James' letter of

remembrance," with a swish of cloth, the priest turned to face the coffin. Ashley looked

up through a veil of tears and, with spheres the color of the sea, traced the single strip of

pine that peeked out from below the crimson colored Carthin flag. In the center of the

coffin, James' rapier fell victim to rays from the skylight. They struck the hilt’s blue stones

in a way that made it look as if even the sword grieved for such a terrible loss.

"April twenty-fifth, eleven ninety-four," Sir Galen's voice sounded clearly across

the quiet room as he began to read. "I'm sitting here with twelve other newly appointed

knights, all of us having the same task of writing a letter of remembrance. As my gaze

wanders around the room, I see them all hard at work, yet no words of wisdom flow from

my quill. So instead of darkening the gloom that is undoubtedly hanging over all of you,

I'd like to take a moment to recognize three figures that have greatly influenced my life.

"First, King Henry and his knighthood, all my life I've dreamed of becoming a

knight, I thank you for giving me that chance. Next, Sir Walter Hamith, he who taught me

the values and the skills it takes to be a knight, I also thank you.

"Most of all, I'd like to thank my sister, Ashley. I remember how the two of us

would venture into the woods and fight our imaginations. I would tell you I was going to

be the best knight ever, then you would say the same. As the sand was lost through the

glass of our childhood, you were always there for me. It is for this reason that I will always

hold you most dear to my heart. Now that you are listening to these words, there is

something I must confess. Two years ago was the last time we played in the forest with

our wooden swords and steel imaginations. How I’ve come to treasure that time we spent

together. For me, the forests through out the land will always echo with laughter, a

warmth we shared so lightly.

"Ashley, I don't know what will have become of you by the time you hear these

words, but I want you to know that I will always remember you standing your ground with

a tattered stick and a smile. Fearless. You were a knight in your heart, as you will always

be in mine. I doubt the knights that line the walls of the church around you will approve,

but I want you to have my rapier. In custom, the sword is always bestowed to a knight, yet

I do not waver in this final act.

"May the gods bless you all and keep you safe, James Carington, knight of the

Carthin Empire."

Tears flowed freely down Ashley's face now. They moved quickly across her soft

skin and soaked the collar of her blouse as they fell from her chin. In her hands, a soft

black scarf remained unused. She loved James too much to hide her feelings like one of

his fellow knights.

A chorus of quivering voices echoed off the stone walls as the words to the final

prayer were chanted by the masses, a sound so saddening it could have moved a scarlet to

repent. Three handsomely dressed men in white button up shirts, flaring sleeves, and blue

eyed swords, mounted the step to the coffin. The line broke at the top of the stairs as two

of the knights moved to the ends of the structure and lightly took the corners of the flag in

their hands. The sword was removed from the crest in the center of the flag, so it could be

neatly folded into a diamond with the eagle's rose on top. Sir Galen stepped in time with

the burdened knights. Together, they moved toward Ashley in silence. Dull emotionless

masks covered their mustached faces. It was also costom to give such items to the parents

of the recently departed, however in this case Ashley was the only family James had. The

knights presented their gifts to her, never looking into the eyes of the receiving party.

Ashley excepted the steel from the last knight and held it awkwardly in her hands, as the

trio retreated back up the steps, leaving her with cold reality in her grasp.

The priest took a step forward once more, speaking with his hands stretched out to

the people, "Now I ask you all to rise and come together in one voice so we may sing our

farewell to Sir James Carington."

Once on her feet, it accrued to Ashley that she had to help carry James' body to the

tomb, as was the tradition for any who received the sword. For a moment she was unsure

of what to do with her newly acquired steel. Then her fingers stumbled over the sword-

belt's buckle in a desperate effort to strapped it on as quickly as possible. Ashley wedged

the flag and letter into her the belt and gave her blouse an encouraging tug, as she stepped

out of the ranks of weeping faces and toward the dark coffin.

An unvoiced wave of emotion pulsated across the lines of knights, as Ashley

heaved her share of James' coffin onto her shoulder and carried him off to the tomb, but

whether or not she had noticed their disapproval could not be read on her face.

Dreams of her childhood took her away. She was playing a game of tag with James

in the woods. They ran through the high grass and hid behind trees, laughing and giggling

all the while. At one point, James dashed behind one of the many tree trunks and emerged

a man. He held his sword firmly in his hands. He spoke, but Ashley could only see his

lips move inaudibly. James began to scream. Suddenly, his blade swished by her face in

a fast arc as he continued to yell. Again and again he swung and missed. Ashley fell to

her knees and begged him to stop. Tears were bleeding from her eyes as well as his.

James' sword slipped through numb fingers as he collapsed first to his knees, then

onto her lap. Ashley cradled his blond head in her arms, speaking softly into his ear.

Somehow she knew, as is the way of dreams, that he had been wounded. She looked to

see a silent scream held his face, and blood on the front of his shirt.

Tears flowed down Ashley's face as she held her dying brother in her arms. A dark

shadow fell over them, and just as she looked up at the man she knew to be James' killer,

her kin fell limp in her arms, and she woke in a knot of blankets.

The room was dark, save for the shimmer of Sherial's blue light through her

window. Shadows stretched across the wall around her, all standing stern and unmoved.

For nearly and hour Ashley stared at the ceiling. Thoughts from the past floated freely in

and out of her mind. She recalled the times from James' letter, and felt the sincerity of his

words.

And now what do I do? she asked him. Why do you haunt my sleep so? Do you

expect me to follow in your footsteps or something? Just so I can be more than a drunk's

kid, like you wanted to be. So I can run off and get kill without -somehow, even her mind

faltered for a moment, without saying good-bye.

Well it's to late to be a knight now! And just because you pushed your sword on

me doesn’t make me a knight either, regardless of what’s in one’s heart. I'm not some

stupid little tomboy anymore. I don't even know if I still want to be a knight. If only you'd

have told me sooner. Back when I was young and arrogant enough to try it. Not now.

It was so different when we were young. It didn't matter if dad was drunk again,

or if mom was crying. We had each other when times got rough, but now what do I do?

You abandoned me, and left me for this cruel world to feast on. Why did you have to go

and leave me? Again? First to become a knight without me, and then to your grave.

And now I'm alone, with nothing. All I've got is this tiny house, a dead-end job at

Ben's, and this sword. I don't even have a man in my life.

What were you thinking? I'm no knight. Knights are suppose to be strong and

brave and... and men. I can't compete against them. I... I just-

"I'm going for a walk," Ashley said aloud as a means of convincing herself. She

unwove herself from her blankets, she was surprised to see that she was still wearing

James' sword. She took it off.

The night was cool, but not dark, and the calm sweet breeze teased her running

nose. Fortunately, the sky was clear, letting Sherial radiate enough light for her to see by.

Ashley wandered aimlessly through the cobblestone streets of Sel, her figure outlined so

perfectly by the moon’s aura that any onlookers would have believed she was an angel.

The streets were empty however, she alone interrupted the nightly sounds of owls and

crickets with the rhythmic scuffing of her soft leather boots against the street.

Only “Ben's Bar & Inn” was aglow with warm light. The beautiful building stood

a glorious two stories high, making it second only to King Henry's castle itself. The gleam

of the tavern shone over the houses and shops, like a huge beacon. It called out to her, and

although her mind was idly pondering her life, she was somehow drawn to it.

Knight, she actually laughed, I'm no knight. If I ever amount to anything, it'll

probably be a housewife -not even, one cannot be a wife without a husband. How long

has it been? A year? Yes a year since I last... she sighed heavily, And how long since I

held a sword, dear brother? Much longer than that. Almost four years have pasted since

I last wielded a blade, and that one was made of wood. I can't just pick up a sword and

simply relearn everything I've forgotten over the years. I'm no knight. I wasn't then, and

I'm not now. Oh why am I even thinking of this?

Yet somehow, she found herself down the street from Ben's tavern, at the knight's

guild. The door was closed and the shutters were drawn like all of the other houses, but a

welcoming glow peeked out from beneath the door. No, she thought, and turned away.

Out of nowhere, a gust of cold wind whipped down the deserted streets, burning Ashley's

face. It was like James himself were telling her to go in there, or at least that's what she

fooled herself into believing. Turning back around, she slowly started up the steps.

"Come in," a booming voice answered her faint knock on the oak. Ashley gave the

door a push and carefully crept down a tiny corridor decorated with paintings of knights in

full suits of armor, and dragons in flight. The hall wasn't long, but to Ashley, it seem to be

as long as the trade tunnel the dwarves had chiseled through Mount Kelvin, and every step

turned the pace of her heart up another degree.

When she finally reach the ended, Ashley let out the breath she'd been saving and

scanned a well-lit training room with uncertain features. Weapons and armor of every

type lined the blank walls of the huge room, along with other items Ashley couldn't

identify. "Ahh, a lady," A somewhat slim man with a long silver streaked mustache

observed. "you wouldn’t, by chance, be Sir Carington's sister, would you?" A small smile

touched his worn face as he scratched the tip of his chin with course fingers.

"But how," Ashley started, surprised at the knowledge the elder knight possessed.

"All of the knights know," he continued from his spot in the corner. "Your

brother's sword has been the topic of the day." He bent over and picked up two wooden

practice swords while eyeing her hip, “Where is the sword?”

"At home,” she replied. “What have they been saying?" Ashley's voice was full of

fearful concern, “About the sword and all.”

"Oh all sorts of things," he said while making his way to her side, "some think that

a girl -that is, I mean, a woman- wouldn't go very far even if she was allowed to enter the

knighthood." Ashley found one of the practice swords in her hands. "Others don't think

you'd be able to up hold a knight's code of honor, and some just don't care," he told her

with a sigh, "but most are against the idea of a lady knight all together, and are relieved to

hear that your too old to squire."

Ashley's stubborn mind disliked the sound of other people telling her what she

couldn't do, "And you, Sir?"

"Hamith, Sir Walter Hamith"

"And where do you stand, Sir Hamith," her heart shrank at the thought of having to

defend herself against morals she didn't agree with herself.

"Me," he repeated with suddenly perfect posture, "well this is how I see it. Your

brother was a hell of a friend, and a better knight. When I heard the words he used to

portray you, I said to myself, 'now that’s what a knight should be,'" his face wrinkled with

satisfaction for the answer.

Ashley was momentarily stunned to find another who believed in her more than

she herself did. Looking from the oak sword that had somehow jumped into her hands,

then back to the dark eyed knight that stood before her, she was reminded yet again of her

childhood days with James. "but it's been four years -I don’t want to be a knight,” she felt

shame shower over her as the words left her lips.

She narrowly raised her sword in time to block a wooden blade as it cut through

the air on an unfriendly path toward her face. Ashley stepped back for a moment,

uncertain as to what was happening. Sir Hamith took another swing at her. Dazed, she

sidestepped the action, still uncertain of whether he was a real threat or not. Helpless to

do anything else, she gave in to her instincts. A tremendous calmness came over her, her

limbs were suddenly relaxed, and her blue eyes slipped out of focus. After two more quick

defensive moves, Ashley took a step forward, taking the offensive. The fight wasn't long.

They danced about in a crazy circle, then Ashley grabbed Sir Hamith's sword-hand and

smashed it against her knee. She raised the tip of her fake sword up to his throat, and

wavered on whether or not he was her enemy.

"Remarkable," he marveled aloud, "that's the second time I've ever been beat. How

long were you going to wait before joining the knighthood?"

Ashley lowered her sword and her eyes to the floor, "but I don’t want -I didn't think

I'd be good enough."

"Good enough," he laughed, "you've just beaten a knight of the rose, and you clam

to be four years out of practice." His face suddenly lost its gleam, "But I guess, in a way,

you’re right."

"About what," she asked, looking at him sideways.

"A knight doesn't dwell on uncertainty. A true knight will put his fears and doubts

aside to step with pride and honor toward their goal." She saw the wisdom in the over used

line, and for the first time in four years, she set herself a goal.

“You’re late.” Sir Hamith looked up at her from the cluttered desk that hid in a

small room at the far end of the knight’s guild.

"I didn't know I had an appointment," Ashley calmly returned. The would-be

knight had been up and out of bed at dawn. She bathed, dressed, and even removed her

right earring so that she may look more like a knight. She had stood before her only mirror

less than an hour ago, thinking, not bad, aside from the fact that I don't have a leather

jerkin, or a mustache, I look almost like a knight. Yet, despite her efforts to be both neat

and clean in an age where most people rarely bathed weekly, Ashley was being told she

was late.

"The sun’s been up for an hour now, if you plan on becoming a knight you'll have

to be up and out by dawn," he said this flatly with no sarcasm or pity or any other emotion

Ashley could identify.

"Does that mean I've been excepted," her hopes soured.

"No," he bluntly stated, "all knights must be squires, and you might be too old to

start the path toward knighthood."

"But I-"

"Yes I know, but there's also that little thing about you being a woman," his pen

was down and he illustrated his words with his hands. "In any case, I've managed to get

you a slot in the royal court."

"The royal court," she gasped, "I thought the knights had their own court, or

something. Why must I concern the king with this?"

"The knighthood is rooted right into the throne," his mustache bobbed with every

word, "After all, the highest ranking knights are that of the crown, the royal guard. There

is no other court besides that of the king's." Unlike so many other people in her life, this

knight with the rose engraved in his sword did not talk down to her, nor did he speak as if

she were a child. He was treating her as an equal, something Ashley was not accustom to.

"The king will be expecting you later this afternoon, a messenger will find you. Until then,

I suggest you enjoy the morning air while you can.” She agreed. "Good, now remember,

the king doesn't sit in that castle to put down his citizens. When you stand before him,

don't act like a school girl, you must be stern, and confident, got it?"

"Yes," she answered, and thanked him for his help.

"No," he objected, "you’re a very talented young lady, you wield your sword better

than most of the men I've met. And although swordsmanship is not all there is to being a

knight, I'd say you've got a pretty good chance at becoming one if your heart is half as big

as your brother’s. So thank you, for coming to me, otherwise the world would be denied

yet another talented arm." After one final smile, he picked up his pen and dismissed her

with a smile.

The morning was still anew when she stepped back into the streets. Her mind was

a whirlwind of confusion and excitement. She wasn't exactly sure where she was going,

but she didn't particularly care anyway. When she ended up at the East Side Tavern, she

took a stool and ordered a light breakfast. She sipped at her juice and walked herself

through the day in her mind. Before long, she concluded that this day would make or

break her career as a knight. And what shall I do if I am not accepted, she asked herself.

I can't stay here that's for sure, maybe I can catch a boat to Larria or Relinton.

"Hey, look at what we have here." Hot breath dampened the back of Ashley's neck.

Calmly, she pivoted on her stool to face whatever dragon may lurk behind her. "So, this

is the lady that wants to be a knight," the heavy smell of ale was on his breath, there was

no doubt in her mind that this man was more than just a little drunk, perhaps a leftover

from the night before, one who had not passed out.

"And you must be someone who travels the same path," she tried to sound calm

and mean at the same time.

He laughed harshly, and blew more stale air at her, "I’ been a knight fer’ seven

years."

"And not even a knight of the sword," she quickly observed, "I can't imagine why."

"Why," he exclaimed loudly, "I'll tell you why, it's 'cause the girls can't keep their

hand off me." Heavy hands groped about her body.

Ashley retrieved the dagger from beneath the folds in her blouse with what was left

of her diminished dexterity and held the blade firmly between the man's legs with enough

pressure to sober him up. "I didn't come here to be harassed, so kindly take your hands off

of me or I'll see to it that I'm not the only lady knight." Her words were stern and true, or

at least he though they were, for he did as he was told, and sat down without being asked.

Ashley turned back around and ignored the chuckling in the background. If he's

the exemplary knight, then I'm going to be in for a bumpy ride. I wish you were here, she

lightly caressed her sword, it would make this so much easier.

An unsteady hand touched her shoulder, "excuse me." She turned around half

expecting to stand up to another drunk. "Are you Sir Carington's sister?" His face was that

of concern.

"I am," she replied.

"It is urgent that I speak with you. -But not here," he cut her off before she could

begin to respond. "Wait here for a few moments, then come down to Ben's, room nine. I'll

explain there." With that, the young knight swiftly exited the tavern.

The spring air rushed passed Matthew's face, making his long hair whip behind

him like a gold banner. A marathon of trees ran passed his eyes as the decorative coach

kicked up clouds of dust from the path that would lead them to Jamesport. Four brown

horses hauled the stage and its five passengers swiftly down the worn road that cut through

Lywood. Matthew readjusted his grip on the steel rail that ran across the back of the

carriage; the wooden wheels made riding over the patches of rock more than just a little

bumpy, "Hey James,” he called to his fellow knight of the shield, “did you get a look at

who we're guarding?" Hordes of orcs and goblins from the surrounding wood were a

constant threat these days, and almost every wagon and coach had to be guarded.

"Yeah," his young face was lit with a broad smile, "isn't she the king's niece or

something?"

"I can't believe my first assignment was to royal blood!" he hollered over the wind.

"Don't worry," James assured him, "you'll get use to it!"

"I know," he shouted over the wind, "but will they all be as beautiful?"

"I doubt it!" he yelled back.

Matthew grinned and turned his attention back to the passing scenery. The

hypnotic movement of the trees slowly over came the bouncing of the stage, and he drifted

into fantasy. In his daydream, Matthew was a heroic knight of the crown, slaying dragons

and rescuing maidens in distress were merely what he did when he was bored of protecting

king Henry. Currently, a dead dragon with blue scales and black eyes lay in a heap behind

him. Matthew pulled the kings niece into his arms, holding her body close to his. Her soft

lips inching closer to his until-

Hey! Matthew was pulled back into reality with a jerk of the coach. He tightened

his grip on the rail as they swerved from side to side and poked his face around the side of

the carriage to see what the problem was. No sooner did he see the problem, than it

smashed against his protruding head, ripping his hands from the rail.

The speeding road rushed up to meet them as they fell from the coach. Clothing

and flesh alike, tore open against the moving rocks and gravel below. When the ground

finally stopped its raging movement, Matthew rolled over to examine the drivers body.

The man’s clothes were ripped almost as badly as his own, and he held a crimson hand

against his breast. Matthew pulled back the man's coarse fingers to reveal the wound

beneath it. Blood soaked his shirt, and spilled onto the ground from a thin slit that

undoubtedly pierced the man’s heart. The driver grabbed at Matthew's collar and pulled

him down to his level. His lips moved, but the poor soul’s voice was substituted with

blood.

Matthew backed away from the body. Wiping blood from his eyes, he turned to

survey his surroundings. The carriage was stopped just up ahead and James was in a

heated battle with a black figure. Where's Sir Harding? Matthew looked around for Sir

Seiren Harding, the knight of the crown that had been riding up front with the driver.

Maybe Seiren's dead as well. He deserted the idea of reasoning about the unknown and

sprang to his feet on a course to intercept another masked bandit that was sneaking up

behind James with a readied sword.

Luck was on his side, he blind-sided the man and gave him a brutal punch to the

kidney, sending both the bandit and his blue eyed sword to the ground. Matthew's finger

tips touched his own sword moments before something hard came down on his head. His

eyes fluttered once, then the world fell silent and dark around him. He fell to his knees,

then to his face.

Through a dim haze, one burning eye forced itself open in refusal to give up. Sir

Harding suddenly appearing from around the side of the carriage, he held a long dagger in

his hands, its blade already crimson. Seiren coiled his arm, blood ran fast down the back

of the spirited fighter's dark jerkin.

James clenched at the hole in his chest for a long moment, not quite sure what had

happened. The silver sword that he had wielded so courageously fell to the ground

through numb fingers, then day turned to night as the unforgiving ground rose to meet him.

"When I awoke, both James and the king's niece were dead. He lay where he'd

fallen, and she," the young man's voice faltered, "she lay within the coach. Her dress was

cut, I had to pull it down to properly cover her legs, and her throat had been slit. All of her

riches, gone; along with Seiren himself.

"The day after I returned to Sel, Sir Harding stumbled into town, claiming he had

chased the bandits into the woods, and was struck on the head like myself." Matthew's lips

fell silent, a wave of relief moved over his body. He breathed a heavy sigh, and thanked

the gods for allowing him to talk away the weight that had hung around his neck for so

long.

"But why didn't you tell anyone," for a wavering moment, Ashley hoped he hadn't

pondered that far into the lie.

"It would have been my word against his, and he's a higher ranking knight, plus the

masked raiders had blue jewels in their swords.” His eyes widened with fear, “They were

knights, black knights. Gods only know how many were in on it."

A deep sigh echoed within her heart, "So you didn't even try?"

"No," he no longer looked her in the eye.

Silence engulfed them, saddening the small room, "But you said he ran," Ashley

was on the break of tears, "aren’t knights are suppose stand by their kin."

"Yes, they are," he agreed, "but who am I to question a knight of his status?"

Ashley shook her head, she'd had enough. "Thank you," she caught a glimpse of a

scarlet rose as he brushed his blond hair away from his eyes and tucked it behind his ear,

"but I must be going, I have an appointment." She slipped out of her chair, firmly shook

Matthew's hand, and exited quietly.

It wasn't long before the page boy strolled into the bar and tapped her on the

shoulder. Ashley's thoughts were on her brother at the time, but she pushed them to the

back of her mind and followed the boy. His dark hair took her swiftly down the streets and

into King Henry's castle. The boy knew his way through the great halls with ease; their

journey taking them to the very center of the stone mountain.

Over all, Ashley noted the huge room for its cleanness. The walls were scrubbed

free of all grout, the marble floor was polished, and even the benches that lined the back

half of the room were cleaner than the pews in the Carthin Church. The king sat in a steel

throne on the far side of the room. The queen's throne sat in its rightful place next to his,

but she did not sit in the beautiful chair, however. She had died a year ago, leaving the

king's head knight of the crown to take the place by his side. Two silver chairs sat on

either side of their more expensive brothers, in these sat another sharply dressed knight,

and the red robed bishop himself.

Between the thrones and the benches, the Carthin crest gleamed as it was cast on

the smooth marble floor by a great skylight. A glass window was extremely expensive, yet

the bright midday sun shone down through huge colored panes, painting a perfect image

of the white eagle and its rose of red.

Ashley stood in a line that traced the right wall halfway across the room, then it

split off to allow the current addresser of the throne the spot in the center of the

illuminating ellipse. At the moment, a lone man stood in the red light.

The line moved slowly, for king Henry took pride in his kingdom, and believed in

running it fairly. Justice was how he obtained the massive empire running from Sel all the

way to Jamesport. Villages came to him, offering to pay taxes in return for his fairness.

Unfortunately, one can not control an entire empire from one small kingdom. Henry

periodically moved from one end of the empire to the other to talk with citizens, hold

court, and keep the piece.

Only three more people stood between Ashley and the king now, a woman, a

drunk, and a worried man who appeared to be talking to himself.

The woman stood before the king and confessed that she would not be able to pay

her upcoming taxes, and requested any council he could offer. He had none. Henry called

forth the next man in line, and the drunk wobbled forward, gripping the top of his nose

between thumb and forefinger. "Well," the king spoke softly, "is that the after shock of

hard liquor, or just the result of starting a bar room brawl?" The drunk lowered his gaze

to the floor in response. "Well then, instead of the usual fine, you must pay this lovely

Miss' taxes and the amount needed to refurnish the bar." The drunk only nodded, "And

you," he said to the smiling woman, "Your not free just yet, from hence forth you will

clean out the royal stables every Saturday. The work will pay the same as three days at

your current job, but if you miss one Saturday, you are no longer welcome to the work."

She thanked him and the gods for the fair and just decision. Ashley too thanked the gods,

for such a fair and just king.

The nervous man requested a knights escort through the horde infested regions of

Lywood. It was granted to him, as it would be for any tax paying citizen, provided he paid

for the knights' room and board.

"And to whom do I owe this honor," the king politely addressed Ashley as she

stood in the crest’s shadow. The thought of the light reddening her appearance like blood

lingered in her mind, yet Ashley held her chin high as she step forward and stated her

intentions of becoming the first lady knight. "Ah, yes," his face wrinkled with a grin, "I've

already given your question some thought, and I have developed two questions of my own

that will determine the ruling.” The King folded his hands before her and asked, “First,

are you willing to risk your life for the good of this kingdom and its people. And second,

what makes you think you can just jump right into the knighthood without training?" The

knight to his right gave her a crooked smile from the queen’s steel chair, but as for the

other two advisers to the crown, they remained unmoved.

Ashley stood as stern as an oceanside cliff, facing an oncoming storm. "Your

majesty, I would be honored to give my life's blood to protect this kingdom and everything

within its walls." Her hand drifted to the hilt of her blue eyed sword in a nonchalant

fashion. "As for jumping into the knighthood, I intended to squire like the knights before

me."

The king admired her faith, but was forced to do his job. Leaning forward in his

grand chair, he countered her answer, "Yes, but you are already two years behind the other

squires, not even the best knight could finish the training in the short time you'd have."

"My training started six and a half years ago, when I practiced with my brother, Sir

Carington," said Ashley.

"Seven years ago,” he repeated aloud, “now did you continue the training on your

own after you brother achieved knighthood?"

"No," Ashley confessed with her head hung low.

"So how long has it been since you've held a sword?"

"Four years."

"Four years," Henry announced, "that was some time ago, was it not? How can you

be sure you still have the instinct for swordplay? After all, next to his honor, a knight

prides himself on his swordsmanship."

Ashley needed only a moment to give her answer, "Last night I beat a knight of the

rose in a practice match," her chin was high and her complexion stern, but a wave of

laughter move across the room around her that choked her dignity away. Even the

unmoved bishop chuckled quietly. They don't believe me. "You don't believe me," she

repeated aloud. She was astonished. Her gaze moved from one face to another, but

lingered the longest on the knight seated beside king Henry, he laughed exceptionally

loud. They don't believe me.

Ashley took three swift steps forward, two guards appeared out of nowhere to

block her route toward the king. "You," she exclaimed with her finger extended to the

knight. The action quieted the room. "You laugh at me."

"Yes, I do," he agreed.

"Why?"

He smiled his crooked smile, "The thought that you would sink so low in the royal

court sparked my humor."

"What is the emblem of your blade," she abruptly changed subjects.

"Why, that of the crown," he snorted.

"So," Ashley concluded aloud, "if I were to beat a knight of the crown at

swordplay, it would hold more weight in the royal court then that of a rose, would it not?"

"No," Henry cut in, "there will be no bloodshed in the royal court."

"Oh of course not," she innocently assured him, "it need not come to that, I'm just

suggesting a friendly match between myself and -excuse me, what was your name," the

knight mumbled his title,"-between myself and Sir Ryinan here. Unless, of course, he

objects to being humiliated."

The knight sneered at her, then gave his king a pleading look before he reached

behind his chair and pulled a silver hilted broadsword from its scarab. The crowd jumped

to its feet and rushed to the edge of the ellipse to get a better view of what would

undoubtedly be a historical match, even when Ashley did lose.

The contestants took to the center of the huge crest. Sir Ryinan held his arms out

to their audience, sopping up their enthusiasm. Ashley nervously eyed her opponent's

sword. A broadsword, she'd never danced with or against a broadsword. Would her thin

rapier hold against it? She quickly resolved to parry his attacks and not to block them, and

hope she wasn't in too far over her head.

After Sir Ryinan finished bathing in the crowds' cheers, he turned to face Ashley.

The room became deathly quiet. The two combatants respectfully bowed to each other.

"May I have this dance," Ashley's soft words sang sweetly in every ear in the room. "By

all means," he returned.

An unheard score played for them as they dipped and twirled to the music in their

souls. Ryinan's sword arm rippled with strength, making it simple to see how heavy his

burden really was. He swung his massive blade time and time again. Ashley misjudged a

swing and was forced to block with her thin blade. She felt her entire arm shake every

time she was forced the touch steel with the man, but her sword did not give, nor bend or

break; it just echoed his power into her body. Soon she had to retreat to the side of the

ellipse.

Ryinan was no fool, he saw how her swings came slower as she conserved energy

for her little bursts of speed and strength, but her attacks grew few and far between. It

wouldn't be long before she gave out, besides, he grew tired of humoring her forgotten

skills.

Ashley's arm began to cramp. She needed more time to mentally defeat her

opponent, and she was falling into patterns that may seal her fate. In a last effort to buy

time, she flipped her sword into her left hand and continued to dance. The action was

indeed a desperate one, but as long as she didn't try to pull anything fancy on him, it would

do.

Her heart was racing, as well as his. Ashley eagerly waited for a break in his

defense, but it never came. Her week arm couldn't take anymore, with one mighty swing

of Sir Ryinan’s sword, she was knocked back into the crowd. Something hard poked her

in the stomach but she only coiled her body around the pain. Few yells of encouragement

could be heard over the hundreds of degrading words that deafened her ears. Ashley didn't

care, laying on the cold floor allowed her the time to hold the pain in her stomach where

the hilt of her dagger had hurt her.

Suddenly, against her own will, scores of hands grabbed at her. They ceased her

legs and arms, and more, then hurled her back into the light of the crest. Ashley stayed

there, on her knees. The light from above turned her hair a blood red for the onlookers to

see. Sir Ryinan beamed in front of the crowd on the far side of the ellipse. Doubt

showered down on her. Ashley's gaze shamefully fell to the wing she had been thrown

onto. She traced it across the floor with her eyes. With rose in hand, the eagle spread its

wings to their fullest, and held its head high, despite the pain the thorns were causing. It

reminded her of James, he'd always held his head high, even against her father's drunken

fits of rage. He'd stand in front of Ashley and take the attacks meant for her, without

backing down. Then she recalled the rose that brutally stabbed her proud eagle in the back

with a thorn in the shape of a dagger. No, she told herself, I can't let it end this way. I can't

let him down, I have to win this fight.

Her hand moved from her stomach to the handle of the dagger that she had already

drawn once today. An idea came to her. Following the eagle's lead, she jumped to her feet

and stood with her chin high, shoulders out to their fullest. A silent mummer moved

through the crowd around her, Ryinan turned sharply to see who had stolen his glory. He

smiled the same crooked smile when his eyes caught sight of Ashley. Ashley flipped her

sword back into her right hand and made a dash for Sir Ryinan. The knight's smile only

broadened, certain that she had just made what would normally be a fatal mistake. He

held his ground and let her come to him. She did not disappoint him.

Ashley's untainted dark blue eyes seemed as if they would pierced his very soul if

given the chance. Her hard leather boots clicked across the eagle's face on her journey

through the gleaming circle of sunlight. She held her sword high, and Ryinan readied his

own blade as well. Their audience was silent, even the king and his aids leaned forward

for the event. Ryinan swung his mighty steel in a wide arc, a clash of steel echoed off the

stone walls. Ashley's sword fell to the floor with a clang, but to his amazement, Ashley

was nowhere to be seen. For a moment Ryinan believe he had been the victim of a witch’s

spell.

Ashley sailed across the marble floor on her side as James’ sword was cut from the

air above her. She pushed herself back up to her feet as soon as Sir Ryinan finished his

swing. With the presence of her steel dagger on the inside of his thigh, she woke the

knight from a daydream of some sort. She felt his whole body stiffen, no doubt fearing

what she may do. With a light swish of breathe, she ended the dance by whispering

something inaudible to the roaring audience.

"It was a pleasure dancing with you."

The next six months flew by as gracefully as a dragon on a warm summer breeze.

Ashley had been squired to Sir Walter Hamith. She eagerly followed his examples and

devoted herself to learning all of the traits she could in the little time she had. To her

surprise, the knighthood was a lot more than endless swordplay. She learned to meditate,

strap on plat-mail, pitch a tent, trap and cook game, and the Knight's Code of chivalry. She

also learned more interesting things that she'd never thought about before. For instance,

king Henry himself was a trained knight, goblin blood was green, and the stylish leather

jerkins that the knights wore over their flaring white shirts was really cleverly disguised

armor.

Most of the men respected her now, perhaps because she publicly won a sword

match against a knight of the crown, or maybe she had beaten one of them in a practice

match. Yet all had to admire her style. She never used gloves, and would randomly

choose not to block an attack, leaving her opponent open and off balance, but above all,

she treated it like it was a dance. Never swinging hard or loosing her temper, she'd

gracefully move across the floor, flipping her blade from hand to hand in a smooth,

hypnotic motion that was as deadly as it was beautiful.

Matthew was also a member of her new life. At first, he seemed only to want to

practice with her, but after a night by the fire, during a winter blizzard, they came to

practice more that just swordplay. Ashley was in love, her young heart had fallen in deep.

He was unlike any other man she had ever met, he knew when to jest, when to be serious,

when to love her, and when to let her be. She often thanked Sherial, the goddess of love,

for such a wonderful companion.

Ashley had also watched both Walter and Matthew fight in two horde attacks. She

remembered them both clearly. Squires were not allowed in the battle that raged outside

of Sel's walls, they could only watch from the tops of the city walls. She had felt so

helpless up on her perch, watching them dodge clubs and rusty blades before returning

their own attack. Ashley felt as if she were dreaming again.

The nightmares did not cease to threaten her sleep. She'd seen James a few more

times, all the same. First they were kids, then he'd have his sword in his hand right before

he died in her arms. One thing did change from the original dream however, in all of the

times she looked up to see James' killer, she'd gaze helplessly into Seiren's eyes before

waking. She'd told Walter of the dreams, and of Matthew's story, but there was nothing

they could do, and they knew it.

Finally on a warm February morning, the time had come for the squires to be

judged. Ashley felt as if she were floating on clouds. She was ready. Her mind had finally

caught up with her sword arm, and she was ready to fulfill her brother's last request.

While the other squires ranted around in last minute activities, Ashley enjoyed the

peculiarly warm winter morning. The weather was losing its chill quite rapidly, soon the

first day of spring would be upon them. After bathing and dressing, she took the time to

polish her sword and rebraided her hair, as well as find her ruby earring. Ashley stood

before her only mirror like she'd done so many months past; she not only looked like a

knight, but this time she felt like one.

She set out in search of Walter at a quarter to nine, and together they still arrived a

few minutes early for the trials. At nine o'clock the king and his three advisors emerged

from the castle. They approached the town square with a slow stride, Ashley took a

moment to give Matthew a wink. The rising knights lined one side of the square, and

waited to be judged. The quartet silently walked across the patterns of cobblestone shapes

that decorated the square.

The forming crowd watched as all but Sir Ryinan halted ten or so paces away from

the phalanx. Sir Ryinan continued to walk until he reached the line, then he walked down

it like a fatigued war general giving his troops one last reassuring speech to lift their spirits

before leading them into a hopeless battle. "You should be proud of yourselves," his tone

plain and unmoved, "you've walked a path few dare to tread. True, the journey's not over

yet, but today will be the final leg of your quest toward knighthood." He paused a moment

to let his words set in, then resumed his speech. "You will be given three trial. If you fail

one of them, you fail the test.

"The fist trial will be a test of the mind, a riddle. In the second trial your

swordsmanship will be viewed and judged, and in the last, you will be asked to recite the

Knights' Code. After that, you need only take The Oath."

His speech ended at Henry's side, leaving the king room to step forward. For the

first time, Ashley saw the glint of steel under his red and white robes. All watched eagerly

as he cleared his throat and began to speak. "Sherial's blue light scarcely shone through

the dense branches of Lywood, yet your face can be seen through the darkness. The

glowing embers of the warming fire lightly caress the face of the night's watchman. Over

come with boredom, you give your resting companions a sleepy glance.

“Movement in the surrounding wood catches a tired eye. 'Who's there,' a heavy

hand fingers the cool steel hilt of your blue eyed blade. A set of footsteps sound against

the forest floor on the edge of camp. A lone face steps into the firelight.

"It is him! He who decreased your family's honor so many years ago, now standing

on the edge of light and dark with a crooked smile on his lips. In a flash, he returns to the

night from which he came, with the sound of your feet close on his heels. Dashing around

dark pillars, sliding through unseen brush, and narrowly dodging low limbs, the maze of

trees opens, dumping you into a clearing lit only by Sherial's love.

"Unseen hands cease your arms from behind. A crowd appears in the surrounding

wood. Stripped of all but you under garments, the beaming man steps into the light of the

circle. He draws a long sword, and throws its scarab aside. 'Let us settle this once and for

all,' he says to you.

"Blades of every sort are displayed before you, and you are told to choose but one

for the battle." the king paused a moment, "Which do you choose?" The square was silent.

"You have until noon to discuss you answer with the counsel." With that, the king and his

three advisors strolled bask toward the castle.

A long sword, to show that I intend a fair match -or perhaps a short sword to

display my confidence. No, there has to be a trick to it, a flaw behind most reasons, but

what? Maybe it's a shield, not a sword. Maybe Sherial is the missing link, and I need only

reflect her light into his eyes, he being Seiren of course, but what would a little moon light

do? How about my sword? That way if I die, I'll die with my sword in my hand. No, why

choose a weapon that would get me killed.

She'd been at it for two hours now, suggesting and falsifying all of the blades she

could think of. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't figure out the riddle, and

her time was running short. If only she could get Harding into such a match, she wouldn't

need a sword, her hands would be weapon enough.

No, already tried that one, I'd just loose my hands. A deep sigh escaped her lips,

Oh who cares, even if I did win, his fellow black knights would slaughter me for sure. If I

only had my companions with me! If only I had a whistle or a horn or something to

summon them. How could they just leaves me alone like that, with a senseless riddle?

She was beginning to second guess her actions, and found the helpless child like

voice that hadn't spoke a word in six months suddenly speaking once more. Why does this

always happen to me? How come every time I think I'm on top, someone or something

comes along and rips me all the way back down again. When will it end, and you. How

could you just leave me like that, alone? Ashley's aching mind took and unexpected turn,

Alone? Hours of torment suddenly seemed pointless, and her mind breathed a sigh of

relief. That's it.

"Ah, ‘tis the lovely lady who proved herself at the expense of my right hand guard

to the thrown." King Henry's words sounded as high class as ever. Ashley found herself

once again in the royal court, and although no audience was in the room to watch her, she

felt as if a million eyes were on her.

A scornful reply ran through her mind, she decided to repress it however. Ashley

tried to remain calm, all at once she let her body relax, as if she were about two fight this

battle with a blade, not her tongue. "Once again, I must apologize for doing so, especially

when knights are sworn to protect those in need, not fight amongst themselves." She gave

Sir Ryinan a smile that seemed to say, 'who's laughing now?' "But alas my lord, we are not

here to dwell on events passed. We are here to riddle, are we not?"

"So we are," he answered in his deep voice, "and what is your answer?"

"I have chosen a weapon unlike any blade or hammer ever crafted," her voice was

as soft as a whisper, yet the stone walls assured it safe passage to the king's ear, "for the

weapon of which I speak is here," she lightly tapped her temple. "Was it not the Knight's

Oath that so humbly stated, 'my word is my bond, a bond held by honor, and my honor is

my life, yielding only to the lives of others?' Does it not also mention that one must,

among other duties, stand by his fellow knight," She waited a moment to let her rhetorical

questions take heed. "I do not choose a weapon of lifeless steel, for I was never there. I

was next to the fire, standing watch over my kin."

A breeze had developed since the squires last stood in the square, but with spring

and the celebration of a new year so close at hand, the warm wind was welcome. "Will

the following squires please step forward," all eyes focused on the king's unnamed knight

of the crown, "Marewood, Harisan, Carington, Soran..." Ashley stopped listening after

that, she was already busy thanking the gods.

Four knights had not passed the trial. Ashley couldn't help but feel sorry for them

as they walked away with their heads hung low. "The eight of you must now move on to

your second trial, swordsmanship," Ryinan spoke with a voice untainted by the four

failures. "You will pair up and-"

A horn sounded in the distance. All heads turned toward the note. Within

moments the horn was joined by a chorus of the low whistles. A single word rang out from

one of the kingdom's towers, "Hordes!" All knew what it meant, but no one moved. King

Henry aggressively shoved his first knight aside and dropped his high class act to

encourage the young, "Squires, tend to your knights, and guard each other's backs out

there."

Adrenaline pushed Ashley forward, she ran with all her speed across the square.

Together she and Walter cut through alleys and side streets on there way to the main gate.

They assembled with the many other knights, forming a huge phalanx. Not seconds later,

the iron gates swung open and forty or so knights poured out into a sea of goblins, orcs,

and raiders.

Ashley and Walter were separated from the main group, along with five other

knights. Without a word, the seven defended each other's backs and spilled the blood of

their enemies onto the ground. Ashley found herself facing a short bony man with stringy

hair, and dull green skin splotched with oozing ulcers like that of a leper. She easily cut

down the goblin and ignored the green puss and blood it splattered on her good clothes.

Narrowly escaping the wide arc of a raider's rusty sword, Ashley relieved the dirt covered

man of his hand and moved on. Walter was engaged in a brutal combat with one of the

hairy bore-headed orcs, blind to the goblin that lurked behind him with a disfigured knife.

Ashley ran the end of her blade through the honorless creature's back with a hint of poetic

justice flickering in her eyes.

"Behind you," if the goblin's bent blade hadn't missed its target and bounced off her

leather jerkin, she would have died of a rusty slash on the neck. The unknown knight's

warning had startled it however, giving Ashley the time to gash open its temple.

Slowly but surly, the wave of knights began to over come the rising tide around

them. Ashley stood close to her teacher, flipping her blade from hand to hand during her

hypnotic dance. A towering orc stood before her, swinging a massive war hammer. She

dipped and spun to avoid its attacks, waiting for an opening. When the chance came, she

took it, cutting open the orc’s knees. It fell to her level with a thud, she turned swiftly to

behead yet another goblin with a blade, then finished off the huge beast before her. She

had always considered herself among the taller, yet still nicely figured women of Sel, but

the enormous size of the beast that laid before her could only be compared to the giants of

Xenin.

The enemy was becoming scarce now. The knights' skill was superior to their

enemies', but the heroes were constantly sliding on the blood and brains that covered the

battlefield. Ashley's cloths were wet with gore, most had been from simple encounters

with the horde's creatures, but she did slip on the spilled intestine of a raider, causing her

to take a brief swim in the dark pools of guts that spotted the ground.

Ashley finished off a goblin she had to search out to find, then spun around in

search of a new victim. Something odd caught her gaze, she looked again to see if her eyes

were just playing tricks on her, or if it was true. It was. Matthew was in a sword fight with

Seiren. "Walter," she hollered over her shoulder to the knight, "look." Without a word he

was by her side, closing the gap between them and the young knight.

Fatigue started to grip Ashley, but her sword flashed faster than ever at the thought

of James' killer moving in on her love. Her sword swished in and out of a raider with ease,

she moved on to her next unlucky victim before the bloody man could even hit the ground.

Behind her, Walter's steel gave a clang of reassurance that he was still with her. goblins

screamed, raider's blood flowed, and even orcs fell with ease by her hand, but when she

reach the end of her bloody path, her efforts were worthless. Before her, Seiren pulled his

sword from Matthew's heart.

"You honorless bastard," her tone as sharp as her sword, "I will take vengeance for

their lives out of your blood." The first six attacks were so fast that Sir Harding could

barely block them, then a thin line of red flashed across his shoulder, "This dance shall be

your last," she promised. Even as the words flowed from her lips, Ashley's sword

continued its assault.

Sweat dripped from Seiren's brow, stinging his eyes. He sidestepped the blade

aimed at his heart, and lashed out for Ashley's neck. She ducked. Pain exploded from his

knee, causing the limb to stiffen, as if it were on fire. The young girl wasted no time

smashing his leg backward with her booted foot, sending him toward the ground, but

before he could make it to his knees warm steel ripped through his jerkin. The coldest

blood to ever touch the scared battlefield outside of Sel’s stone walls flowed passed

murderous hands with the reassurance of justice, and as he look to his crimson finger tips,

Seiren closed his eyes to welcomed the soft kiss of Lady Night.

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