Knight's ChoiceChapter 21

Night crept in, blanketing the city with its dark shroud.

A long gust of wind whistled through the towers, a high and lonely sound that made Esra’s heart ache. The youth shivered, and retreated from the cold. H9AdES

He closed the balcony doors behind him with trembling hands, latched them shut, as if he could keep the bleakness out. But the enormity of his loneliness bore down upon him regardless, pressing him to his knees on the woven carpet. The patterns of vine and leaf blurred wetly before him.

For a moment he crouched there, shaking, under the weight of his grief. It passed through him, leaving him transparent, lighter than air.

Story translated by Chrysanthemum Garden.

It was eerily quiet, save the crackling fire. Without Umbra’s imperious presence to fill it, the opulent room seemed overlarge, a dragon’s cavern.

Esra was careful to move quietly, although he was alone. He had a strange notion that he must not make a sound, lest he break some spell that would bring about consequences he dared not face. Or that a castle guard would burst in and arrest him as an intruder. IdSrx0

Firelight flickered over the cushions and carved wood of the furniture. It cast strange shadows up darkwood panels, to where Umbra’s scythe was bracketed on the wall. It hung over a chest where his black armor had been stored, brought up to his rooms by a servant from the bathhouse.

It was the diligent hands of unseen servants, Esra was beginning to realise, that shaped the world for Umbra’s pleasure. Hundreds of small tasks managed for his comfort, so that the knight could turn his attention to more worthy matters.

Above the fireplace was a decorated map of Fomoria. Esra recognised the country immediately by its shape, though, unlike the navigational maps used by his village’s sailors, the knight’s featured only Fomoria surrounded by ocean, with no Continent to be seen.

Esra saw the maps of his childhood, laid out on the table of the meeting hall. His father’s hand, covering his own much smaller one, tracing the path that he would sail to the Continent. Here we live, he’d say, on the southern coastline. And through here, we will meet with our allies on new land.

“But if the journey is so short,” Esra had said, seeing the ocean as a mere gap of blue on the map. “Then why must you be gone so long?”

Marten had laughed. “It is a far greater distance than it appears on parchment, Esra. And we do not travel unhindered. Our path cannot cross with the enemy. The sea itself can be dangerous. We might be blown off course by storm. Worse, if the wind dies. Then the men must row, for the ship can only hold so much food, and we must see land before it runs out.”

He’d laid a gentle hand on the crown of Esra’s head.

“You will see for yourself one day, when you are grown.” g4aFiv

“When I am grown, I can come with you?”

“My boy, when you are grown, you will be the one to lead the way.”

Esra blinked, vision blurring with tears. The map before him was different, meant for ornamentation rather than navigation. A wave of overwhelming sadness rolled over him anew, and he felt a sob trapped in his chest.

When he looked down, his hands were trembling, fingers white and bloodless. He took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself. DUJHdQ

Then his hands relaxed, stilled.

He felt strangely light.

There must have been a draft, Esra thought, that had caused him to shiver so.

Umbra had a decorative map over the fireplace, he noticed, ornamented by a master hand. Its varnished surface gleamed in the firelight, making Fomoria itself appear a glittering jewel. 2N5qRD

* * *

Esra’s eyes slid over to the door. There was no locking mechanism, nor any place for a key. Was he no prisoner at all?

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The youth reached for the handle, a cautious brush of fingertips over metal. He had a strange notion that if he attempted to grab it too quickly, it might burn him somehow.

We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.

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Esra looked up. Over the door hung the banner of the Order of Balor. He’d not seen it, but he would have passed under it when he first walked in. The smiting eye of Balor beheld him, observing his every move. He backed up quickly, heart fluttering with a sparrow fear.

* * *

Umbra’s walls were lined with bookcases, shelves stacked with tomes bound in leather. Before now, he few books Esra had seen were simple gatherings of parchment, sewn and knotted with cords. They belonged to the refugees, and were amongst their most treasured possessions. OhEjBm

Esra slid a book from the shelf, running his fingers over the embossed leather, tracing the intricacy of the imprinted designs. He’d never held anything so valuable in his hands before. When he opened it, the pages were full of such beauty it made him gasp.

The vellum pages were buttery soft to the touch. Intricate letters were scribed in inks of brown and black, vivid red, green, and blue, surrounded by sprawling leaves and flowers as bright as gemstones. Details, illuminated by gold leaf, shimmered in the firelight.

As he turned the pages, colourful scenes seemed to give a hint to the stories within. Perhaps it was filled with prayers, a liturgical tome, transcribed by learned men from the Church of Balor. Or was it a song? As he thumbed further, it appeared to be an epic poem of romance, about the destined meeting of a knight and maiden.

How desperately Esra burned with the desire to read, so that he could free these stories from their pages. R984Oz

He could have spent hours poring over the books, and had to tear himself away.

Umbra’s darkwood desk lay towards the other end of the room. Esra approached it with curiosity. He had tall beeswax candles, neat stacks of parchment, bottles of ink, a long goose feather quill. Esra recognised his hand even though he could not read; Umbra’s spiked black letters.

He saw it then. It glimmered in the firelight, a large geometric cluster. Darker than the shadows, with a promise of hidden beauty. Esra, captivated, picked it up.

The quartz was heavy. He carried it over to the fire, in order to better examine it. NLp4Sq

It had been pure black in the darkness, but the light from the hearth revealed a deep purple richness, like some inner midnight flame.

It caught the youth’s breath to know that this was what Umbra thought of when he looked into Esra’s eyes.

His cheeks flushed, thinking of that unexpected compliment, the armored knight’s warm gloved fingers at his chin. He’d never thought much of his own appearance, only the ways in which he was lacking in comparison to other men. Never could he have imagined that someone like Umbra would find something about him beautiful.

The glittering amethyst caught the firelight, the rich purple facets reflecting the flames. Fire against deep purple; flames in the night sky. ge0Mzl

The bonfires.

Burning ships. Roaring heat. Screams, and the cruel laughter of the soldiers, as clouds of smoke billowed like rolling storms up to the heavens. The black knight descending from the smithy like a shadowed god. The grip of an armored hand around Esra’s arm, hard enough to bruise, to drag him along the bloodied dirt.

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Something pretty, Sir Knight, to serve us wine while we talk.

Esra gripped the quartz so hard he felt its jagged edges bite into the skin of his palm. In its black facets, he saw his own distorted reflection, eyes wide, mouth open in a gasp of horror. 90l5pJ

Since they’d arrived at the castle, he hadn’t thought of the invasion. It had only been two nights ago, yet within these walls the bloody memory seemed to have slipped from his mind completely.

As he peered around his sumptuous prison, his eyes went to the map above the fireplace, depicting Fomoria, its lands and cities. He recognised it by the shape of its coastlines. As a small child, his father had shown him the navigational maps, tracing over them the journey to the Continent…

He was certain he’d had this thought before.

Panic flooded his gut. A wave of dizziness passed over him, close to nausea. Ncr3Mv

Sometimes, a fleeing refugee would have trouble recalling their own story. Sometimes, their tale would be different each time they told it. But his father never found it strange.

Flesh cannot always heal from its wounds, Marten had told him. It is the same with the mind. Violence tears through the soul the same as a knife rips a body. Bone can be set, and skin scar over, but the healing is never complete. The mind scars too. When it hurts too much to remember, it can be easier to forget.

I cannot let this happen to me, Esra thought.

He must bear the pain his grief brought upon him, and remember. He owed it to his father. He owed it to all those he had known. Their bodies had been tumbled into the earth in a mass grave, with no ritual to mourn them, no marker stone to memorialise them. As time passed, the buildings of his village would fall to ruin. Grass would grow over the dirt, until it would be as if they had never been there at all. 57lv6b

I must remember, Esra vowed.

He would carry their memorial in his heart.

* * *

The door swung open. Esra was so startled by the sound that his thin fingers nearly dropped the quartz. 2gb1tp

“What’s this?” said an unfamiliar voice.

The sight was enough to stutter his heart with fear. Two knights stood at the door, phantoms all in black, except where light glinted off the sharp edges of their masks. It took a moment, that lasted a breathless age, before he recognised Umbra. A flood of relief rushed through him.

Yet, another figure lingered in the darkness. Unnervingly identical in both height and form, the man seemed a shadow made flesh. Esra’s skin prickled. He could almost recognise it by now, the strange hypnotic pull of a knight’s attention. WZkpKg

“I did not realise you’d have someone awaiting your return,” said the shadow knight. His voice was smooth, rich and cultured. “Now I see the reason for your hurry to exit the meeting.”

“Yes, well,” Umbra said. His fingers clenched around the door handle, a leather fist. “Bid you good eve, brother knight.”

Story translated by Chrysanthemum Garden.

“And a peasant, too,” the stranger noted, tilting his head in a raptorial way.

“Not even a peasant,” Umbra corrected. “A heathen.” Y RinE

That seemed to startle the other. “Of the rebellion?”

“You know of my mission,” said Umbra shortly. “The full story can come later. Now, I thank you for your company–”

“And what a successful mission indeed!”

In a fluid movement, the other knight stepped past Umbra, into the room. He slid towards Esra with predatory swiftness, gleaming darkly by the firelight. “You must allow me a moment to properly admire your- oh.” 2 Ww8T

He paused, considered. Then the weight of his attention turned to Umbra. “Brother knight, you do enjoy surprising me. A boy?”

Esra shrank, feeling the heat of the fire at his back. His hand around the amethyst had grown sweaty, and he had to clutch it tighter not to drop it.

Umbra shrugged, as if to say, and what of it? “He pleases me,” he replied. He had not moved from the open doorway.

The stranger glanced between the two of them. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind. “I admit, I did not expect this preference. Thought it was that exacting taste of yours that made you so difficult to please.” Qz1ES

“There is much you do not know about me, Arturo. Now–”

Arturo only smiled wider. “Did you know that he’s a little thief? Behold, just arrived here and he’s already stealing from you.”

Esra’s eyes widened. He wanted to deny it, but his mouth had dried of words. The quartz weighed heavy in his hand. He’d only wanted to look at it. Surely Umbra would know that he would never…

“See, he does not deny it!” Arturo chuckled. “Or perhaps he is mute?” Qp WBo

Black boots thudded towards him. Esra could feel the floor tremble. He looked up just as the knight leaned in, and was stricken with a panic that swallowed all sense. The black mask filled his vision, and he trembled, petrified, under its scrutiny.

“I note the blood of the enemy in his features,” Arturo mused. “I hear it can cause dreadful defects in the less fortunate offspring–”

Umbra’s temper finally snapped.

“Esra, here,” he ordered, the command cracking like a whip. Ea9ge0

Esra scrambled to his feet, grateful for escape. But as he ran, a strong hand caught his wrist, and snared him tight.

Even by the heat of the fire, he could feel his blood turn to ice in his veins. With a sure tug, Arturo pulled him back, bringing him closer for examination. Without expending any visible effort, his grip could crush bone.

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“So your name is Esra,” the strange knight repeated, tasting the syllables. “A good name for a rebel. After Esraya, yes? The ancient fae general of a thousand years ago.”

The knight’s gaze dragged over the youth; a small thing, scrawny in his loose peasant garb, a thin face graced by giant terrified eyes close to tears. In his hand, the spindly wrist was birdlike, fragile. If you handled this one wrong, he thought, you could snap it in two. cEHru3

“Perhaps,” Arturo gibed, “your father wanted you to grow up to lead armies.”

Esra’s cheeks burned. He withered under the weight of the knight’s judgment. His father’s disappointment: too sickly to journey, too weak to swim, too fearful to lead…

Tears pricked at his eyes. “Please, Sir Knight, I–”

“Not a mute after all, little rebel.” Arturo’s fingers slipped over the silk of Esra’s hair. Esra heard the deep inhale. He shut his eyes, and winced at the hot breath over his skin, the intimacy of it. “He smells delicious, Umbra. Did you take him to the baths?” dn6umg

“Arturo…” Umbra growled in warning. “You may release him.”

Arturo laughed darkly, but he did loosen his grip. Esra tore away from him and flitted to Umbra, heart thudding in his chest. His cheeks were wet, he realised, and he wiped them with his sleeve, his gaze hovering about Umbra’s shoulders. He was too cowed to look any higher.

Umbra spared him a piercing glance, enough to make sure that he hadn’t been damaged in any way, and then his fierce attention went back to his dubious guest.

“I thank you for the graciousness of your visit,” said Umbra tersely, “but you have other engagements, I am sure. I do not wish to keep you from them. Bid you good eve.” VAzhgL

“Always with the dramatics.” Arturo dropped his long figure into one of the couches. “Come. It has been far too long. We have much cause for celebration! Your first victorious mission, and,” he trailed a hand in the air over the shape of Esra’s trembling form, “a most lovely acquisition.”

Umbra remained silent, but Esra could feel his anger, palpable. In the light of the fire, the guest knight tilted his head, and smiled.

“Surely,” Arturo said, “you would not begrudge your mentor the honor of at least a drink on this momentous occasion?”

A long while passed, before the youth heard Umbra’s sigh. CyRqxv

“Very well,” Umbra muttered, and at last closed the door.