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Scribe
Join Date: Feb 2004
Posts: 74
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The Nameless Knight
The old knight had his day in the sun. When the Kingdom of Shadowheart fought wars to survive, he had been the most valiant of all his majesty’s Knights. But the wars for control of the northern half of the continent was over long ago, and his usefulness ran out.
He rode his aged brown war-horse that had accompanied him in nearly every battle he had fought, and somehow lived though the horror of it. He treated the horse like an old friend; it was the only living being that he trusted with his thoughts. The horse had lived long past its life expectancy. The stable master was about to put it to death, but the old knight came to his friend’s rescue.
The Knight wore his finest plate mail, the symbol of the rose imprinted upon his breast. It glimmered in the afternoon sun, making the knight look as young as he was in his first battle. But if you looked closer the signs of age were more then present. His tan skin lost it young shine long ago, now replaced with battle-worn, aged skin. Scares up and down his arms showed that he was definitely a soldier. His long white hair hung lifelessly from the back of his helmet and disappeared down his armor. His eyes had shed more then one tear in his life, not of physical pain, but from the pain of loss. All who looked into those eyes saw that pain he had endured. It was carved forever into his soul, reminding those who worked with him of the true sorrow of war.
It had been great many years since the great King Fredrick Shaodwheart started the wars to secure his borders after the finding of the legendary sword, Soultaker, one of the three swords that once only existed in children’s tales. They were the swords of light, fire, and shadow. Soultaker is the sword of shadow. The one who possessed it becomes the new “Lord of Shadow” or “Dark Lord” and is given command of all the daemons and dark spirits on the earth, an Army of Darkness.
The sword was used only once before. The masters of the two other of the three swords defeated the first “Lord of Shadow”. The sword of Light, Holyavenger, and the sword of Fire, Flamestrike were their names. Soultaker was cast back into the darkness where it waited for a new master that could control it. Mortal hands can not destroy it.
The old Knight traveled this day back to his home, a great manor that he had not seen in three years. He had been sent east to The Kingdom of Stormcrow with one hundred of the Kings knights. The once vast kingdom was seeing its last days. It was at one time larger and more powerful then Shadowheart, but in the chaos that followed the raise of the “Lord of Shadow” it slowly shrank, its boarders weakening. The “Dark Lord” had made its final attack on Stormcrow, and without help it would have fallen easily. The knights of Shadowheart fought the greatest war in their history. They had seceded in driving back the Dark Lord’s armies. But when they thought victory was theirs, the Dark Lord himself stepped onto the field of battle. It was still hard to think of. He had been only one of three knights to return to Shadowheart. The other two he had just left in the capital too horrified to speak or even move.
But he had lived and was on his way home. Those thoughts filled his head as the sounds of horns clearly rang out over the hill to the west. He knew what that meant and began to ride faster, changing his direction. He reached the hills and dashed up them as fast as he could, but the old horse could not move that quickly. They were large but not too steep. He reached the top quickly, and froze in horror. The Dark armies marched upon the castle he left only moments before. The castle guard had begun to assemble, but they still needed time. But it was still not enough. The castle defense forces were only about 5,000 strong. But the army that was advancing on them numbered in the 20 thousands. The Dark Lord himself riding at the head of the column on a large Black Dragon. It flew low leading the armies into battle; its rider’s sword was drawn. The power of Soultaker could be felt from where the Knight was standing it was overwhelming.
The Knight kicked the horse in its side and speed toward the front of the Dark Army, toward the dragon. The horse obeyed without hesitation, any other steed would have turned and ran at the sight of the ancient dragon.
As the knight drew closer be began to see the hideous dragon in detail, the same beast he had faced in Stromcrow. Its name was perfect for the dragon; its scaled body was pure black, as blacks as the night sky but with out the stars that makes it so peaceful. The tail hung lifelessly behind it. Just from the size of it, the Knight could tell that it could easily kill the strongest of men in one swipe. Its clawed feet were poised for the attack; the razor-sharp weapons were stained with a light red. “They could rip though my armor like it was paper”, the knight thought, still riding forward. The dragon grew larger a vast army of various creatures behind it, the Lord of Shadow smiling behind his helmet, Soultaker hungry for blood.
The Knight was close now, he lifted the visor of his helm, sweat blurred his vision but he ignored it. He did not wish to see the great eye of the Dragon clearly; he did not think he could take it. All he saw was a dot of red in a sea of black and that was good enough for him.
The Dragon alerted his rider and turned to face the lone solder. The Knight stopped and looked into the eyes of the helmet. The eye sockets stared back at him, judging him.
“Dark Lord!” The Knight yelled up at the Dragons rider. “You hide behind your orcs, your goblins, and your dragons! You coward, I challenge you to a duel!” The Knight dismounted his horse and unsheathed his sword. The sliver blade shined in the late afternoon sun, the golden hilt’s radiance blinding those who looked upon it, except the Dark Lord.
With an unspoken command the Dragon turned its giant body to face the Knight. The Dark Lord looked down on him regarding him coldly. With another unspoken command the Dragon let its head drop to the ground. The Dark Lord used the neck of the great beast as a ramp.
There he stood, the Lord of all Evil in the world and the Knight stared right into his cold eyes, a lesser man would of died just from the fear that the Lord of Shadow generates. The Dark Lord thrust his sword up into the air, Soultakers black blade blocked out all light.
“Knight, you run to your death before the battle even begins. Are you that scared of my power? If death is what you have chosen then I will grant you wish, freedom from fear!” Ears did not hear the voice. It came right into the Knight’s thoughts, a Dark voice that caused the Knight to tremble.
“Why do you kill?” the Knight managed to speak; though it was broken with fear and in a quiet whisper.
The same deep voice boomed inside the Knights head “That is what the world needs! It needs to die! The sun shines and brings life, so does the darkness needs to cover all. To bring death…”
“I do not understand!” The Knights trembling voice interrupted. He barely got the words out of his mouth.
“There must be war! The light and dark must fight. The Gods know this that is why the swords were created, to continue this fight for all time. Only one side can be victorious in the end, that is the side with the greater will to survive!”
“Then good will win!” The Knight yelled his fear disappearing. Regaining his strength, he lifted his sword from his side and pressed the flat edge agents his forehead and said a silent prayer to his God. He removed the sword from his head and got into a battle stance. The Dark Lord waited patiently.
“You still want to fight me?” The deep voice echoed in the Knights head. “So be it!”
The Knight broke into a run, lifting the sliver blade into the air and brought it down upon the Dark Lord. There was a blinding flash of light and the Knight was thrown back. He fell on his back, the wind knocked out of him.
He recovered and searched around for his sword. It was in arms reach. He made a grab for it, but was stopped by the foot of the Dark Lord. The Knight felt bones snap under the weight.
“You thought that Soultaker would allow harm to come to me?! HA! You cannot hurt me with a mortal weapon as long as I have Soultaker! Even one as finely crafted as yours.” He bent down and picked up the Knights sword. He examined it intently for a moment. The in one swift motion he turned the blade downward and thrust it into the Knight’s shoulder. He cried out in pain; it was heard over the entire battlefield.
Blood trickled from the wound, flowing like a twisted river down his shoulder and arm. The Knight’s vision was starting to fate, but he saw the blade of Soultaker position itself over his heart.
“Your soul is now mine, Sir. Knight.” The Dark voice boomed in the Knight’s head. He saw the blade pull back and then rush forward. He could not move. He closed his eyes and waited for death, but it never came, only a slight pain in his right hand. He opened his eyes; the sword had stopped right above his breastplate, his hand holding it tight. The Dark Lord was trying to pull his hand free but could not budge it. Red blood flowed freely down the black steel.
He did not think; he just acted, lifting the sword away from the breastplate upward with unnatural strength. He then pulled with all the power he could muster and let the sword fall backward, carrying the Dark Lord with it. The Knight pulled his own sword from his shoulder and scrambled to his feet. The Dark Lord was dazed and attempting to get to his feet. Soultaker was near him.
The Knight dove for the Dark Sword. His hand grasps the hilt, but so had another. The large gauntlet of the Lord of Shadow’s hand also had grasped the hilt tightly refusing to let go. The Knight struggled to break the grasp and take the prize. He continued to fight with him until he remembered his own sword in his other hand. Still holding Soultaker tightly he lifted his left hand and brought the sliver blade down onto the wrist of the Dark Lord.
The cry of the Lord of Shadow slowed time for the Knight. His sword sliced though the hand easily and now a dark bluish blood flowed freely from the stump where his hand was. Soultaker was his! He began to lift it, but he was overwhelming by the weight of the sword and the pain in his arm.
“Fool!” The deep voice echoed in his tired head. “Soultaker only obeys its master! Have you mastered it? NO! It took seven years for me too master the sword, but it was worth it. You couldn’t do it if you had a thousand. HAHAHAHAHAHA!”
The Knight stood up leaving Soultaker with the severed hand clung to it lying on the ground and walked to where the Dark Lord has stopped. On one knee examining the bloody stump where his hand once was, the hand that had mastered Soultaker, the Dark Sword.
By now the Knight’s wound had spilt more blood then it should have, the armored arm and shoulder were covered with the Knights sticky, red blood. But there was the Lord of Shadow, the man that the entire world feared kneeling in the dirt, where were the armies now? Then he remembered where. He turned his head and looked upon the army of the Dark Lord. They stood still none of them moved, not even the great Black Dragon. The goblins, orcs, and even the few demons and shades looked on the dual with great interest, none of them even thought of interfering.
His fear of being attacked from behind gone, the Knight stumbled toward the defeated Lord of Darkness, his sword in his good arm ready to strike when needed.
“This is for my comrades!” The Knight spoke this oath as he drove the sliver blade though the back of the Dark Lord. The same night-blue blood trickled down the Dark Lords lip and onto his chin.
There was a flash of light, the darkness was lifted and the sun shore again. The Dark Lords army broke in fear. The Orcs, goblins, and few humans broke from their ranks and ran in all directions. The Dragon flew off too return to his sleep and the shades and demons vanished, returning to there own plane.
The Knight could no longer stand the pain. His breathing grew heavier and faster. He fell backwards in a pool of blood, a mixture of his red blood and the dark-blue blood of the Dark Lord. He looked at the Dark Lord, he had been turned to stone, the Knights sword stuck in his back. He reached out and grabbed the blade of his sword. It but into his hand but still held it fast. He closed his eyes, his breathing began to slow down and soften.
“The side with the greater will to survive will. It all returns to nothingness. I see now, why we are here.” His breathing stopped and for the first time since he donned the Knight’s armor, he was at rest.
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