The Last Knight Page #3

I enjoy writing stories with epic and mysterious characters, so I had a lot of fun with this fantasy story.

• Fantasy
• Fiction
• Short story
• Action and Adventure

								

“Would you please give me a lift to the nearest inn?” the Knight shouted above the racket of the wagon. He considered telling the farmer who he was, one of the King’s eight Knights, but then discarded the idea after thinking that he could have been followed. Startled, the farmer scanned the area before spotting the man lying on the side of the road.
“Sir... there isn’t an inn in at least a day’s travel from here,” the farmer told him worriedly, inspecting the Knight’s wounds. “I can take you to my house, however. My wife has some skill in healing wounds.”
 “I would greatly appreciate that,” the tired Knight said.
“Just climb in the back,” the farmer told him, motioning toward his wagon. With some effort, the Knight managed to heave himself up and climb into the wagon. Snapping his wrists, the farmer pulled the reins and the wagon jolted forward. Bounced around in the back of the wagon, the Knight grasped the side boards as hard as he could. He held on tightly until at last they reached the farmer’s house, a small stone building with a thatched straw roof. A tendril of smoke came out of the chimney, and the soft glow of firelight hung around the windows. The Knight noticed for the first time that it was starting to get dark.
“Come on in,” the farmer said as he hopped off of the wagon and tethered his horses to a tree. Opening the door of his house, he motioned for the exhausted Knight to come inside. Inside of the house it was pleasantly warm and cozy, with a small kitchen, fireplace, and bed in the corner. In the kitchen the farmer’s wife stood, stirring a pot of fragrant stew. She turned around in mild surprise as the Knight walked in.
“This man was injured and needed some help,” the farmer told her. She nodded and turned back to her stew. Her husband occasionally took injured or hungry travelers into his home and cared for them, so the Knight’s presence wasn’t much of a shock.

The farmer and his wife were very hospitable, especially after the Knight told them who he was and why he was injured. Within a few days he had healed from the burns enough to start traveling again. On the night before he was to leave and head toward the castle, the Knight and the farmer debated on which was the best path to take.
“The main road should be safer, since more people use it,” the farmer argued as he pointed to a spot on his map.
 “I’m not so sure about that,” the Knight replied. “Whoever is trying to kill me most likely doesn’t care if people see. They just want it done.” He paused, inspecting the map. “What is this road here? It looks like it would take me to the castle, although it would take longer.” The road he had pointed to wound through a sparsely populated area and around the great mountain range, the Granite Mountains.
“That might work,” the farmer said as he looked closely at the map. “I’ve traveled a ways up that road before, and all I saw was an abandoned castle at the foot of the Granite Mountains. It seemed rather safe, as far as roads go.” He nodded to himself.
“I shall take it, then. I very much appreciate your help,” the Knight said to the farmer warmly.

Armed with a single dagger, the Knight headed down the secluded road. He could already see a few mountain peaks rising in the distance, and the sharp scent of pines wafted in the breeze. Reaching a shady spot, the Knight sat down and rested for a few minutes. He pulled out a piece of bread that the farmer had given him and ate a quick meal before getting up and heading on his way. He still had a few day’s journey ahead of him before he could reach the castle and tell the King what had happened. Remembering the horrible, gleaming eye of the dragon, he shuddered.

After an hour’s walk, the Knight began to see the ruins of a castle ahead, looming above the narrow path. It had once been a great fortress with impenetrable walls, but due to strange and unforeseen circumstances, it had been destroyed by the armies of the North. The King’s army had driven the enemy warriors out and away, but the castle was never rebuilt. Rumors had spread around the kingdom that the castle was haunted. As the Knight paused to look closer at the ruins, a horrifying sound met his ears, almost in response to his thoughts. It was a terrible, seemingly inhuman scream, loud and threatening. Almost immediately after came a terrified human wail. With a shout the Knight sprinted toward the ruins, dagger in hand. As his food touched the floor stones of the ruined doorway, a flash of black swept into his vision and knocked him over, snarling. The Knight turned around to find a huge, ferocious hound cornering him, with burning coals for eyes. It lifted its head to the sky and gave a horrible, chilling howl. Jaws dripping with saliva, it bounded forward and pounced on the Knight. The shaken man grasped his dagger tightly and thrust it deep into the black shadow of a creature that leapt toward him. It let out a piercing cry as the razor sharp blade sliced into its chest. Then, it fell down, dead. The horrible glow in the hound’s eyes went out as well, and the Knight heaved a shuddering breath. He wiped the cold sweat off of his brow and turned toward the dark, dusty chamber that lay in front of him. Someone, or something, was evidently using the ruins, and had kept the terrible hound as a guard. Suddenly, a woman’s cry came again from deep inside the ruins. Without another thought, the Knight dashed into the shadowy room. He leapt over the pieces of crushed stone that were strewn across the floor, and passed into one dark, ancient room after another. Finally, he saw a glow coming from the room ahead of him. It was a strange glow, and the Knight realized that it was not the usual warm glow of a fire, but a cold icy blue glow that came from the entryway. At once cautious, the Knight crept toward the doorway, dagger clutched tightly in hand. He slowly slipped into the room.
“Who are you and why have you disturbed my peace?” said a chilling voice. The Knight froze. “Yes, I can see you,” it said, giving a horrendous laugh, like stone hitting against ice. Looking in all directions, the Knight walked to the center of the room. It was a very large room, with a high ceiling. Most likely, it had been the dining hall for whoever lived in the castle before it had been destroyed. The Knight spun around as a dark figure slid out of the shadows behind him. As it walked up to him, the entire room was filled with a chilling wind.

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