The Last Knight Page #4

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

								

“I am one of the King’s Knights!” the Knight shouted at the shadow. He held the dagger behind himself, hoping that the shadow-figure would not notice it.
“Where is your armor?” the voice hissed, and a long, nearly clawed finger touched his chest.
“I had to leave it behind,” the Knight said, trying to see the strange figure’s face. But it was shaded by the black hood it wore. “Tell me who you are!” he shouted.
“No need to shout,” the voice laughed. “I am known by many names, some of which are the Cloaked Figure, the Guider of Shadows, and the Hidden Leader. I have been trying to get my hands on your horribly sunny country for some time now, and finally I have all the tools I need to succeed.” It laughed again. “Yes, you have put up a bit more of a fight than we were expecting, but now you have placed yourself directly in my power. I have slaughtered each and every one of your so-called “King’s Knights” at the River Marsh. With the strongest warriors of the kingdom defeated, who is to stop me from taking it over? I even took the liberty of kidnapping the King’s niece for a ransom, the very money that I will pay my soldiers after they take over your kingdom.” The cloaked figure turned around and pointed a shriveled hand at another adjoining room, in which the Knight could see the shape of a woman, tied up and unconscious. The Knight gave a cry and sprinted toward the room, but the figure nimbly struck him on the head with such a strong blow that the Knight’s vision spun.
When he had recovered, the Knight found himself lying on the cold stone floor of the ruins, dagger still hidden in the folds of his clothes. He stood up, groaning. The Cloaked Figure still stood nearby, watching him intently.
 “Do you want to see my face?” it asked, sneering.
“Ye.. Yes,” the Knight said painfully, clutching his side. As he watched, a great blue light filled the room, and the figure cast down his hood. The face that the Knight saw was a man’s face, scarred and shriveled. But what the Knight noticed most was the strange man’s eyes. They were similar to chips of ice, giving off a cold glow. Suddenly, he found that he couldn’t look away from the eyes. Pulled into their blue depths, the Knight felt himself sliding into darkness. He collapsed again, too weak to stop himself.
Waking after a few minutes, the Knight sat up and glanced around. A pang of fear hit him as he noticed that the dagger had slid across the floor.
“What did you think you were going to do with a little dagger?” the Cloaked Figure said, laughing as he spoke. Summoning all the strength he had left, the Knight reached over and grasped the dagger. As his hand touched the weapon, a ray of hope and strength struck him. Energized, he stood up. The Cloaked Figure watched with mild surprise.
“For the King!” the Knight roared at the top of his voice. He leaped at the dark figure and slashed across its face with all of his might. Shocked, the horrible cloaked man gave a piercing shriek. Trying to strike the warrior down again, he swung a blow at the Knight’s head. But this time, the Knight dodged the blow with a roll to the side, and struck the deadly dagger into the man’s chest. Blood poured from the wounds, and the Cloaked Figure collapsed onto his knees. Heaving one last breath, he fell to the floor. The Knight staggered back from the body, and breathed deeply. Then he remembered the hostage, and he limped over to the unconscious woman. Grasping the rough cordage that held her to the wall, the Knight sliced through her bonds. Then, filled with exhaustion, he collapsed back against one of the nearby walls.

 The Knight opened his eyes slowly and looked around. To his surprise, he was not lying on the floor of the dark stone ruins. Instead, he was in a comfortably warm room, decorated with tapestries and lit with an oil lamp. He sat up quickly, and listened. Outside of the room he heard the sounds of celebration, cheers and shouts. Dressing himself with the clothes that were draped on the footboard of his bed, he slipped out of the room and investigated the source of the sound. Cheerful music as well as singing met his ears as he entered the Great Hall of the castle, for indeed, he had woken up in one of the Castle rooms. Suddenly he stopped, and realized that when he had entered people had started cheering.
“A toast to the savior of our kingdom!” they shouted. A man touched his shoulder and he turned around. It was the King, dressed in celebratory attire.
“My son, you have done us a great service,” the King told him with a smile. “My most formidable enemy, the Guider of Shadows, as he called himself, was a foe far beyond a common soldier, and even my Knights. But you defeated him before he caused much destruction, and for that I owe you a great honor. My dear Niece owes you much as well,” he said, taking one of the nearby ladies by the hand and introducing him to her. He recognized her as the woman he had cut the bonds off of, but she looked almost like a new person. Instead of being dirty and pale as she had been in the ruins, she was radiant and beautiful, with her long flowing hair sweeping down past her shoulders. She was tall, although not as tall as the Knight, and had a grateful smile. As the musicians started a waltz, the Knight asked if she would like to dance. When she agreed, he took her by the hand and danced, enjoying the talent of the musicians. As he turned around, he noticed one of the King’s Advisors looking at him. The robed man nodded in his direction, smiling. Suddenly, he realized that it was the very same Advisor that had given him the precious dagger, which had defeated the Great Dragon as well as the Guider of Shadows. He bowed slightly toward the man as a sign of respect, turned back to the graceful Niece of the King, and continued to dance.
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