The Charred Knight

Burning Sacrifice and a Journey Started.

Aimée wandered the Elder Forest as her father had spoken of in the fairytales of her childhood. Like the seekers in those tales, she kept the moss on the trees to her left and followed the song of the ortolans. Autumn was approaching and the leaves were losing their youthful green in exchange for vibrant orange and muddle brown. But even these colors began to fade as the bark on the trees became dark eventually turning to black and in the air was a distinct burning smell. A smell that became even more pungent with the onset of rain clouds moistening the air.

Her desperation had led her to this and blackened her shoes and tattered the lace of her dress. There, up ahead, just like in the fairytales, and ancient tree trunk shattered by lightening in an age long ago but never returning to the earth. Its bark seared black, as black as the cruel pacts made in its presence. The overwhelming smell of a fire ever burning in its heart but never consuming it and adorned with the fetishes of witchery.

She pulled the flint she stole from her brother and hid in the folds of her cinch. With a stone found at her feet she struck again and again trying to light the tinder at the foot of the hollowed stump yet to her dismay it would not catch. She cursed the weather for all the good it had done her though she knew the rains had been a blessing to the lands in recent months but her frustrations got the better of her kindly nature.

She fell to her knees and offered up an oath to the sky though she did not directly speak to God, she knew full well that her actions now were wandering afield of goodly morals despite her great intentions. With a sudden fervor of desperation, she repeatedly struck the flint again and again until eventually the sparks found their purchase. The tinder burned up first causing her to recoil quickly lest her garments be caught in the flames. It spread quickly forming a bright orange ring under the dark flush of an oncoming rain.

The broken hollow smoldered and smoked but never caught fire just as her father had said. Suddenly she became aware of her actions, fear began to take the place of youthful passion and as she tried to resume a kneeling position before the ring of fire, she found that her limbs were trembling. She rallied her spirit and renewed her determination. And clasped her hands together in prayer.

She smelled him before she felt his presence. The smell of burning and metal. Fear overwhelmed her and though her body adamantly refused to obey she willed her eyes to slowly open. In the space between the gloom and the fire stood a dark knight in charred plate of an age long forgotten. It covered his entire body peaking in a crested helmet that hid his eyes in blackest shadow.

“Why comes the eldest daughter of Alain?” the knight spoke in a gravelly voice that permeated Aimée’s skin reaching her bones.

Aimée rose to her feet and took a cautious step back. The knight didn’t bother to move.

She gathered her strength, “I have come to seek aid in a time of need as ordained by ancient oaths.”

The knight tilted his helmet as if considering her words.

“The oath is to the head of the family that protects these woods, and that is not you,” the knight said it with a level of menace that was not lost on Aimée. She watched him slowly reach for the sword at his side.

“My father is encumbered by age and ill health and my brother is not of age. I am the eldest and I am the head in all but title. You will honor the Spriggan’s Oath.”

Sparks flashed in the eye slit of the helmet and an overwhelming pressure almost robbed Aimée of her footing. She startled, wondering if she had overreached her means. The pressure dissipated and the sparks simmered into glowing embers. Slowly, the knight removed the hand from the ebon hilt of it’s sword.

“Oaths must be made, the price must be paid. The forest recognizes your claim, but your sibling can never own that name,” the knight canted.

With hesitation, Aimée nodded. She did so with the full knowledge of what she was doing and what she was stealing from her brother.

“I will be the keeper of the oaths and keep the forest safe. I swear to my blood and to my name.”

The flaming ring around the pyre flared up, rising to a height taller than the knight.

“The forest has accepted your vow, tell us what you need of us now.”

Aimée took step forward, her previous apprehension disappearing, “The enemies of my family gather around us in droves, alliances in the dark have been sworn. For the sake of my family and this forest strike our enemies down.”

The light from the helmet dimmed.

“The forest cannot abide,” the metallic echo of the knight’s voice seemed forlorn.

A spike of jaded frustration erupted inside Aimée, “You will not honor the Oath?”

To Aimée’s amazement, the forest had been quiet but a sense of life in it stirred but the moment her words left her mouth it became deathly still and the once oppressive pressure became overwhelming and it dropped her to her knees. The fires of the pyre roared and spat flames in every direction. The knight loomed over her and seemed as though a giant shadow had materialized in front of her, and when it spoke the metallic hollow was filled with malice.

“Do not speak to us in that tone little girl,

You do not understand the laws of our world,

Our treatise with you is a frivolity,

Your request is a triviality,

There are rules and there are laws,

Rules can be bent with their inherent flaws,

But laws are born of blood, and spirit, and fire,

Not you or nor we should risk that ire,

Your enemies honor the ways long forgotten,

And leave their offerings on the edges burnt and rotten.”

The shadow retreated and the fires calmed. Aimée trembled where she knelt even as the pressure faded and the dull gray of the day returned. Dread creeped upon her as the realization that she was beyond all hope. If the spirits of the Burning Woods would not aid her then her family was lost.

“We cannot raise our hand, I’m afraid,

But still, we offer you, our aid.

Commit to our simple plan,

And journey across the land.

To the south and to the east,

Past a town carved by beasts.

Travel further down the road,

A village of farmers, there abodes,

The son of a farmer will be your knight,

A hero in name and by all right.”

“I am to entrust the fate of my family’s lands to a single farm boy against the advent approach of enemy armies,” Aimée was incredulous.

“The boy is learned in ways beyond his station life. He has been tutored under a... unique master,” there was loud clink, like metal splitting, “And he is as much a boy as you are a girl.”

In the face of her prospects, she paid no heed to the slight and though she would ponder it profusely later, the loud metallic clink passed without regard. She paced back and forth in the space before the knight, she stared at the ground while wringing her hands. A moment passe and she addressed the knight again.

“What must I do?”

The knight righted itself, “For the sake of territorial stability, I have shown the path of viability. All that rests upon your capability.”

“How shall I recruit this hero to my cause?” she asked.

“Charm is a subtle art. You must appeal to the hero in his heart.”

She straightened herself up pontificating all her noble and feminine charm, “I can do that.”

The knight did not respond and a silent moment passed between them. Once the moment passed, it was the knight that broke the silence.

“A final warning, before you leave. I stress upon the guardian’s better judgement. There are no rhymes or riddles for these words as to convey the absolute weight of them.”

Aimée stood rigid in her attentiveness. It was unheard of for the people of the woods to segregate themselves from their mirthful and poetic demeanor.

“Should you be unfortunate to cross paths with the boy’s master. Do not tread upon his patience or good will. He is not a THING to be trifled with.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“He travels in all worlds though he does not belong in any of them. He is not demon, nor spirit and as he will adamantly deny, he is not a god. He is the embodiment of carnality given the form of a man. Engage him with caution, for all our sakes if not your own.”

“Is he a threat to you?” Aimée found this incredulous.

“He is a threat to the world and everything in it. He is a threat to decency. He is a threat to sanity.”

“How shall I engage such a creature?”

“Preferably you should not. But if it happens, maintain good manners and your womanly virtue.”

“What part does my virtue play in this?” Aimée felt an ill mood grip her.

“This THING lives by its own principles. The only rules it follows are its own. He makes a point of not consuming untouched women. But should your virtue fail, all pretense to protection will fall with it. And do not be so naive to believe you are immune to this THING’s influence.”

“If he is so powerful, why can I not beseech him to fight for my cause instead?”

The fire exploded and roared even higher, “Were you not listening child. He is a monster,” the knights voiced boomed, “He does not fight mortals any more than a giant would an insect and if so harassed he is as likely to fight for your enemies out of spite or worse.”

Aimée cowered before the display of power, “Worse...?” she asked in a stuttering voice.

The fire calmed, “He will kill you, your enemies and the forest just for the trouble of being made aware of the conflict.”

Aimée nodded as a sign of understanding. Another pause passed between them before she spoke.

“I thank the forest for its guidance. I shall not fail in my duties,” she turned to leave.

“Wait,” called the knight and Aimée turned to it.

“The oath is made, the price must be paid,” it repeated.

Aimée nodded hoping against hope the conclusion of the ceremony would be forgotten and avoided. She took from her belt a concealed knife she had taken from the kitchen. She grasped the locks of her hair around her shoulders in a tight grip and with a sawing motion relieved herself of the lengthy weight. Still grasping it tightly as though it were her lifeline, she held it out towards the knight.

The knight reached out with its metal fist and grasped the strands from the bottom end. She felt the pull of his strength and with great hesitation finally relented the lock of hair to him. The knight held the blond locks close to his helmet as if inspecting and as it stared the hair caught fire. In the parsing of a moment the fire consumed the hair and engulfed the mailed fist. The ashes fell away and the flames died down leaving the knight’s fist glowing red.

He reached out to Aimée with his burning red hand and took a step forward. Then another step. She could feel the heat of it as it approached and a part of her strained to gain authority of her body and run away but through her trembling she stood her ground. The knight caught her right arm with his cold left hand as the burning fingers inched towards her. As the first touch seared the skin of her clavicle she screamed in agony and though his grip on her arm held her aloft it did little to comfort her resolve.

The knight traced his finger across her flesh with agonizing sluggishness that threatened to rob of her of sanity and consciousness with every moment. The knight completed his intent and though the initial pain was gone the burning pain remained. It took the last remnants of her strength to stand after it released its grip on her arm and through feral instinct alone clasped her hands to her cheeks instead of her chest as the tears flowed freely over them.

“The pact is made, the price is paid,” the metallic voice of the knight echoed one last time.”

The thud of its footsteps resonated in Aimée’s ears as it turned away and in the moment she blinked away her tears, it vanished, leaving behind the smoldering stump, bereft of fetishes but otherwise unaffected by the fire that had covered it.

She willed herself to steady herself and walk away though the pain threatened to rob of her of consciousness the moment she lost focus. She had a duty to fulfill and and journey to embark upon. If she failed, there would plenty of time to sleep if she failed. She never once looked back at the cruel black stump.