Knight's Gauntlet Chapter 2.2

After seeing what was left of his arm, he knew with grim certainty that the grayish powder was all that remained of their earthly bodies. The fine powder drifting through the air had begun settling into a thin, dour sheet over the barren earth like a dour snowfall.

Wait. Something about the landscape finally struck him

Barren?

It dawned on Dera what had been bugging him since the beginning. The gnawing worry he hadn’t been able to bury deeply enough finally blossomed into full-blown realization. The entire courtyard was comprised of loose, sandy dirt and not a single stalk of grass was poking out throughout the entire area. With the yard packed shoulder to shoulder he hadn’t realized how barren it truly was, not even a weed found enough sustenance to subsist. Now that the soldier’s numbers had been brutally thinned, with the survivors huddling in fearful piles with the other castle dwellers; he saw it clearly.

Damn. He would have smacked himself if he had any energy left for self-discipline.

Jeric told him that no ley lines ran anywhere near the area; the closest was supposedly a mile away to the north. Yet here he stood, the proof abundant that had been another lie from the stinking rat’s mouth.

Everal had indeed been built upon a line, a minor one, but clearly rich enough for the purposes of Markoff’s ploy.

Dera gritted his teeth, tasting the copper tang of blood on his tongue. He shouldn’t have dropped his guard like he had. If it weren’t for that, he wouldn’t have missed such an obvious omen.

They were the arteries of the world that the natural energy of life flowed through, and you could always tell where a Magus had pulled too much energy from this delicate flow. The life that huddled atop these lines around them would dwindle and shrivel until nothing was left but the lifeless soil.

It was one of the few indications that a Magus had been working his so-called ‘wonders’ nearby.

Dera scowled. As if it weren’t enough that the fool betrayed him; he had led him straight into the maw of the beast. It was no great mystery how Markoff had managed to create such a potent weapon now. He had siphoned every last drop of life-giving energy that ran through this place.

Life had been squandered to fuel a grasping death.

Markoff snapped his fingers and forced Dera’s attention back to him.

“No sense crying over broken eggs, as they say.”

It was as if he could read Dera’s mind. This creepy habit had always enraged Dera.

The Magus held his invisible grip and continued on as if he were merely conducting casual business.

“You’ve limited my options, you see.”

Markoff began slowly pacing, rubbing his free hand over his goatee, mulling over his thoughts, “I’ve come to admire you Dera. I truly have. I treasure you, much like a smith treasures his hammer or a shepherd his hook,” He stopped, and leisurely turned to transfix Dera with his eyes, “Yet, here you are, clearly putting the skills we’d salvaged to work against us. Tell me, Dera, how would you handle this?”

Jeric snickered and opened his mouth to jump in, but thought better of it when Markoff’s head snapped to him with irritation written on his face. Jeric promptly clamped his mouth shut as a bead of sweat ran down his cheek.

Dera sighed. As much as he wanted to murder Markoff and claim his vengeance, it was impossible now. With that in mind, he’d prefer a quick death over being talked into the grave. He was a warrior, death wasn’t a monster lurking in the shadows he feared, but rather a companion that stood a silent vigil at his side.

He pushed down his inner turmoil and spoke calmly.

“I’d kill me.”

Likely his last words.

Markoff’s eyebrow rose as he calculated the truth of his words.

“I appreciate your honesty,” Markoff slowly nodded with satisfaction, “Normally, I would. And painfully so. But we’ve invested greatly in this… experiment,” his face twisted into a cruel facsimile of a smile, “and a librarian wouldn’t burn a rare tome due to mold, would he?

“However, I believe there may yet be hope for you,” Markoff’s eyes glinted with malice and anticipation, “If we break your spirit properly this time, that is.”

The inner turmoil suddenly exploded from Dera’s control and anxiety pulsed through his nerves, riding the waves of pain that he already felt. He thought that he was immune to such a feeling by now, but Markoff’s words and the venom contained within inspired a dull fear that numbed his senses. It swept him back into his past memories, threatening to drown him with sorrow at the thought of the last time Markoff deemed an example necessary.

He was thrust back seven months ago; forced to watch his family and home engulfed by roaring flame once more. Their fate was meant to be a spirit-shattering lesson in humility and obedience for Dera. In a way it had been, but the figure that stood amid dust wasn’t what they intended. Instead of a hollow puppet, they had created a vengeful wraith thirsty for their blood.

Dera quickly stemmed the flow of emotion and memories, allowing an anesthetic apathy to replace them. It flowed into his being like cold water into a bucket, helping him focus and ponder. What else could they do to him at this point? He was physically crippled and emotionally shattered. There was hardly a shred left of the man that the Magi had deemed worthy of experimentation in the midst of his slaughtered squad.

The day a massacre fed his twisted life and cursed armor.

Dera found his focus fading and disjointed thoughts scattering more and more with every passing moment. He was spiraling into an exhausted madness in face of his injuries and sustained trauma.

Once again Markoff broke Dera from his inner thoughts and drug him back to his desolate reality.

“You shall choose a peasant to slaughter. Their blood shall cleanse your transgressions and procure redemption. It will have to be a commoner of course; killing another soldier wouldn’t be much of a lesson.” Markoff grinned with perverse pleasure from tormenting Dera, “You are, after all, an accomplished murderer in your own right.”

Even Jeric paled and stood slack-jawed at the sinister proclamation. His face reflected Dera’s own thoughts. It was one thing to punish your soldier for treachery, but insane to murder unarmed villagers.

Dera shook his head as his heart began throbbing with anger at Markoff’s words. He hadn’t chosen to be a murderer; he had been left no choice in the matter. It was either fight for the Magi and earn his family’s safety, or be subject to their mad whims like the rest of the world.

Yet, in the end, wasn’t that his bitter fate anyway? Despite every despicable act he committed and every sin he etched into his conscious to save his love from their insanity, he still suffered.

It still culminated in harsh flames and the wrath of the tyrants he had served blindly.

Dera felt his anger feed and twist upon itself in a self-renewing loop.

He had fought for them.

He had killed for them.

He had murdered in cold blood on their behalf!

Then, when their cruelty found new depths that not even he could descend to; he refused. Soon after, they took from him the one true treasure he had in this decaying world. The black flames of outrage burned up from his torn soul and engulfed his mind as the scene played over and over again. The screams from that day pounded against his mind; a bitter crescendo of shame and regret mounted and twisted the truth he suppressed free from his heart.

No choice?

He was a fool.

He did have a choice.

Just like that dark day when he swore his Slayer’s pledge in a swirling pool of his comrade’s blood, he was faced with yet another split in the road. If he truly was meant to die here, then it would be on his terms and following his own path to the grave. He would bow to these false deities no longer.

Dera was done playing by their rules; the time had come to change the game.

It was better to die on his feet than to crawl on his knees.

“No.”

Markoff’s glee froze, “Excuse me.”

It wasn’t a question; it was an opportunity for Dera to retract his words.

“I. Said. No.”

Dera spat his words; his shooting pain mixing with open rebellion in an intense whirlpool of emotion and building indignation that twisted his tone. All eyes were on him now; the crowd was shocked that after everything that had happened he still found the strength stand against their master. Even Jeric’s mouth hung open in surprise as he took a step back from the icy standoff.

Markoff, on the other hand, admirably kept his features neutral and under control. The slight tightening of his eyes gave him away to Dera, however. He hadn’t expected defiance after his show of power.

It brought Dera a bizarre satisfaction knowing he had thrown this little play off script.

Dera was willing to bet that even the people in the back of the crowd could see the fire blazing in Markoff’s eyes at this strange twist of fate though.

Good, he thought, he had upset him.

Dera pushed on, channeling his righteous rage into words.

“You truly believe we’re all your toys to play with and bend to your whim, but you are mistaken. We’re all human beings, we are all individuals, just as you are. “Dera waved his hand for emphasis, “The only difference is that your ability cast weak illusions in an effort to inspire fear and obedience in the minds of the masses.”

Dera twisted to face the crowd, still held in place by the choking collar. His words were for those that might survive this day; not the smoldering man now staring at his back. He didn’t care what Markoff offered. He knew that after the attempt he made that death was all that could be expected.

Perhaps not today, but it would follow inevitably at Markoff’s machinations.

Markoff was simply toying with his prey like the filthy alley cat he was. He teased false freedom just to yank it away in joy. When he inevitably grew bored with his quarry’s death throes, he would finish them and move on to a new quarry.

Dera took a deep breath and steeled his will with a confidence that felt hollow and brittle at best.

Oh well, Dera thought wryly, hopefully that it wouldn’t show.

“Is this what you desire for yourselves? For your children? For your children’s children? Look around you!” Dera flung his functioning arm out in a wide circle, indicating the chaos that had seized their quiet lives, “You’ve given your lives over to monsters like the man behind me, and how has he repaid your loyalty? By twisting your home into a vile trap!”

A few men began nodding numbly at his words, but that was the only reaction.

He wasn’t getting through to them yet, but he refused to stop now.

"It was meant for me alone, a single man. Yet he murdered your brothers, your sisters, and your comrades as if they were insects beneath his boot! “Dera pointed at their feet as he screamed his words,” Look where you stand, and see the ground that once held vibrant life; now sucked dry by the machinations of the lunatic behind me. Look to the sky and watch what’s left of your lost friends drift in the wind!”

He could see by their faces that his words struck chord and were beginning to crack through the hard shells of fear that encased their minds. Dera’s hope grew and filled the gaps in his confidence with a shining radiance as he tactfully applied pressure to these hairline faults that were forming on the surface.

“Do you know why? Do you understand why there was so much collateral damage to kill one man? The cause is fear. The same fear the rest of you felt when confronted with your mortality!”

Dera couldn’t help but grin. Even if Markoff killed him now, he’d just lend credence to his words.

“This Magus would have you believe him a god; free of the rules that bind us and our world. Free of consequence. Yet, here he stands, afraid of death and flexing his abilities like a coward attempting to ward off a beast with his petty torch! These actions prove him a mortal, like me, like you, like the rest of the people that live under their tyrannical thumb!”

Suddenly, the fractures blossomed into racing cracks and collapsing sheets of fear. It was as if the people before him were waking from a dream to the awful truth that was their reality. The early rumblings of dissent were evident; whispers here and there mixed with shouts of aggravated agreement in between.

“I beg of you, heed my words. Now is the time! Your survival hinges on your ascension; this is not the way it has to be!”

Dera was hitting a nerve, and the Magus finally broke his silence and lashed out. The rage mounting inside him finally broke through his casual tone and leaked into his words. It was minor, but Dera was surprised to see Markoff lose control of anything.

It simply wasn’t his way.

“That is enough,” Markoff hissed through clenched teeth.

Dera wanted to laugh. His speech would end with his life and not a moment sooner. If Markoff thought otherwise, he was more a fool than Dera gave him credit for.

He looked over his shoulder and spoke calmly, “No, far from it.”

Without waiting for a response, he faced his fellow man and continued on; determined to shatter the shackles on their souls before his life was extinguished.

“People please, this is the time to stand up and seize control of your lives from the slavers we’ve willingly surrendered the reigns to!”

Dera couldn’t believe that people were rallying to his words. It was spreading slowly, but the crowd was no longer huddled in defeated clumps on the ground. It had instead begun gravitating towards him and gathering like a rally.

“One man resisting their will worried them enough to lash out. They’re frightened. They know that if we rose up together, as a people, that nothing would hold us back!” Dera pointed straight at the middle of the crowd and stood tall, “And the only way to prevent that is to keep you from realizing it as well!”

Dera spun quickly again, growing dizzy as he did so. He may have gotten a second wind, but the toll his body had paid was immeasurable.

He looked into Markoff’s burning crimson eyes with his own flaming gaze and grinned savagely. It was amusing how badly Markoff wanted to tear him apart, yet could not for fear of validating his words

“They hold your whips and chains, true, but what they fail to understand is that it matters little how hard you try to capture the ocean. For the harder you clench water; the quicker it escapes your grasp and flows freely as it should!”

His final words shattered their fear and inspired the crowd to cheer until their shouts echoed around the yard like thunder singing throughout a valley.

So this is what it feels like to make a better choice. Dera couldn’t help but smile; too bad it had taken him so long to find the path hidden in the brush.

Suddenly the collar tightened, closing his throat and choking him until the fuzzy darkness rolled in on the horizon and he gaped for air. It was loose enough for him to breath, barely, but not to speak.

Markoff had finally grown tired of his monologue.

“I said enough!” Markoff was furious, Dera could hear energy being pulled from the ground around him. It’s crackling was more than enough to silence his supporters.

He briefly wondered how deeply Markoff was digging to pull up such power. Then his heart fell; he was stealing the life of those that had fallen. It was just like the day they had found him.

“I was going to finish you quickly, but I think I’ll add one more sin to your tally first,” Markoff grinned with a mad malice, “Yet another innocent life ended with your blade.”

Markoff’s eyes drifted past Dera and slowly examined the crowd. He sucked air like a snake tasting the air before he spotted a distracted mouse. His eyes widened manically and he snapped his fingers when he found what he had been seeking.

Dera wanted to turn and see what the people were screaming for, but he was trapped firmly in Markoff’s grip. It wasn’t a collar, confined to his neck, any longer; there was an icy pressure bearing down on every inch of his being. It was like being plunged into a deep lake and held there to be crushed by the terrible force of nature. A small shadow passed over him and his heart dropped into his belly when he saw why there were screams and cries.

Markoff had selected a young girl from the crowd and seized her with his power.

She had black, raven hair. Its natural gloss had been dulled by the clinging dust that coated every inch of the poor child. Hot tears tore streaks through the grime built up on her cheeks while she sobbed and begged for mercy.

“Silence!” Markoff’s words cracked out like a whip. Everyone obeyed, even the child tried to stifle her sobs.

Dera felt a madness seize his mind with hot rage. He wanted to scream at him. He desperately wanted to curse his name and beg him to release the child; to tell him that this was between men, not a mad wizard’s grudge and a little girl. All that came out were choked grunts as he struggled against his captor’s supernatural grip.

Even with his armor activating with his frenzied state he could break free from the hold.

“You’ve planted a seed here today, which I intend scorch from the earth,” Markoff pointed from Dera to the girl, “You will kill her. You will prove here and now that standing against our might is futile and foolish. You will obey, and I will grant you a quick death.”

Markoff rolled his shoulders and sighed, clearly enjoying the control he had regained over the proceedings, “It will be agonizing, I promise, but quick nonetheless.”

Dera pointed to his neck, and the force holding him was eased with an agitated wave.

After a blissfully deep breath Dera sneered at the madman.

“No,” Dera shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes locked with the child’s emerald gaze. She looked relieved at his words, but terror still lurked beneath her eyes. She recognized the danger she was in and it twisted his heart with a raking pain.

“You cannot make me. I won’t sully my words spoken today with the final act of a coward.”

Markoff’s cold smile spread as his tone approached sinister, “I was hoping you would say that.”

Dera felt confused for a moment, then horrified as the Magus lifted his hands like a puppeteer. He felt invisible strands of energy latch onto his limbs and seize control of his extremities as if he were a demented marionette.

He looked at Jeric with rage and accusation in his gaze, willing him to save the child, but the coward refused to meet his eyes. The man he thought he knew was simply an act.

“True. Your obedience would have ruined your touching speech, but I’ll settle for a show of power. Look at your hero now!” Markoff shouted at the crowd and began pulling Dera towards him as he cackled darkly, “He stood so high and mighty, so resilient, and yet here he is. Just another pawn.”

Dera tried his hardest to fight the strange grip, to pull back as Markoff drug him forward, but try as he might he simply wasn’t in control of his body anymore. The child watched her executioner draw closer; immobilized by a mix of fear and evil magic.

He felt his arm slide down and remove his final blade tucked away in his boot as he strained against its movement. It halted for a split second before overriding his brain’s signals and seeking its goal.

It was the blade he had been reserving for his own life after he had avenged his family.

He was just a few feet from the trio now and his mind was stretching out in every direction to search for any possibility that would spare the child. It all felt so hopeless and out of control now. His eyes flickered between them; it felt as if time slowed to accommodate his thoughts graciously.

He saw a little girl, too young to die.

A coward sacrificing a chance at change for his own selfish gain.

And, beside them, a crazed puppeteer pulling all the strings.

Then, suddenly, Dera saw the path before him in perfect clarity as an inner sun banished the stormy clouds from his mind. He would prove just how vulnerable the Magi really were and save her.

It was simply a matter of drawing the maniac’s wrath to him.

He was upon the child now; his shadow covering her like the creeping shadow of a reaper. His muscles were tightening in preparation to lash out as they’d been trained to do, prepared to execute one final life banished to death by monsters.

“Wait!”

The strength in his voice shocked him. A radiant strength coursed through his being as Dera’s arm paused. It was still tense and poised to strike.

Dera wondered briefly if he had stopped it or if Markoff did.

If Markoff had lost control temporarily, he said nothing and merely waited for him to continue.

“I beg of you master, allow me to do this myself. I see my mistakes clearly now, and welcome death as punishment for my transgression. But this child, she is innocent, and at least deserves an honorable death.”

Dera bowed his head to hide the thinly veiled disgust on his face, “Not at the hands of a puppet, but at the hands of the Magi’s Slayer.”

His words sent waves of fury through the crowd, he was sure. He didn’t even need to look to know that they had turned against him. But it had the desired effect on Markoff, whose face relaxed with a primal satisfaction.

Dera kept his glee hidden as Markoff treasured his hard won victory and dominance over an insubordinate slave. His hubris was his weakness, and Dera planned to exploit it.

Markoff had begun shouting to the crowd, but Dera’s ears were deaf to the words. He found his eyes drawn to the child.

Dera looked down at the child and her hopeless whimpers broke his dry heart in ways he didn’t even know were possible anymore. His final words were for her, and her alone.

“I’d rather die a martyr, than a murderer,” Dera whispered with a peaceful smile.

Her trembling breath halted as understanding dawned on her.

Tears of fear gave way to tears of gratitude.

Sobs of fear broke into hysterical sobs of relief.

She wasn’t afraid anymore. Good, it would make it easier to focus.

Dera brought the dagger down as hard as his beaten body would allow, and watched the results unfold like he was floating in a dream.

Blood splashed from the horrendous wound to the ground like a crimson waterfall.

There was an agonizing shriek born from a terrible pain that had never been experienced before.

And then he watched in dark satisfaction while Markoff gripped his torn face as blood gushed from the huge slash that ran from his check clear across his face and over the opposite eye.

Not a killing blow, but Dera was happy.

It would have to suffice.

He dropped his blade and awaited fate with a clear heart as the child was spared a cruel death in face of this fresh act of rebellion. The Magus sent her sailing back into the crowd with a pained snarl.

“You bastard,” Markoff growled as he lifted Dera into the sky, squeezing until ribs broke.

“You bastard!” Markoff raged as he flung Dera towards the cliff edge like a ragdoll.

“YOU CURSED BASTARD!”

That was the final curse Dera heard as he sailed over the edge of the cliff and into the yawning abyss of open air. The last thing his weary eyes saw was the raven-haired child watching him flail over the edge from the safety of her mother’s arms. Her face was carved from stone and tears of sorrow swept over it like fresh rain against a mountain. He could see two words form soundlessly on her lips.

Thank you.

Dera smiled and closed his eyes as he rapidly gained speed plummeting past the cliff face.

It was faster than falling. Markoff was probably pushing him into the ground with all the power he could muster in an effort to make sure death claimed him as violently as possible.

Dera could have laughed if his broken ribs would have permitted breath.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing had mattered for such a long time.

He thought of his family as he pondered his failures one last time.

He had failed them both in the end, despite his best efforts.

I’m so sorry, I really thought things could change.

Perhaps in another life.

Dera’s eyes snapped open as he heard the phantom voice ring out clear in his mind, but he saw nothing as the world streamed past him on his way down to his death.

There was a loud crash as his body slammed into the unforgiving surface of the mighty river, and an inky blackness immediately seized his mind and the question with it.