The Black Knight

By Dale Broda, Jr

I am his weapon. I kill by his order. No mercy. No remorse. Death comes on a nightmare made flesh. I never question. Never ask why. So has it been for as long as I can remember... until now.

Betrayed. Taken away. I feel the change in me. I am more than a weapon. More than his will alone. I will ask the questions. I will find the answers.

Woe to those that dare stand before me...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dale Broda, Jr
• Release date: Sep 18, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452317786

Dale Broda, Jr

Not much to say that's not said elsewhere. Though, I'll fill this in at a later date. Check out my rambles on dA if yer curious but honestly, I just like to tell stories.

Book preview

The Black Knight

By

Dale Broda Jr

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are from the author’s mind. Any resemblance to any actual person, location or event is coincidental.

Copyright © 2010, Dale Broda Jr

First Edition

Cover illustration © 2009 Sandara. http://www.sandara.net/

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eBooks License Notes

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About this Edition.

Although this will be formatted by the automatic file-conversion process used at Smashwords.com, I did try to keep it as is. My favorite form of it is, obviously, the printed version. I’m a book lover so, I still enjoy the feel and smell and weight of a book. I’m also a collector and it just suits me to have the paperbound editions. It’s a personal thing. I’m happy with whichever edition you enjoy as the saying goes, each to their own. It’s easy enough to find the printed edition on Amazon, but whatever format you choose is cool by me.

Author’s Ramble~~~~

First, I’d like to give my heart felt thanks to Christine. My own constant companion and first reader. I’ve tried my very best. Any mistakes you find are my fault. All mine. That being said, some things that look odd, may be just as I intended…

…given the nature of the story...

I love to write. I love to read. I always have. From the old ‘short’ adventures to the newest, epic tales. I’m a reader first. That being said, I write what I like to read. Or, at the least, something I would like to read if I could find it.

I can only hope others like it as well. My worlds tend to be darker than most but in the end, I’m just hoping to take you away from this world and into one I’ve stumbled into.

Did it work?

Are you free?

And of course, a huge shout out to my amazing friend that created the cover. Sandara, I love you man! You can find her on the world wide intertubes. Or, hey, a helpful link if you missed it. http://www.sandara.net

Praise her.

Worship her art.

You may even like it better than this tale I tell…

Ok, I’ve talked enough. Onto the story. It took me longer to tell this than one would think and I can only hope it’s worth it for you. Anything to grab you by your short hairs and yank you away from a rough day. If I did that much, I’m happy.

~~~Dale  

1

He stared at himself in the reflections of the haze and smoke. What appeared there was–

Devils, is this what others see? No wonder they call me a demon.

He turned his head slightly. What a sight it was. He stood with his companion, looking at the reflection of them before it was whisked away with the wind.

This is what I am. This is what we are.

The two figures stood amidst the ruins. One towered over the other. His armor the blackest of black. Darker even than the night around them. Layers of darkness. His armor, as a whole, seemed a weapon in itself.

Is a weapon unto itself.

Wide shoulders covered with spiked guards that looked much like dragon heads. Forearms and calves encased in twining layers of spikes. Starting at his neck and twisting their way down in long, thin lines were more rows of spikes covering his body. Each as small as a finger. Each as sharp as a fine razor.

His head was completely enclosed in a helm made to look like a skull, arched horns stabbing forward. These too, were lined with protective hooks, spurs and daggers pointing every which way. Starting at the top of the skull face, they ran back and over to join those on his body.

A grim reaper more grim than any ghostly figure that came in the late hours of the night to steal away a loved one.

Of his eyes and mouth, nothing could be seen.

Even in the bright flickering of the fires, his armor did not so much as twinkle. No light reflected from its obsidian surface. Even the blood that coated him was made invisible against that black.

Resting his hands on a mighty sword that was buried in his last victim, standing motionless, head tilting again as he watched the ghost image of them flicker and distort in the haze.

I will hear it soon.

He knew he would. He always did.

That sound, a sound he dreaded to hear, yet listened for all the same. Listened for all he was worth. The sounds of fighting were dying down. The battle was almost over. A few women had screamed in the distance.

Nothing could be done for them now.

 "Mmm…the smell of battle. Smoke. Blood. The raw power of it all. Nothing like it in the world is there, en? You can never really live without it, can you?" The second figure purred. She stretched slowly, catching one arm to try and reach even higher.

Her armor was almost an exact match to his own. Except dark red in color. Much like the color of dried blood. No, darker still, red none the less. Where his helm covered his head completely, hers left much of her pale, smiling face open.

Her eyes glittered a strange hue of greens as they looked about. She gripped his arm close to her now, unafraid of the spikes. She simply let her free hand float about, her sword vanished now back into its sheath.

A finger pointing.

Seeking.

Such sights. Such smells! This is life. Her voice was joyful, teasing. Soft as any lamb’s down. Fetching as any siren’s call. Her long hair, refusing to be contained by the dark helm, floated about her. Shifting in the heat of the fire wrought winds.

If you say so. His voice rumbled from his lips. Lips that lay hidden in the darkness of that skull faced helm. His head shifted slowly to the right. As did the finger of the woman next to him.

There.

He heard it again. There was no mistaking it. Yanking his sword from the still figure at his feet, the smell of opened guts wafting around him, he made his way to the burned building. It was mostly glowing embers now.

He didn’t even bother to knock the charred door down, he simply lifted his foot and stepped through it. The door crumbled under him. As he tread across the floor, he could already see the trap door. The hidden room.

What a wasted attempt. They always try this. It never works.

Never works.

There. Down there! The woman laughed excitedly, pointing, clapping. The door flew up and away from the floor. An odor came first. Panic. Fear. Stale urine. The screams followed soon after. Escaping those below. Without hesitating, he dropped down into the dark room. It was just as he knew it would be. Women and their young. He stood motionless as an arrow plinked off his armor. Another tossed a spear past him. He stood there, watching.

Slowly, he moved towards them. His sword lifting slightly off the ground. A dark whisper of dirt and danger trailing its edge.

Please! Cried one of the eldest.

His sword began to swing slowly. Forming a dark, lazy semi-circle.

Mercy! Mercy!! One of the younger cried out.

There were ten women in all. The eldest being of a grandmotherly age, the youngest just into her teens. And then there were little ones. Three babies as far as he could see.

Mmm…that one there. Her. That one! He glanced at the woman next to him, then followed her glittering stare. The woman cowering under his gaze was young. Surely not far past her first monthly bleed. "A virgin. A lovely…yummy…virgin. The voice of the woman next to him had lowered into a hungry growl. Such a rare treat now days. Oh, what fun she will be. Her squeals. Her trembling flesh. Her voice took on an even more hungry tone. All for you."

A virgin. He didn’t mean to speak aloud. The young woman must have known whom he was referring to. She shook slightly. The older women gathered around her protectively, their pleas for mercy already ceased.

They must know, in this black death that swirls about me, there is no mercy here.

No! A grandmotherly woman held a broken broom towards him.

Take me! I’ve yet to be with any man! One of the other women pushed herself forward. Despite the ash smeared face, the dirty hair and smoky clothes, she was a lovely little thing. There was no denying that.

Lies. She tells lies. She has been with men. A soft laugh. They did not know what they were about when they rode her. Then, men rarely do. His companion’s laugh turned icy. Have no doubts, she has been well ridden. She’s not good enough for you, no. Not her.

Without another word, his sword swung in a swift, bloody arc. The woman’s head smacked against the wall, plopping to the floor, rolling slowly towards him. The other women stood in shock, staring from the head to the still standing body until it too, slowly slumped forward. His sword began its slow motion again.

Left.

Right.

Carving the very air.

Merc– The woman’s cry, whichever one it had been, was cut short as he moved into them. His sword took their heads so swiftly, most did not see it coming.

"Yes, yes!! His companion clapped lightly, laughing as she followed him. She seemed like a child at a festive dance. Tapping each head or body as she passed just to hear it. Just to do it. Now her. Use her. Break her. It’s been too long for you. Release! You need release. Drop your sword. Take out your other sword. Your manhood! Use it! Let her know what it’s like to–"

No. His voice caused the frozen girl to start. She stood, shivering, looking at the death around her. Her wide, dark blue eyes looked at the babies that lay silently at her feet.

He took a step towards her.

"For the love of the Gods! Mercymercy!! She threw herself on his legs. Impaling herself on the spikes. Nothing deep, nothing fatal and not caring either way. Do what you will with me. Go ahead you monster! Do as you will, but please…please…spare the young. What harm have they done to you? Please…" She was sobbing now, clutching at him.

Take her. You can feel the need. She whispered into his ear. You do feel the need, en?

He could.

It was a burning sensation in his loins he knew only too well. His head began to throb. His vision began to blur ever so slightly. Lust was a terrible beast. It had been far too long indeed. He did need a release. Soon. He glanced at the woman beside him. Her glittering green eyes. Her knowing smile. She knew. Of course she did.

You always know.

I do. She nodded, as if reading his mind. You need her. It’s a release. One you are long, long overdue for. One you have earned a thousand times over. It’s only natural. Take her now, before the others come. He could hear them now as well. Most of his men were still fighting in the distance, the fighters loved to fight. These ones, the ones approaching him, they were more like scavengers. Already searching the burning homes. From one to the next. Hunting prey such as this he had at his feet.

It would have to be fast. He grabbed the girl by the hair, pulling her, forcing her to look up at him.

Stand. Trembling, the girl did as she was told. He let his hand trail down her cheek. Her flesh was most likely quivering under his touch. Through the armored glove, he felt nothing. He let his hand come to rest on her soft, shivering shoulder. This is the only mercy I can show you, young thing. He drove his sword through her heart with a swiftness that was beyond most humans ability to see.

She stood there for a moment, frowning at him. Not understanding. Blinking…a bit of blood burbling out from the corner of her mouth before she fell to the floor.

Death came for her as it did for all the others. Swiftly and painlessly.

Dead.

"Compared to what my men would have done to you, young thing. That was the only mercy I could show you."

Phaa! The woman spun him around. "And double phaa!" She smacked his helm hard enough to turn his head. The spikes did nothing to her. Her armor was much like his own after all.

When are you going to stop trying to be a hero? Look at her! He did. "Look at that soft, young, un-tasted flesh! What do you do? You kill her." A small smile turned her lips as she shook her head at him. Her green eyes shifted swiftly through hues that were both bewitching and foreboding.

What am I going to do with you, en? What? She sighed, pouting prettily. You impaled her with the wrong sword you fool. What a shame. She turned. And these screaming demons? The babies were not screaming. In fact they lay motionless, staring at him with unblinking eyes. Hardly screaming demons. Surely your tastes have not turned to such young meat. She smiled at him. Or have they? He snorted at that, turning to look down at the infants.

I’ll save them as I saved the rest. He lifted his sword and ended it quickly. Three quick thrusts. Three destroyed hearts. Not a sound escaped any of them aside from the soft sounds of air expelling slowly from their lungs one last time.

Phaa…what a waste. She was still standing over the young woman he had stabbed through the heart. The infants already out of her mind. It’s been so long. She would have been so good to break in. Her sparkling gaze met his own. Somehow in the darkness of the helm, her eyes found his as easily as if he were unarmored. They always did. She always knew. You know it, yet you still resist. Why? For what reason? Your men… She closed her eyes, tilting her head ever so slightly to hear the screams. …they know. They don’t hold back. They take release. They take joy. Why do you hold back?

When her eyes opened again, the green was deep and solid. A deep sea green that was hard to fathom. Like any sea, the undercurrents were there. They could mean anything. Joy and danger. Pleasure and pain. Hues of green and their uncountable emotions.

"You are their commander. They follow your lead. Would you have them soft? What will you do when you are surrounded by your men in such a situation, en? What then?"

I’ll worry about that if the need arises.

The need is already risen! Her laugh was gentle as she suddenly had her hand on his chest. It already has arisen. She ran her hand downwards, heading for the hardness that would prove her point. Wearing the armor he did, he knew she would never be able to touch him. Should never be able to. Still, he caught her hand in his own, gently squeezing it in reprimand. You can’t deny it. So why fight it? 

It would not have been willing.

Willing? She stared at him for a moment. Finally, her head fell back as she laughed. Willing? Where is the fun in that? Sometimes, the things you say, I find them so amusing. Her hand came free of his own, reaching up to stroke his helm. He could feel a warmth on his cheek as if she were actually reaching through his very armor.

Not possible. She can’t be. Even if it feels like it.

Through the spikes and blood, through the armor itself to touch the flesh beneath. His flesh. It was unsettling, yet a very calming sensation.

That in itself was unsettling in ways he could not find words for.

I’m only human. He felt a bit of regret as she let her hand float down to her side.

Indeed you are. Her hair shifted a shade lighter near the ends. Indeed you are.

’Re! One of his men came bounding down to land on all fours. G’ar…beat us to some sweet meats you did, me Lord. Beat us to some sweets. The man smiled a jackal’s smile, revealing rows of filed teeth. Are ye wanting… He nodded a shaggy head. …the leftovers?

I’m done. Sheathing his sword, he strode past his crouched man. The woman stayed to watch. A smile on her face. Her eyes beaming. As he left the home, the man’s howl was quickly answered by others as they swarmed towards the place.

He didn’t want to stay and hear them tearing apart the bodies. He didn’t want to stay and listen to them rutting around in the bodies.

They were his men and they’d die for him, yet…the things they did. The things he had to allow them to do.

He moved down the street, listening again for the sounds he dreaded to hear more than anything else. Of all the sounds he had heard this day, the sounds of bone crunching under heavy blows, the sounds of meat parting under blade or claw, the gurgling of someone lunged and drowning in their own fluids. Of all those sounds, there was one he dreaded more than any other…

Life.        

2

The sounds of small battles still hung in the smoke laden air, as well as the sounds of those women he had not been quick enough to find. There was little he could do for them. The women his men found, he could not save. Those that still fought, however, he could end the battles now. It was such a one he was headed for.

The sound was steel on steel to be sure. What you would expect from a real battle. Yet, there was far too much laughter from his men. Too much joy. His men were toying with the enemy. This was something he had seen before and would have to put a stop to personally. It was the least he could do. The very least. A heavy sigh escaped him as he rounded a corner and saw exactly what he had predicted.

A very large group of his men had surrounded a small group of brave warriors. It looked to be a half dozen at least. More even. Hard to see with his own men jumping about, clattering their weapons above their heads or stomping the ground. Instead of killing them quickly, as would any honorable man, his men had surrounded the feisty group and was toying with them. A jab here. A small skirmish there. The circle of his men had the desperate and determined little group of warriors outnumbered a dozen to one easily. Still, they played with them.

Like cats with mice.

Now that I am here, this game will end.

He drew his steel as he approached them. The distinctive, echoing ring of the great black sword froze everyone. His men looked at him, fearfully at first, then with smiles and whoops of encouragement. His gaze traveled over the men he had to control. Some were far more furry than others. Some had sharp, red eyes while others were a dull blue or green. Some had ears that jutted out slightly to end in hairy points. Others had no ears at all. Some…were just men. If they could be called that with their monstrous appetites.

All of them, every one of them, had filed, dagger like teeth.

To call them human, or not human, was hardly his duty. Or his decision. They were his to control, his to the last and that was all that mattered. As surely as the sword he held belonged to him completely, as did the black armor he wore, so did these men.

They parted as he made his way through them. Some touched him with their swords or maces as he passed. Their bloody weapons clinking off him. Others reached out with clawed fists to let the spikes on his armor gouge their flesh. Each wound seemed like a strange honor to them. It was something he had come to accept. Like so much else in this world he could not change.

He stopped when he entered the make shift clearing. His men closed behind him, keeping the circle tight. While their cheers and grunts of enthusiasm were loud, they were not loud enough to cover the heavy breathing of the warriors that had been fighting throughout the night. Fighting for their homes. Their loved ones. A pointless fight. They were brave, he’d give them that. And so, they deserved to die as men. As warriors. Not as mice.

Come at me as you will. The rules are very simple, warriors. If you can bring me down…you are free. His men laughed. The warriors looked around dubiously. Men! If I fall, none shall harm these warriors. That is my word. He turned his head slowly, daring any to meet the darkness that hid his eyes. None did, they simply cheered more loudly.

How’s ‘hat then? One of the warriors asked, pointing around him with his bloody short sword. If’n you drop, Black Knight. How’s they to keep th’ir word, eh?

Fear not, warrior. They will do as I say. By my word. By my sword. By the laws of the King. If you best me, you shall be free. He raised his voice slightly, a dangerous growl entering it. By my sword, by my oath as His servant, and by all that is dark and fearsome and foul in these lands, do any here doubt my word? Would any defy my will? Even if I am to fall…would you dare risk it? He stood as the laughter and cheering died down around him.

re…yer be our Black Knight. ‘re all obey…"

…all…

Aye!

The warriors looked around them. Drawing a collective breath, they readied their weapons. Resigned, they adjusted what armor they had left. Glanced amongst themselves once more and then moved slowly towards the imposing, motionless figure before them.

See? He let the tip of his sword lift off the ground as he prepared himself. A small puff of ash swirled up and around it, along the blade, over the shaft, up his arm and away into the night. My word is law here. And you, brave warriors, you can now earn your freedom. He shrugged a shoulder ever so slightly. One way or the other. At that, his men cheered louder than they had before. Some began to beat the ground with their weapons or feet again. Others just crouched, eyes rapt and hungry.

Now that he could see them clearly, he had a clear count of them. There were eight warriors left. So a little more than half a dozen. He faced them, unmoving. Unafraid. He could see the iron will in them. He made sure to look each in the eye as they approached. They were not able to see his raptor gaze lock onto them, yet they had to feel it as each, in turn, stopped for a moment before breathing deeply and moving forward again.

He already knew which would strike first. And knowing this, he adjusted to his left ever so slightly. And, just as he knew, that one rushed forward at this small movement.

The man’s sword came down in a desperate arc as two others rushed in from the opposite side. He casually batted the man’s sword away and cleaved him nearly in two. Dropping to his knees, he spun in the opposite direction. The large black sword cut the rushing warriors in half with one, long, wet sweep. He stayed on his knees as the blood arched outward into the remaining warriors’ faces. They had stood frozen, it had happened so fast they had mostly missed it.

As they felt the warm blood hit their faces, that jolted them. They rushed as one.

Gripping the sword with both hands he came to his feet, bringing the blade up in a deadly slice that cleaved a man in two from groin to head, sending a geyser of various fluids and bits high into the air, causing his own men to cheer even more wildly.

Without looking to his left, he caught the mace that was aimed at his head. It stopped dead in his hand with hardly any impact. He crushed it, yanking hard enough to pull the man from his feet and lifted his sword to catch the blades of two warriors. The last lunged forward towards his unprotected midsection.

The man laughed wildly as he drove the blade home with all his might.

The laugh turned into a cry of dismay as a quick shift turned the blow, letting the sword slide along his armor and leaving the warrior facing that mighty black wall of spikes. The warrior could do nothing as he was impaled onto them.

He continued turning, pulling the mace free from the still stunned warrior while using his momentum to swing that sword around with enough force to cut through the three of them at once. It was such a fast and vicious movement, the warriors could barely see what was happening even as they stood next to him. His black armor reflected nothing. He knew his fast movements were mostly obscured in the darkness.

The two with the swords still clutched in their hands and the one that had risen to his knees wondering where his mace had gone were suddenly dead. It took them a few moments before their bodies fell to the ground. But they were dead. As he came to his feet, the last warrior fell off him, having managed to pull free of the spikes on his back. The warrior lay on the ground, bleeding heavily and cursing all the Gods that he could.

A warrior’s death. It is all I could offer you.

You…you… He never finished whatever curse he was about to chant. The black blade drove home, wide enough to completely sever the warrior’s head. Head and body remained together, however, despite the fact that the obsidian blade had cleanly split them. It was that sharp and he had thrust it deeply into the ground to make sure. He left it grounded as he watched the warrior’s eyes glaze over with death.

Drawing the sword from the ground, allowing the head to roll a bit to the side, he lifted his face to the sky and roared as only he could. It rolled and echoed. It seemed to come from somewhere far deeper in the earth than should be possible. It seemed to tremble through the very ground. It echoed away into the distance. Given a power and depth from he knew not where.

His men returned his roar with one of their own, smashing their swords to their shields or slashing their claws at the ground. In a frenzy, they came rushing in. As they pounced on the bodies and began to take what they wanted, in armor as well as flesh, he turned away with a grimace none could see and made his way from the scene.

"Such a mighty roar. Such a hard won victory. You must be ever so proud. The woman laughed teasingly. A delicate eyebrow arched. Ahh…they love you so. Look at them. Like kids in a candy shop. Look at that…" She kicked a limp form as she passed.

I have no desire to see what they do. I have seen it enough. Enough to last ten lifetimes.

Is that so? She moved a bit ahead of him, turning and walking backwards. Her eyes moved from the scavenging group of men to him, then back again. The green hues were shifting wildly as she smiled.

What do you think they would do if they knew your triumphant roar was nothing but a farce, en? What do you think they would do if they knew what you really thought of them? Her green eyes darkened. En, mighty one? She sneered. "They think you love them. They felt the pull. The call. They felt your need. To a man, they think you acknowledge them and do not judge them and accept them for what they are. No one else in all the lands ever has. They think you lead them with a hunger as great as their own. What would happen if they found out you–"

Enough. He continued walking, lengthening his strides to pass by her. The woman had no trouble catching up. As usual. In fact, she moved ahead. Worse, she went into a sort of skipping step. Like a child. Over her spiked shoulders, her sparkling eyes never left his. Only she seemed able to pierce the darkness of his helm to see his true eyes within. He had never been able to hide much from her. She quirked an eyebrow, waiting.

They know what I am. Only a man. They know I lead them under His orders. Under the orders of the King. They know all this. He snorted. And they all know, every one among them, that they could never hope to bring me down.

Do they now?

Yes.

And if they tried?

Tried?

To bring you down. If they tried to bring you down, what then?

Death.

For most of them I’m sure, but numbers can win in the end, en? So if they succeeded? She needled him. She enjoyed it.

"If, by some chance, they did bring me down? He snorted a small laugh. Death still. Death would find them. The King would hunt them down, one by one, as he did before. If they kill me…they kill themselves. Even the most animal like amongst them know this. So what does it matter?"

Matters not to me, o’ mighty Black Knight. That they think you love them when in truth, you despise the very sight of them. That they think you kindred and champion to them when in truth, you would slaughter them to a man. Matters not to me. It’s all fun, in the end.

Her voice was cheerful as she skipped around him. Looking over her shoulder she winked.

At least for me. She turned her attention to the charred and still burning village around her. However, Her voice drifted softly, as soft as the wind yet somehow still managing to sound loud to his ear. What would the King say? Hmm? Her sly tone made him frown.

What would the King say?

More importantly, what would the Princess say, en? His frown deepened. Oh don’t frown so. It’s unbecoming on you. She waltzed ahead of him, from one house to the next, clearly enjoying the carnage.

He watched her move and could only sigh as he pondered. The sounds of more cheering and laughing diverted his mind to his job at hand. Another group of warriors were being toyed with.

Women were still hiding or trying to flee.

I still have work to do.

3

The sunrise looked strange as it filtered through the large billowing clouds of smoke. It was a hazy, deep orange and strange planes of green. The sun was a perfect orb of dull red. The entire village, or what ruins remained of it, were surrounded by heads. Men, women and children. Heads on poles, a clear message of who had been here, and a very clear warning of what would happen to those that disobeyed.

He looked at those heads. It was always an odd sight to him. Death was like that. As much of it as he had seen, as much of it as he had dealt out, it was always something to think on.

Look at them.

Just yesterday they had been alive. Warm. People with dreams and worries. No doubt today would have been just another day for most of them. A day of work. A day of play? Maybe some had days planned out with the one they loved or the one they were trying to woo. Many probably had plans with their families.

Families. Like those.

He looked at a group of three heads. Man, woman, child.

Or maybe that young man there had someone in mind.

He looked at the yellow haired youth’s head. The eyes plucked out already, mouth hanging slack.

Plans with flowers and candies and plans of a future with children or for their children. A future in which they would grow old together in such a place. As the village began to grow larger, they would adapt. And if it turned into a city mayhaps? Then they would keep with the times. It was located along one of the biggest rivers to run through the King’s lands, its trade had more than doubled over the last year and it had been growing by leaps and bounds as the new ships made their way past.

New ships meant new lands to explore and smaller, better ships meant more could come this far inland. Yes…it would have probably turned into a decent sized port city within the next few years. A promising place to live. No wonder so many had migrated here.

To their doom.

The village was now laid flat. A burned husk. The smoke that billowed upwards, continued filling the sky, it would be seen from miles around for days on end. The King would re-build soon enough and begin to send out word of free homes and business and even offer land and maybe a bit of gold to come here. He had no choice but to do so. This was too well located to just abandon.

If only they had not revolted. If only they had paid the King his due. If the village elders had not refused, if they had only paid what they owed…bah. Such a simple thing. A little more gold than usual was owed, they refused to pay. Once. A warning. Twice. A few deaths. Thrice? This…

All for a little bit of gold.

All for a little bit of gold, en? He turned his head slightly to look at the woman. As usual, she had read his thoughts. Her armor, like his own, still remained a dark, empty presence even as the sun tried to brighten the land. The red was easier to see, no doubts there, yet it was as dark as his own showing no twinkle, no shadows.

Their suits of armor were so similar. Except for the helms. Her face shone like a lovely jewel. Enough to draw the breath from an average man. Hells, enough to steal the breath of any man, noble or King. She smiled at him. The shifting green in her eyes settling slowly into a bright shade that was an almost impossible green. His favorite shade.

With her eyes locked onto his, he felt that strange shiver run through him she sometimes caused. Did she let her eyes stay that shade because she knew he liked it? Or did she have any control over it at all? He studied her more closely. Her pale, flawless face was that of an angel. Her almond shaped, green eyes could pierce your heart. With dread, if nothing else. Her lips were the palest blue. A shade of makeup? No. He doubted it.

Her ears, while the same size as any human woman’s, still ended in points. Which lead him to believe one of her parents must have been Other. Her hair. Hah…there was the trickster. As shifty as her eyes were, in color, so too, was her hair. From raven’s black, to an almost red black, to a stranger black still with darkest blue running through it.

She truly was a beauty. A frightening, dangerous, un-Godly beauty.

Flatterer. She smirked, pleased. Always such a flatterer.

I did not say a word. He felt a slight heat run through his body, starting at the top of his head and ending at his toes.

Your eyes are key, silly man. Didn’t you already know this? The eyes say what the mind and heart thinks. Laughing, she turned her nightmare about and moved off down the road. He watched her make her way through the men.

After every battle such as this, the men tended to group up and brag loudly about what they had done as they shared in the spoils of the looting. He could hear her chill laughter as she stopped here and there to listen to their tales.

That was not the warm laugh she shared with him. That was the laugh of a hard warrior enjoying the pain of another. She was much like his men in that regard. Such a cold, heartless woman. Yet beautiful and to him, warm at times. No doubts there. Human? Hardly. Not completely at any rate.

Such beauty. Not for the first time, he wondered what he had done to attract her. Their meeting was like a dream. A jumbled vision barely remembered. Since that first day, she had never left his side. Not for long at any rate. What had he done to draw her attention? And more…what would happen when she lost interest? Or were they bound? Was she as bound to him, in her own way, as he was to his men? To this army? Hmm.

Maybe that was not something I should think on either.

It made his head hurt and his vision blur. Some things he thought on, did that. So he did not think on those things. It was best left alone. Like ghouls, some things are best left buried.

He looked back at the destruction he had wrought. It was the King’s word. He was the King’s servant. The carrier out of the King’s will. His blade on the field. So was this his work, or more truly the King’s? No. Another thing that was best not to think on.

Thoughts such as those lead down a dangerous path. Best to simply obey. Do as he must. At least here, in the field, he could spare some by giving them swift death as opposed to what his men would do.

He could do that and no more. His men had such hunger. As much life as they took while

Reviews for The Black Knight

[PauloGoncalves · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I loved this book one of the best I have read so far shame it's only one book.

[Cory Cates · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Confusing from start to finish. Don't waste your time on this one.