The Knights of Soil

By Justin Kruse

When a war-hungry barbarian clan overtakes an enemy's fortress, they cut it off from all aid and strand the survivors nearby in a dark forest. However, as a single captive challenges the beliefs of two of the barbarians, they are sent into a conflict greater than they were ever prepared for. Trapped by their own devices, they must now battle alo

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Oct 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781648952067

Justin Kruse

Justin Kruse was born a middle son to a poor but unbelievably loving family. He was raised in a generation that he never felt quite in line with, often thinking that his heart belonged in another era. Justin spent much of his childhood adventuring through forests, hills, and rivers with his siblings and cousins. When activities of this sort could not be done he was engrossed in creative pursuits. A life filled with fine art, music, and storytelling spurred his imagination to great depths. Those who know him attest that he is undoubtedly one of the most unique characters which they have ever known. The inspiration for his writing is most largely pooled from classical works of mythology, the sort that speaks a wealth of wonder, optimism and morality. Though enriched by fantasy, Justin’s writings are meant to reflect reality. This is the way he sees it. To him our own world is fantastic and captivating. Thus writing is how he expresses his outlook on life, motivated by the idea that we simply lack the imagery and perhaps the effrontery to speak the truth of who we believe we are.

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Justin Kruse

THE KNIGHTS OF SOIL

Copyright © 2020 Justin Kruse

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Stratton Press Publishing

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Wilmington, DE 19801

www.stratton-press.com

1-888-323-7009

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in the work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

ISBN (Paperback): 978-1-64895-205-0

ISBN (Ebook): 978-1-64895-206-7

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Chapter 1. Attack at Thiven Seax

Chapter 2. The Other Power

Chapter 3. From Top to Exile

Chapter 4. The Covenant

Chapter 5. The Skills of Sarikon and Sayven

Chapter 6. The Spirit of Momentum

Chapter 7. The Atrek Hunt

Chapter 8. The Becoming of Knights

Chapter 9. Battle of a Renewed Mind

Chapter 10. A Spy in the Wood

Chapter 11. Theadus the Killer

Chapter 12. Cron’s Revenge

Chapter 13. The Sensation

Chapter 14. The Reason for Battle

Chapter 15. Flight of the Great Wolf

Chapter 16. The Battle upon the Pasture

Chapter 17. The Coming of Sayven and the Great Wolf

Chapter 18. The Final Task of the Knights of Soil

Chapter 1

Attack at Thiven Seax

In a land referred to as the Great Island, there once was a clan of barbarians hidden in a dark wood. These were mostly men, but a few were darker creatures or crossed-beings. They were lawless, only following a leader of their choosing. Each had the look of war on him. Their bodies were scarred. Their clothes were worn. Their armor was a mesh of loot that they had taken from previously conquered clans. The smell of blood and sweat filled the air around them. The spirits spied them from their cover and said to one another, It will pain us all to stay still as this unfolds.

These barbarians lay in wait in preparation to attack a fortress: a small gray stone castle built of many levels and towers. This fortress’s name was Thiven Seax. It stood guard before a river, for which the bridge and receding path led to the grand and peaceful city of Thiven Seyor. Both of these establishments resided at the border of the country of Thiven. The barbarians had come from an untamed land west of the slowly expanding Thiven Empire. There lurked many barbaric tribes, but the greatest of these now readied to wage war in secret upon Thiven Seax, then onward to Thiven Seyor.

The leader of this barbarian tribe was named Theadus. He had dark wavy hair and a short beard. His eyes were blue, but dark like the sky after twilight. Theadus was a man who could not be filled. He ever searched for more. For years he waged war against his neighboring barbarians, but he found no satisfaction. His wish for power drove him east. He needed something new to fuel his search for greatness. In this, he came to the conclusion that he needed to wage war on the empire of Thiven, the greatest country of the Great Island. Of course, such a feat seemed nearly impossible, but Theadus was not one to doubt himself. He trusted his own wisdom, and if nothing else, he had an unswayable urge to press his limits. If he could not overcome the Thiven Empire, then he would die gloriously in his attempts. Theadus was the king of wild men. He was bold and authoritative. He was passionate at heart yet steady in mind. Nothing could bring him down, or so he thought.

He had a second-in-command by the name of Sayven. Like Theadus, his hair was dark. He was young and tall. He appeared somewhat less rugged than his fellow barbarians. This in part was due to the fact that his facial hair only grew lightly on his jaw and chin. But also there was less wild passion in his eyes. The deep brown color and gray shine of them always appeared still and hollow. His complexion was ever somber. Sayven too could never be filled, but unlike Theadus, he didn’t care. He moved where he was taken. He was slow to accept joy. He didn’t like his life, but he knew nothing outside of it. He was ever hesitant to act on anything. He joined Theadus’s clan because his entire region was in constant war. Though he would have preferred to have left the battle behind, he knew that he would be alone in his stance if he did. So in hesitance to act against the western nature, he chose to join Theadus’s clan when they entered his land. Theadus knew Sayven didn’t care. Sayven was intelligent but not assertive. This was why he was appointed second-in-command. As stated before, Theadus yearned for power. Thus he sought a right-hand man that would never threaten this. And Sayven never would. To him, greatness was out of his reach. All he wanted was something aside from his current life, something new, something that could keep him going. Maybe an attack on Thiven would do this. Maybe not.

These two men stood in a gray forest, waiting for their warriors to get into their proper positions. Theadus looked at the tops of the trees with his chest out. Sayven just stared at the ground, carrying a small bundle in his arms and not bothering with what was around him. Shortly, one of Theadus’s men came running to them. When he reached them, he handed Theadus a sword and shield.

The men are ready, sir, he said.

Aitren has confirmed that the way to Thiven Seyor is cut off? Theadus asked.

Yes, sir.

And the centaurs have completed the spell?

The man nodded.

Good, Theadus said. His expression was stern, but his eyes flowed with eager excitement. Tell the men to start approaching.

Without another word, the man set off to retrieve the barbarian armies.

Are you ready? Theadus asked Sayven.

It was a common thing for Sayven to make the first move when invading. Theadus insisted on it; Sayven certainly had no strong desire to do such things. But if he did not make the first move, it was unlikely that he would do anything at all. Many of the barbarians doubted Sayven for his uneager nature. Thus, this was Theadus’s way of making them believe that Sayven did have the capacity to show some initiative.

Yes, Sayven answered Theadus hesitantly after a deep breath.

Then from his bundle of brown cloth, he pulled out a bottle of wine, and he threw the cloth over his armor. He then began to walk toward the fortress. He soon came out of the trees and into the open land between the forest and the fortress, a strip of green pasture running north and south until it faded into ever-present fog. Suddenly something caught Sayven’s eye. It was a tree, standing alone nearly ten meters away from the forest’s edge. It was sick. Stones that circled around its base deprived it of nutrition. Its branches hung low, and its leaves were few. Small fruits grew from the tree, but they were black and shriveled. Somehow Sayven took pity on the tree, so much that he became largely perplexed by his own sympathy. It was only a tree. So he soon shook the feeling off and continued on past it toward the fortress.

As soon as he clearly distinguished the guards standing on the outer wall, he began to stumble as he walked.

Hey! he shouted to the guards with a drunken voice. "What are you doing up there?"

At first, the guards made no reply. They only stared at him with a slight disgust.

"Well? Sayven shouted again. Aren’t you ganna answer me?"

Are you drunk, sir? a guard named Drom asked.

"Don’t you change the topic on me! What are you doing up there?"

We’re standing guard to protect Thiven Seax and Thiven Seyor.

Thiven Seyor? Hey! That’s where…That’s where I live. I was just heading there now.

That’s nice, Drom tried to be polite, but could you please stop distracting us?

Hey! Wait a minute! How am I supposed to get to Thiven Seyor if you men are guarding it? Your big castle’s in the way!

Sayven walked up to the fortress’s great wooden door and began hitting it.

I’ll tear your castle down! Sayven shouted.

Sir! Drom shouted. This isn’t necessary. You’re free to go where you wish. You’re no enemy of ours. Speak with the men at the bridge, and I’m sure they’ll let you through.

Sayven continued to hit the door and shout.

I don’t think he’s going to stop, another guard said. He’s too drunk to understand.

Well then, could someone go escort him away? Drom replied. He’s going to give me a headache.

Two of the guards went down to the gate. Sayven remained in character. The guards slowly began to move the large beam from the door.

Just as they were about to open the gate, Drom spotted something in the woods. Down on the forest floor, something moved. At first, he dismissed it as bush swaying in the wind, but then he noticed fur. So he took a closer look in an attempt to distinguish what animal it could be. It crawled on all four legs and held its head low. But something was off. It did not look like any creature of the Thiven Seax woods.

Then Drom realized that it was not an animal at all. It was a man wearing a fur pelt. Drom began wondering why the man was crouching in the forest. Then he noticed another man not far behind him in the same position. Drom looked deeper into the forest in hopes of finding the reason for the manner in which these men hid. With each glance, he found traces of more people: a foot, a hand, a set of eyes peering over bushes. Soon Drom was aware of a full army sneaking up toward the castle. They were waiting, but for what? Drom looked down and saw the other guards opening the gate for the drunken man, and then he knew.

Wait! he shouted down.

It was too late. The guards had already opened the gate. In one motion, Sayven pulled out a sword hidden under his cloak and slashed both of the guards down. A cry was let out in the forest, followed by many more. The barbarian army came out from their cover and charged at the castle. Sayven stood behind the wall as the barbarians shot a large sum of arrows out from the wood. Then he held the door open as they charged in. Level by level, the barbarians swarmed through. The guards were unable to hold them off. From above, the archers managed to kill off a few barbarians, but in the end, it was hopeless. The great mass moved its way up the castle. Eventually, the archers lost the advantage of the high ground and were killed with everyone else.

The guards, seeing that their fort was being overrun, sounded a horn from one of the top towers. Thiven Seyor was too far to hear the horn, but there were guards stationed on the path. They too carried horns. As the sound went out, they were meant to carry it all the way to Thiven Seyor. The sound, however, never reached the first beacon guard. The barbarians had gotten there long before the attack was begun. The guards were already dead.

In knowledge that this could happen, two horsemen were sent out to warn Thiven Seyor. But the way to Thiven Seyor was blocked by the river, a great river, for which there was only one bridge. On the road before the bridge, the two horsemen were stopped by a large red-haired man named Aitren and a minotaur named Baytdose. Behind them lay several dead guards. The man who stood before them was a brute, not remarkably intelligent but hardheaded and determined to get what he wanted. And the minotaur, he had no personality, just a great monster ready to take down anyone in his way.

Two centaurs stood on either side of the bridge: two centaurs like the two pillars that held the bridge. They carried long spears and shields. Both had long reddish beards. They wore pauldrons, bracers, and open-faced helms, but their chests were bare. Clearly this was meant to show the markings that had been carved into their skin: two arrows pointing upward with a line running through their axis. The younger of the horsemen could guess what this meant, but his companion seemed to be oblivious.

Clear the road! said the elder of the riders.

Certainly, replied Aitren, just after we have your heads.

Fools! We are knights, knights of the Thiven Empire, knights of this soil you’re standing on. You don’t truly believe you can stand up to us?

As the knight spoke to Aitren, the younger horseman, whose name was Daition, examined the area. To his discomfort, around them, he spotted many archers.

Remove yourselves from the road, the knight said, or you will die!

Just then Daition watched as the archers raised their bows.

Sir, Daition said to the other knight. The knight ignored him. The archers pulled back their strings.

Sir! Get down! Daition shouted.

At that moment, arrows came flying at them. Daition jumped off his horse and hid from the arrows. His fellow knight was struck by two arrows. The minotaur began to walk toward Daition with a large mace in his hands. Suddenly, Daition’s horse was struck by an arrow. It stood up on its hind legs then darted off. Quickly Daition ran to the other horse and pushed his fellow knight off. Holding his shield close to him, Daition turned the horse around and rode back to Thiven Seax.

Down on the first floor of the castle, Sayven took his time moving up the levels. He preferred to let the rest go on and fight the battles for him, because though Sayven was brought up in war, he hated to kill. Anytime he went to slash someone through, his muscles stiffened up. Whenever he caught a glimpse of one he had just killed, he felt like vomiting. The simple fact was that Sayven knew that what he was doing was wrong. His body reminded him of it every time he killed. But Sayven ignored the signs. He kept himself from seeing that this was not his purpose.

As Sayven walked, he saw the many corpses that had been killed by the others. Though his lack of personal of involvement in their deaths lessened the sickening feeling, still he felt how wrong it was. They had died due to his actions, nevertheless. His guilt was strong. It put a great resentment on him, both for himself and for his fellow barbarians.

Secretly, as Sayven passed, guards came out from hiding places where they sought their only foreseeable means of survival. Quietly, they snuck out of the castle and fled into the woods. Occasionally Sayven heard them, but he let them get away.

Up above, the rest of the barbarians were making their way to the top tower. That was where the lead guard hid. Once he was killed, then the capture of Thiven Seax would be official in their minds. But still one man remained in their way. A young guard named Sarikon stood between the entire barbarian army and the main tower. He held his ground on a thin bridge that led to the tower, and there, he bottlenecked them into his sword. The barbarians had at first expected that he would just be another man that would go down quickly, but they were soon proven wrong. Though he was young, Sarikon was probably braver and more determined than any other man in the Thiven Seax guard. He was relentless. Hope drove him on. Though the task seemed impossible, he persisted. Single-handedly, he kept the barbarians from entering the tower. Again and again the barbarians came at him, but he brought them down with a single sword. Yet even one with a spirit as strong as his had little hope to defeat them all. Finally, after killing over twenty barbarians and wounding even more, Sarikon was overwhelmed. Seeing that he could not keep this fight up much longer, Sarikon took the only means of escaping alive. He threw himself off of the bridge and onto a lower level nearly eight meters below. A few old crates broke his fall, though still certainly it hurt. As soon as Sarikon regained his breath, he took off to the castle gate. As he ran down, he encountered Sayven, but because neither of them wanted to kill or be killed, they simply watched each other as they passed.

Up on the top level, the barbarians moved into the tower. In the top of the tower, they found two people. One of them was the head of Thiven Seax, Atasod. The other was his wife, Arusen, whose hair was long and darkened red, and whose eyes were bright green. They were unarmed, but the man stood boldly with his wife behind him. However, she seemed just as bold. She did not flinch at the sight of the Westerners. The barbarians took them and brought them out to Theadus on the bridge.

Should we kill them now? one of the barbarians asked.

Theadus looked at Atasod. Then his eyes were drawn to Arusen. She was beautiful in Theadus’s eyes. Immediately he found himself drawn to her. This largely encouraged him to debate killing her. And yet there was something more. Something in her eyes said there was something greater about her. Her green irises were still. She was not afraid. Something was extraordinary about her, but Theadus could not point out what exactly. He had to know. Beauty and lust aside, Theadus could not allow this enigma to pass uninvestigated. At last he decided to let her live.

Take her away, and make sure she is watched closely, Theadus said.

Get away, Atasod whispered to his wife right before they took her from him. And there the first sign of emotion appeared on her face. Her eyes spoke concern, but not for herself. She could tell by his voice that he was afraid for her. She did not want him to fear, but she could do nothing. She was dragged away.

What is your name? Theadus asked the guard.

I am Atasod, he replied, head of the Thiven Seax guard and servant of justice that is the almighty Daihalor’s

Theadus chuckled at this pious and overglorified title. You’re not much of a guard if it’s this easy to overthrow you.

Atasod made no reply.

Behead him, Theadus commanded.

A large man stepped up with an ax. He lined the ax up with his neck and raised it above his head. Before the ax was dropped, Atasod raised his head, looked at Theadus, and said, We’re not overthrown. You have overthrown yourselves.

The statement stood out to Theadus. He did not understand and wished to learn what the man meant. But unlike his wife, intrigue could not save him. Theadus took no further heed. The ax was brought down.

In a blink, Thiven Seax had lost is superiority. It was the impenetrable barrier between the East and the uncivilized West. But no one had ever expected that the primitive and disorganized men of the West could ever amass an army so large. Three hundred guards were stationed at Thiven Seax. They were attacked by over a thousand barbarians. Only forty-seven guards survived. Most of them snuck out of Thiven Seax unnoticed. Some of them were still there hiding, but eventually they would get out.

A small band of surviving guards had found each other in the woods. Daition, the knight, was among them.

We have to warn Thiven Seyor, a guard named Oktyres said.

We can’t, Daition replied. The way is blocked.

What do you mean it’s blocked?

Suddenly everyone stopped talking. They heard the sound of feet shuffling through the forest growth, heading toward them. They ducked down below the ferns and shrubbery. Daition’s dark brown horse, which he had taken from his comrade, stood seemingly alone in the forest.

It was Sarikon who was running toward them. He stopped when he saw the horse alone. He looked around to see if there was anyone nearby whom the horse might have