Quest for the Golem: The King's Rogues, #1

By D. P. Bailey

Darkness descends upon Camelot. A sorcerous evil poisons the land corrupting everything it touches. Prosperous villages turn contentious, and a golem—the most vile, wizard created monster of all—lays waste to everything.

 

King Arthur's devoted knights prove no match for a force that feeds on innocence and virtue, and the kingdom needs new heroes—or something else.

 

A company of seven Rogues answer fate's call. Michael, a man of unrivaled sword skill, becomes their leader. No knightly vows bind him, and an unspeakable tragedy haunts his dreams. His brutality and thirst for vengeance make him the perfect man to lead King Arthur's quest.

 

Destiny gifts the Rogues seven magic weapons. Michael receives the Rogue Sword, a blade so powerful that even demons feel its pull.

 

With a young squire named Chris at his side, Michael sets out across the kingdom.

 

Can Michael and Chris, both with darkness in their pasts, defeat the golem? Or will Michael succumb to the evil that builds within him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: D. P. Bailey
• Release date: Sep 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201826079

Book preview

Origin of the Rogues

During the dark ages and early days of King Arthur’s reign, a war between Knights of the Round Table and creatures of darkness shook the land. Despite their valorous fight, the knights soon realized they would lose the battle. King Arthur called for a conference hoping to find a way to save the new British Kingdom and the world from eternal damnation. The dire situation gained hope with the arrival of an unexpected visitor—an elf. Not just any elf, but the same being who forged King Arthur’s mighty Excalibur.

The elf approached the Round Table where the king sat with his knights. Polished stone walls and beautiful tiled floors adorned the massive room. A gold and ivory inlaid throne with a red, cloth seat and back rested near the far wall. Knights fidgeted with the hilts of their weapons and whispers spread among them. They silenced when the elf stood on the table.

Your Highness, virtuous knights, said the elf, his pointed ears twitching. I may have a way to help you save Camelot.

King Arthur adjusted his velvet cape and rested an elbow on the table with bearded chin in hand. Then tell me, great elf, how would you do this?

First, you must understand something. The elf paced back and forth. The foe you face holds more power than you can imagine and will use your chivalry against you. You and your knights cannot defeat them alone.

Commotion spread among the knights.

Arthur raised a hand to silence them. Then what, pray tell, do you propose?

I have a plan. The elf jumped from the table and bowed while gesturing to Excalibur’s hilt at the king’s side. May I?

Arthur nodded, pulled Excalibur from its golden scabbard, and handed it to him.

The elf held the sword in both hands examining it with care. Its golden hilt had a design of a dragon etched into the pommel. I haven’t held this in so long. He ran his fingers along the blade and it emitted a low hum. It holds magic unique to itself, but that can change.

What?

I’ll use the holy power this sword possesses to craft seven new weapons. With these weapons, seven warriors will combat the evil.

Sir Gawain jolted to his feet. What in God’s name?

Seven more Excalibur? Inconceivable, said Sir Tor.

The elf shook his head. Yes and no. Each weapon would bear its power, but in different forms.

Gawain swayed with a hand on his temple and sat. The knights broke into quiet chatter. They ceased when the king spoke.

Such power could either bring our salvation or hasten destruction. We cannot take the decision to create such weapons without regard to the consequences.

Indeed, Your Highness. For that reason, I have conditions you must agree to.

Arthur stroked his beard. Name your terms.

The elf bowed again. First, the weapons will choose their own masters. Like Excalibur, only the worthiest of warriors shall wield them. He turned to face the knights. Second, the weapons must remain secret. All who crave power will seek these weapons if they learn of them.

The knights all nodded except Gawain. He shook his head like trying to snap from a daze.

Your terms thus far seem acceptable, master elf, said Arthur.

Thank you, but I have one final condition—one which I don’t think you’ll appreciate. Nobody can learn where these warriors come from or who they serve. Although they will serve Your Majesty when necessary, they must never become knights.

Wait. What? Why not? Sir Pellinore exclaimed.

Honor, honesty, valor, and loyalty are indeed admirable. It is right that knights should uphold these virtues. However, this code must not bind these chosen warriors.

Gawain erupted into a fit of laughter and his voice became inhuman. He struck the table. What would you have us do? Trust the weapons to mere rogues? The knight drew his sword, eyes glowing crimson red. You’re no better than the enemy. We don’t need your help. Have at thee. He charged the elf.

Arthur raised his hand. Stop.

Gawain swung for the elf’s head. It impressed Arthur when the elf blocked with Excalibur. Magic from the blade knocked the knight off his feet. The elf extended his palm, and a black cloud poured from Gawain’s mouth and swirled in the elf’s hand. The knight drew heavy breaths and his eyes returned to normal.

What the devil? Pellinore whispered.

Dark magic? Was Gawain corrupted? said Tor.

You’re fortunate that the infection was at an early stage. The elf crushed the cloud in his hand. Know this—we face more than mere beasts. Men, women, and children alike will become monsters. This foe corrupts even the most virtuous and innocent. The longer the enemy lives, the more whom fall to the corruption.

The knights all lowered their heads.

Both of our worlds are at risk. The elf’s gaze fell on Arthur. We must stop them no matter the consequences or morals.

Arthur placed his elbow on the table with forehead in hand. Then Rogues the warriors shall be.

Thus, the elf forged the Rogue Weapons—a sword, a hammer, a bow, a flail, a scythe, an ax, and a staff. These weapons chose their masters. The sword, the most powerful of these creations, went to their leader, Michael.

The Chase

Three years later. ..

So, even a demon can know fear. A dead forest in front of Michael, he dismounts his large, pure black stallion named Umbra and kneels next to a trail of flaming hooves prints. The full moon shines through the canopy. Even with all of its power, I sense fear. Michael draws the sword over his left shoulder grasping the brown, leather grip, and its tip slides out a catch on the custom sheath’s side. He pulls an oily cloth from a small pouch at his waist and polishes the blade. A man with short, dark hair and blue eyes stares back at him in the steel. Michael remembers the vow he made eleven years ago, at twelve-years-old. This bounty won’t get away from me. He turns the sword and a second hilt over his right shoulder reflects in the blade. Its grip wrapped in black cloth,