Epilogue
The Lurking Wolf
Lake Olympus, Konge Province, Titan
"The War of Ban did not kill the world of magic, but it dealt a grievous blow, one that was quite sure to prove mortal. And so the Elemental Knights were created to ease the world of magic into the grave. However, once that day comes, there will be no place for the Elemental Knights in the world to come. The world of magic passes away and the Elemental Knights must fade with it."
-Excerpt from the assorted writings of Mark the Guardian
Petrus tied down the dressing for the wound in Heinrich's stomach. Heinrich winced as the knot was tied.
"I'm sorry, Heinrich," Petrus said for the hundredth time. "I'm so, so sorry."
"It's not your fault," Heinrich said, putting on a brave face. "You were bewitched, and I should've figured you might go for my knife."
"It's no excuse. It's no excuse."
"Stop sayin' everything twice," Heinrich said. "I can't afford to have my guts gettin' tied in knots."
"I'm sorry."
"Enough sorries, Petrus. I've got a bellyful of 'em. You'd think my knife wouldn't leave much room for 'em."
Heinrich chuckled but then grimaced from the pain.
"Heinrich!"
Heinrich waved Petrus off.
"We need to get you to a doctor," Petrus said.
"Don't know if there's any doctors left," Heinrich replied. "Those rebel cowards were attackin' the camp before everyone went mad."
"We need to try."
Heinrich reached out and held Petrus' shoulder. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he closed his eyes and nodded.
"We need to get you on your horse," Petrus said.
Heinrich nodded.
"I imagine it will hurt like the devil."
Heinrich made a face and nodded more grudgingly this time.
"Shall we get going?"
Heinrich patted Petrus on the shoulder. Petrus then helped Heinrich to his feet. Heinrich grunted but held in the pain in as manful a display as he could manage. However, when Petrus was hoisting Heinrich into the saddle, he could not maintain his reserve and loosed some oaths they would both have to go to confession for later.
Petrus tied the lead for his horse to the saddle of Heinrich's horse and then took the reins to lead Heinrich's horse on foot.
"You certainly brought us a good distance away," Petrus said. "Which way is camp?"
Heinrich pointed in the general direction of camp and said, "I was just doin' as I was ordered. Lord Mark wanted me to protect you, bein' heir to House Crucis and all."
"Speaking of Master, once I get you tended to, I need to go find him," Petrus said. "I pray to God he is still alive. For us to be away from his side at a time like this..."
"You were bewitched an' I had my orders," Heinrich said. "Still, some squires we are..."
Petrus had been looking to Heinrich while he was speaking and when he turned back to look ahead of them, a tall cloaked figure stood in their way.
"Who are you?" Petrus asked in Latin. "Are you friend or foe?"
"Foe," the cloaked figure replied, speaking Everardian. "You have something I want."
The cloaked figure unslung the bundle he was carrying on his back, unwound the bindings and drew out a cruciform sword in a white scabbard adorned with polished green gemstones. Petrus knew that sword. He had seen it in paintings of his ancestors. It was the sword of House Crucis, the sword of the Crusader. Lord Mark told him that it and the rest of his house's ancestral gear had been stolen from his grand-uncle's grave. For it to be here, now...
"Why do you have that sword?" Petrus demanded of the cloaked figure. "Where did you get it?"
The cloaked figure did not answer. Instead he threw the sword at Petrus and it landed a couple paces from where he stood.
"Take it," the cloaked figure said. "Show me that you are worthy of it."
Petrus looked at the sword, then back to the cloaked figure. The cloaked figure folded his arms, as if to say that he would not move until Petrus accepted his challenge.
"Don't do it," Heinrich said. "Don't let him bait you."
"I do not think he will let us pass otherwise," Petrus replied.
He let go of the reins and, never taking his eyes off the cloaked figure, knelt down to pick up the sword. The moment he wrapped his fingers around the hilt, he felt a pulse of energy course through his body. This was indeed the ancestral blade of his house and it knew him by the blood that flowed in his veins.
"Feel the power of the Gems flowing through you," the cloaked figure said, "and show them that you are their master."
Petrus knew something of the Rite of Succession that had to be performed in order to inherit the ancestral gear, but the secrets of the ritual were supposed to pass from father to son. If Petrus' own father had been instructed in the Rite, he did not have the chance to instruct Petrus before his death. Although the details might be different from house to house, Lord Mark could probably guide him, but he was not here. All Petrus had was the word of the cloaked man, which told him little.
"Perhaps this will help you," the cloaked man said, drawing another sword from the bundle.
It was a curved Saracen blade. The gems in the hilt and the power that exuded from it proved that it was another sword of the Elemental Knights. It was the sword of the Assassins, the rivals to Petrus' own house. The curse of ill will between the two families seemed soaked into their blades. Though the sword of the Crusader was supposed to be a holy instrument for the defense of the weak, it felt like it would spring from Petrus' hand to attack its old foe.
The Gems in the Assassin's blade glowed to life. So this cloaked man was indeed the Assassin. He could be no other. He had pillaged the grave of Petrus' grand-uncle and hunted down the last of House Crucis... for what? To bring an end to their centuries' old rivalry?
The cloaked man swung his sword and unleashed a blade of wind that cut across the ground as it raced toward Petrus. Relying more on instinct than conscious skill, Petrus swung to meet the blade of wind and the earth rose up to smash into it.
"You learn quickly," the cloaked man said. "Good."
He struck again, this time with three wind blades in quick succession. Petrus blocked them all, but each swing of his was slower than the last. Unaccustomed to the power of the ancestral blade, he was already starting to feel wearied.
"Come now," the cloaked man chided. "At your limits already? I would expect more from the Guardian's pupil."
Petrus remembered his purpose. He needed to seek treatment for Heinrich and then go to Lord Mark's aid. He could not afford to be held up here any longer.
"Meet me steel for steel if you have the courage for it, heathen."
The cloaked man laughed.
"Heathen? You must take me for Ibn Khalid. Yes, he is here, but we are so much more."
The cloaked man planted the blade of the Assassins in the ground and took another sword from his bundle, a two-hander in the fashion of the great knights of Gotland, yet he wielded it single-handed with ease.
"Come at me then, young one," the cloaked man said. "Steel for steel."
"No, stay back!" Heinrich cried. "It's what he wants!"
That may have been so, but Petrus needed to end this quickly. With a shout, he rushed at the cloaked man. The ancestral blade was heavier than his usual sword, so his swing was sluggish. The cloaked man parried effortlessly, even wielding a blade that was heavier still with only one hand. Petrus could tell from the fluidity of the cloaked man's movements that the two-hander was a familiar blade, and extension of his own arm. This was borne out by a couple more swing from Petrus that were batted away just as easily.
"You have promise, young one," the cloaked man said, "but you are in need of a harsher teacher. Come with me."
"Never," a winded Petrus said.
"It was not a request," the cloaked man replied.
Something struck Petrus from behind, but just as he was taken off balance, something else struck him in the gut. He looked down to see the jagged rock that had burst from the ground to run him through. As he watched his blood spill out, he could feel his chest swell before coughing up even more blood to further stain his white surcoat.
"Petrus!"
In his haste, Petrus had failed both Heinrich and Lord Mark. He did not even succeed at landing a single blow on the cloaked man.
"My patience is not boundless," the cloaked man said. "We need to be moving along. I still have business with your master."
The cloaked man planted his sword and then removed the glove from his right hand. As he reached out to touch Petrus' forehead, his hand began to glow and the last thing Petrus knew was pain that shook him to his very soul.
* * *
The cloaked man strode across the battlefield, leading his impressive black destrier as he approached the scene of a lone body lying on the ground. There was a clean circle around him where the other bodies had been swept away by no natural hand.
Leaving his destrier behind, the cloaked man went to the body of the fallen knight and knelt beside it. He rested his hand on the knight's forehead and sighed.
"So this is the future I entrusted to you," he said. "Was it worth it?"
He lifted his head and looked around as if someone else was there, though the only living thing close at hand was his horse standing patiently where he left it.
Answering a voice no one else could hear, he said, "I am a man of my word. The curse of the Elemental Knights, I am taking it all upon myself. It is as we agreed. Yes, I will see that she receives her due as well. Have I ever failed to show honor to a worthy foe?
"Yes, yes, perhaps you are right to confirm the terms. We are not now what we were when we made our pact and from here we will continue to become something else. Does it excite you?" He chuckled to himself. "No, I suppose we can no longer feel such things. This world is dying, but it dies so that it might be born anew. When the new world is born, what would you say to having a hand in shaping its destiny?"
The cloaked man muttered a 'hmph' that indicated he did not receive the reply he expected, or perhaps he received no reply at all. He took the broken hilt from the fallen knight's hand and tested its weight in his own.
"The old world passes away like the twilight fading into the dusk," he said. "A good night to you, Mark the Guardian. May a better world greet you when you wake."