Knight
All Liath had ever wanted to be was a knight.
He had grown on tales of the legendary knights who had fought at the dawn of the Sanctuary. From his mother's lips at his bedside had come the legends and the names who wore their deeds like resplendent cloaks, the stories of the White Dragon King and of his noble knights.
He had soon left bedside stories behind and grown into telling his own. He would don cardboard armor and draw a wooden sword, skirmishing with his friends. In those days he had been Owain, been Uriens, and been the White Dragon King himself, even. And there to sing his tales like his own personal bard was Bodhmall, his wonderful companion. All the boys, no matter how coarse, treated her with chivalry any true knight would have been proud of in those days. Wrapped in stories, they tried to live up to legends.
Now, his body wrapped in armor so dark it was like a starless night, Liath could only mourn how naïve they had all been.
Boys had become young men and soon their thoughts turned to who would woo their female companion. There were mock duels and contests of honor day after day in the Sanctuary's sun, wooden swords crashing against cardboard armor, and as true knights paraded on the walls, the boys below fought for causes which at the time had seemed so worthy and meaningful.
Bodhmall had been there, laughing at every duel and every boy who fell to the dust and yielded. Liath remembered staring into her eyes after a victory, his cheeks hot from both exertion and the emotion he had felt so sure was love he saw staring back. He remembered holding his wooden sword in a salute to her.
There had been dragons too in those days, but they were but puppets put together from gathered debris and operated by whichever boy they felt like bullying into being the monster of the day. Its claws were cardboard and its teeth plastic. Its scales were tinfoil painted in an ill-destined attempt to replicate some of the legendary monsters they had only known from stories. They fought it with wooden swords to impress their fair maiden, their damsel in distress, Bodhmall. He had been the dragon slayer one day, ripping through its flimsy belly with a blow of his sword and placing one foot atop its pitiful corpse in triumph. In thanks, Bodhmall had kissed his cheek and on that day, he had felt so much like a true knight.
Now ruled by a dragon more terrible than anything from their childhood tales, Liath could only give a mirthless laugh at the thought that such a hollow victory had seemed like triumph.
There was one knight they looked up to more than anything. Of course they did. He was the one knight everyone looked up to more than anything, more than even the king. Blaster Blade. His name was always spoken in an awed whisper when he entered their tales, and all of them wanted to be him. They all wanted the sword which no one but the legendary knight could wield.
His dreams back then had been filled with two things: slaying monsters with the radiant power coursing through the Blaster Blade, and deep passionate kisses with Bodhmall before which that chaste kiss of mock gratitude paled by comparison.
He had his wish. It was a black mockery of his wish, but here it was in his hands, a pitch-black blade trimmed in the blue lines which adorned the Blaster Blade.
In his nightmares he still saw those lines burn red, the red of blood, of the blood the blade had taken from his comrades and oh gods above what have I done-
And one day, he had met Blaster Blade. It had been a moment, when he had become a man and a squire in the service of the Royal Paladins. He remembered bringing a tray of food through the corridors for his master, a knight he remembered only by title, the Knight of Transience. And he remembered turning a corner only to run into cool white armor and be sent crashing to the floor.
"Be more careful. Running around corners like that, you'll only knock someone over or hurt yourself."
"Y-you're… you're…"
The knight smiled.
Even surrounded by darkness and become that knight's enemy, the memory of how humble and kind the hero had seemed back then brought a smile to Liath's lips.
But then it had all gone wrong.
Eager for excitement but unable to fight on the frontlines as inexperienced squires, they had carried out their mock battles in their free times. It was no longer about impressing a pretty girl, it was about the eagerness for war. If only they had known back then what war was truly like.
And then Bodhmall had fallen and nothing had been the same.
Back then, perhaps, they had all known something was wrong with her family. Their parents always forbade them to talk to her, and like forbidden fruit, that just fuelled their desire even further. The idea that she was off-limits made her more desirable and so they had fought all the harder to try and impress her. By being forbidden when she seemed so nice and beautiful, she had drawn them like moths to a flame. He remembered kissing her, holding her.
He remembered the shadows swirling around him as she pressed the blade into his hands.
"You want to be a knight?" she whispered. "You want to fight in battle?" The others were there too, surrounded by people in the same dark robes, carrying those same weapons, having swords and axes and spears pressed into their hands. "Then join our ranks."
They were seduced by power and by shadows. Suddenly, they were the warriors they had always wanted to be. The knight who looked so like Blaster Blade and yet so different told them they were fighting for the good of the Sanctuary, that their names would go down in legend. That they would be remembered forever.
He never told them they would be remembered as villains and monsters.
The first battle had been a frantic night raid, and they had been lied to. It was only seeing the corpses afterwards when he had realised that the men he had cut down with laughter and triumph the night before were the same resplendent guards he had always admired. He remembered the bile rising and the nightmarish realisation of what he had done.
He remembered another man breaking ranks and screaming curses at the witches, only to be ripped in two with a single blow of the great dragon's lance as it finally revealed itself. As blood stained the snow, he remembered his resignation. The only choice was obedience or death, and for all his bravado as a child, he had never been brave enough to throw away his life for the right thing. So he donned the black armor and fought and killed. Every brave soldier he slew cut at his own soul. Every village put to the torch lingered in his nightmares. But in the midst of battle, his blade turned him into a monster. As it was stained with blood, behind his helmet, he laughed and smiled, and as soon as the battle ended, he fell to his knees in horror at the corpses he had left in his wake and the blood which was still warm on his armor.
He was finally a knight, clad in great armor and armed with the mightiest of blades. He had Bodhmall's favour and her smiles. But those smiles killed him, for they were cruel in a way they had never been when they were children. He was her puppet, Blaster Dark's puppet, the cursed dragon's puppet. Dancing to their whims and guided by their tug on his strings.
What have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done whathaveIdonewhathaveIdone-
Knight of Blood. Knight of Death. Knight of Hell. Knight of Ruin. Knight of Murder.
He was mad, he was raving. His blade cut armor and flesh alike and as the blood gushed he laughed. Squires stared wild-eyed and the last sound they heard was his manic laughter as he pushed his blade into their hearts and turned it to see the agony in their eyes. There was no blue on his sword now, only red, only blood and red as he ripped it through bodies. He could feel the magic in his veins like a drug and the soldiers before him were out of step, as though the world was slowed except him.
Laughing, the Knight of Frenzy ripped across the battlefield, his face hidden by a snarling mask but for his eyes. None of the men and women he sent screaming into death met his eyes. None of them had the time to lock gazes with him. If they had, they would have seen nothing but horror and tears in their depths.
Meat and blood, nothing more. He was the butcher and here they were on his slab. He was the smith and they were upon his anvil. Here he would craft them with his sword. In the name of the black dragon! Their corpses would be his maddened praise. Their blood would be his devout offering to his guardian god.
WhathaveIdonewhathaveIdone
A High Dog lunged and was cut down all the same. Human, elf, beast, what difference did it make? All would arrive before the sword. All would meet the same fate. His followers were behind him, others gifted arms forged by the dragon's hand, but he was their lord and like lesser predators, they respectfully allowed him first access to the prey. The Royal Paladins came at him but they were nothing but meat and their corpses were the paving stones of the path he laid for the other black knights to follow.
WhathaveIdonewhathaveIdone
As a boy he cut down the dragon and stood atop its fallen form.
As a man he cut men apart and left their bodies in ruin behind him.
WhathaveIdonewhathaveIdone
His god roared for meat to sate its hunger and the Knight of Frenzy turned to honor its presence. He saw the great dragon tower above the field and a single figure rising against it, a knight wielding a sword which hurt to look at. It was somehow too bright and yet not bright at all, like someone had spun light and shadow into a blade. The impossible sword swung, trailing contrails of aurora in its wake until it cut into the cursed dragon and tore its armor apart like it was cutting paper. Phantom Blaster Dragon recoiled and shrieked. The Knight of Frenzy felt its rage pour through his veins and he raced for the infidel who had dared harm his deity. His sword was naked in his hand, its whole blade red with blood and shadow mist coiling around it. Screaming with fury, he drew back the black Blaster in both hands to cut the warrior in half from behind-
WhathaveIdonewhathaveIdone
The impossible sword of light and darkness met his Blaster sword and the dark metal shattered in his grip. Shards flew back, propelled by the force which had broken the blade, and pierced his armor to stab into his flesh. He staggered back, knocked away by the sheer power of the sword of light and shadows. The knight wielding it came into view, clad in armor which was grey like twilight, one eye blue and the other green.
Liath met the knight's eyes and though one was different, one was too familiar. He tried to move his lips, to speak out to his hero who had become his enemy, but the dark magic prevented him from controlling his own body. He was a prisoner in the cage of his mind and the bars were Phantom Blaster's power.
WhathaveIdonewhathaveIdone
Mad with rage, the Knight of Frenzy lunged, his hands like claws grasping for Blaster Blade's throat, but the legendary knight couldn't be overwhelmed by such a brutal move. The sword of twilight was there suddenly, cutting his armor with ease. His chestplate was rent across the middle and the tip cut through into his flesh. He staggered back, howls of pain escaping him with every movement. Each step sent lances of agony ripping through the wound. Still he would not relent, could not relent. Adrenaline flooded his system and his master's will forced him to keep attacking. He lunged once more despite the pain.
Blaster Blade's majestic sword swung once more and its point punched through him. He felt it drive through his heart and out through his back. His own charge impaled him on the great blade, and his lifeblood soaked it. He stared up into the other knight's eyes.
Liath felt the dark magic breaking, his cage shattering as his body began to fall into death. He stared into Blaster Blade's eyes and through the terrible pain he managed to choke out his last words.
"Forgive… me… please…" he whispered, and saw shock blossom in Blaster Blade's irises. The other knight reached out a hand to Liath's face and tore away the snarling helm, revealing his face.
Liath fell to the dirt as the sword was pulled from his body, seeing the sky dark with storm clouds. Then Blaster Blade was there, knelt at his side, face a mask of shock. He had never imagined his hero speechless with horror, but he was. He could fell the numbness spreading through his body, a terrible numbness which erased all sensation and severed his control over his body. It was at his neck now and his limbs wouldn't move. Memories flashed before him, those childhood games which seemed so laughable but he longed to be there again. He longed to playfight with wooden swords and cardboard armor, to defeat a debris dragon, to receive a kiss on the cheek from Bodhmall before the darkness and the cursed magic. He wanted to be a child playing as a knight again. He wanted their stories which were so so wrong and yet so preferable to reality.
The reality was too awful to want anymore.
Lying in the dirt, his body broken and his soul ravaged, Liath embraced the numbness and knew no more.