A Hero’s Welcome

The morning fog began to disperse to welcome the rising sun. Soon it revealed the edge of a vast forest. A slow rhythm of hooves echoed through the wilderness. The patter of hooves grew louder as it reached the edge of the forest. Through the brown wood and dank mist a silver reflection emerged. Its rays multiplied the brilliance of a sun that had not fully taken form. The silver glow took a shape of a man on a horse. There he sat perched on the most magnificent steed that only a noble man would be worthy of riding. The light he emitted soon gave way to the unforgiving forest and swampy plains that lay ahead of him.

Laced with armor from head to toe the Knight moved out of a forest that would carry with it the memory of the noblest man to have ever entered it. His armor was decorated with the valor of a seasoned warrior. The jewels he donned were given to him by his king, and were what he held in the highest regard.

He took off his silver helmet and propped it under his left arm to gaze at the terrain before him. The blinding light of the sun distorted his view. What he could make out was the round shape of land he was to climb. It was the last piece of land he would have to travel before his home could be viewed. His castle awaited him, his wife, and his son.

He patted his horse on the side. The chain mail wrapped around his battle steed chimed against the Knight’s gauntlet. “Over this hill, that’s all I ask of you old friend. That’s the last thing I ask of you.” As if of one mind, the horse began to move toward the hill. Over the muddy terrain, the gray noble steed came to the base of it. He stopped suddenly, uncharacteristic of the Knight’s horse. Almost in a frantic, he whined and danced at the unfamiliar terrain.

Concerned about his trusted friend the Knight stepped off. He grabbed at the horse’s head gear and calmed him down. “What is wrong? What has caused this ruckus? You show no signs of injury, and we are in no emanate danger.” The horse returned back to his usual self following the confidence of his master.

The Knight began his final journey up the hill and put his helmet back on. Passing the trees and around the boulders the Knight’s horse walked steadily. The blinding yellow sun remained in its spot slightly over the hill. The Knight did what he could to look away and gaze at his surroundings. He soon found it difficult to view anything for the sun washed out any detail that a vigilant Knight would be able to see. His eyes were no longer of use to him. For the moment, he decided to listen to what the hill had to offer. His ears tried to find sounds of birds or a rustle in the wind, but there was nothing.

Soon the Knight’s attention no longer had any focus. Glaring at the sun again everything turned white. In the distance, he could hear horses snorting and a loud rumble in the ground with no distinct pattern. Clanging of armor echoed in the background. All the noises dispersed for they could not accommodate each other to the ears of any man. Instead, a single horn blew over the rising excitement. It was a steady sound, unwavering in the midst of an unintelligible threat. A tense feeling rushed over the Knight, but it was one he was familiar with. Pace quickened as this sound grew fainter and fainter only to be replaced by the screams of men.

The Knight soon leapt up from his hunched position on his ever traveling horse. The screams faded as the Knight found his bearings. He straitened himself up attempting to be alert, but he found no success with the sun still beating him in the face. Frustrated, he stepped off of his steed and turned his back to solar the enemy. The Knight stared down the length of the hill he had climbed. He could vaguely make out the bottom. He stood confused wondering why this climb had become such a challenge. The Knight felt like he had been on this hill for hours. He shook it of thinking his dream confused him as to the time of day. He verified this idea looking back at the sun which had not moved.

The Knight sat on the inclined meadow staring at the bottom of the hill avoiding the sun until it passed. His steed curiously moseyed around his master wondering why he had stopped. “Do not be startled old friend. My old eyes cannot handle the beams of the sun. Just rest now, I fear you’ll need it.” Looking back at his friend the Knight could only make out his steed’s silhouette. It reminded him of the first time they met.

The Knight was no more than a steward, a real Knight’s patsy. Learning the ways of Knighthood his teacher had told him to run to the back of the stable to retrieve a wagon filled with hay. It was a simple task; nothing he thought would pose a problem for an aspiring Knight. He found the wagon already filled to the brim with hay. It was an easier task then he previously predicted. Grabbing at the holsters, he lifted and began pulling. Suddenly the wagon’s wheel broke off causing him to fall to the ground.

The soon to be Knight saw the shattered wooden wheel fragmented all over the countryside. Determined to continue despite this misfortune he positioned himself beneath the wagon preparing to get some leverage. He was not about to quit, and did not want to fail his mentor. His efforts were futile and he knew it before he made the attempt. He couldn’t fail at any cost. He had heard tales of war, acts of bravery, and feats of strength that put this task to shame. It would be embarrassing for a man at any age to be unable to deliver a stack of hay.

There he worked, all day thrusting his frail body at the wagon hoping to budge it one more inch. It was custom for a Knight to leave his steward out on a task for as long as it took to be completed. However this Knight needed his horses to be fed and had done so hours ago. But he was disappointed in his steward and told him not to quit until the wagon stood in its rightful spot in front of the stable where the horses could get to it.

Nearly giving up the steward fell to the ground in despair. He saw his blistered bleeding hands and recoiled at the sight. Turning his head to a more pleasant sight of the setting sun, he saw something he was not expecting. There was a young noble steed, or at least a dark outline of one. The horse trotted toward the boy enamored with his persistence. Deciding to help, the horse grabbed a rope and laid it on the bewildered steward. The boy smiled for the first time all day and tied the rope tightly around the horse and wagon. Lifting one end, he called to the horse to set off. The horse did so and slowly made his way to the stable trying to keep pace with the boy.

The Knight sat on the incline with glossy eyes and a smile that would not fade. He looked back to his old friend that he could now see with the sun high overhead. He stood up and patted his friend on his mane. “You won’t be able to drag me out of this one; we’ll have to work together this time.”

Laughing to himself the Knight began his journey home once again climbing upon his horse. The sky was now clear and the path lay before the seasoned warrior. The Knight gave a glance back to the bottom of the hill that he could still see. He thought he heard a noise but wasn’t sure. Ignoring it, he resumed his attention to the one place he desired to be, home. To be back to his castle and all things that made a regular man King.

The Knight put all thoughts out of his mind and let the air think for him. He let the wind in his face pass over him as if it were cleansing his soul. But this solitude was soon disrupted as the Knight heard the sound again. This time he was able to make it out, it was clearer than before. It was a familiar sound, one he had heard a long time ago. There were angry cries, and running footsteps. Sounds of pain echoed through the hilltops and the Knight could not pinpoint its location.

“No, go away memories, go away nightmares! Leave me at once, I command you!” The Knight became angry at the overwhelming sounds that blanketed the sky with darkness. Soon, he realized the sounds were nothing more than an oncoming storm moving swiftly to him. The Knight was not pleased with his findings. “I’d rather the screams than sounds of an angry sky.”

Looking up in misery, the Knight could see the grey clouds pass over him ready to release its fury. Little by little, the rain fell from the sky all the while becoming increasingly worse. It pelted against the Knights armor. The sound of it began to drive him mad, but the toll it was taking on his horse was far worse. The ground beneath his feet was softening. The noble steed trudged through the thick mud that was once a solid mound.

The Knight looked to the sky wondering what he had done wrong to deserve such unfortunate luck. The sky gave no answer to the once proud Knight. Instead, it just looked back on him with a relentless downpour that blinded his eyes. He threw off his helmet for the water was filling up inside of it covering his mouth.

The Knight became worried about his friend. He was giving it everything he had to make it through the mud but was getting nowhere. Hoof after hoof pounded away at the muddy terrain digging into the ground without progress. Soon the horse’s legs gave way and he toppled over exhausted. The horse let out a cry along with the Knight. They both fell in the mud stained with the repulsive substance.

The noble steed lay there as the rain beat against his fallen body. The brave Knight scurried to his feet to see his old friend’s condition. Fearing the worst he saw the horses eye still open and blinking slowly. He was relieved knowing his steed needed a rest. He wasn’t about to take any chances however, and gave the horse the last of his water. The noble steed drank it down carefully making sure to get every drop.

The Knight sat back and waited for the rain to let up. He set his water bottle down allowing it to gather the rain. Through the thick mist the Knight peered down the hill once more. He was astonished to see the bottom of the hill was still visible. He was sure he had traveled much further than this. The Knight felt uncomfortable as he sat helplessly on the muddy hillside.

The Knight wondered for a moment as he stared at his helmet. Throwing it off the hill he stopped to listen for a noise. The helmet hit soon after which surprised the Knight even more. According to the sound, he could tell his distance was little more than when he started. The Knight stood up and looked about seeing only rain clouds and the shape of the hilltop; an unattainable place.

Feeling much anxiety the Knight went back to his horse to check on him. His condition had not changed. Looking up from his friend the Knight saw an apple tree. He soon realized he had not eaten in days since his travel through the forest. Patting his steed on the back the Knight went to the apple tree.

Standing at its trunk the Knight viewed the rotten apples that had fallen. None were of any use. The closest apple he could reach would have to be attained by climbing the trunk to the first limb. He attempted it at first but soon came to the understanding that his armor weighed far too much to achieve this height. Looking about the Knight reassured himself he was in no immediate danger and began removing his breast plate and gauntlets. He took off his boots and was weary of removing his chain mail. Since it did not weigh much, he left just that on for protection.

The Knight quickly managed to get to the first limb being an avid climber. Reaching for the apple the Knight quickly pulled away after hearing a screeching howl. He nearly fell out of the tree as he gazed the terrain. The rain was heavy; blinding the Knight’s every attempt to see the creature. His horse suddenly whined in terror. With a sense of urgency, the Knight leapt from the tree and grabbed his sword lying in the grass. He ran with all his might to get to his steed.

There he saw them. There were three wolves feasting on his fallen friend. The Knight had never felt anger before, he was not supposed to. He was to honor every adversary and never to succumb to emotion. But this was different; there was nothing he could do to hold back his anger. He screamed to the top of his lungs as he thrust his sword into the wolf nearest to him. It let out a yelp as it fell to the ground with no chance of recovery.

The other two stopped their feasting turning their full attention to their attacker. One wolf began staking the Knight in a clockwise motion. Soon the Knight found himself surrounded, unable to keep his eyes on both of the wolves. He didn’t care. What the wolves could do to him would make little difference to the pain he felt looking down at his friend. His blood was spilled over the hill. The Knight had not made it in time. With little time to grieve, the Knight resumed his vigilance of the wolves that had made it their goal to have him for desert.

The wolf to his right snarled grabbing the Knights attention as the other leapt at him. The wolf latched onto the Knight’s shoulder as the other wolf moved in to aid his comrade. Screaming in pain the Knight dropped his weapon leaving him with few options. The Knight thought quickly seeing his chain mail had not been fully strewn and took the dangling strand around the wolf’s neck. The wolf bit down even harder. They were testing each other when suddenly the other wolf bit the arm of the Knight. Flailing in pain the Knight’s erratic movements beheaded the wolf he had by his chain mail.

Now he was free and standing up to the last wolf. He grabbed the muddy hilt of his sword and prepared to defend himself. The wolf was not ready to give up his dinner. He had a few tricks left up his sleeve. He howled at the valiant Knight. The cry confused the Knight for a moment as he waited for it to attack. A calm silence fell over the two as they stared at each other.

The Knight grew tired of waiting and charged at the creature. He ran at him with his sword extended as far as it could go. Suddenly, large figure blindsided him as he ran. The figure slammed into him knocking him down. Biting down on his neck, the Knight knew he had been had. The howl called for help, it was no war cry. He felt the sharp pain coursing through his body. This time he had held onto the sword and drove it into the back of his new attacker.

Pushing the fallen wolf off of him the other wolf took little time to charge in. The Knight thrust his sword into the mouth of the creature as it swallowed the majority of the blade. Half sitting up the Knight fell to his back bleeding from all sides. The rain began to let up as the Knight lay nearly unconscious. The smell of death was on the hillside, and the Knight recognized it. He pushed the wolf the rest of the way off his broken body and sat upright.

He then pulled out his sword which was still lodged within the wolf. The blade shown in the muggy background. It was covered in blood. The Knight stared it; he just gazed upon the blood still trickling from it. He felt a lump in his throat. Tears began to well up in his eyes. He no longer felt his wounds, nor remembered how he got them. He was entranced by a blade he had never seen without the stain of blood. He sat there trying to remember a time when it was clean, but he couldn’t. There, deep within the soiled blade he could make out himself. He quickly threw down the weapon and covered his face lying back on the hill falling victim to exhaustion.

He stood up a while later discovering his wounds had not healed. He needed to stop the bleeding somehow. Grabbing his sword, he walked over to his steed now long gone. The resourceful Knight cut the hairs from his friend’s tail. He tied them together very carefully then tied them around various pressure points stopping the blood flow. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

The valiant Knight was riving in pain. He looked over to his armor and knew he couldn’t put it back on for it would cut into his wounds further. He would leave them behind; his medals, his jewels, his life. The Knight set them under the apple tree and surveyed the area to remember its location.

Dragging his sword along the terrain, the Knight passed by the body of his steed. He felt terrible there was nothing he could do to save him. It was over and done before he even drew his sword. What was worse was he couldn’t give his steed a proper burial. He decided not to continue his journey up the hill. Instead, he would make camp near his horse and try to heal up before he makes the trip.

The Knight made a fire, and heated up what was left of his rations. There on the other side of his fire lay his friend. It just started to hit the Knight, that his horse was really gone. All the battles they were in, all the lands they rode together. He was more than just a friend to the Knight, but an addition to his legacy now dead and gone. His steed knew him more than anyone else, more than his family and countrymen. He had heard all of the Knight’s stories and dreams. He listened to all of the Knights hardships and triumphs.

The Knight tried to think of other things; he tried to think to the horizon, to his family and to his home. These thoughts calmed him down a bit as he tried to go to sleep. He felt unsettled lying down on this hill. It was nothing he had not done before, going to sleep on a foreign land. Normally though, he had a lookout with him. Someone he could depend on to wake him in case of danger. But that lookout lay with him dead on the hill. The Knight struggled to calm himself to sleep. From his wounds and loss of blood, the Knight soon lay peacefully on the side of the insurmountable hill.

The sun rose again shining bright over the hilltop. It awoke the Knight in a sleepless dream. His eyes attempted to focus, but the sun would not allow it. The Knight knew he could not challenge the sun, let alone his own condition. He realized how stiff his bones and muscles had become through the night. His blood dried on his chain mail and as he moved, it felt as though he was ripping his skin off as he stood up. Standing up and looking to the sun, the Knight prepared himself for what he hoped would be the last journey he would have to face.

He began to walk suddenly realizing his sword was still clutched in his hand. The Knight must have had it there all night. He could not lift the blade, so he simply dragged it along the field. His sword marked his every step. The Knight walked slowly, but he showed no signs of quitting.

Though he was physically determined to continue, the Knight was losing an uphill mental battle. His mind was playing tricks on him. He began to hear the voices of his wife, his son, and his King. They were a mesh of noise that only he could make out and understand. The Knight did not let these voices deter him. He knew they were false, but he spoke back to them just the same.

“I’m doing the best I can. I underestimated this hill, but it won’t be long now; I’ll be home soon. I am sorry my lord, there was nothing I could do. I will try to serve you better next time. Perhaps if we were not so foolish to rush in without consequence we could have prevented the loss of many of our own. What’s done is done, what matters is the war is over and you have your kingdom. Maybe if you thought more of your men we would fight harder for you, put our lives to the test. Instead you treat us as a commodity that can be exploited at your will!” The Knight awoke in his trance. “Why did I say these things? I meant none of them so what came over me? This hill, it is this hill. It is cursed.” The voices calmed as the Knight became aware of his surroundings.

The Knight walked for what seemed like days. He was always on the move, a steady slow pace but moving none the less. A long line could be seen from where his sword grazed the ground behind him. The Knight took a moment to gaze at his progress only to be horrified to see the bottom of the great hill. He plopped down to the ground exhausted. He could not figure out why he had not reached the top he could so plainly see before him.

The Knight had lost. He had given up. He could no longer take the pain of the hill. He did not understand the challenge he was facing. He never perceived it as a challenge, but it beat him just the same. The hill had won. It mocked him as he sat sulking under the afternoon sun. It was ridiculous to think that this brave and noble Knight could not reach the top of a simple hill. The Knight felt tears stream down his face. They were not tears of defeat, or loss, but embarrassment. It is the everlasting embarrassment that no one was there to witness but himself. It was the worst embarrassment of them all, one that he could never drive away from his soul, and one that would send him to an early grave.

In this moment of weakness, in this moment of failure the Knight received some wisdom for the first time in decades. A new voice called out to him, one he recognized, but on he had not heard in years. “Brave sir Knight. Why are you crying?”

The Knight responded as if the voice were right next to him. “I cannot return home. This hill will be the death of me. It has taken my horse and will do the same to me.”

“Is it the hill that has defeated you? There is a problem Knight, but it is not the terrain you rode in on. You long to see your loved ones do you not?”

“With all my heart,” the Knight spoke mournfully.

“Maybe that was the wrong question. Do you wish them to see you?”

The Knight became angry at this question the voice interrogated him with. “What sort of talk is that? Of course I want them to see me!” he said trailing off at the end only second guessing his words.

“It seems you do not. But why? What does a noble and brave Knight have to hide from his family? What could he have done so awful that he could not bear the shame in front of his own?”

The Knight stood once again to challenge the voice. “What do you know of me, of what I have done?”

“I know everything there is to know about you brave sir Knight. I am with you wherever you travel. I watch everything you do as you do it and remember everything.”

He began to tremble in fear at the voice knowing who it was. He was not prepared for this conversation. “You are God?”

“I am not. Though, I resemble him in many ways I am only a fragment of what he is. I am simply a piece of what he has created.”

The Knight became confused but knew not to question the voice again. “You are still afraid of them noblest of Knights.”

Now the Knight became angry with the voice. “The words ‘brave’ and ‘noble’ fall before my rank but what do they mean? What value do they hold for one such as me?”

“What such man?”

The Knight’s thoughts wandered back to a time he cannot forget. Back to a battle he wished he’d left. One thousand men stormed the enemy’s castle. Many were lost before reaching the walls as arrows and acid were launched from it showering the oncoming force. The brave Knight was lucky to avoid the danger with his mighty steed galloping fiercely to the gates. Arrows lit a flame were aimed precisely at the ropes holding up the large draw bridge. The bridge fell just in time for the Knight and others to storm the castle. They quickly gained a foothold as the enemy inside was no match for the strength of the Knight army.

There the Knight laid waste to hundreds of opponents that day. One after the other met the same fate; they met his blade. In the heat of battle, the Knight paid no attention to what his sword thrust into. The Knights who donned the black armor were each a foe, no different than the next.

Soon the Knight had no threat opposing him, but his desire to kill had not ceased. He continued his rampage through the castle halls where civilians were found; each a supporter of the enemy and the enemy to his King. The Knight killed the men without weapons only knowing that if they could get one it would be used swiftly on him and his men. But soon there were no men to be found. As he searched further in the castle, he found the children of these men knowing one day they would vow revenge and carry it out. The Knight had no other choice. With his eyes closed during his plight, he had not realized these children were being protected by their mothers. When he had opened his eyes for the final time in this battle, none were left alive. He even stood over the bodies of his own men. He never heard their words of distress as his blade plunged into them.

The Knight left his nobility and all goodness that ever had blessed him. He rode his horse deep into a forest where memories were lost but not forgotten. He rode that forest for a long time before reaching a hill that blocked his way home.

The voice brought the Knight back to his place on the hill. “Knight, was this no different from any battle you’ve fought before?” The Knight nodded slowly. “But how? People died, people die in a war that’s what happens. You were part of that death and as a Knight why should you feel guilt?”

“Women and children were lost in that battle, under my blade,” the Knight’s solemn words were speaking to himself less than that of the voice.

“Are the men you kill in armor not someone’s sons? Do the women’s souls not die when news of their husbands or sons death is delivered to them? The pain you gave them with your blade was far less than that of the death they would have experienced if you let them live.” The voice seemed to sympathize with the Knight rather than scold him.

“What about my men? I turned on them. I can’t explain why but I did.” The Knight wanted the voice to scold him. He couldn’t bear to think he would be encouraged by his actions.

“Do you believe the color of the armor they wore made a difference in your decision to kill?”

“How could you speak these things? They were not the enemy, neither were the women and children. What I did was unforgivable and you cannot see that. I have done the worst thing a man could do. I have broken the code of Knights and worse I have broken the code of men. What a disgrace I have become and not even you can see this. Am I mad? I must be to be talking with a voice!”

“You speak only to yourself.”

A long winded silence fell over the hilltop. The Knight was breathless as the voice left him. He had finally come to realize what he had done and faced it. There was nothing that could change the vile deed he had committed, but now that it had been put into perspective, he could move on. He was ready to see his loved ones again. He was ready to face his King.

The Knight took one last glance at the bottom of the hill, and then began his ascent forward. Within minutes, the Knight reached the top. There he stood atop the mound he spent days climbing. He looked out beyond the hill for the first time to see his home. A shadow loomed over the area where his castle should be. There was a thick cloud of smoke hovering over it. Concealed beneath was what the Knight feared most. His home had been destroyed. It lay in ruins as the Knight knelt to the ground unable to look at the damage. All that he fought for was gone. He had nothing left.

The Knight raised his sword with the strength he had left. He prepared to meet his family one way or the other. Before he could deliver the blow, he heard a man call out, “What is your name sir Knight?”

Looking to where the voice had called he saw a battered Knight wearing nothing but black laced chain mail covered in his own blood and black undergarments. He sat there with little strength under a large oak tree. Without a response, he asked again, “What is your name?”

Unable to hold the sword any longer the Knight dropped it to the ground. He stared in anger at the Knight by the tree. “You did this didn’t you?” The Knight by the oak began to weep along with the broken Knight still kneeling at his loss.

“This deed was done out of vengeance. Our army discovered the ruins of our home and returned the favor, but it was all for naught. I am the only one left among my group. The battle was hazy, and I don’t remember much, but I remember finding myself among my allies bloodied and cleaved before me.”

The Knight began to stand up and attempted to lift the sword once more. He walked over to the tree intent on finishing where he left off. The Knight by the tree had nothing else to say. He looked away as tears poured from his face. Lifting the sword over his head the Knight prepared to strike. He screamed to the top of his lungs as the blade descended upon the black Knight. But it stopped mid way, and he dropped the sword to the ground beside the black Knight.

Crying openly the Knight spouted out his name, “It’s Michael Vandette. Why do you ask?”

“I only wish to know the name of my wife’s murderer,” the black Knight said harshly.

“What is your name?” he said back spitefully.

“It is Jonathan Archisle, why do you ask?”

“To know the name of the last Knight I kill.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Destroy my home.”

Michael knew the answer as did Jonathan, but Jonathan asked just the same. “My King ordered the strike. He saw your kingdom as a threat only building to move in.”

Jonathan nodded in agreement. “Our King had plans of attacking, yes it’s true. We did not want to go into battle though. We saw only death to gain from the battle, and that was a prize not worth winning. So our army left the King, right before you tore the walls down and buried him. That is why your victory was swift. I am surprised to see you were the only Knight to return.”

Michael stammered a bit, “Your people fought bravely.”

Both of them were too weak to even begin to move. Their hatred for each other grew with every passing moment, but neither of them wanted to make the blow. They knew they were all they had left. With this standoff, Michael proposed a truce. “Listen Archisle, neither of us would benefit from further blood spilled on this day, agreed?” Jonathan nodded. “We should start anew, not on this side of the hill or the other, but on this hill.” Jonathan looked to Michael with a renewed sense of hope. Knowing they could trust each other for the common good, the two set out to create a new kingdom.