One Minute to Midnight (20 page)

"Let me get you some food, you must be
starving." Delio said.

There was no more talk of the witch,
her demon spawn, or any of the evil of the world for the rest of
that evening. The weary knights ate a small meal prepared for them
by their host in silence, and rented the three rooms upstairs. They
paid three times what Delio charged for a night stay, and for their
kindness, a tub with running water, where they could bathe, was
provided in their rooms. Delio also handed each one a night robe to
keep the chill off and then the knights vanished behind their
respective doors. Marcus stood before the yellowing mirror in his
room, admiring the large, dark purple bruise on his shoulder where
a mace had knocked him from his steed. He stood five foot ten, with
long dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and under his neatly trimmed
beard was a square iron jaw. He had commanded their raid into the
witch’s forest and felt the most grief for having watched his men
die while defending their land from encroaching evil. However
horrible he may have felt, Marcus turned in and slept without
nightmares of war for the first and last time in his adult
life.

Filly was in his room, studying a
battle wound he had received through his armor when the sharp tip
of a broad sword pierced his side between the plates. It was little
more than a flesh wound, but the darkness of the cut troubled him,
as did the appearance of blue veins surrounding it. Infection was
upon him and it was spreading. There was an offending odor of rot
rising from the cut, but he ignored it, cleaning the wound as best
he could. Filly passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow. His
dreams were dark that night, and in them he fell though a black
hole into the abyss of time. Then he was floating in space, a
solitary form in a sea of black, as stars glinted like beacons from
their home light years away in the coldness of eternity. For the
rest of the night he drifted alone into space, free of gravity’s
constraints, floating like a feather on the wind, as earth shrunk
into a distant blue-green ball.

Roderick was physically unharmed, but
in secret his resolve and sanity were crumbling as he sat on the
edge of his bed, crying and shaking from the post-traumatic stress
of battle. Many of his childhood friends had been killed that day.
Before joining Marcus and Filly in their escape from the witch's
forces, Roderick held his best friend Damian's hand as a mortal
wound took his life. Earlier, Roderick had sat in his lukewarm bath
and considered sliding the rest of the way in. If he took a deep
breath under water it would soon be over and he could move on to
the next life. His desire to live overruled suicidal self-pity and
he decided to trudge on through another day. He could not be so
selfish as to betray his comrades in this manner. Roderick
extinguished the light and rolled himself up in the covers as
gentle rain pelted his window.

In his dream, he was wandering through
a labyrinth as a small child, alone and lost, but in the distance
he could hear a minotaur snorting. It searched for him with
relentless tenacity and Roderick knew the price for discovery would
be agonizing death. One dead end passage led to another as he
searched for a way out with only the dimly lit torches on the wall
to guide his path. Roderick's heart raced with terror, and though
he was dreaming, he felt the hand of doom creeping up his back. It
was he and the unseen foe, but with every move Roderick allowed the
minotaur to come another step closer. A gust of wind blew through
the tunnel and snuffed the torches out, submerging him in the
blackest darkness. Roderick could hear the stamping and snorting of
his adversary not twenty feet away. He had been found! Roderick
looked for his sword and all he found was a licorice whip, and when
he reached for the dagger in his boot, he found a lollipop. Terror
coursed through him as the minotaur charged forward. Roderick
steeled himself and with his lollipop and licorice whip he bolted
toward his enemy. Just before they clashed, Roderick saw Damian's
face in the darkness and snapped awake in his bed. covered with
sweat.
"My god, what a night." He said to himself as the dawn crept
through his window.

The rain was still falling, but it was
a brand new day. Roderick rose, dressed in his now dry
undergarments, and strapped on his armor before going downstairs to
meet the others.

They ate a meal of venison and fresh
chicken eggs provided by Delio.

"We should ride home to the castle and
inform the king that all is lost." Marcus said. His head was low
over the prepared meal, and the others felt his grief.
"The witch said she would attack there next. We have to warn him.
We can get help from the town of Grelsh, if possible." Filly
said.

"You said the witch is coming for your
castle?" Delio asked. His eyes were fearful, questioning.
"Yes, in two day's time I imagine she will be at the castle walls.
She'll regain her strength by the next full moon, and that's in two
days." Marcus said.

"What will you do when she gets
there?" Delio asked.
"We will fight Dersha with the remaining men, and then with women
and children to the last." Filly said. "There are no other knights
left to fight, and training initiates for battles against Dersha’s
forces would take months or even years."

"You could help us. Perhaps you could
stop her before she gets to your castle." Delio said.

"How so? What would the three of us do
against her hordes of demons?" Marcus asked.

"Don't forget the undead." Filly
added.

"I can still smell their rotting
stench!" Roderick said. He had gone pale and looked at the
floor.
"What if I told you that you could end all of this now by
enchanting your swords?" Delio asked.

"I'm listening. How?" Marcus
asked.

"There is a door to the underworld
near here that remains hidden from the eyes of most mortal men. I
know where it is, I think, but I have never been there for fear of
the beast rumored to live in those woods. It's an unclean place in
the center of a bog. The legend says that anyone who has their
weapons melted in the river of fire and re-forged by the bladesmith
Mortis on the Anvil of Dhampir will obtain dominion over the
undead, and will have power to turn them to ash with a single
blow."
"This is madness, Marcus. We have to warn the king that the witch
is coming. We can’t be caught up in some side quest." Filly
said.

"There's nothing more we can do than
warn him. The three of us are no match for that witch, and if this
is a solution, no matter how ludicrous it may seem, I think it may
be worth investigating." Roderick said.
Marcus held his chin, deep in thought.

"If we go into the underworld and have
our weapons re-forged we’ll be able to kill the undead? You're sure
of this?" Marcus asked.

"I'm not sure of anything, sire. I'm
only an innkeeper, but this is what the legend states and if you
go, you'll find out for yourself. You're brave knights, and I'm
sure you will make it back to fight the witch's hordes." Delio
said. Marcus considered this a moment longer.
"Roderick's right, there's nothing we can do but warn the king that
we'll all be dead by the next full moon. Let's go into the
underworld." Marcus said.
The three agreed and mounted up a few moments later. Delio pointed
them in the direction of the bog and explained that the doorway was
about a half-day’s ride from the inn.

"Gentlemen, good luck on your journey,
and for all our sakes I pray you return before it's too late."
Delio said.

"If this forge is where you say it is,
then it will be done. This witch is a foul demon and we mean to end
her reign. That is our duty." Marcus said. The three men turned
their horses east and galloped away. Delio watched as the men
disappeared over the horizon with a glint in his eye and an evil
grin on his mouth. He let out a wry laugh.

"See you soon, fools." He returned to
his inn.
Around noon that day, the small party came to a wooded swamp where
the trees were so tightly grown together that there was no room for
their horses.
"Well, this is less than ideal." Filly complained.
"Let's tie the horses to these trees and go in on foot." Marcus
said.

"Seriously? You don't want try and
find a road?" Roderick asked.

"Look, we don't have much time, and
finding a road through here could take another half-day or more. I
don't want to be stuck in the swamp tonight. Foul beasts abound
after dark in these parts." Marcus said. He dismounted and tied his
horse to the nearest tree, taking only his sword with
him.

Filly and Roderick exchanged
questioning glances, but had it not been for Marcus saving their
lives, the end may have been swift during their last battle.
Roderick shrugged and followed their leader into the bog, with
Filly in tow. Roots and low brush slowed them down as they walked
through the driest part of the bog, slashing and hacking their way
through. Frogs croaked and crickets chirped as the thickening
canopy above them dimmed the sunlight, they heard the cackles and
howls of unseen predators more than once. The ground became
unstable, and an acrid odor of rot drifted through the air as they
crept deeper into the bog.

"This is unbearable. In
the entire time this forest has been here no one has cut a trail
through?" Filly asked.
"These woods have a spell over them." Roderick looked around,
feeling as if they were being watched. "As a child, my grandfather
would tell me stories of this forest. The elders called it
silent death
. Those who
come in are never heard from again. Look behind us."
The forest had grown back around their hard won path and there was
no evidence of their trail.
"What?! How long have you known about this Roderick?" Filly
asked.

"Would it have mattered if I told you
before we entered?" Roderick fixed him with his gaze.
"It might have. Now how are we supposed to get back out?" Filly
asked.

The men hacked through a wall of trees
and bushes, and realized they had found the door Delio had spoken
of. Two trees, three feet apart, stood by the mouth of a dark cave,
and hanging from low branches were two human skeletons. The fingers
on their mold-covered, decrepit hands pointed toward the cave
entrance. Below the trees was a carpet of bones that formed an odd
looking walkway from where they stood to the mouth of the
cave.
"I think we're here." Marcus said. He looked back at his men with
an expression of gruff determination. "Let's go in. It looks like
Mortis put out a welcome mat." Marcus grinned.

The moment they walked into the
clearing their boots were sucked down like glue, and with each step
they could feel their energy being drained from them.
"Now I know why there's a carpet of bones leading across. It's a
trap! Run! These people never made it through!" Marcus could feel
his energy being sapped, and his vision wavering, a sound like
angels singing filling his head. Ten feet, eight, seven, he drew
closer. "AAAARGH!" Marcus screamed as he dove the last three feet
into the cave’s entrance. When he turned, his men were right behind
him. Marcus sighed with relief as he turned over on his back.
Filly was first behind him, and then Roderick. They lay there on a
hard rock floor for a few minutes as the angelic singing faded, and
their energy returned.
"That was quite an experience." Filly said.
"I rather thought it sucked." Roderick said.
Marcus rolled onto his elbows and pried himself off the floor.
Above their heads attached to the wall was a wooden torch, and next
to it on a shelf sat a clay bottle and mechanical lighter. Marcus
stood, took the torch, and after sniffing the contents of the
bottle, realized it was lamp oil.

"A small gift for our
trouble?"

"Nothing on this quest has been a
gift. I would not begin assuming such things now. It seems since we
left the castle all we've managed to find is misery." Roderick
said. Marcus shrugged, nodded, and then lit the torch.

"See, light. Don't be so negative
Roderick and look at the bright side. That sour demeanor is going
to get you into trouble." Marcus said.

Now that they could see, they noticed
that they were at the top of a long path leading down into the
cave.
"After you." Filly said. He bowed to Marcus and pointed toward the
blackness beyond their torch light.
As they walked through the lonely tunnel, Marcus's mind turned
toward people residing in King Edward’s castle, and how many of
them would be dead by week's end if they were unsuccessful in this
quest.
"There's a lot riding on the success or failure of this little
jaunt. Let's stay sharp and make sure we get back to the castle in
one piece." Marcus said.

"Marcus, I know this is probably an
inopportune time to ask this, but as we have no idea what awaits us
at the end of this tunnel. Are we good men?" Filly asked. Marcus
was ten years his senior and had been a knight when they were still
playing with wooden swords around the castle walls as child and
teenager.
"What do you mean?" Marcus asked.

"Well, sir, we've killed a lot of
people in one battle after another, and I wonder…"

"Spit it out, man." Marcus
said.

"How many of those men deserved to die
when we invaded their lands? Did we do what was right, or did we
only follow the orders of our king who may or may not have been
altruistic in his intentions? I see many of the dead in my dreams."
Filly asked.
Marcus thought a moment before speaking, and measured his words. As
a leader, his duty was to keep his men focused on the task and
table all other discussions about morality, or non-important
conversation, but today was different. The tunnel leading down had
a finality to it, a foreboding aura, as if God were ready to
conclude their story.
"I believe we've performed good deeds as soldiers of the crown, but
my soul is heavy with the burden of so much death. I can't say
everything I've been party to was honorable, but intuition tells me
that if we do not save the people of our land from the witch, all
of our bad deeds will outweigh our good." Marcus paused as he
turned to face his men, his face taking on a more powerful, heroic
look in the half light of his torch. "This is the time we find out
if we're evil or divine. We are the last in line, the remaining
three knights of our realm who will stand against the night and
with our light we will shine until dawn, or break against the rocks
like a ship lost at sea and face doom. We've fought together for a
long time and I know that what we do now is just and good for our
people, but not until we meet our individual ends will we have our
answers."