The Forest of Adventures (#1 of The Knight Trilogy) (18 page)

Standing in Morgan’s shadow,
stood a knight in black armour. Seeing Blake issue salute to
Morgan, the knight made his advance forward between the stone
figures, mace swinging menacingly by his side, his anonymous shield
clunking against his shin plates. Evil and brutality dripped out of
him and the effect was made even more sinister by his helmet,
fashioned like a monstrous skull, topped with two spikes.
Everything about him gave the impression that he had just stepped
out of the bowels of hell.

The Black knight stopped just
at the edge of the swords length.

“Sir Beldevier,” his voice came
out deep and guttural.

“Sir, you know me, but I am
afraid that I do not know your shield. May I ask who addresses
me?”

“My Lady forbids it.”

“Then tell your lady that she
should come and address me herself. She insults me by sending her
minion.”

Blake looked up towards Morgan,
was stood with her head tilted to one side with an almost innocent
and childlike curiosity. The Black Knight moved his head, nodding
as if he was responding to a statement from his Lady – but his lady
had not appeared to speak.

“My Lady says to tell you that
she has your dearest treasure locked safely away, and if you want
it back then you must submit yourself to her will.”

Blake looked back at Morgan,
who was now inspecting her sword, watching it glint in the light as
she turned it. The effect was a silent threat.

“Sorry, I am unclear as to
which treasure she is talking about.”

Blake’s voice faltered,
betraying the fact that he understood exactly what ultimatum Morgan
was giving him.

“Tell your lady that she is to
come and speak with me direct or I shall pass. I have no time for
this.”

“You will not pass with the
Sword. Leave it or be challenged.”

The Black Knight lightly swung
his mace making his intention clear.

“Then it would seem we are to
challenge.”

Every breath I took suspended
itself in the air, making it almost impossible to take in more
oxygen, and my stomach fell as if I had jumped over the edge of a
high cliff face. I looked at the Black Knight with his solid metal
armour and his mocking skull-like helmet, and then I looked at
Blake and I couldn’t think how he’d defeat such a hell-dwelling
metal monster.

For the briefest second, a dark
cloud flitted across the perfect composure of Morgan’s face. She
seemed surprised that events had escalated to this and I couldn’t
help but feel a deep pang of jealousy as I understood fully for
first time the depth and violence of her passion. I realised that
her love for Blake was so intense, she would rather that he were
butchered in front of her, than bear the thought that he might love
another.

“Challenge accepted. We’ll meet
at dawn. Until then you may not leave the grounds of the chapel.”
The Black knight bent his head, clicked his heels together and
turned with more dexterity than could be imagined in such heavy
armour.

22. FIGHTING EVE

I found myself walking through
a thick and heavy fog. The owls had started their haunting call in
welcome of the moon and a blue inkiness wound its way around the
trees. It wouldn’t be long until the twilight ended and the night
arrived.

The woodland moss was damp
beneath my back and a hard stone had nestled itself painfully in
against my kidneys. This combined with my pounding head and sleep
heavy limbs all came together to give me the mother of all
hangovers. Vague, disorientating memories swirled in my head but
they were ghost memories, half seen and full of doubt. The last
thing I remembered clearly was an accident, falling off my bike.
I must have hit my head. I’m concussed.
I tried to fix
myself on the here and now. It had just finished raining and the
trees dripped long rhythmic drops onto the dank earth below. My
hand brushed over the soft fur of the animal throw which had been
draped over me and with its touch, my mind exploded with
associations.
Not concussion - Morgan
.

“Hello,” Blake’s voice sprang
out through the quiet. He sat, legs pulled up to his chest, deep in
thought on top of a rocky outcrop of ancient ruins.

“Blake? What’s happening?”

As he turned and looked down at
me, I saw that the usual perfect composure of his face had broken
down and I guessed that this had been the very question he’d been
deep in thought about. A shadow flitted through his expression and
he bit down on his lip.

“I don’t know exactly. Things
are out of joint. I’ve never experienced anything like it.
Sometimes it’s necessary for The Realm to create a time-place shift
but,” he swept his hand out and shrugged, “all of this; the
enchanted statues, the time ripple, there’s only really one
explanation and that is there’s dark magic involved.”

Blake swung his legs over the
rock and jumped down extending a hand to help me up from the damp
earth.

“So what are we or more
precisely
am I
, doing here?” I asked more to myself than
Blake. “I was coming to see you. I had an accident in the woods and
then I met with Morgan.” The clouds started to shift from the
memories and little pockets of clear information came through. “I
saw you. The wine; she drugged my wine and I saw what was happening
but this is all wrong. You’re supposed to be …. well you’re not
supposed to be here,” I struggled to explain exactly what it was
that I was trying to say.

“I’m here where I should be.
This
is
the Chapel of Perils and it’s where I’m – we’re -
bound until morning.”

“But this isn’t it - this isn’t
the place I saw,” I said looking around in utter confusion.

“It’s the same chapel but the
time is different - like I said a time ripple.”

He said this as if this was
enough of an explanation, as if I might now completely understand
the laws of physics, but I didn’t and I was more confused than
ever.

“So the challenge, it’s still
to go ahead? It wasn’t a nightmare?”

Blake nodded gloomily and
before I could stop my mouth running off, before I could engage my
brain, my fear erupted, “Blake he’s a beast; he isn’t human!”

I found myself getting
increasingly distressed – not only at the situation but at the fact
that this wasn’t what Blake needed to hear at this time.

“Yes, thanks for that Mina. I
hadn’t noticed he was seven foot tall, built like a rhino and has
metal spikes at just the right height for gouging out my eyes.”

Blake’s attempt at humour fell
short as his description was far too close to reality. He sat down,
his back against the ruins of the chapel. A weak smile flickered
across his mouth as he held out his hand, pulling me down to sit
next to him.

We sat quietly, savouring the
closeness and warmth of each other’s bodies, our hands folded
around each others and my head resting on his shoulder. I listened
to his drum-like heartbeat. The thought of it falling silent
tomorrow hit me and I shivered with the cooling air.

“How far can we go?” I
asked.

He looked at me, puzzled for a
moment as to what I was asking before he understood and replied,
“Within a circle of about twenty meters; it’s like a glass
wall.”

“Mum’s going to go ballistic,”
I said dropping my head into my arms.

“I’ll make us a fire; it’ll
cheer us up if nothing else.”

Blake moved away from me,
leaving in his place the cold draft of an empty space and I knew
this is how it would be if I lost him. I wanted to reach out to
him, pull him close to me and feel his warm and vital body against
mine; instead I reached out and grabbed the fur throw. It was heavy
and part of me was slightly disgusted by it, but it was warm and
practical, and now wasn’t the time to be a martyr for the animal
rights brigade.

As I watched him busily
searching for dry moss and kindling, I inhaled the night air
imagining it was his breath filling my own lungs. He seemed
proficient in his task and I imagined that the woods were a second
home to him. The thought of him small, innocent and boyish caused
me to smile.

Within the hour, not only had
Blake got a small fire going, which let out a warm and comforting
light, but he’d built us a makeshift wooden tepee, offering at
least the illusion of shelter if not the practicality. Darkness had
crept in on us and I was glad of the warmth of the fire. The woods
were now an eerie, silent place of shadows and rustling; an easily
imagined home for Death. With my head lying in Blake’s lap, he
stroked my hair, I watched the flickering flames of the fire and
fully realised for the first time how far Blake’s world was away
from the Real World.

My thoughts started to wander,
“What’ll happen in the morning? Will it just be the two of you?” I
asked sleepily.

“No, not quite,” Blake gave out
a laugh tinged with bitterness, “if it was as simple as that it
would’ve all happened today. A challenge isn’t like a fight - it’s
a staged display of power and battle. Expect nothing less than a
whole circus to arrive just before dawn.”

“Are you frightened?” I asked
turning away from the fire to look up at his marble carved
face.

The flickering of the flames
reflected and danced in his eyes. Perhaps I’d spoken a taboo
because he met my eyes but the only answer he gave was to reach his
hand to my cheek and stroke it. With his head bent forward, a small
butterfly took off in my stomach in anticipation of him leaning in
to kiss me. I pulled my self up, my face reaching for his, my lips
searching for his. His eyes were now fixed on mine as if he were
searching deep inside my soul.

Blake’s speech was almost a
whisper, “Afraid? No, if I’m afraid, I’m dead before I even
begin.”

The cooling trail of a tear
slid over my cheek, but before I could wipe it away, Blake’s lips
had found mine and it was as if a match had been struck, igniting
me. Warmth and light flared through the sorrow and with an
increasing urgency, I pulled Blake towards me, giving him no choice
but to fall on top of me. His kiss was deep and urgent as if
knowledge of his death were pressing at his back. A feeling of
indescribable need swept through me; something primitive and raw, a
force of nature that was entirely new to me.

Every breath I stole from his
lungs, I forced deep into my own, creating the sensation that I was
dissipating. Somewhere inside, I became aware of a delicate series
of implosions like shooting stars falling in on themselves. But
just as the line of inevitable perpetual motion was about to be
crossed, as we both found ourselves standing on the edge of the
precipice about to jump, Blake pulled away. When I opened my eyes
to look at him he was trying his best to quickly hide the look of
guilt spread across his face.

“I’m sorry Blake, I’m really
sorry. I don’t know…” My words came out panicked, as if I was
trying to prevent the breaking of a glass the second before it made
contact with the floor.

“Shh,” he said, placing his
finger on my lips, “I’m the one who should be sorry; I shouldn’t
have let that happen. I vowed I wouldn’t let that happen.” Blake
voice fell to a whisper. His breathing was ragged, “God’s mercy
Mina, you’re going to be the death of me.”

A secretly satisfied smile
played with his lips and both of us fell into a deep silence,
listening to the crack and lick of the flames in the cold air
relishing in our own triumph.

23. PREPARATIONS

We were brutally woken from our
dream filled sleep by the sound of hammering and general chaos.
Just as Blake had warned, the circus had come to town. Although
there was still little light, a whole army of servants were
bustling about. Silk pavilions were being erected, carriages were
arriving, boxes and furniture was being unloaded.

“Blake, what the hell is going
on?” I asked, disbelieving of the sight in front of me.

“You can’t say I didn’t warn
you; there’s nothing more appealing than the promise of bloodshed.”
Blake spat his words out.

I turned to him in order to
offer comfort, but before I could get my words out, I came face to
face with the domineering wall of a perfectly intact Chapel.

“What the…?” I stopped, words
failing.

Blake turned round, slightly
less surprised than I’d been.

“So it seems it is really going
to happen,” Blake nodded his head slowly as if confirming it to
himself. “Mina, I need some time to prepare. As much as it pains me
to spend even a minute away from you I need to be alone for a
while. I’ve some things that I need to do before…” Blake did not
finish.

“Are you going to the chapel?”
I asked.

“Yes.”

Nausea coursed through me as I
thought on how he was going to the chapel to make his peace with
God. He thought there was a real chance that today was the day he
was going to die.

“I promise I’ll see you before
the tournament. Mina, I love you. You need to know that.
I
need
you to know that.”

Blake planted the briefest of
kisses on my trembling lips. Everything about it seemed to say
goodbye.

I stood watching him as he
entered his own private sanctuary, strangely jealous of him
kneeling in front of the cross, believing that the almighty was
there with the kindly eye of Father Christmas bearded cheer. I
wished that I could ask of Him for Blake’s protection and know for
certain that I had placed his life in the hands of a rational and
caring father, yet all my understanding of religion had been
tainted by a general cynicism that was continually reinforced by a
seemingly pointless amount of suffering in the world. When it came
to life and death, I just didn’t have the faith that God would be
fair.

I needed my own space to think
things through and time to come to terms with the possibility that
this was the day my heart was going to be ripped from my chest.