The Golden Knight #2: The Battle for Rone by Steven and Justin Clark
“It is here,” Demetrius said. He bent down and wiped the dust from the floor.
“There is nothing there,” Franco observed. “That is solid rock, old man.”
“Really?” the priest remarked with a grin. He raised his hand. The floor rumbled and slowly disappeared before their eyes revealing a staircase.
“Magic?” Justin gasped.
“Magic is a word for this realm,” Demetrius said. “It has no power in a place such as this one. Follow me.”
Demetrius vanished down the stairs. The passage was dark except for a few torches. Marsonee and the others reluctantly followed.
“You must listen closely if you are to hear the voice of your King,” Demetrius mentioned with a wave of his hand. “His voice may be as soft as the gentle, calmest breeze.”
“So you can talk…,” Justin started.
“Wait!” Demetrius called out, placing his hand over Justin’s mouth. “He speaks to us now.”
Several moments of silence followed. They looked around at each other puzzled. Demetrius lowered his hand.
“Do you hear something?” Rainna whispered to Justin. He shook his head.
“Listen!” Demetrius instructed.
Several more moments of silence followed.
“Do you hear him?” Demetrius said, pointing to Franco.
“I do not hear anything, old man,” Franco answered.
“And you, young princess. Do you hear him?”
“No. I cannot say that I do,” Rainna replied.
The priest shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh, well,” he chuckled. “It appears he is not talking to us today. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in the silence. Come now. We are almost there.”
Demetrius continued down the dimly lit stairs.
“And this crazy, old man is the protector of the ancient swords you all are looking for?” Franco remarked.
“Yes,” Marsonee answered. “So it has been told.”
“Good luck with that one,” Franco said as he continued to move forward.
“He might have a point,” Justin commented.
“It was our King which brought us here,” Marsonee replied. “Even when we doubt his ways, we must follow his judgment.”
Demetrius stood before a large, round stone.
“Prepare yourself, for what you shall see in this chamber is the art of legends,” he said. Demetrius waved his hand. The stone rolled away. He motioned for them to follow him inside the room.
“Perhaps you should remain outside, thief,” Marsonee said to Franco.
“Oh no, my angelic friend,” Demetrius remarked. “His place is with us all.”
“It is amazing,” Justin said.
The chamber was a large room. All along the walls were stone statues of knights and robed priests. In the center of the room, there were three grey marble tables, each shaped like a cross. At the end of each point on the cross, a sword was embedded into the marble. A necklace with a cross amulet hung from each handle. A chair and metal chalice rested at the point of each cross table. There were twelve places, but only eleven swords.
“What is this place?” Rainna asked.
“It once was the meeting place of the knights of the holy order,” Demetrius began. “A place to tell of heroic deeds, to reflect on the future. Since time began, it was this place that held the line between good and evil.”
Justin approached the head table.
“Is this sword mine?” he asked.
“It is the weapon of the Golden Knight,” the old priest said.
“Then it is mine,” Justin said. “I was chosen. It is why I am here.”
“Would you not like to prepare?” Demetrius questioned.
“Prepare?” Justin answered. “Prepare for what? Marsonee brought me here. I saved the princess. I am going to be a hero.”
“Then draw the sword,” the old priest said, stepping away. “If you can.”
Justin grabbed the handle of the sword with excitement. Without hesitation, he pulled. The sword did not move. He pulled harder. It did not move. With teeth clenched, Justin pulled one last time. The sword would not move. Justin stepped back.
“I cannot!” he gasped in disbelief stumbling backwards. “I cannot remove it. I cannot draw the sword.”
“Wait,” Rainna said. “Do not leave. There must be an answer.”
Justin darted up the stairs and across the church. He slammed against the large wooden doors and ran out into the town square. He paused, panting for breath, against one of the large rocks. He climbed to the top and sat down. Justin gazed out at the setting sun, tears forming in his eyes. Minutes later, Marsonee approached. The archangel climbed up beside him.
“Do not let it trouble you, boy,” Marsonee said. “Not all things are meant to be.”
“I do not understand it,” Justin said slowly. “I was so sure that I was going to be the Golden Knight.”
Demetrius silently appeared from behind the stone.
“Why else would the King have sent you?” Justin continued. “Why make the journey here?”
Marsonee place his hand on the young boy’s shoulder.
“His ways are not our ways,” the angel answered. “His thoughts are not our thoughts.”
“I thought it was my destiny,” Justin said.
“Destiny is an evil thing,” Demetrius spoke. They turned startled. “It clouds the mind, makes us seek our own paths.”
“But was I not chosen?” Justin asked. “Chosen by the King?”
“Would you know your King if you saw him?” the old priest questioned. “Pride sees only one. It makes us forget what a true destiny shall be. Service. Service to others, not to ourselves, is the true measure of a person’s worth.”
Marsonee rose and flew down from the rock.
“When you saw the ancient sword, tell me what did you really see?” Demetrius asked. “Did you see glory? Did you see adventure? It will give you none of those things. The way is one of sacrifice and suffering. Your pride will not remove the sword. Your faith will.”
“And where is my faith?” Justin replied.
“You know where to find it,” Demetrius answered. “It has been right in front of you on your journey. Tomorrow, the sun shall rise again. Tomorrow, you shall try again. Come my winged friend, let us leave him. I will show your party their resting quarters for the night.”
“Will you be alright?” Marsonee asked.
“Yes,” Justin said.
Marsonee and Demetrius walked backed toward the church. They paused at the entrance and looked back. A little old man hobbled over to the stone well in the center of the town square. His clothes were torn and ragged. His face and hands were dirty. He struggled to lower the wood bucket by the rope pulley down into the darkened well. He sighed with relief when he heard the bucket splash into the water. He waited several moments and wiped his sweaty forehead. Satisfied that the bucket was full of water, the old man began cranking the rope pulley which would raise the bucket. After three turns, he collapsed from weakness beside the well. The bucket splashed back down into the water.
Justin had seen the old man approach the well. He had watched as he struggled to raise the bucket and failed. As the old man fell, Justin climbed down from the rock and raced over to him. He placed his arm on the man’s shoulder.
“Let me help you,” Justin said.
“I have no water,” the old man replied. “And water is life.”
Justin raised the bucket full of water with twelve turns. “Where do you live?” he asked. “I will carry it for you.”
“You are strong,” the man said.
“I am a farmer,” Justin remarked.
“Not a farmer of crops,” the old man said. “I do not live far. You are kind to carry my bucket.”
Justin and the old man walked away. Justin carried the bucket.
Demetrius smiled. “He will be ready tomorrow. As sure as the dew shall cover the fields in the morning, he will be ready.”
??
“Your companions must be hungry,” the priest replied. “You are a good cook. Help me prepare a meal for them.”
Chapter Seven
Flar’s army gathered around the Pit. Great clouds of smoke billowed out, followed by flashes of fire. Staring down into the massive hole, one could not see the bottom. Hisses and moans echoed from the abyss. Flar, dressed in full battle armor, and Murlox approached the edge. It was night. The glow of the full moon was covered by clouds. Flar’s soldiers held torches.
“Do what you must, Sorcerer,” Flar commanded.
“As you wish,” Murlox replied.
Murlox raised his staff.
“From the ancient Pit, I summon thee,” Murlox chanted. “From the depths of fire, I harken thee.”
The staff began to glow a fiery red.
“Come unto our realm, destroyer of freedom,” he continued. “From the darkness, I command thee.”
There was a howling wind. The ground began to shake. There was a roar from the Pit. The fire soldiers gasped in terror. Some of the soldiers fell to the ground. A large, clawed hand emerged from the Pit. A second arm followed. There was another roar and then the horned head of the Demon began to appear.
“He rises!” Flar said. “He rises!”
The Demon climbed out of the Pit. It stood on two legs and stood over forty feet tall. Its face was ugly. Its mouth was filled with sharp, rotting teeth. The Demon’s body was muscular and shaded with many colors. Strains of hair hung from several parts of its body. It raised its arms into the night sky and roared.
Murlox lowered his staff as the wind calmed. “An impressive creature,” he said. “There is no weapon on this side of the Great Divide that can harm it.”
“The people shall know my power,” Flar retorted. “They shall know not to cling to foolish prophecy”
“Horses!” Murlox commanded, clapping his hands.
A group of soldiers brought two, black horses covered in armor with glowing, red eyes forward to them. Flar and Murlox mounted the horses.
“We shall destroy Rone so not one stone remains,” Flar said. “There shall be no mercy.”
“And what of Rainna and Marsonee if he be there?” Murlox asked.
“No mercy!” Flar repeated. He drew his sword and raised it into the night sky. The blade ignited in flame. His horse reared back on its hind legs.
“To Rone!” Flar roared. “Onward!”
The fire soldiers cheered in approval. The fire army moved forward led by Flar and Murlox. The great Demon followed.
Chapter Eight
The door to Rainna’s room slowly creaked open and the figure quietly slipped inside. At the sound of the door, Rainna opened her eyes and carefully rose from her bed. She reached down and grabbed the handle of the fire sword. The figure moved across the room toward the Book which was resting on a table. Rainna positioned herself behind the figure and activated the flaming blade.
“Move away from the Book, thief!” Rainna forcefully said.
The figure turned.
“Wait,” he said.
Rainna lunged forward, swinging the sword. The figure darted to the side. Rainna swung again. The figure dodged this blow, too, but clumsily in the darkness, tripped over his own feet and crashed to the floor.
“Now we shall see who you really are,” Rainna said, approaching. She lowered the flaming blade closer to the figure’s face.
“Remind me to never make you mad,” the figure said, rubbing his head.
“Justin!” she said in disbelief. She raised the blade away from his face. “Had I known that it was you.”
“It is alright,” Justin remarked, struggling to his feet. “I know I was unexpected.”
Rainna turned and walked over to the far wall. Using the flaming sword, she lit several torches. The room filled with light. Rainna deactivated the weapon and placed it back beside her bed.
“Where did you learn to use a sword like that?” Justin asked.
“There is much that you would not know about me,” Rainna answered.
They stared at one another in silence.
“Why are you here?” Rainna finally questioned. “It is the middle of the night.”
“I am sorry,” Justin replied, walking toward the table. “I know it is late, but I came for this.”
“The Book,” she said. “I know this day has been difficult for you, for all of us.”
“I failed,” he said.
“I believe you are the one,” Rainna remarked.
“You do?”
“Yes. I believe in you. I believe in my King,” she said. “But why do you seek the ancient Book?”
“I seek my faith,” Justin said slowly. “I seek wisdom. I know that I can find it there.”
Justin ran his fingers across the cover of the Book. It began to glow.
“The Book cannot be opened,” Rainna said. “Only the Keeper…”
“I cannot explain it,” he said. “But it seems drawn to you. Whenever you are present, it responds to you. It obeys your will. I know it goes against everything that we were led to believe.”
“That is not possible,” Rainna answered. “The prophecies could not be wrong. The Keeper is always a male.”
“Who has seen the ancient prophecies?” Justin remarked. “How many generations have passed since the Book was last opened?”
The Book rose from the table and glided across the room into Rainna’s hands. Her eyes widened in amazement.
“It is you, Rainna,” Justin said. “You are the Keeper of the ancient Book.”
“No,” she whispered. “It cannot be.”
The Book opened, the pages flipping back and forth. Rainna passed her hand over the words. The Book stopped glowing. Suddenly, the Prince appeared before them. He was bathed in white light and dressed in flowing robes. Justin and Rainna stumbled back.
“Do not be frightened,” the Prince said.
“Who are you?” Justin asked.
“Do you not recognize me? I am the man at the well,” he replied.
“You are the Prince, son of the King,” Rainna gasped.
“Your fates are bound together, joined in a circle which cannot be broken. The old ways will soon pass away and a new order will be established. You have found favor with your King. Now, find your faith and know that I am with you always.”
As the Prince finished his last sentence, he faded from their view. Justin looked over at the Book in Rainna’s hands.
“It is yours,” Rainna said, holding it up to him.
“I cannot read,” Justin answered.
“Then I shall read it to you,” Rainna replied.
Rainna and Justin sat on the floor together. Throughout the night, Rainna shared all the words of the Book with him.
Chapter Nine
Rainna carefully knocked on the wooden door and entered the guest chamber. Justin stood quietly while he adjusted his white tunic. Rainna placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
“The others are waiting,” Rainna remarked. “I shall take you to them.”
Rainna retrieved the Book from the table. As they walked down the hallway, Rainna took his hand. They entered the chamber of the stone crosses. Demetrius, Marsonee and Franco stood waiting.
“It is time,” Demetrius firmly said. “Remove the sword.”
Justin ran his hand across the cover of the Book. Then he approached the head table. He knelt down on one knee and bowed his head.
“What is he doing?” Franco whispered.
“It is something called prayer,” Rainna replied.
“He has been summoned,” Marsonee spoke underneath his breath. “He is the one.”
Justin rose. He carefully removed the necklace with the cross amulet from the sword’s handle and placed it around his neck. In his right hand, he took the cross and kissed it. With his left hand,
“In the name of the King,” he said. “Thy will be done.”
The ancient weapon began to glow. Justin applied pressure and began to pull upwards. The blade slowly rose surrounded by white light. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash and the sword came free from the stone. As the light faded, Justin stood with the sword raised over his head. His body had been transformed and was covered in gold, sparkling armor. The Golden Knight was reborn!
“Praise be to our King,” Demetrius said, falling to his knees.
“You have done it, boy,” Marsonee remarked, grasping the Golden Knight’s hand. “You are the one.”
“How do you feel?” Rainna asked.
“I feel strong,” the Golden Knight replied. “I feel humble. Rise Demetrius, we are both only servants of our King.”
The old priest rose to his feet. Franco stood away in a corner. He seemed almost afraid. The Golden Knight approached him.
“What is wrong, Franco?” he asked.
“I am only a thief,” Franco replied.
“I do not see a thief,” the Golden Knight replied.
Suddenly the ground shuddered. The room shook and tiny clouds of dust fell from the ceiling.
“What is that?” Franco asked. “It feels almost like an earthquake.”
“No,” Marsonee said. “If you listen carefully, you will notice that there are intervals between the tremblings.”
“We better take a look,” the Golden Knight said. “The city may be in danger.”
They left the chamber and made their way up the stairs. Entering the sanctuary, the ground continued to rumble. Through the stained glass windows, they could see balls of fire falling from the sky and hear screams of the townspeople.
“The Book must be protected,” the Golden Knight said. “Rainna, you must remain here.”
“I will,” she answered. “All be safe.”