Everworld Knights

Chapter Five: The Solarian

The next morning came as any other. Against the advice of those in the camp, Roland continued his morning ritual as normal. He trained alone, knowing that he was going to fight, and knew that he had to be on top of his game. Wooden mannequins were all he had the potential to stand against and so he did, wooden swords against the mannequins that were made to fight back with devastatingly accurate movements on the pivots and springs, after being struck.

Roland felt comfortable here, on the battlefield, even though it was only training. Many came to watch as he fought, some for the reason of entertainment at a master fighter, others trying to learn Roland’s movements so that they if ever given the misfortune, could match up against Roland on the battlefield.

Fear was evident, though, in the elves of the elves, urcine, porcine, shadow walkers and more, knowing that Roland Everworld, once, stood against them and everything they were for in his efforts to protect the realm of Everworld. Here, now, there was no battle or need thereof. Roland was on good terms with any and all in the camp because he knew that in a moment’s notice, something could change, and it was better to have allies with those you once slaughtered than be hated by the only who could help.

The morning light was breaking. He woke up earlier than usual, to get his training in, finished his meditation ritual and ended the day sitting cross-legged, waiting to be called. The moment the sun came up, the two large wooden gates opened, a large group of guards walking in, armed to the teeth for in case they were subjected to any attacks. It might have happened before, Roland didn’t know, but this seemed like overkill for one man. Walking among the guards, the fat man, Baldor. The same red hat sat on his head, but this time he was dressed in garments and fabrics that befit a king, let alone a caller.

“Roland Everworld. Your time is now.” Baldor said.

Roland said nothing, standing up from where he sat and walking towards the guards. As he approached the center, between Baldor stood, two guards drew their swords, expertly pointed to Roland’s neck. To him, it was customary to greet his higher-ups with a bow, to them, it could have been seen as an act of violence or attack against Baldor.

“You’re going to be placed in chains. You’re going to be led to a carriage. Your chains are going to be tied to the carriage and you’re going to ride off to the pit. If you survive, you will return home in the same way you were taken,” Baldor began explaining, while one of the guards who drew his sword chained Roland’s arms and legs, “If you die, you will be left to rot in the pit with the rest of them.”

The thought of fighting among rotting corpses put Roland at an ill-ease but said nothing on the matter. He nodded his head and walked alongside the guards who took him to the carriage. When there, as instructed, they tied the chains to the carriage and began riding off.

~ ~ ~

As expected, approaching the pit, there were thousands of onlookers, watching as the carriage with the Northmen warrior came rolling on. It wasn’t far out from the village, but Roland assumed that the carriage ride was an entrance, as well as a time saver. From high above and over his shoulder, again, he could see the faint structure of a woman dressed in white, her long black hair cascading against the clothes, a golden item in her hand. Beside her, a few more, all onlookers to watch the fight. The princess, perhaps?

The cheering began the moment the carriage came into the eye line of the crowd. Their excitement was evident at the arrival of the Everworld Knight, which was peculiar, he thought since there was nothing he’d done to win any favors.

“Where are my men?” Roland suddenly asked, having seemed to almost forget about them.

“They’re around. They’ll be fighting soon.” Baldor said on horseback. He didn’t ride in the carriage, or even near it, in fear of his life, but he was unafraid to ride alongside.

Roland nodded, “And this fight? What’s going to happen in it?”

“I don’t know. It’s going to go one of two ways. Either you live or you die. I don’t know who or what you’re fighting, you’ve just got to make sure that you’re the one who comes out of there alive, or I look the fool.” Baldor finished, yipping at his horse before it ran onward. He had arrangements to attend to.

The crowd was intense, they cheered and screamed, with coin bags in their hands, often being exchanged in what Roland only assumed was betting. From what he could tell, many placed bets on him as was the reason they continued to roar and shout. Bets with diminishing returns, Roland thought, but there could have been more to it. He was a knight, sure, but he also knew that he could be standing against anything here today. It was his first fight and there was potential that he would go down. Maybe he was given bigger odds than he expected.

When the carriage came to a stop, the guard did as instructed, unchaining Roland, and leading him towards the edge of the pit, where there was a gap of three men between the stands and the pit. The enormous hole in the ground gave off the stench of death and decay, but Roland found it more pleasant than he cared to admit. Beside a flagpole, on either end, were two chests. A lock of the chest, which was removed by the man accompanying Roland, exposed his items and belongings.

His armor was neatly placed in order. The various pockets and items contained, were still where he left them. Nothing was removed, not even the King’s Call. Roland pulled on his garments before placing the weapons in their necessary places. Two swords on his back, a shorter sword on his hip, dagger in his book and one on a hidden slot on his armor, just above the tailbone, behind the gigantic sheaths his bastard sword offered. Various other items were strewn across his body, which had often been used to deflect magic and other such issues.

When he was ready, he felt comfortable here again. There was something about his armors that gave him peace of mind. They were extensions of his body, rather than protection.

“Today, you stand to watch two men fight,” Baldor shouted from a small stage with a podium upon, “The Everworld Knight we’ve all been anxious to see, and a Solarian Elf.”

Hearing the word Solarian was enough to have Roland losing himself to his own thoughts. The Solarian Empire had always stood against Everworld and never proved to care to create an alliance. This gave Roland no doubt in his mind that he would walk from this battle the victor. He’d fought hundreds, if not thousands of Solarian’s in his life, and he would not lose to one today. Yes, he was feeling better about this fight.

If they hadn’t bet on him yet, they should have now.

“The victor returns home, the pit claims the loser.” Baldor shouted over the crowd, “Warriors, take your positions.” Roland didn’t know why he couldn’t make out the Solarian opposite him. Perhaps it was just because he looked like a normal elf, without the red hue across his skin, but with that thought, he hopped down into the pit.

“Shield,” He muttered, turning up to face the guard who walked him over, “Throw me my shield.” He ordered.

The guard laughed and turned to the chest. The shield lay there but he was not going to help Roland. And now it was too late, if he attempted to get out, he would be executed as the loser of this battle. He would have to brave the fire.

“We continue until death.” Baldor’s last words. Roland knew that this meant the battle had begun, and he slowly inched towards the Solarian. The crowd began to cheer, Roland was prepared and he wondered if the Solarian was too. He looked young, no older than his teens. Roland had a few tricks up his sleeve, having often gone to battle against the Solarian’s and their empire tribes. He was prepared for this fight, long before it had even happened, and thus ensuring his victory.

“Why aren’t they doing anything?” The man laughed, and the crowd began to boo behind his words, “Come on, and get to it then.”

Roland knew that making the first strike was foolish. Not because he was afraid but because he knew that if he was caught off guard or mid-strike things could end wrong, but this child did not seem ready to face the weight of Roland’s might. He no doubt heard about the Everworld Knight’s and was afraid to make any moves against Roland.

“What are you doing? Fight me.” Roland tried to spur up fear in the Solarian. He just shook his head at Roland’s command.

“Then I will fight you.” Roland drew a long sword from his back, the morning sun striking it in a perfect way that gave a glaring glint to its form, showing in between the blinding sunlight a picture of a dragon that ran down the blade toward the handle, connecting at the base with a body that went up to the head that formed on the handle.

Roland jumped forward, raising the blade high overhead and bringing it down. The Solarian ducked and rolled to the side, taking a defensive pose on bended knee, only to find Roland swinging the sword sideways with one hand. Roland’s seasoned actions were done with precision and caution, unlike the Solarian who seemed afraid. The blade moved swiftly through the air, the Solarian falling back, the tip slicing across his forearms as he tried to move out of range.

“Uhmtep Marap.” The Solarian spoke. Roland had learned enough of their language to know that this was not a message but instead a name. He tried to give the name as a peace offering, as in their culture it was seen as a weakness for the enemy to know your position. He had none, however. Uhmtep was simply trying to get out of this fight with his life.

Roland would not indulge this fantasy. He brought forward an onyx stone, which he threw towards Uhmtep with a tremendous thrust, which connected with his leg. Roland had caught him on the precise jagged edge he had wished, the stone embedding in his flesh, immediately beginning to drain Uhmtep’s life source.

Uhmtep collapsed to the ground, screeching in agony. This was not a battle, not one for an Everworld Knight. Uhmtep was nothing more than a fledgling at best, a farmhand at worst.

There was no contest.

“Uhmtep.” Roland called his name, “It’s nothing personal.” He spoke in the Solarian language, “I wish you well into the next life.”

Uhmtep listened to the message but between the screeching and pain that followed the initial strike, there was no time to reply. He listened and welcomed the message, knowing that Roland did not do this as an act against his kind. Not that this was true either, Roland had just figured that this child was not one destined for war. He would have never faced Roland in the field and had he not, he would have survived this ordeal.

Roland walked towards Uhmtep who lay on the ground, his body sporadically contorting and twisting into various shapes and sizes. Roland almost felt bad about what he had done. There was nothing to this fight and he could have killed him far easier, yet he chose to make him suffer. Not that his suffering would impact Roland, not after what he had done to woman children in the Solarian Empire.

He replaced the blade with the dragon, with the far bigger sword, which had no curves or indents. One long straight piece of metal from the base to the tip. Roland brought the sword high overhead before bringing it down to connect with Uhmtep’s neck. Uhmtep had one of his seizure-filled bouts at the wrong moment, bringing his head forward to the point where when the blade struck, it connected to the bridge of his nose, cutting clean through.

A sight that would haunt many of the watchers for years to come. For Roland, it was all just part of the business.