Everworld Knights

Chapter Two: The Long Road

Roland Everworld succumbed to his wounds and fell in and out of consciousness as he was carried off towards a horse-drawn cart. His mind flickered until he was finally dropped into the cart, head striking the wood and allowing him a much deserved and needed sleep. It was a nightmarish sleep, filled with dark, dystopian fears where the clan of Northmen claimed Everworld for their own sick purposes. He fought valiantly, albeit in vain, to free himself from the shackles of their tyranny, but even though he knew it a dream, he was trapped in both a waking and slumber induced nightmare.

It was the eve of destruction and western civilization was crumbling. To the east, the Solarian’s were staging their wars on Everworld and the human realm, to the south, the dwarves defended the snowy region of Tandor and the impending disasters, and here, the King’s greatest warriors; the Everworld Knights, lost their first battle since their conception in the eighth century. When finally Roland woke from his wound induced coma, these were the first thoughts to cross his mind. The Emerald Knights still had their potential, especially with his son Ryland at the helm, but keeping the peace between nations was a difficult task. One that the King hadn’t come to master, and relied heavily on Roland to do.

“Where are you taking me?” Roland coughed the words. His mind was fuzzy, his thoughts scattered and his breathing rough.

“When I was a younger man, the fight against the Everworld Knights would have been more difficult, even with our numbers advantage. They wouldn’t have gone down that easily,” A thin man spoke, to the bruiting hulk beside him. Roland listened to what he said, but couldn’t make a clear connection to the words with his mind so disorganized.

“I know. It was almost too easy. The King will be pleased that we were able to bring the virtuoso leader of the Everworld Knights back.” The brute replied.

“It seems he’s woken up,” The gangly man who commanded the horses looked over his shoulder at Roland, a sickly smile on his face, “I wonder if he will survive.”

“I doubt it. The white wizard has been undefeated. Not even in friendly competition, how would he stand a chance?” The larger man didn’t turn to face Roland.

“Where are you taking me?” Roland asked again. This time he barked the words, demanding an answer, rather than simply asking. But he knew that there was no chance of fighting, even if they chose to turn on him. His body was tired, the mind was drifting and soul was shattered. He would never give up, however, and he knew that they would kill him before he was turned to slavery. But he was stripped of his weapons sometime between having been dropped on the carriage and his awakening, so he would not be much of a fight. Not now, it was too dangerous to risk actual physicality.

“Silence, we are almost there.” It was as if these words were a secret code that lifted the veil of smog that filtered through the cavern on which they moved. The narrow path on one end ran against a mountainside, besides was a sheer drop that would certainly send whoever took it to their deaths. In the distance, however, Roland saw it. A momentous city that seemed so out of place for the legend the Northmen held.

Roland, who all his life was led to believe they lived in mud huts and makeshift wooden dwellings, was surprised to see a grand palace that stood and seemed to extend out of the mountain as though the palace was only the entryway to their grand home. Like the dwarves, he thought. The city below was elegant and beautiful with grand stone making up the homes, fine cotton draped outside many homes of what must have been royalty. Purples, reds, golds, irons, ores and more created statues and ornaments, with lush greenery and beautiful flowers growing out among the streets, in the gardens and across the mountainside.

Even the lower class dwellings seemed to be beautiful in their simplistic elegance. There was, however, a gigantic structure in the center of the town that worried Roland some. It was a wooden half dome, with banisters and seating arrangements all around, leading him to believe that this was some sort of arena. Its vast size and place in the center of the town gave off the impression that this was the major source of entertainment and prosperity for this Northmen town and that this was going to be where Roland would soon frequent.

The mention of the wizard, that was slowly coming into Roland’s thoughts after the absence of the information a moment before due to haziness, led him to believe this was where he would fight for freedom.

If freedom was even a consideration.

Confusion running evidently on Roland’s face as they rode down the mountainside. What was this? Why were they slaughtered for this? And what implications did their loss truly bring for the Everworld Knights? Still donned in his armor, he considered that there must have been something he could use, one of his many blessed or rune stones that he could use against these men and secure victory, but one look over his shoulder was enough to realize there was no chance for escape. There behind him lay a thousand men in waiting, and a thousand more ahead of this carriage. It would take a miracle to survive the drop. He sunk his head low, closing his eyes, and for the first time in many years, he took to the divine for inspiration.

“Dear God, save my soul.”

~ ~ ~

Entering the town was no different than Roland expected. The sun was shining, with the faces of children running through the streets, cattle, and livestock on auction, setting his mind at ease regarding the devilish dealings that were foreshadowed on the battlefield; those that the Northmen ate human flesh. The town bustled and lit up as the carts moved through, cheering came from open doors, windows and the edges of the streets. Each and all; man, woman, and child, cheered at the sight of the carts. They knew what was coming, and what was coming could never have been foreseen by Roland.

This was just another day for the town, watching warrior after warrior moves through the wide street, making their way to their cells. They knew, the people, that these were the new champions that would someday face off in the dome.

The sun in the sky and the cheerful nature of those surrounding him gave Roland an uneasy feeling. It was a perfect contrast to what he felt in his mind, where had this been one of the many tomes he had read to Ryland, his son, all those years before in his youth, the weather would be dark and gloomy to portray the heroes emotion.

But this was neither pen on paper, nor a fiction. Roland was not the hero, in fact, the opposite and he knew that if he did not pick himself up and fight, he would never stand a chance at seeing his family again. He needed to return to them. They were waiting for him on the other side of that mountain, there somewhere between life and death, moving on to a world that saw no fortune and only grim sobriety.

“What is this?” Roland asked, looking around to see a few of his men slowly coming to alongside him.

“Silence,” The gangly man answered, “You will be briefed in the pit.”

“The Pit?” Roland asked, but no answers came. He was clad in his armor, but he assumed that this too, would soon be taken from him. He shuffled around in his pockets and secret compartments but these Northmen were smarter than given credit for. They were able to find each of his nooks and crannies, something that led Roland to believe this was a setup. Even a secret compartment, one that only the leader of the Everworld Knight’s had, holding the creed of the Everworld Knight’s and a simple rune stone with the inscription of the King’s Call, missing.

The King’s Call was an ancient spell, first created in the early years of the Monarchy. It was bestowed on the most powerful warriors and once, when the Everworld Knight’s only held twelve members, each had one. It summoned great, monolithic beasts that came to fight at the aid of the Everworld Knights and often, even the King himself came to their aid.

“All hope is truly doomed.” A knight said Roland made him out to be Alexis Dunny, another long-term knight. He was older than Roland, by quite some, but never had the potential to lead. No matter how strong his ambitions and dreams were, he was feeble and weak, and it showed in these instances. Had he the opportunity, he will have taken his own life, but his hands were bound. Why they didn’t tie Roland up, was a mystery to him, but somewhere in his mind, he came to the conclusion that the Northmen knew he was too smart to attempt an escape. Trying to escape would only lead to something far worse than death.

“No. Hope is not lost until we are knocking on Death’s door, my brother. Stand and fight beside me, and we shall move freely from this life onto the next.” It was not in the Everworld’s Knight to be cowards, nor have they ever shown themselves as such. Not even in Alexis Dunny’s statement of grand disillusion and dark contemplations, did Roland find a weakness. He knew that beneath those words, were the thoughts of a strong man who once slew the mighty Lion, Syllamore, the serpent, Altuid and the bull, Astrad. He was a man that had many victories behind his name and though he knew there was no stand of leadership in his bones, he was a great warrior. One that Roland relied on in many an occasion, who fought beside his brother from his conception until now without a qualm or fear of death.

Weakness may have been evident, but it shone through all his men now. They would get free and he would make it so, he needed to make it so. The Everworld Knights were the sworn protectors of Everworld. The only warriors to stand and fight against the forces of blood magic and evil dealings. They were the last defense if the demons of Tandor broke free or the Solarian Empire waged war.

They were the beacon in the darkness.

And now they were trapped. Trapped beneath the crushing weight that was capture. Being caught was not something that Roland had endured before and become a slave, working in a pit and coming to terms with a life of weakness when he was once so strong was not what he intended for today. And then, his eye caught from high above, a glimpse of shimmering gold in the mountain palace where he assumed lived the ruler of the Northmen. What, he thought, were they looking at? The cheering and melancholy thoughts subsided, eyes taking in far and distant figures that looked down on them. All donned in white, with dark hair. The only image he could make out in the distance.

“Halt.” A guard said as the carriage approached the main gate, “There is only one passenger cleared for entry into the camp. The others are to be sent off to the dome. The leader of the Everworld Knight’s.” The guard continued and looked into the back of the coach. Alexis groaned, knowing that it wasn’t him and that he was off to face the slave camps.

“I’ll get you out of this, as your leader it is my oath and duty. Just give me time.” Roland said, raising limply from his position in the carriage, “I am Roland Everworld, leader of the Everworld Knight’s.”

“Then you are cleared for entry.” The guard gestured that he come off and Roland hobbled towards the side of the carriage. He stood a moment, wondering if his legs would give had he hopped off the side like he had a thousand times before. And as he did it, landing on directly on his feet, both ankles rolled under the weight of his movement and he dropped to the ground. The guards all laughed, as well as the two warriors that had fought on Sanguine Hill.

Roland raised, dusted off the front of his gear and walked to the gate.

“Strip down.” The guard commanded and Roland knew that this is where he would be removing whatever chance of protection he had. He took off his armors and handed each piece to the guard, who inspected it all; marveling at its construction before dropping it into a chest of Roland’s other belongings.

“What are you doing with that?” Roland asked.

“Soon, you will know, Everworld Knight. Soon.” The guard pushed Roland into the camp, forcing him deeper into the foot of the mountain that had been blocked off by great wooden gates and walls that extended out around. Inside, it seemed the slaves were not treated all that bad. They had sections of where they could trade, training areas and more. Roland considered this life was not the life of a slave but the life of a warrior and he knew, that he was now one of them. All apart the cages that were built into the side of the mountain seemed out of place. Nothing made sense and it did not seem like a bad life. The cages were big, with beds and food supplies. All but three that sat high above the world, with no cage, three men looking down from each.

“This is your new life now, Everworld Knight.” The guard exclaimed, “Get used to it.”