A Knights Socery

1

Clear beads of sweat ran down Akira's face as she readjusted her grip on the hilt of her sword. She could feel the moisture in her shirt clothes weighing the fabric down and sticking to her chest and arms. In front of her, Prince Hunter shuffled his feet so that he was square to his opponent. His outstretched arms held his own blade, keeping his smokey eyes trained on her.

Akira took a few steps forward, bringing her sword down on Hunter who raised his own weapon to block her attack. He struck back, nicking her armour and igniting a single spark. Akira parried his counter attack with another blow, this time striking from the left. He raised his own sword before she managed to land a hit, staggering backwards. From behind him, a curly haired knight stuck his foot out, tripping the younger prince. Hunter fell flat on the ground, tired breaths escaping chapped lips.

"Seriously, Rhydian?" the prince looked up at the knight, rolling his eyes. Rhydian grinned and brushed his darker hair to the side of his face. "That's cheating.”

"Thanks, man," Akira chuckled. She reached an arm down for Hunter, who took her hand and pulled himself to his feet.

Hunter grumbled something under his breath and retrieved his sword. "Rematch?”

Akira shook her head. "I have study to do.”

With that, Akira spun on her heels and left the training grounds, passing her weapon to a servant on the way. She stopped briefly to allow a small hunting party, all on horseback, to cross the courtyard in front of her and then continued her walk. The library was halfway across the grounds and it was an hours walk to reach the old building. She dodged a few townspeople as she went, many carrying baskets of fruit or stacks of clothing. Two children playing a game of tag ran a couple of rings around her, then darted away to find someone else to annoy.

Most people would get frustrated at the constant disruptions to their daily life, but Akira appreciated the slightly irritating events. It reminded her who, as a knight of Regeia, she was fighting for. She didn't fight because she was told to, and she didn't win her battles for her king. She defended the people. She protected those who couldn't protect themselves. Kings know how to fight, children and maids and servants don't. The constant disruptions to her everyday life, no matter how small or insignificant, were what told her to fight battles made by old men on thrones.

Eventually, Akira reached the steps to the library, old and cracked. The library was believed to be one of the oldest buildings in Regeia, built at the same time as the royal palace, or not long after. The towering wooden doors were shut to almost everyone. Usually, only the monks had entry to the building, but Akira had earned a respectable reputation within the community after rescuing the librarian from a wolf pack. She and the prince were the only two knights given access to the library.

Akira pressed her palms against the splintering wood and pushed the doors open, creaking old hinges and dragging along the floor due to their own weight. She entered the library and shoved the doors closed behind her, blocking out the outside light.

The interior of the building was regal, with polished wooden floors and animal skins behind the front desk, at the door and in small study-type areas. Bookshelves that reached the ceiling lined every wall, candles and lit torches making the books visible. Few people were granted access to the library, so the majority of the books hadn’t been read in years, and were coated in thick layers of dust.

Akira ran her fingertips along the books as she walked, counting each book as she went along. The shelf stopped at 52 books, with the 53rd one missing. Akira turned a few corners and went searching for the book she had been reading yesterday. Eventually, she found the old, leather-bound book. She plucked it from the shelf, blowing the thin layer of accumulating dust and taking it to a small desk. The book hit the desk with a thump, sending tiny particles into the air, highlighted by a tiny beam of light from a nearby window. Akira quickly found another candle to light the ones on her desk, then took a seat on the wooden stool. She opened the book to page 67.

Nagual

The Nagual. A creature of the night. This shape-shifter is among the worlds most dangerous. Generally, the Nagual is a guardian. It protects those it cares about, and will do anything to ensure their safety. However, if controlled by the wrong person, they can be incredibly violent, and will stop at nothing to obey their masters every whim.

Beneath the description was a sketch of the creature. It appeared to have the head, claws, tail and fur of a jaguar, but stood on two feet like a human. The creature's teeth were bared and was poised as though ready to strike.

"Ah, the Nagual. A formidable creature indeed." Akira heard the voice of the librarian, Geoffrey, from behind her.

"I've never heard of it until now," Akira admitted, turning to look at the older man. "What do you know of it?”

"Have you heard the story of Arrahn?" he questioned, c*****g his head slightly. The movement made his silver beard sway. Akira shook her head. "Well, centuries ago, long before even my time, sorcerers ruled the world, and the supernatural and the magical creatures were among the most powerful in the land. Among them was a young boy, around your age, born with a gift...”

Arrahn

Arrahn could almost feel the beams of moonlight touch his skin as he changed. The brown-haired boy, once appearing human, shrunk to the ground. His face contorted and transformed, hair growing over his forehead, cheeks and nose. His features seemed to flatten, as though being pressed against his skill by an invisible force. His fingernails were replaced with sharpened claws, and his teeth grew pointed and long, like that of a lion or tiger. The boy became taller, his body becoming far more muscular and solid than it had been just minutes before. His growing body tore through his shirt, which fell to the ground, revealing a furry back, chest and arms with patterns that resembled the spots on a jaguar or leopard.

This wasn"t the first time he had ever changed, but something felt different. There was a voice in his head, a petite female voice that warned him of his own actions. Somehow, they didn’t seem like warnings but instructions. It wasn’t as though he was being controlled, but that he longed to do as she commanded. There was a darker side to him, an evil bloodlust that the girl had brought out from the depths of his heart. In his head, he knew what she was commanding was wrong, immoral, but another part, the animal in him, wanted to follow her instructions.

Kill the caregiver!

The voice, so small and gentle, echoed through his mind. How could such a kind voice be so demanding, so malicious?

Arrahn bounded from the woods where he hid in the woods, making his way up the hill that overlooked his village. From atop the hill, he could see dozens of tiny lights, flickering torches in the night. In the centre of the village, Arrahn could see his own home, a small hut with a few sheep in the back yard and a garden of roses out the front. The hut itself was made of thin branches, and the roof consisted of hundreds of reeds weaved together. His mother was awake, drinking herbal tea by the windowsill.

Kill the caregiver!

Arrahn slid down the steeper side of the hill and took off running towards home. Eventually he stood in the front garden, teeth bared and eyes glowing a red-orange, like a blacksmiths latest project. Saliva clung to his teeth for a moment, before falling to the dirt. The house had no door, just an opening large enough for someone to enter through. Arrahn stepped inside, turning to face his mother.

The older woman had already risen from her seat. She stepped backwards, her back pressed against the wall.

Kill. The. Caregiver!

Arrahn bounded forward, sinking his claws into the frightened woman's arms. Warm, crimson blood leaked onto his fingers, staining the hair and skin red. His mother cried out, thrashing against her sons grip. Her cries for help were cut off when Arrahn's teeth crushed her neck. Her limp body fell to the floor as Arrahn realised his crime. He retreated to his hiding spot in the forest in a cave beside the river, trying desperately to drown out the voice in his head.

Good boy, Arrahn. Good boy.