Dark Knight


    They came.


    From countless gates, out of the void, swarming, crawling, slithering. In all forms and guises, many-legged or none, the hordes came.


    But he was there to stop them. No matter how many arrived, no matter what shape they took or how many appeared at once, he was there to beat them back. To stem the tide and halt their advance, and then finally to shut whichever gate they had come from.


    Who were they? Where had they come from? Those questions had long since ceased to matter. They could not be allowed to reach her. She who slept at the heart of all things. They would come, but he would stop them. That was all that he knew, all that existed in the world.


    Each day - if days existed here, seemingly beyond time and space - he would patrol the gates. Check his weapons, clean them, and sharpen any that needed his attention. Then he would make his rounds, passing by each marble portal, watching, waiting. Sometimes nothing appeared, and then he would return to train, and practice, and sharpen his weapons some more. To wash in one of the many fountains and to pray. Pray for the strength and fortitude to defend this place against whatever came, for the grace of she who still slept.


    Then returning to watch, and to wait. Again and again. He had long stopped counting - if he had ever started. Time had no meaning here. Only the waiting, and the inevitable battles that would come.


    And after watching, and after waiting, they would indeed come. Then battle would be joined.


    Try as he might, he could never remember the battles clearly. One minute it was quiet, and then next hordes of shadow would stream from the gates.


    As he was taught, he abandoned all thought, all cognition. Moving at one with his weapons, he became a whirlwind of destruction - hacking, slashing, chopping, and hewing in all directions. There was no room for thought, no time for decisions. Only motion and action remained.


    He fought with no regard for his own safety, with no sense of time, simply moving, surviving. From one second to the next. Become the blade, become the enemy. Abandon the self, embrace the storm of war.


    And when the flow of shadow had abated, when he became conscious that nothing moved around him save himself, he would open his eyes, come back to where he stood, and see that the gates had closed once more, and that the fight was over. That she was safe.


    Then time for prayer. To rejoice in what time he had been given before the next assault. To train and practice and wait until the cycle began anew. What waited at the end - if there was an end - he knew not. It was not given to him to know, and to tell the truth he never even conceived of it. He was to guard the gates, and that was all that existed for him.


    It was enough.


    Still, there were times when it was different. Without truly being conscious of it, he would see the sky reflected in a pool. The play of light on marble would catch his eye, and he would turn, and it would be gone when he dared to look directly at it. He would hear sounds, music, almost - a hint of a faraway melody. Birdsong, perhaps.


    He paid them no heed. They were nothing, just distractions. He was here to guard the gates, and protect her. That was all he was, all he needed, all he remembered.


    But even so, from time to time, he caught himself wondering. He cast his eye around where he walked and it suddenly dawned on him how beautiful everything was - from the bright pools of water to the shimmer of light all around. From the inlaid marble of the gates to the carvings on the walls.


    Did it matter that he thought them beautiful? He still had a mission to carry out. Nothing had changed. But slowly but surely the knowledge of something besides battle began to dawn in his heart, without him quite realizing where and when it had happened, or for what reason.


    He bent to clean his weapons once more, so they would be sharp and ready for the next battle, and all thoughts of beauty went from his mind. One purpose, as always - to protect her, and to slay all those that would seek to harm her. That was all that consumed


    him and ever would.


    Battle gave way to battle after battle and as time passed he suddenly realized one day that he had never even seen her and


    didn''t even know her name. Why was he even here? Why did he have to protect her? He didn''t know, but it didn''t make his task any


    less compelling.


    Still, as a thousand more shadows fell to his blade he began to wonder. What she really looked like. Where was she? Beyond


    those gates that he had stood in front of a hundred times before? Somewhere deeper?


    Why was he doing this? To protect her, of course. But why do that? Because he loved her? Because...he didn''t know.


    He realized that he didn''t really know anything. He looked down at his sword and saw his reflection, but it was of somebody whom


    he had no knowledge or recollection of. He turned to the fountains, and the marble, and everything that he thought he knew so well but


    now were revealed as more mysteries, more illusions.


    He found himself contemplating blasphemy...opening the gates by himself and stepping inside. He felt a fierce rage at himself


    for even thinking of it. How could he? He was her guardian. He could no sooner open the gates than invite the shadows themselves inside.


    Or that was what he told himself, but as each day passed he found himself thinking of what lay within more and more. The thought


    consumed him from the inside out and wouldn''t leave - what did she look like? Who was she?


    Why was he even here?Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    More shadows came and more shadows fell, and in the dimmest part of his mind a memory began to form.


    They were dancing in a garden somewhere, a long long time ago. He knew what she looked like - long white hair, gentle blue eyes,


    laughter and smiles to gladden the heart of anyone. He took her hand and she took his and they spun and twirled together in perfect harmony.


    He was...a prince? A nobleman. He couldn''t quite remember. He looked so strange in those clothes...high collar, open jacket and


    tailored pants. So different from the armor that he had always found himself in. But they were open and loose and free and so it was easy


    - so easy, for him to keep dancing.


    She danced beside him in the garden, bright and carefree, hands linked. They spun and broke in unison and came together again,


    and then broke away again, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.


    The memory faded as quickly as it had come, in a bright flash of light, and he was back at in the present.


    Another battle passed and before he knew it he was in front of the gates. The garden, and the dance, swirled through his mind in


    much the same way they had spun and twirled so long ago. Lost in reverie, his grip on the sword began to loosen.


    It happened without him thinking about it. His hand was upon the handle and he had turned it without even realizing that he had even


    made the motion. He gasped in shock but it was too late - the gates had been opened. And by his own hand no less.


    They opened and then...nothing. There was nothing within. A wide open expanse of bare stone and nothing else. Only an opened coffin, resting in the middle.


    He stepped inside, his hands tracing the marble inlay on the gates that was so similar to the ones outside. What had he expected would be waiting for him here? His princess? The truth? Anything but this.


    Maybe she was inside. He took a step forwards, then another, and another. Hope warred with worry and fought with trepidation, only to be defeated by anticipation. One, two, three...and he was there, staring at the empty space in front of him.


    No one. Nothing except a single velvet pillow.


    He began to tremble, not in fear but with something far more terrible. Had he slain all those shadows for nothing? Where was she? Who was she? He clutched at his sword again and thought that he might go mad. He could have been prepared for anything except this...this emptiness.


    But then from deeper within came a voice - high and singsong, bright laughter that brought a vision of faraway and long ago. His feet moved of their own volition and he began to walk further within.


    The frescoes that adorned the walls were somehow familiar, somehow nostalgic and sentimental. He had seen them before, he was sure of that. Where, he could not be certain, but somewhere, definitely. The shapes and images - like the marble inlay of the gates, but not really the same either.


    He continued walking. He walked for so long that he began to doubt if he had ever heard that voice after all, the lilting tones that had brought him past the gates and further on. But they were real, and he was sure that he had heard them, and so he continued onwards, one foot on front of the other.


    Eventually he came to another set of gates. They had a different marble inlay, and they were white instead of black. He wasted no time in putting hand on handle and those gates opened as well, and the light spilled forth, and then -


    He was here. In the garden that he had danced with her in another reality...or was it simply many years before? Was it even him?


    Who was he? Prince or knight or both? The same questions swam in his head and he stepped forwards, wondering.


    She stood at the center of the garden, bright light playing off her crown of hair of snowy hair. She turned smiling, and everything fell from him - all weariness, questions and confusion. She was there and that was all that mattered.


    "Thank you, my knight. I''ve been waiting." Waiting for what? For him to have killed enough shadows? For him to have opened the gates? He opened his mouth to speak but found that he couldn''t.


    "I knew that you would grow tired one day, and come back to me."


    He didn''t understand. What was happening? Why all that battle and strife, then? Was it useless? Had he wielded his sword so long and so truly only for it all to be for naught?


    She came closer to him and took his hand. She touched her lips to his, and he remembered.


    It was the curse. All of her lineage had it and she was no exception. Left unchecked it would destroy the kingdom and everything they held dear. The oracles had divined it truly, as they had every single one before - she had to be killed. There was no other way


    Where had it come from? No one knew. Some said that it was born of the shadow that had existed before the land even came to take shape.


    Still others claimed that it was a being from another world. Even the great sages knew not what its true shape was. But all knew that it was something that would lay waste to the kingdom if not stopped. For on the princess’s eighteen birthday, if the legends were to be believed, if she was still alive…an evil beyond human reckoning would be summoned forth to destroy all they knew and held dear.


    He could not believe it, could not accept it. But the sword that had stood him in such good stead against the kingdom’s many foes was powerless against this ancient enemy from within. There was nothing he could do except to pledge himself to her forever.


    They made the pact in the garden. Where they had danced and spun so many times on many a moonlit night. He drew his blade and she closed her eyes and where their hands touched the shadow passed from her into him.


    One day the memory of her would be stronger than what he faced, and then he would be able to put down his sword and return to the garden where once they had danced together. Until then he would have to fight, blinded by oblivion and ignorance, against foes that were not even his. Shadow upon shadow would come and he would slay them all, not knowing that they came from him.


    It was a burden he accepted willingly. It was no small price to be able to see her again, when it was all over. Their eyes met and she smiled a halting smile. He tried to return it but could not.


    He took up the sword and the darkness claimed him. Everything passed from his vision - the kingdom, the garden, her worried face as she looked at him. Only darkness remained.


    He would know nothing else for a thousand years.


    But now...now it was all over, and looking at her radiant face he felt that he could have endured for a thousand more, if it meant coming to this point. To hold her hands in his and feel the warmth of her skin once more. He was her knight - sworn to protect - and he had done that for a long time indeed.


    "Come here, my love. Receive your reward."


    He knelt, eyes closed, head bowed. She came to him and her arms encircled his, feather-light and gentle. The kiss was a benediction on the crown of his head.


    His true reward? Her safety. His return. The shadows had come and gone and he was home again once more. Tears fell from his eyes and she met each with another kiss. Her hand touched his face and pulled it to her. She looked deep into his eyes and smiled again.


    They danced in each other’s eyes for what seemed an eternity or longer. Here in this space beyond light and shadow, they knew nothing except each other. His sword fell from his side and her hand dropped down to find his. The curse was broken and the lovers had found each other once more.


    Slowly - ever so slowly - she raised her arms in an oh-so familiar position. He found himself smiling this time as his body shifted into patterns that he had thought long gone. One step, then another, and they were dancing once more, entwined in each other’s arms. A thousand years had not dulled the memory of light one bit.


    Moment blended into movement and as they spun and whirled as they had many times before, it seemed like all past and darkness unraveled and was lost.


    And they lived happily ever after.


    If you like my writing, please consider purchasing a copy of this book at https://www.royalroad.com/amazon/B078GMNL9B</a>.