The Knight Who Sought a Crone

“You never did tell me why you are traveling north,” Rysa’s voice exuded confidence in her solace to my sorrow.

“Guidance.” The answer was simple and without a need to explain, but she persisted. She was a hardened woman and not willing to take any other word for an answer lest I divulge my purpose. I felt her head rise away from my backside as our bodies swayed to the gentle gait of the horse. We had already released the first animal to our left, permitting it to travel westward. The second horse remained tight to my reins.

“A pilgrimage?”

“Penance.”

“For Seuverat?” Her inflection showed her commitment.

“Not for Seuverat. Seuverat was a duty. This Forest Witch, who was she?”

“I thought you didn’t believe?”

“I don’t,” my voice came off with a growl, “I have a suspicion.”

“The locals have a name for her, Fersyn.”

“Have you ever seen her?”

Her silence tells me my answer as we cleared the edge of the tree line to an expanse of vast meadows dotted by farms and deciduous trees clinging to the bases of the Koran Mountains to the east of our ride. A pristine sky clung to the high range with white clouds penetrated by the peaks.

“Then how can you believe if you’ve never seen her?”

“We just do. All the villages near the Saratian Wood know of her.”

“Blind faith.”

“Like your gods? Have you seen them?” I turned my head over my shoulder to see her own exasperations. I lifted my right hand from the reins to push the sleeve from my left wrist revealing the wavy line rune scarred into my flesh.

“This scar tells me they exist.”

“Anyone could put a tattoo on. You said it yourself.”

“True. But I took a vow. I passed several trials around Roth for the honor to be bound to this seal. That is why Knights are so few. So few survive.”

“What type of trials?”

“Each of the temples devoted to our gods to ready my soul for purification so I might serve with impunity and impartiality.”

“And murder those who oppose?”

“There must be some truth to this Forest Witch if the Supreme Elder ordered Knights after her. Perhaps clues lie in the remains of your village.”

“You are not seriously considering to take me there?”

“I thought you wanted to come along with me?”

“Drop me off in Sarat then. I can find work without effort.”

“I’m sure you can, but I sense you know more than you’re leading on to.”

“Likewise as you.”

A rare smile graced my face, “Then perhaps our mutual distrust will serve to benefit one another.”

We stayed along the western edge of the mountain line marred by thin forestry, high cliffs and the occasional rutted path that led to distant and isolated farms, avoiding the larger villages and towns and through open fields as the paths mingled through scatterings of hilly meadows and dense foliage. Daytime began to fall into evening as I scouted a suitable location for a camp.

We kept two horses to our attention as we settled for the night against a rough slab of bedrock overhang and kept the fire within a dug out fire hole, a tactic we learned as Knights to prevent our chances from being discovered when out in the field. It kept us warm so long as we huddled close and the smoke was permitted to leave the secondary pit as it also consumed the air to burn hotter. The light of the fire would be masked by its depth keeping me and Rysa from prying eyes; human and animal alike.

She lay next to me, huddled under my muddy cloak and her arm draped against my chest, thigh sprawled over mine. Her hands felt like milky silk against my roughened fingers as I listened to her breathing, her buxom chest heaving steadily to her rhythm. Solace. I took comfort in the beauty of her smell, the taste of honey and sweet herbs wafting through her hair. I wanted her and she knew it. I could only take if offered. A kiss. A touch. Body warmth was not an offering for congress as the air soon sunk cold to the darkness of the cloudless sky.

We awoke the next morning our bodies only slimier and grittier than the previous day. I set hastily to cover the fire from the mound of dirt from the dug-out pits as she readied the animals for travel. I checked my armor to fit, rebinding any loose ties over my chest plate and readjusted the studded leather over my shins and elbows before mounting our riding horse and setting her upon it with a lift of my arm, my sword snug against my hip.

As we weaved through the outer edges of the forestry into the afternoon, I heard the tell-tale trickle of a stream nearby and coerced the horse’s reins towards it. Clearing an approach, I looked above to see an abutment of granite escarpment holding the cascade of a quiet waterfall into a small pond. I removed the bandit’s pouch from the horse’s side and shook it. Perfect. Our water was running low.

“Wait here,” I told Rysa as I eased myself from the horse. I cleared through the foliage and bushes leading to the pond with my left hand wrapped around my hilt and my right holding the water pouch. The dirt and grime covering my clothing hid my body stench should I come across any unsavory passersby. Reaching the rocky edge of the pond a few feet below me, I scanned around to see if any others took to this watering hole as I lowered myself with careful grace to the banks of the water.

Cold splatters trickled down my callused palm as I lifted it to my nose. Fresh, I thought. I lapped a taste with my tongue and let it linger for a few moments in my mouth. No fauna swims here. Pure. Fed from a spring nearby, I suppose. I took the pouch’s seal and let it dangle as I dipped the vessel into the clear waters. Footsteps approached. I turned to see Rysa standing beside me. Her wavy demeanor seemed natural in this state. I offered her a sip of the water in the pouch which she took without abandon, permitting the drops to trickle down her cheeks and neck into her white blouse.

She returned the pouch to me as I drenched my lips to its taste. I leaned down again to dip the pouch only to be blinded by white linen. I pulled the fabric from my face to see Rysa splash herself into the water to take a nude swim, her red dress coiled in disarray upon the banks to my left.

For several seconds I watched. Her head lifted from the surface of the water as natural as the sun rose in the sky. Water clung to her hair covering her neck in a mop of blonde perfection. Her skin radiated to the cleanliness of the pond washing her flesh in the sparkling sunlight. Her chest, firm and round to match her backside that snaked along curvaceous hips as she rose upon an embankment underneath the waterfall and permitting the shower to drench her completely. I sat in awe of her beauty, a woman torn from her home by my own kin and ushered into something sinister and foreign. She seemed at ease with the water, to be naturally attuned to it. I felt the rune in my wrist hum and pulsate. There is something odd here.

I removed my sword, resting it across my lap as she continued to bask in the beauty of her discovery. I etched my hand along the pristine golden alloy of the hilt, the finery of the azure scabbard adorned by a silver chape at the end. My trusted weapon given to me upon completing my oath. To part with it is sin. To leave it unattended is certain death. To use it irresponsibly is sacrilege.

By the Light of the Gods, I saw my past. By the Fire of the Gods, I was enraged. By the Winds of the Gods, I had been quieted. By the Waters of the Gods, I had been cleansed. By the Flesh of the Gods, I was remade. By the Blessing of Nakado, my body was remolded. By the Blessing of Cupus, I was joined to my soul. Upon the dais holding the blade once belonging to the First Man, the True Verdui, I had taken my oath and accepted my calling to honor the goddess Undonus and her magick. Before me, bathing underneath the waterfall, stood a naked woman whose beauty surpassed even the rumors of our goddess. She embodied our goddess. It was not by chance she was in the tavern that night.

I continued my patient vigil, looking upon her with inquisitive concern. She beckoned me to the waterfall. I couldn’t. I set my sword to rest across my bent knee to admire her beauty.

“You need to wash,” she cooed, “you reek of shit and sweat.”

She was right. My clothes had the mire of many weeks of journey without the hint of cleanliness. Rain, mud, sweat and the occasional splattering of blood stained my cloak and clothes like a swamp of human filth. I became nauseated if I thought of it too much. My blisters clung to my socks like they were lost children finding their mothers for the first time. My chivalrous honor denied her request but my human instincts knew better.

Obeying her request, I flung my cloak to the ground and hastened the unbuckling of the chest plate around my torso. My endeavor to undress lasted several minutes as pieces of leather armor and heavy soled boots refused to come off. I took my time in my effort finally conforming to her standard and before jumping into the pond naked, I lifted my weapon across my back to holster across my chest. I jumped into the water in a dive.

I listened to the waves splashing over my body and into my ears. The calming echo of water filling into my ear canal alerted me to a serenity I’ve not felt in many days. I permitted my eyes to close and allowed my natural buoyancy to lift me to the surface without effort. Breaking the water’s surface, my face drenched with the soothing relief of clear waters as my eyelids lifted to a blurred sight of the waterfall. She was gone.

A tug pulled at my fingers. Looking down, I caught glimpse of a mass of dark blonde hair lifting from the water ahead of me, covering Rysa’s face like a mop. She eased her seductive, green eyes to match to my own, resting her soft hands over my shoulders. I felt her fingers snake along my biceps and across to my rigid chest. She kept her focus on me. In her eyes, I saw the oceans of the world sparkle as one. I shouldn’t. I did.

I reached around her neck and with a kiss of her lips, the rune of my wrist ignited to a full blaze of pain. I ignored it, focusing upon the warm taste of her tongue. I closed my eyes, as did she. I lost track of time in that moment as physiological instinct took hold. I heard a slight whine as the tug of her thighs pulled me tight. I listened to our hearts beating, her panting, the splashing of the waters all synced to unison as the sting in my rune. I couldn’t recall the last time. Perhaps in Seuverat, some mild-mannered tavern whore before we set to war, or maybe one of the several of women prisoners of war who offered themselves in exchange for freedom. Yes, we were cruel and vicious animals not above those whom we fought. This was different. Without the fear or anticipation of death to follow, or the punishment of those we deemed to be unworthy of pig shit, I permitted myself to Rysa’s fulfillment.

I could feel the throes of my own excitement begin to take hold only for Rysa to craftily use her own energy to stave off my release in manners I’d not experienced. Who was she? I entranced myself to her touch, her warmth and her soul. Connecting to her in a way I’d never known a woman carnally. I felt a warmth consume my passion, reaching deeper into a void I’d never seen. What was this magic I felt?

Whispers haunted my thoughts as I looked into a cold darkness flush with the currents beneath my feet. A saw a brightness extend along the end of a tunnel and as I approached, I heard the groaning call of a woman clothed from head to toe in a cerulean robe and standing beside her a pair of lights; the sun and the moon beneath a band of star-less sky splitting the heavens along a seam. What struck me odd was the same sword in my vision, intact and pronounced strong ahead of the trio of beings.

I have seen you before.

As you laid dying in Seuverat. Before you awoke to the ashen gray sky above.

You healed me?

To show you a message. To bring you to me.

You’re the crone in my vision? Rysa? How?

Not Rysa. Your Magi sent for me. A pox upon your pantheon, they feared me.

What do you wish from me?

I bestow teachings upon you Tedarin, if you wish to accept them. Follow her.

You are connected to Undonus?

I heard no answer only to feel the push of my orgasm enter Rysa’s womb. I moaned to delight, the vision broke in my soul to return me to reality. I opened my eyes to see a smile across her face beneath me, her hair strewn along the sandy embankment next to where our clothes had been tossed. In successive thrusts, I lowered myself to permit her embrace around my muscular back. I concentrated on my own release, pulled from her own whims to biological necessity, destroying the magic spell I suspected she had summoned.

Only Rysa had prevented my orgasm until the right moment when my own ego took hold. I needed answers, but the spiritual connection she had commanded would not permit my masculine soul to receive an answer until I was ready. Biology took over. I wasn’t traveling with your run-of-the-mill tavern whore. She knew magick, but to what extent?

I lay beside her, staring at the mid-afternoon sun bristling sparkles through the forest canopy, my sword resting beside me in the sand as I propped my knee to bend. Her fingernails tickled my abdomen to my loins to relax my manhood to calm. I listened to her breathing as she rested her head upon my shoulder for a few brief moments. Her village was a target for the Magi, this much I knew. But there was something more to her story. The Magi implicated her people to a magick in defiance of our gods, and their patron spirit called for me. I needed answers and Rysa was the only person who could provide them.