The Templar Chronicles: Freedom's Price

Jericho moved calmly towards the Captain’s office. He had all the time he needed this afternoon. The coming night and morning would need haste. He knocked and entered upon the words, “Come in.”

Captains O’Riley and Grom were already there as were their lieutenants, they were six in all. Jericho was pleased that he was the last to arrive; he did not want to intrude on the captains’ chance at intimacy if he could help it. Jericho was having enough trouble in his relationship to his superiors without adding problems with his subordinates to it as well. They all stood as he entered and saluted, Jericho raised his spear in response, “Please be seated ladies and gentleman.”

They sat down but Jericho remained standing leaning on his spear still feeling off balance without his shield, “Now Grom I need the latest report from Privates Caroline and Connell.”

Grom looked up at him from his position behind the desk, “Their last report was delivered early this morning while you were in Kent. They say that the drones will be entering our area within,” here he paused to look at his watch, “twelve hours’ time. They also managed to confirm there are thirty eight of them and that they appear lightly armed”

“Very well, thank you, Captain. Anyone else have anything to add before I begin the briefing?” Jericho swept the room with his eyes to see if there was anyone who had something to say but was for some reason or another content to endure in silence. He did not see anyone bursting to speak, and no one leapt at the opportunity, so Jericho continued.

“Very well then, in the early morning hours of this coming day I and eight volunteers will be going into no-man’s-land and establishing a base camp within radar contact of the drones. Those who go with me shall have to be mounted troops I ask that they be evenly dived between both commands, as the casualty rate may be high amongst the volunteers and I do not want to strain one command more than the other does. Ours will be the greatest risk in this endeavor.”

Both of the captains stiffened at once at this pronouncement. Clearly, they did not want to sign their troops up for a bloodbath. However, they also did not know the full extent of the plan, and they did not want to risk provoking Jericho’s anger with premature dissension. They exchanged looks and Grom nodded to O’Riley. She nodded back and rather than present the reasons why this sounded like a bad idea, she simply replied, “That can be easily accommodated, there are many veterans amongst both of our commands that do not fear the prospect of overwhelming odds and the certainty of death.”

“I hope so Captain for my sake, lest I will have to bait them in by myself. You see comrades; the demon that we are up against is by now burning with curiosity. He lost over seven hundred thralls at our hands and he has no idea how or why. He does not know if a Knight is involved, though I am sure he suspects. However, until he knows he will have to wonder if the Army has developed some new defense. That is why he has been cautious having the drones approach slowly, hoping that they will go unnoticed by our border patrols so that they might get close enough to get a good look at this compound before slipping away and returning south with their report. I am going to provide our enemy with an answer, and lead him to decide on a plan that favors us. I am going to camp with the volunteers near the border and stand watch, allowing the drones, and through their eyes their master, to believe what they will about how I came to be there and what happened to his thralls. We will be the bait in the snare. I posit that he will be drawn to the kill, an opportunity to catch a Templar Knight unawares and finish him off. The rest of you will provide fire support, and come to our aid once the drones are thoroughly engaged in the fight.”

The assembled officers were nodding, they could see the logic behind this thought process, even if the bait might get pinched in the trap. They also now knew why they had the incredibly expensive laser rifles and three APCs at their disposal. It was going to be a smash and grab operation, straightforward and simple. Something the cunning and evil minds of the enemy often overlooked, as they would never place themselves in danger to benefit a larger design.

“Captains, I will need to you be stationed with the three War-Pig-class APCs two and a quarter kilometers to the east of us ready to roll on a moment’s notice. When I give the signal, you will rush to our aid as fast as those pigs will ride. We will be in desperate need by that point, but when they sense the APCs approaching their position however many of the drones that are left may attempt to flee to inform their master what has transpired. That will require something else. Lieutenant Smith.”

The dark haired woman looked up from the notes she had been taking as Jericho spoke, “Yes, sir?”

“It will be your responsibility to lead the mounted troops who are not a part of my contingent. You and whatever number is left to you will be stationed three kilometers to the northwest of our position with the laser rifles. Your task will be, when signaled to sweep behind the enemy’s radar capabilities and deploy the men with the rifles in a one hundred eighty degree arc to prevent any of the drones’ escape. You will need to be fast and accurate, the success or failure of our mission may depend on it. Should even one of the androids escape back to the south, the demon will know of my presence, will liquidate his collection squads and captured individuals, and then flee back to old Mexico City.”

All the soldiers in the room grimaced in response to the term ‘liquidate.’ They knew all too well what that meant, and none of them wanted that to happen to the probably dozens of hungry and terrified prisoners.

“That is the summary of my plan to disable the majority of the androids while gaining access to one of their central processors. Are there any questions or doubts at this point in the operation?”

“What type of armament do you want the rest of us to be using?” It was one of O’Riley’s lieutenants who asked, Jericho had never been introduced to the slender man before.

However, he could avoid the awkward oversight due to his insignia. Sometimes one has to admire the military’s obsession with labeling things, “Well Lieutenant, since these androids are essentially heavily armored, animatronic hunter-seekers we will have to meet them steel to steel. Their exoskeletons are specifically designed to resist our standard grade ammunitions, and we do not have any heavy guns or tanks at our disposal. However the energy rifles should slice through them quite nicely.”

“And what are their other defensive capabilities besides short range radar and incredibly durable exoskeletons?” This time it was the other of O’Riley’s lieutenants and she did not sound quite enthusiastic about the prospect of trying to match the drones man to machine.

Jericho turned to face her, not speaking for a few seconds until the woman shifted uncomfortably. He had not appreciated the tone of sarcasm underlying her statement and was making a point that he was in command, even if they thought he was not the best man for the job, “That can be answered by the good Captain Grom whose experience on these androids supersedes my own.”

All of the eyes in the room turned towards Grom who cleared his throat and began in his brisk, business like voice he reserved for reports to the Army and briefings such as this one, “The type four hunter-seeker android is equipped traditionally with a long blade and short round shield, but that is not what makes them dangerous. They are at least two or three times stronger than the average person, can see perfectly well in the lowest of light conditions and have not only short-range radar, but infrared as well. They will be faster and stronger than any thrall will, but less durable than the hunter-killer variety of androids, or even a typical undead soldier. One should approach with extreme caution and if at all possible use energy weapons from range when engaging these hostiles.”

His summary complete, he fell silent and one by one, they turned to look at Jericho once more. The knight nodded at this deluge of information. He had expected nothing less, “Ladies and Gentleman the enemy is strong. What we lack in strength we shall make up for in skill and courage, and for once numbers will be on our side in this conflict. Once we have dealt with this squad of androids we will be able to hunt down the demon and eradicate him once and for all.”

“Aye we shall!” Grom smiled.

The others quickly followed his example assenting with a variety of different phrases to the Templar’s plan. Jericho stood erect taking in the expressions of the people around him gauging their level of commitment to the cause. What he saw was grim determination and the glint of battle in each of their eyes. This encouraged him. If this was to be the resolve of each man and woman under his command then the plan should go off quite smoothly, albeit bloodily. When people get it into their minds that they are going to lose a battle, they will often find a way to make it happen. That was not to be the case with these officers at least, and that counted for something. Even the relatively fresh lieutenants who had only recently graduated from officers’ training knew a thing or two about the fight. They were frontier soldiers after all, and the demons did not often let the Kingdom of Avalon rest.

Jericho was satisfied by his impression of the emotions in the room. Reluctantly, “Very well, then my friends, that leaves us with the unpleasant task of assigning duties and hammering out the details to make this plan proceed as efficiently as possible.”

Grom and O’Riley began discussing whom they thought should be a part of the band who would stand with Jericho. This was the beginning to several hours of long discussion between the captains and lieutenants over which person was a better marksman or who the savviest driver of an APC was. Made all the worse because this time there was competition between two rival companies, with their own command structures, opinions, and experiences trying to work together. Jericho sat down in the remaining chair ten minutes into the conversation. He had little to contribute to this discussion, as he was unfamiliar with the troops under O’Riley’s command and had only read briefs on those under Grom’s. He had no solid personal experience from which to draw, and was content to sit with his thoughts as others argued out the finer points of his plan. He thought to himself as the people around him continued their discussion, God save us all, I hope this one works. I could not bear to be responsible for all of their lives… or their deaths.

After the officers had finally settled down and come to an accord over who would do what and when, the meeting broke up. It was after dinnertime and each of them had a lot to accomplish before they rolled out in the early hours of the morning. Jericho was no exception he had to recollect his shield and report to High Command that he would be out of direct radio contact for the next day or so. The board was finally set; the pieces were beginning to move.

Gawain trundled out of the kitchens after the third lunch shift was over. The cleanup process had been unpleasant as the number of dirty dishes and pans had literally tripled from the numbers only a few days before. However, the men who had been assigned to the cook had done much better on clean-up than they had in prep, it seems that military training and discipline in cleaning was a much stronger tradition than that of cooking. They scrubbed every surface of the filthy kitchen and then the mess hall after it. Even with all five of them working as hard as they could it was still quite a while before they could leave. The poor cook was unable to though, he had to stay and begin the dinner that was to be served in only a few hours, Gawain now understood why compounds normally had more than one cook in them.

The man sighed miserably as the three new soldiers who had come to replace the others appeared in the doorway looking lost and confused. The original three skittered out before the cook could say another word to them; they had had enough for one day. Gawain hung up the apron that he had been wearing on the wall and moved towards the door to the back of the compound as well, silently praying the whole time that the two women and one man that had replaced them would be better than the other three, for the cook’s sake, or more importantly for theirs.

Gawain glanced at the clock before moving outside and saw that it was time for him to be at the stables and to help feed the horses there before he was off duty for the day. He walked slowly towards the stables not really in the mood to feed and clean up after another group of animals today. He wondered if he would ever get the smell of cleansers off his hands or the stains of horse manure off his borrowed boots. When he got to the stables, the farriers were already in the steady motion of preparation for an operation. They moved around and in the stables and the neighboring supply sheds with practiced efficiency. The woman in charge of the stables was waiting outside of the main entrance for something; observing the state of her fingernails in the meantime.

That something turned out to be Gawain. “Hello Gawain, pleased to see you are on time.” She was smiling. She sounded so much more pleasant and calm than the cook or his kitchens had been that Gawain was a little wary at first, though the feeling quickly passed.

Though he was a bit tired and not in the mood for horses, or anything really, in that moment, “Pleased to be here on time.”

“Well it is a good thing that you got here now, because that does not mean that we have to waste too much time today.” Her smile faded and she crossed her arms her headed tilted slightly to the right looking at him sideways.

“Uh oh, what I do?” Gawain had seen that motion before from many other women and it often meant that a man had done something to upset them. His voice was worried though he forced out a lighter tone to prevent overplaying his hand.

“Oh it’s nothing it’s just that the cook called ahead of you, he said that he had wanted to catch you before you left but that you were too quick.”

“Oh? And what did he say about me?” Gawain asked, off put by the direction the conversation had taken.

The woman smiled at him again, though this time there was something behind it, “Well you know Gawain that we are overstaffed and that he is understaffed at the present time, and to be quite frank we just don’t need your help right now.”

Gawain was suddenly fearful at the implications that she was making, his voice was a bit shaky “And, he wants me to come back and help him for the next shift doesn’t he?”

“Unfortunately yes, that is exactly right. I can’t deny that poor man all the help he can get; he is so overwhelmed just now. I am sorry Gawain I know that you have already been there for the majority of the afternoon, though if it makes you feel better he told me that you would only be working the first half of the dinner shift. You would have the last dinner with the fewest people, and that you would not have to clean up afterwards.” She spoke quickly trying to reassure Gawain that both she and the cook had the best intentions for everyone at the base at heart.

Gawain nodded, he knew that what she was saying was true even if he did not feel like going back to the firestorm that was brewing in the kitchens behind him. That did make him feel better. The knowledge of not having to clean up afterwards really did wonders for his mentality. Especially, since the alternative was cleaning up horseshit. He smiled a weary smile and turned to move back the way he had come.

But before he turned away completely, “Thanks for telling me. Should I report to you in the morning?” He stood in profile with the sun behind him, his face philosophical and tragic in the setting sunlight.

So tragic was his reaction to the news, that it was comical; the poor woman had to work to stifle a giggle, “Yes Gawain, you are most welcome here, we are not firing you, just doing a little employee exchange for this evening.” She smiled at him again and gave him a little wave before walking back into the stables to see to the disposition of the many horses.

Gawain turned and wearily headed back the way he had come. It was a short walk but he made it take as long as he could, he really was not looking forward to going back in there, and the early evening weather was very appealing. He checked the clock as he entered the chrome and stainless steel space. It was well before dinnertime. They would have a lot of time to prepare all the food even though it was a relatively huge amount that they were going to need.

The cook smiled at him as he came back inside the kitchen. He walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Sorry to do that to you Gawain, but I need all the help I can get right now.”

Gawain nodded and smiled weakly back at the overtaxed man. Moving out from under the contact, he took the same apron that he had used before off the hook and placed it over his head. He set his jaw and began peeling the carrots that they were going to use as part of the meal that evening. He worked single-mindedly throughout the entire prep time. As he worked, he could feel the fatigue of the day catching up to him as he went through the motions, slowing his actions and blurring his eyes. When the time came to serve the first group of soldiers, he was given the relatively simple job of making sure there were enough plates, cups, and silver ware on the line for the cooks to serve the meal. This left him with a great deal of time standing or leaning about waiting for a task to perform. To help out further with the hustle and bustle of the meal, he also stacked the returning dirty dishes into the sink.

The first dinner passed quickly while Gawain cleaned and stacked, his motions mechanical. He paused for a time and helped rearrange the chairs and wipe down the tables in the hall in anticipation for the next time slot. When that to had passed, he was going to be off and able to enjoy the meal that he had worked so hard to create, plus the added bonus of any leftovers that would be available as a privilege to one who had served the base in this capacity for most of the day. The second dinner came and went, though for some reason the time seemed to drag out longer than the first had, but that was probably because with only an hour left before getting off Gawain began to check the clock every two minutes.

Fortunately, time had not stopped altogether, and he was soon allowed to leave. He decided to get through the serving line just as he had for lunch, wanting to beat the rush that was sure to come. He moved into the hall slowly dragging his feet, which ached, from standing for so long. The cook served him himself ensuring that Gawain got larger-than-regulation portions and even an extra piece of bread. When he got to the end of the line, Gawain looked up into the man’s eyes with silent gratitude. The cook smiled back at him trying to express both affection and apology within the same look.

Gawain moved to a nearby small table, sat down and slowly began working his way through the food in front of him. The mess hall slowly began to fill; people in this mealtime were not as loud or as fast to go about it, as were the previous groups. Unlike the dinner periods that featured soldiers heading into their shift of guard duty or patrol, the last mealtime was the end of a workday for those who partook. And so there was no rush, no time limit to eat and then leave the mess-hall. Not to mention, the majority of them were tired from the day’s work that they had already gone through, most simply lacked the energy to do anything quickly.

Gawain did not look up at those who came in just maintained his silent pace of consumption, his mind numb from the beating of the day. It was in this faraway land that he dwelt until someone tapped a glass on the table next to his tray trying to get his attention.

“I said, is this seat taken?” the voice was musical and impatient as though they had been trying to speak to a wall that they were sure would respond with enough beliefs.

Gawain knew that voice. With anticipation, he looked up, and lo and behold, it was Angela Frost tapping her glass impatiently at him. His fatigue melted away as a smile spread across his face that he could not contain, no matter how much the more suave side of his brain objected, “No of course not, by all means, please sit down.”

She did not. Instead, she set her tray in the space across from him and took the glass with her as she moved towards the drink station in the corner of the room. “Be right back.”

Gawain was pleased; he looked around the room at the half-filled tables and the quiet conversations. Of all the people, she could have chosen to sit with in the room she picked me. But his nature prevented him from becoming too optimistic at this development; it could be that her regular mealtime companions were just assigned a different shift today. Even still he could not fully suppress the elation he felt. It burned just under his heart somewhere like a smoldering coal that threatened to melt its way through his ribcage and escape.

She returned quickly and sat down; she leaned back in her chair sipping at the steaming beverage in her hands studying him quizzically over the cup’s edge. “You look tired Gawain, what happened to you since this morning?”

Gawain looked up at her unreadable eyes, what was she thinking? Gawain had never felt this frustrated at being unable to interpret a person’s intentions. “Well I pulled double kitchen duty today which means I have been scrubbing and cooking and scrubbing some more while being on my feet for a very long time up until this point.”

She nodded slowly as she sipped at the drink again; she seemed to be enjoying it immensely. “What is that you have there?” Gawain asked interested in the obvious pleasure she seemed to gain from such a simple beverage.

“Tea, green tea with honey in it. Do you like tea?” She smiled that fateful smile at him again as she set the cup down in front of her.

It took a moment for Gawain to respond as he had gotten lost in her features without realizing it, when he managed to come back he had almost forgotten what she had asked him. “Uh, I don’t know, I have never tried it.”

“Shame that. It is perhaps my favorite drink. Though to be fair I have not tried them all yet.” This statement was followed by a cute little giggle that made Gawain want to lean forward and hug her.

He, of course, did not, forcing himself to be content with a simple response instead, “Of course not, though I think that I could try tea and like it.”

She nodded at him with a slight grunt of assent, picked up her fork, and began to eat the food she had. He watched her eat for a few minutes as he sought a topic of conversation that would keep them going, he was afraid that she might find him boring if he did not say something soon.

“Anything new happening around the base?” he was grasping at straws, just wanting to hear her voice again.

“Actually, yes.” she picked up her napkin and wiped off her mouth before continuing. “Word around base is that we will be mobilizing this evening for a short campaign to rid the land of the demon and his collection squad, though people have been saying that since that knight got here.”

Gawain thought of how that would apply to him, “And what does that mean exactly?”

“Quite simply that the majority of the able bodied soldiers on this base will be leaving for the next day or so depending on the extent of the operation and how far into enemy territory we will have to be going.” She began eating again falling silent once more.

Gawain did not let the silence last as long this time. “Will you be going as well?”

She paused after sipping more of her tea, “That remains to be seen. If the orders come then I will go. It is as simple as that.”

Gawain was a bit upset by this news. He knew that he was not a soldier and that he would most certainly not be going with an armed war-party into enemy territory no matter what had happened in the days before. He did not want the majority of the base to leave; it would make everything so quiet and lonely.

“What are you thinking about?” the question was simple and direct and she had leaned forward to get a better look at the expression on his face. They were very close now with only half a meter between their faces.

Gawain’s eyes snapped back into focus and he leaned back in his chair a bit too quickly to be polite. Though it was better than staying there, being that close to Angela was a danger to his self-control and he did not want to do anything to upset the tenuous relationship they had. “I was thinking that it would be unpleasant for you… all to leave.” He had almost said just you to leave, but had thought better of it. He did not know how forward he could be. He was new at this game.

She smiled at him, her voice blithe again, “Oh don’t worry there will be at least five or six soldiers assigned to stay on the base, it needs to be maintained until the soldiers return. Besides should the locals need any support or policing, there has to be somebody around qualified to do the job.”

Gawain smiled back in response, he had nothing to say. She returned to the meal at hand and ignored him for a while. He tried to think of another topic of conversation that was light but was not small talk that he felt they were beyond in this particular conversation. He was drawing a blank. His mind kept returning to the negative end of the conversation that Jericho and he had had that afternoon. Why am I to be extra polite to this woman? What happened to her to make her special in a not good way?

The question must have shown on his face because Angela laughed again, “You do get such a cross look on your face when you are thinking about how best to ask a question. Come, come, ask away.”

Well she had invited him. “Well this afternoon I was speaking with Jericho,” at the mention of the Knight’s name Angela’s smile fell away from her face. The change was so sudden that Gawain paused midsentence and changed tack, “Is something wrong with Jericho?”

She took a while to respond, her eyes not on Gawain. She had looked away and appeared to be staring into the eternal nothing. She must have made up her mind because she looked back at Gawain, “I do not trust the Templar.”

This was unexpected; she doesn’t trust the Knights of God? Who in the world could we trust more than them? They lived to serve all believers after all. Gawain smiled as he thought of the burly Jericho’s constant reliance on and reference to the creed.

This was not the right move obviously, as it earned him a sharp retort from Angela, “You think that’s funny, do you?”

“No, no it’s not that I was just remembering something. But I don’t understand, what they could’ve done to make you dislike them?” his question was genuine and he tried to make it sound that way.

“That Gawain is a long story that I do not really want to begin right now.” Her voice was cool and edgy. But he got the sense that her ire was not directed specifically at him. He let it drop, falling tactfully silent. Though the curiosity literally made him squirm, he could feel that he was close to breaking through the ice surrounding her and her past. And so, he waited.

She studied her fingernails for a minute not wanting to say anything to further upset herself or Gawain, allowing air into the conversation giving her time to calm down. She took a deep breath and sighed, “I am sorry Gawain it is not your fault. My problems with the Templar are my own, though you never got to ask your question. What were you talking to Jericho about?”

Gawain hesitated. He did not think she would appreciate that he was about to pry up her past again, but she had asked. He decided to preface it rather than go straight to his question, “Well Angela, we were talking about history and other topics such as the demons and their servants.”

“Cheerful subjects.” Her sarcasm was not particularly harsh. It was simply there.

“That it was, but then we got to talking about what I was doing on the base and how I was getting along with those around here. I mentioned that I had talked to you earlier that day and Jericho reacted strangely to the news.”

“Oh? How did he react?” Her eyes smoldered with sudden passion she sat further forward interested in his words.

“Well he actually became quite flustered and warned me never to dig into your past, that it would upset you. He went further on to say that it was probably a good idea not to bother you as I would run the risk of me getting my head bitten off and never knowing why.”

She laughed a cruel and bitter laugh that made those sitting at the other tables heads turn. She ignored them completely, continuing the conversation, “Well that makes sense, and is as good advice as I would have given anyone who was speaking about me behind my back.” Her words were harsh and cold and clashed horribly with her good looks, making Gawain cringe, “but don’t worry Gawain you have nothing to fear from me. What is it that Jericho did not want to tell you?”

“Like I said, I just mentioned having spoken with you and that was how he reacted.” Gawain was lying, but he did not feel ashamed. Angela’s moods seemed to shift too rapidly for him to be able to take risks like the truth.

She chuckled mirthlessly again and it sent shivers up Gawain’s spine. “If you would like me to tell you the story I will, but I warn you now, it is not a happy story nor does it end well for anyone involved.”

This had been what Gawain was hoping for, but he was not sure. He paused for only a moment and then answered, “No, I want to hear it. Please tell me why I should be scared of you.”

“Very well then.” Her eyes darkened and she leaned back against her chair. She downed the rest of her tea in one gulp not seeming to get any pleasure out of it at all. Gawain raised an eyebrow at the action, but remained silent.

Her story came slowly and with much bitterness and sarcasm. As she spoke, she seemed barely composed causing Gawain no small amount of anxiety wondering if she would start shouting and crying then and there, “I am twenty-four-years-old. I have served in the Army for the last four years as a part of the government’s plan to protect me from any repeat performance of my past. When I was nineteen-years-old I worked and lived in the city of Antioch. I was a clerical worker in the central communications facility for the Templar. It was not a glamorous job, but it was the first that I had been able to get that wasn’t waitressing and I was glad of the change.” She would not meet Gawain’s eyes as she spoke. He did his best not to stare, but he did not know what else to do in the situation.

“The first two months I spent there were quite fine, nothing of any significance all very humdrum. Then on April third of the year 3299, I met Templar Knight Absalom. He was just walking through the halls one day with a message that he wanted to hand personally to the dispatcher because of its importance. I was not doing anything just minding my own business but he stopped to talk with me anyway.

You see Gawain, beauty is a curse.” She looked up into his eyes then. “Oh, please don’t think I am vain, but I know full well that I am not unpleasant to look at.” Gawain motioned with his hand that he understood rather than respond. She continued, “I caught the Knight’s eye; I had been trying to avoid contact with him as I had been told to by supervisors. I can’t say how many times I heard things like, ‘Don’t pester or impede the Knights who come through the office. They are important people on important business and do not have time to chat with any of you.’” She sneered at the memories long dead. Gawain found the impression quite good. She paused a moment absorbing his reactions. He did not know what else to do. He smiled sadly at her.

She smiled back, but her smile was filled with sorrow deeper than Gawain thought most knew, “Absalom did not say much that first time we spoke. He just asked me my name and made idle chitchat. I did not think much of it then. I thought that he was just being polite to someone he met in the hall, as you would say hi to someone on the sidewalk as you walked passed; if only that had been the case.” Here her voice was whimsical as she looked into the past willing it to have been different from it really was.

“Instead what happened was Absalom started appearing more and more in the communications office. Bringing this here or taking that there, he seemed to have many excuses to run into me, and to continue his conversations.” She looked away from Gawain’s face into a distant corner a bitter smile on her face. Not quite knowing what to do, he remained silent and allowed her to escape into her thoughts for a few moments. He waited for what he hoped was an appropriate amount of time and then brought her back with an easy question. “What are you thinking about?”

Her eyes slowly moved back to his face. Something burned under the surface that he did not understand. Fortunately, she explained it to him, “I was remembering what it was like, what I was like back in those days.” She wiped the edge of her eye absently, removing the moisture that clung there, but Gawain saw the pain that was thinly disguised by the smooth motion. She was feeling sorry for herself, a sentiment that he knew well. She continued, “Back then life was so much different. Though I am not much older now than that long lost person was, I have aged so much since. That girl and I have so little in common now; that Angela was young, fresh, innocent, and naïve. She did not understand or anticipate what Absalom was after. Younger Angela believed the stories she had been told in school that the Templar were honest and good, guardians of the people. Anyone could trust them implicitly. And so I did… at first.

Months passed of seemingly innocuous questions. I did not understand that they were loaded with intent. I knew nothing of course, blissful me, wandering through life with blinders over my eyes. My,” she searched for the word for a moment, and then decided on, “situation did not improve when he approached me socially. He invited me out to the school where he worked to attend a class he was giving on ethics of relationships between people of differing faiths, cultures, and ages.

I went. I thought he was just being friendly and looking out for my best interests by asking me to attend a class that would benefit me one day. I remember being surprised at how happy he was to see me when I arrived, almost giddy. It struck me as odd, but I did not think too much of it as he walked to the podium and rushed through the presentation ending a full twenty minutes earlier than the schedule had lain out.” She paused, “It all seems so fresh. Do you have any memories like that?”

Gawain suddenly stiffened as a rush of violent memories poured into his mind. He forced himself to relax, and breathe deeply once. He looked into her eyes, which studied him closely; she clearly saw something there, because she did not wait for him to respond, “I suppose you do.

Well, let’s see…” She looked inward for a second, “Right, the class. When it was over I got up to leave and return home, just like everyone else in the room, but Absalom stopped me at the back of the room and distracted me with small talk about whether or not I had enjoyed his presentation. I wanted to be polite but I wanted to leave. It was getting close to dinnertime and my family would not have been pleased if I were late. When the room had emptied, I learned his motivations for detaining me in the room with him. He invited me to dinner to continue the discussion of the class.

Then, only then Gawain, did I realize what he wanted with me. I was surprised and confused. You see, during school my father was a bit strict with me. Setting curfews, interfering with and attempting to control my friend group, he even forbade me from dating until I had moved out of his house. Though that did not stop me from having occasional “boyfriends.” Though we were hardly what anyone would call serious, or even intimate. It was simply my attempt to enter the world of romance, though I admit it was not that interesting.” She paused for a minute and looked up to study Gawain’s eyes.

“I am not boring you am I? I can’t imagine this story is holding your attention very well.” Her tone was sincere; she was serious about being in favor of stopping to alleviate the one sided conversation.

He answered quickly, “No, no please continue. I am willing to listen as long as you are willing to tell.” His tone was a bit surprised. Gawain honestly was surprised that she remembered that he was there; she had seemed so far away in her memories. It pleased him nonetheless that she was considering his feelings in the matter.

“Ok,” she smiled weakly, “Thanks Gawain, I have not told this story to anyone who was outside a position of authority before. It is kind of nice not to feel like the other person is taking notes the whole time.”

Gawain smiled back. He had no idea what the second part of the sentence had meant, but he was pleased to see her pleased. Though he felt a little guilty, he may not have been taking physical notes but the scribe in his head was going as swiftly as he could.

She restarted her story where she had left off with Absalom, “I tried to politely decline his invitation but he insisted. I even tried to thank him and walk away but he grabbed my arm and forcefully pulled me back towards him, pulling me close to him. The pain was sobering to me, I was suddenly afraid for my wellbeing. Absalom was an intimidating man.

He was tall but not that tall, probably somewhere close to one and nine-tenths meters, but enough to make me feel small and frail. Like all knights, he was strong and wore armor pretty much all the time. Though unlike Jericho’s his armor was dingy leather with heavy studs that looked as if he had not polished them for many months. His face was particularly memorable, he had a long nose that stuck out from his face, and all over his face were what looked like pock marks from some childhood disease. His jaw was round and his chin disappeared into his neck at an awkward angle. His complexion was dark as was his hair but he had bright piercing yellow eyes. Those are what made him intimidating in that moment.” She closed her eyes, “I can still see them. When he looked at me, they burned with anger and lust, horrible and wild like a beast on the hunt. When he ‘asked’ me to dinner, was the first time I had seen that look in his eyes. I was afraid and he had hurt me. I acceded to his request rather than angering him further.” Gawain felt a sudden defensive impulse welling up in him. He knew that had he been there, knight or not, he would have punched the man.

“The dinner passed pleasantly enough. We talked about a lot of things, about my past, and my plans for the future, but the whole time I was trying to avoid making him angry.” She paused thoughtfully once again, “Those eyes could change so swiftly.”

She shook her head and returned to the narration, “He paid for the meal at the incredibly expensive restaurant which I remember being totally underdressed for and walked me all the way back to my home. After that, I thought I was safe. I promised myself I could avoid him if I asked the few friends I had at work for help.”

She smiled sadly recalling the helping hands long since estranged, “It worked for a while. For almost a whole week, I managed to avoid him. I would slip downstairs to the basement to do a lot of filing with the other clerks, or having an impromptu meeting with my boss that could take a while, all were excuses to not stay and talk to him when he did manage to catch me in the open. I thought that by being evasive and curt with him he would get the point.” She sighed, “He didn’t. One day, I came home and Absalom was sitting in my living room talking with my father and mother.

Gawain burst out, unable to contain himself, “He did what!?!”

She nodded her agreement, “He found out where I lived, it would not have been particularly difficult for him, being a knight and all. It was the strangest sensation seeing him there. He was there, in the one place I thought truly immune to his influence. His mere presence there seemed to soil my home, as if it would never be the same, and it never was. Apparently, he had told my parents that he was worried about me. Before I had got there, he had told my parents how he knew me and that he worried someone had been harassing me at work. Bah!”

Gawain grimaced in agreement, “And you didn’t say right there that it was him?”

She looked at him somewhat coldly, “Would you have? Would you have told someone that Jericho was not to be trusted?”

Gawain shook his head, “That’s not the same thing!”

Angela had of heat in her voice that contrasted with her cold, blue eyes, “Oh, but it is! Because that’s how everyone else saw Absalom back then! He had the same reputation, and no one expected him for what he was!” Gawain did not protest, and instead simply nodded that he understood.

She waved her hand, “It doesn’t matter. Back then, I wouldn’t have said anything and I didn’t. I had to lie, saying that it was just a busy that week and that I was fine. That would probably have been the end of my time with Absalom as he could not have come back under the same pretense again, but my father really enjoyed the man. I don’t know for sure, but I think he saw Absalom’s interest in me from the beginning and rather than repulse him, the idea seemed, to him, very exciting. My father was pragmatic, and he knew how timid I was then. It also helped that the Knights Templar are wealthy and powerful. He invited him over almost every night for the next two months.”

She met his eyes again, and the fury had cooled, replaced with a fear long repressed, “That was a dark time Gawain, a very dark time. I did not know what to do; to be rude to my father’s houseguest would have been unwise for me to do, especially since he was a knight. But in the same breath, I did not want to encourage Absalom’s interest any further. I was weak and fearful back then. So rather than angering my father I simply sat there, in the living room with my parents and Absalom night after night.

I never said much preferring to remain silent rather than betray my irritation and fear. At the end of the second month of uncomfortable evenings spent in the living room for as long as it was polite, the situation got even worse. I came home one day to an incredibly happy father and a smiling Absalom. Right then and there in front of my father and my mother he knelt down and asked me to marry him.”

Gawain was confused again, he quickly scanned her hand and upon seeing no ring interjected, “Knights can marry? But if you married him then why are you a soldier now, why do you distrust the Templar? I don’t understand.”

She smiled a sad smile and raised her hand to stem Gawain’s explosion of questions. When he had calmed down once more, she asked, “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of the story?”

Gawain blushed and looked away from her. He swallowed over the sudden awkwardness he felt. Fumbling for a response he managed, “Sorry, go on.”

“That is perfectly all right,” she placed her hand on his for half a second and made a small rubbing motion. Gawain stiffened in surprise but the contact was over so quickly that he had hardly any time to register what had happened before she continued. “You see, I can imagine what you are thinking. That the girl who was willing to suffer months on end of uncomfortable conversations with a man that terrified her, would be too scared not to accept his hand in marriage. That is true, I was too afraid, and I did agree to marry him when he asked me. But the story does not end there, you see I did not marry Absalom, and he did not live happily ever after.

That night while my father and Absalom drank their way through a bottle of Burgundy my mother and I went to my room. That was when I had the first and last meaningful and heartfelt conversation with my mother.” Her voice caught a little on this sentence caused Gawain to experience a sudden wash of anger. He clenched his fist, digging his fingernails into his palm in his desire to strike the man through the years.

But Angela did not notice her mind was far in the past, “She was a rather plain and simple woman who never dressed out of a jeans and t-shirt look that she had kept alive for so many years, not really caring what others thought.” Was? Gawain thought, interesting choice of words. “My mother was very like me. What made us so alike was that she was quiet and easy going and generally went along with my father in most things rather than argue with him, which was the approach that I generally opted for as well. She knew, she could tell how upset I was about the whole thing. She could just see it, though I had never said anything. I remember exactly what she did and exactly what she said. It was the closest I have ever been to anyone before.

She sat me down next to her on my bed, and took my head between her hands and looked deep into my eyes for what seemed like forever. She finally broke the silence, ‘You don’t want to marry him.’ Small words, but so filled with love, empathy, and understanding that I couldn’t hold back my tears or my fear any longer.

I grabbed her, and hugged her hard. I hugged her with desperation, as she was the only voice that seemed to be representing my views in it all. I cried so hard that I thought I would dry up. She held me against her side for, I’m not really sure, but for a while, patting my back and stroking my hair, allowing me to clear out all that pent up angst and fear that had clouded my thoughts the past months. When I finally was able to speak coherently again, I told her everything, though not as coherently as I am telling you now.”

She looked away, her eyes glassy and wiped briefly at her eyes before continuing, “My mother listened quietly, giving support where she thought it was necessary or appropriate. She was so wonderful, when I finally got to the end and repeated over and over again, ‘I just can’t marry him I can’t.’ All she did was embrace me once more, whispering, ‘I know.’

When I had stopped rambling and repeating myself, she told me, as if it were the only obvious and logical thing to do, ‘Of course you can’t, honey. You don’t love him, and I doubt he really loves you. Now, you don’t need to do anything, don’t you worry about a thing. I will take care of your father and he will take care of this whole mess with Absalom. You get some sleep if you can, tomorrow everything will be fine.’ My mother then smiled a great big smile. That is the last solid image of my mother in my mind, the one I cling to the hardest. That moment where I did not think I could love her anymore because if I did my heart would burst with it.” Once again Gawain was struck by the words Angela had chosen, last, was, cling to? What happened to her mother?

Angela continued, requiring his attention once more, “That night after I heard the slamming of the door behind the tipsy Absalom, my parents had the worst fight of their married life that I could remember. All I heard was my dad’s side of the argument as he shouted at my mother demanding explanations for why they had to cancel an engagement that his daughter had just agreed to a few hours before. I could hear my mother’s calm voice, but not what she said. Several times throughout the argument I heard him say he was going to come up and talk to me himself, though he never did. Mother was obviously able to convince him that he was in no state or mood to deal with me fairly.

Eventually, she made him see my point. My father would just have to accept my choice as his own, it was not his place to control my destiny. At that point, his voice had calmed and I could no longer hear. Five minutes later, my father came into my room and told me how sorry he was and how insensitive he had been. It was the most honest and open that I can ever remember between my father and I. I was so happy that my parents were behind me, that I started crying all over again. I slept hard that night after a lot of emotional stress but the dawn came quickly.

The next day I worked as fast as I could, not really speaking to anyone Fortunately, I had only a half shift that day. It was Friday January third; I remember that more than anything does because I was asked so many times after that. When I got home, my father was there waiting in the living room. He had taken the day off in order to prepare himself mentally for the confrontation that was going to come. Telling a Knight off was not something for the faint of heart. We had lunch together. Neither of us said much, but I treasure that moment more than anything, it was the height of my relationship with my parents and I will never be able to forget just how good I felt about the world and my place in it on that day.” She emphasized the last few words with her hands, tapping the table with each syllable. Gawain wanted to respond, but he really had no idea what to do or say.

“That afternoon passed quickly. My mother came home acting as if nothing were wrong, even though my father and I were clearly on edge. Around six o’ clock with the permission of my parents, I retreated to my room to weather the storm from a safe distance. Absalom arrived around six thirty as he always did. I am sure he was pleased when he first arrived but that it quickly changed. I did not hear most of what transgressed but I remember the slamming of the door and a very un-Templar like oath befouling the night air in his wake. I went back downstairs five minutes after that.

My dad told me what he thought about Absalom then. It was something like, “Honey, I can see what you meant about that man’s temper.” He then told me about how when he told Absalom flat out that I was not going to marry him that he was so angry that my father thought he was going to kill him right then and there.

It was an accurate description of how Absalom reacted to not getting his way in other situations. But we were all pleased that that chapter of our lives was closed and we could get on with things. I was so happy not to have to live in fear of Absalom anymore that I made my parents dinner that night. The rest of the night passed quietly enough, and I went to bed around eleven o’ clock. I had to get up early the next day to take my little brothers to football practice before going into work.

That is where the happy part of the story ends and the tragedy begins.” Her voice was bitter. She clearly thought that this was a tragic enough part of the story without going any further.

Gawain was about to respond when the cook walked over to the table. “Do you kids mind going somewhere else? We are almost cleaned up here and I would like to get some sleep.”

Gawain looked at the room around him astounded, the hall was empty and dark with all the other tables already cleaned, their chairs flipped up on top of them. The floor was already half-mopped and the bucket stood waiting. He had been listening so deeply to the tale of terror and fear being expounded before him that he had not noticed the slow progress of time. He looked at the clock on the wall and saw that almost an hour and a half had passed.

“Sure we’ll get out of your hair, sorry about that, Henry.” Angela got to her feet; her voice was apologetic though her expression remained hard and resentful.

“That is quite alright.” the little man answered.

“Coming Gawain?” she inquired expectantly.

Gawain hopped to his feet immediately, “Of course, of course let’s get out of here.”

They moved outside through the kitchen’s side entrance rather than through the barracks where there would already be many people sleeping. They did not want to disturb anyone more than they already had. They began walking back towards the rifle range where Angela slept and worked. Neither of them spoke for almost a minute and Gawain was afraid to break the silence not really sure what she was feeling at that moment.

She sighed after a few more minutes of silence, “You know Gawain you are a really patient man, and a good listener.”

Gawain was pleased by the compliment, “Why thank you Angela, I think it comes with knowing about what little gain there is in rushing through something.”

She nodded in agreement though the motion was difficult to make out under the dark trees. “Did you want to hear more, or have I completely bored you to death by now.”

“As before Angela I am willing to listen to all that you are willing to tell; though it sounds like this is... hard. If you want to stop, I will understand.”

“No, no that’s all right. It is good for me to say it to someone who hasn’t heard it as a rumor or read it in a report.” Gawain smiled, but he was not sure if Angela could see it in the dark.

“Very well, Gawain, very well. This next part of the story is where everything begins spiraling downward. Prepare yourself; this is not a story with a fairytale ending, or for anyone with a weak stomach.” She paused, took a deep breath, and began anew the telling of her lamentable past under the darkling sky. “That night, that same night that my father had told off Absalom about me and how he should never come back, he did. He entered the house around two o’ clock to seek his revenge on my family and more specifically on me.

I woke up when he entered my room. I remember it all so clearly like a horrible dream, every thought I had, every emotion that raced through me.” He could not see her face, but he could sense the strain in her voice. He wanted her to stop, but at the same time he could not break in, the desire to know was too strong. “It was all so painful and horrible that should I live for a thousand years I don’t think I will ever be able to scrub out that night from my mind. Absalom was silhouetted in the light from the hallway and I couldn’t see his face or any of his features, but I had no doubt, who it was. His appearance in my bedroom alone would have been terrifying enough, but my fear was accentuated even more by the fact that he was carrying a short sword, a viciously curved blade that was dripping crimson droplets onto my clean white carpet. My groggy thoughts immediately jumped to my family, though I had no idea whose blood was on the sword it did not matter, all of them mattered to me in that instant and my heart ached for anyone that he had hurt because of me.”

They had reached the rifle range and she fumbled with the keys in the dark. She managed to select the correct key and insert it in the lock, moving quickly ahead of Gawain who held the door open for her. She switched on the light in the main room. It was the first time since she had recommenced her monologue that Gawain could see her face. The rims of her eyes were red and there were lines of moisture running down both of her cheeks, she had been silently crying the whole time she had been relating her fear filled past. Gawain was amazed at the control she had over her own voice, it was not everyone in the world who could relate a painful or terrifying memory with a voice as steady as she had.

She opened the door on the right hand side of the wall this time and beckoned Gawain to follow her. He paused before following her. He was having a crisis of conscience, what would others think was going on here right now? A moment passed, but still I want to hear the story, and after all, she is inviting me in. He moved forward switching the light off in the larger room as he she moved into the smaller part of the base’s outbuilding.

The room through the door was a quaint and pleasant three-room apartment. Half of the room they were in was a living room and the other a kitchen. He could make out the outline of a bed through the open door along the right hand wall. She moved to the cabinets and got herself a glass out of the cabinet. “Did you want anything?”

Her back was to him and he could not judge her expression, “I could use some water, thank you.”

“Ok,” she rustled around a little bit and soon was holding two mismatched glasses, Gawain was sure that she did not entertain much. “Please make yourself comfortable.” Gawain moved and sat down on the armchair that was along the back wall. While she was busy filling glasses, Gawain took in the room around him. She had decorated it little, leaving most of the pale blue walls bare, but what little she had done stood out. The touches were delicate and subtle, a small painting, a slightly more decorative lamp than the ones the army had installed, small assertions of her individuality without being extravagant or pushy. Gawain liked it.

She set the glass down in front of him on the coffee table and sat down in the love seat facing Gawain, her legs filling the unoccupied space on the short couch. She sipped at whatever the dark liquid was that was in her glass staring intently at Gawain. He looked away from her intense expression uncomfortable with holding the gaze; he looked down at the floor instead. He noticed in his peripherals that her legs were short enough to fit in the couch without hanging over the arm. Gawain smiled to himself at her diminutive size, if he had tried a similar feat his legs would have been well over the edge maybe even touching the wall near the couch.

He looked back into her face and noticed that she was frowning at him; he dropped the smile on his face rapidly. “What were you thinking about Gawain?”

Gawain was afraid to be honest. But, he decided that she might not get angry. After all, she had been tolerant of his little oddities thus far, “Well it struck me as funny the difference in our heights, if I tried to sit like you on that couch my feet would be hanging over the arm, practically touching the ground.” He earned a small smile from her for that.

“Well, where was I?” she set the glass down beside her on the table.

“You had mentioned that Absalom appeared in your doorway.” Gawain proffered helpfully, but sedately, not wanting to upset her already fragile mood.

He did not but her mood darkened anyway, “Oh yes of course, the climax of my particular horror story. When Absalom came into my room with that terrible blade dripping scarlet… I remember it far too well.” Her eyes were far away, she had folded her arms across her chest as though she was cold or as if to ward off a blow. Her fists were clenched against her side as though she were ready to strike anything that came near.

The com-station on the wall buzzed for a second indicating that a message had come in. She looked back at it over her shoulder, “Excuse me a moment.”

“By all means,” Gawain spoke blithely, but he was dying to know what happened with Absalom and so he hoped patience was his road to the whole story. She had moved to and read the readout on the small screen set into the wall. She stiffened after she had reached the end and turned back towards Gawain.

Angela had little inflection as she informed him, “They are mobilizing the base.”

Gawain’s back straightened, “What do they want us to do?” He got to his feet rapidly; ready to rush back to the base to help in whatever capacity they needed. Whereas he had been calm before, now, his heart raced.

She turned, and raised a staying hand, “Calm down, Gawain. Please, sit.” When he did not, she shrugged, “Suit yourself, but we are not going to need to do anything. I am to stay here on base for the duration of the operation as are you.”

“They told you what I was supposed to do?”

“No, but I know for a fact that they are not going to take a civilian on an incredibly hazardous mission outside the borders of the kingdom.” Her easy nature was helping him calm down. He grudgingly returned to his seat, unclenched his fists, and felt the knot in his stomach slowly untying.

“That’s right; we might as well continue our evening of debauchery and friendship.” She smiled sarcastically and then laughed at her own joke. Gawain chuckled a little morosely as she sat back down, “If you hear any noises in the other room, it is just the soldiers raiding the secondary armory for the supplies they will need for the mission.” Gawain nodded, and she was soon continuing the story again. When it was over, Gawain almost wished that they had gone to war instead. That would have been less tragic.

“That was the worst night of my life. Absalom put the blade against my throat and spoke to me, his voice laden with the heavy scent alcohol and the heat of his breath. He said to me, he said, ‘So, not good enough for you eh? Well since you won’t give me what I want, I will just have to take it from you.’ He dropped the blade on the floor beside the bed. As soon as he did, I tried to run, but he was much stronger than I was and already had the advantage of leverage and position; he slammed me roughly against the backboard before I had gone half a meter.

‘And where do you think you’re going?’ he was derisive and violent and he laughed a horrible laugh at his own dark thoughts, whatever they were.

He tore the pajamas off my body and used them to tie me to the bed. I lay there almost naked under his lurid stare. I could see his eyes burning with lust the light cast from the hallway. I cried and I begged him to leave me alone, to allow me to go, to show his mettle as a man, his honor as a knight, all in vain. His only response was to laugh as he took off his pants.

He strode toward the door and closed off the only source of light in the room, but I was not to be that fortunate. The moon light was bright and terrible that night, and it shone right in my window, Luna’s face a silent witness to all that happened in the room that night.

When he was completely naked and he climbed over me and touched my breasts… that was the first time I screamed that night. He hit me viciously across the mouth and cut off the sound instantly. ‘Don’t do that again’ was the last thing he said to me, his words slurring together, his rancid breath washing over my bleeding face and broken nose. I didn’t, I did not want to make the horror any worse than it already was, and I believed that if I started screaming again I would not be able to stop. He removed the only pieces of cloth that were holding up my shattered dignity revealing my whole self to his evil intentions.

When he started into me, the sensation was beyond words. It felt as if he were tearing me apart, my hips, my skin, my soul, my mind all screaming in repulsion as the same repetitive motion slammed me over and over again. I am sure that he wounded me forever in all those places. My body may not carry the scars but my mind always will. He was not satisfied with only one time though, he ravaged me until the early morning hours when the light of the moon began to fade and the pale light of dawn began to creep into my open windows.

The hours that followed were the most painful and terrible that I have ever lived through. The only memories I have of them are the pain, the mind numbing searing pain. All these sensations were raging inside of me at the foul intrusion, but worse than that, worse was the longest lasting scar he could leave on me. The image of his grinning, malicious face hovering over mine the whole has been burned into my memory ever since. And I doubt, I will ever forget that face, Gawain, not should I live forever, it is the ugliest, cruelest thing I can imagine in the world. The face of a man of GOD!” the last word came out as a shriek, the tears pouring freely down her face even though her entire body was rigid.

While she had been, speaking Gawain had been clenching the arms of the chair so hard that he was afraid that his fingers would tear the fabric, and when Angela screamed the word God, Gawain started breathing again. He had not realized it but he had been holding it the entire time that she had been describing her rape. I can’t believe it! How could this have happened? With a knight no less! His sudden upwelling of emotion was so great that he got to his feet and moved into the kitchen. He stared hard at the calendar pinned to the wall breathing heavily for a minute as he regained control over his emotions.

He turned back to Angela who was staring blankly into the space where Gawain had been a moment before. Her breathing was rapid and shallow and her body was tensed like a spring. He was not sure what to do. He wanted to comfort her. But not only did he have no idea what to say or do, he was sure that anything he tried would only upset her further than she already was. To buy himself some time, he walked slowly back to the chair and sat on its arm staring at her. He waited, and waited, he was willing to spend all night if he had to, but she was going to look at him, to come back from the darkness of her memories.

The time ticked past, he was never sure just how long it took, but it seemed like forever. Her eyes slowly, very slowly, unfocused on the spot on the wall where she had fixed them. Her mind reeling and screaming somewhere in the past, her gaze began to drift up to his own. He was patient; he did not rush to meet her dazed eyes, instead content to let her come to him, like a small nervous animal unsure of the veterinarian trying to save its life.

When finally her eyes met his own, he held her there with his gaze, locking her in place with his expression. He poured the heat of his vengeful anger and his wrath into that gaze, focusing her attention on him. Her eyes slowly regained animation, the soul returning to them from wherever it had been sheltering. The set of her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly and she let go of the fists that her hands had made allowing color to return to them once more. He gave it a few more seconds until she actually moved her head up to meet his gaze as well.

That was when he decided to speak, “Angela, will you allow me to come closer?” She looked confused for a moment at the question, and then understanding dawned on her. She took a whole minute to decide staring with wide, suspicious eyes into Gawain’s own. He saw the answer within them before she made any motion or spoke any word; it was the slightest softening around the edges, and a slow growth of warmth that began to burn within them. Still he waited, waited, until she gave her permission because to act too swiftly would be to end the moment before it even began. She nodded only once to indicate her consent.

Gawain rose slowly from the edge of the arm not wanting to spook the moment, its existence was so fragile that it might flee before him like a sprite in the forest. He moved towards her and sat down on the edge where her sensuous curves left space on the edge of the couch. Gawain was terribly nervous and he felt sweat break out on the back of his neck, but thankfully not his hands. He touched the side of her cheek with the back of his fingers, stroking the smooth skin from her hairline down to her chin. She did not react to his touch, she remained still and cold, though her skin burned with fevered emotion and was damp from the tears that she had shed.

When he reached her chin, he withdrew his hand a few inches holding it tentatively nearby. He waited before going any farther, so that he could look into her eyes, and explain his intentions before he did anything. He was praying that she would understand. He was almost stopped cold when he saw her expression. There was sadness so great residing within her eyes that he was sure that angels would cry to see the pain torturing her, she was so silent that he wondered if she was holding her breath. Maybe she was.

He saw no panic, and so he proceeded. He placed his right hand on the left side of her face; it was so large in comparison that his fingers wrapped around her head very easily. He placed his other hand on the right side of her face, again with deliberate slowness. Gently, as gently as he could, he began to draw her head toward him. She resisted at first, but when Gawain did not increase the pressure, his touch a mere suggestion, she relented and allowed him to continue drawing her close. It seemed at times that she would withdraw in sudden panic, unwilling to trust his intentions, but she never did.

Gawain set her eyes against his shoulder and slowly drew his arms down around her back in a comforting embrace, drawing of the rest of her body close to his own, whispering, “God have mercy on us all, that someone ever hurt you.” She shuddered, and he could feel his shirt growing damp with fresh tears. He placed his cheek against her hair; his nose was filled with the scent of her hair and the allure of her perfume, it was vanilla. She began to shake with her pain, relived once more.

Gawain just held her there, unsure of what more he could do scared to offend her and run her off with his misdeed. It was the first time he had ever been close to a woman who was not a relative and he was sure that his heart was giving him away. He was filled with such barley-contained passion that he thought he would burst because of it. It took all of his self-control not to draw her face up and to kiss her.

She placed her hands onto his chest, drawing her mouth away from his shoulder, and he could suddenly hear the full power of her grief. Her hot breath beat against the thin layer of cotton between them as she cried and sobbed. She wept against him, for that girl that he would never get to meet, for the woman who never had the chance to live. That man had taken both her past, and what would have been future, and left her as she was. The force of her cries shook her whole body in between his arms. He stroked her hair, and slowly began rocking her ever so slightly, repeating over and over, “I am sorry, I am so sorry.”

He held her like that in grief and in pain for ten minutes; fifteen minutes; half an hour; until it was all finally poured out and she could cry no more. As soon as the sniffling stopped, he let her go slowly setting her back down against the arm of the couch before withdrawing his hands. He got up slowly, retreating to his former position to give her space, and to place her at a safe distance from himself. The hormones flowing inside him were still too unpredictable, and he did not trust himself to stay near her. He understood how she would feel after that intimate moment. She would want to go back behind her walls of sarcasm and silence, as he would have wanted had their situations been reversed. He was not going to stop her. She needed to decide how this would play out, or he would never get a chance with her.

As he sat back down again she whispered so quietly that had there been any other noise in the room he would have missed it, “Thank you.” He stopped his motion caught by the emotion in those two little words. She had sounded so soft so innocent that he had thought it had been a child who had spoken and not the tough, gritty woman who he had casually mown down dozens of thralls in the fight not so long before now.

He smiled slightly, “Anytime, anyplace, I am always at your service.” It was all he could think to say and for what it is worth, he meant it.

She laughed a little, a series of small sniffley chuckles, and then, in a similar voice, “Careful Gawain it is dangerous to make big promises like that to women, they have a tendency to remember them.” A momentary silence followed, and then they both laughed, heartily and long. The laughter exaggerated as it relieved the tension that had dominated the evening. But she was not finished.

She sighed and wiped her eyes once, “But unfortunately Gawain that is not how the story ends,” Gawain looked at her in shock, his mouth falling open. She smiled, “You see, I would have been able to forgive the Templar organization for the evils of a single member. One who judges the whole by a single individual is a fool. No my trust of the Templar deteriorated in the weeks following that night. When I looked out my window into the early morning sunlight, I saw that Absalom was gone; he had left me alive though he had taken everything else from me.

I had to find my family, but I was in such pain. I remember what I saw when I finally worked up the courage to look at myself. w. The white of my bed sheets was stained red from the blood I had lost all around the area where my hips had rested. There were horrible tear wounds all around and in, my… well you know. And he had bruised both my arms and my breasts with his savage handling, though those seemed trivial in comparison with the state of my groin. I grimaced in pain as I forced myself to rise to my feet. I couldn’t stand when I tried, my right leg wouldn’t work. I didn’t really pay attention to all that for long. My family, I needed them, and there was a strong chance they needed me.

I didn’t want to go around naked, but the thought of putting on anything over my legs…,” she grimaced at the memory, though her voice and expression were much lighter than they had been throughout the rest of the story. Gawain hoped it was because she felt better having told him the story, but he was never sure.

She continued, “Instead I limped across the hall into the bathroom. I put on my bathrobe so that I would be able to move freely but still be decently covered. I searched for my family. I don’t really know what I expected to find, my hopes were not high. I had seen the blood on Absalom’s sword, though until I saw them, I hadn’t given up hope.

I found them still in their beds. All of them, Gawain, my mother, my father, my two younger brothers, all of them were dead. Absalom had been at least somewhat merciful, he had cut their throats instead of the other horrible things he could have done. They would have died in only a few minutes compared to the many hours that he spent on me. But, I still feel guilty. They died, but I am still alive. I have been told that’s normal, and that I shouldn’t feel guilty for a deed I didn’t commit, but I still do. I am at least partially responsible, for it was my cowardice that led to the situation.

I couldn’t really get down the steps with my leg as messed up as it was. So, I went back to my parent’s bedroom. They had an emergency communication system in their room. It took me awhile to get in a position where I could use the wall display easily. I was in pretty rough shape. I called the Army garrison responsible for our region. They showed up only three minutes later. The Army has that going for them.” She waved a hand airily, “They are so punctual.”

It elicited a laugh from Gawain, though he was not sure it was a joke. She smiled anyway and went on, “They sealed the area and took me to the district hospital. The nicest female doctor in the world cleaned me and then healed the horrific gash wounds with one of their auto sutures. I don’t even have scars. They did a bio-scan, and it turns out that my leg was fractured in three places, so I had to stay in the hospital for a few days while they repaired the damage.

It didn’t take the Army investigators long to figure out what had happened. Absalom had broken into the house in the early morning hours through the rear sliding door. They determined from various tests on the blood and clotting that he had murdered my family starting with my parents, and with what appeared to be an afterthought returned down the hall and killed my little brothers. After spending the rest of the night raping me he left the same way he had come, saddled his horse in the local stables and left at 0713 hours to an undisclosed location.

The sergeant, who came to the hospital and questioned me about the evening’s events, told me everything. He was a short and soft-spoken man, even if his voice was hoarse from long hours of shouting at troops. He also told me that they would search Absalom’s house but probably would not turn up anything conclusive or useful. They feared Absalom would have covered his tracks. I thanked him for his time, and asked that he would keep me informed. He promised with all sincerity that he would, but that was the last time I saw the sergeant.” She looked at him piercingly, “This next part is the important part, Gawain. This is when the Templar truly failed me.

When I woke up the next day, there was a man standing next to me looking out the open window. He was a man of average height, and medium build not exactly strong looking, but he carried an” she paused considering, “an aura of authority that I could feel more than see. Regardless, it was obvious that he was a Templar Knight. He was dressed in full plate armor that shone, sparkled, and was an iridescent white with gold trimming in the detail work. The sequoia tree of the Templar order stood out very well on his breast as it was such a bright red that clashed with all the other colors he wore.

But the most obvious part of him, was the huge weapon that rested in his hands. He had a massive claymore drawn, the sun reflecting of the steel, its point digging into the tile floor. It was only slightly shorter than he was. The hilt reached all the way to his chest. The inscriptions on the blade and the extravagance of the hilt were impressive enough, but the blade itself seemed to be designed to intimidate all those who looked upon it. It gleamed beautifully in the morning sunlight, the blue steel catching and reflecting patterns across the room.

When he finally looked at me, his expression was closed; he was a plain man with nothing much in the ways of good looks, with several moles and freckles on his face. He had thick curly hair that was a dirty blonde color and fell to his shoulders. He also had a beard that covered the majority of his face and was the same color as his hair. His eyes were an odd steel blue that if one was not paying close enough attention to looked gray. Living in Antioch, I knew many knights, and I could tell right away that he was young; young even for a Templar Knight and that he had grown his beard in an attempt to disguise this fact. It was not effective because the Knight’s physical appearance is not what ages. It is the expression in their eyes, and his was far too bright and fresh to belong to a man who had lived and served for hundreds of years in the Templar’s ranks. His voice was low, and soft, and almost monotone, but kind I think. It’s hard to remember everything about him; it has been so long since I have seen him.

He introduced himself as Paladin Veritas, and told me that he was in charge of the investigation into the crimes of Knight Absalom. I remember that Veritas was a very interesting if strange individual; you could never really tell what he meant. He always spoke with conviction; though it was difficult to tell by the tone in some of his comments, whether he meant them to be judgmental or rather blithe and friendly. He asked me to retell my story to him as he inscribed it into a record that would be submitted to the Archives for the official judgment of the Templar Court. I remember that time when I told my story; it was he that cried not me. When I had finished, Veritas told me that he would bring the man Absalom to justice without fail; he was not going to allow a crime of this magnitude to go unpunished. When he spoke those words, eyes burning with fury, his mailed hand gripping the massive blade in front of him scratching and scouring the floor as he ground his teeth in anger, I believed every word.

He visited me every morning for an hour while I was in the hospital to keep me informed of his activities. Nothing for quite a while. He was kind and compassionate and never once spoke harshly to me, or at least I think he didn’t. His tone was hard to read. Soon, I was released from the hospital all physical marks from my night of pain removed. I stayed with Veritas and the Army contingent under his command rather than going home. I don’t think I could have stayed there all by myself.

I was in the heart of the operation while I was there. I watched as they put together what Absalom had done once he left Antioch. He had fled into the North, outside the borders of Avalon. That was an interesting time for me Gawain, I learned a lot while I was there, and Veritas and his allies were very kind to me. They allowed me to do pretty much whatever I wanted, and I often spent time with the Paladin.” Gawain was struck by the similarity in this part of her tale to his own, how they both had been taken in by the Army and cared for by a member of the order. He was going to comment on it but she was still going, and he did not feel like interrupting.

“I was vengeful and furious at what Absalom had done, but I was powerless. Veritas was the exact opposite of me, powerful and calm.” She sighed, “I grew impatient. I pressed him to hunt down and kill Absalom, and he pressed me to show mercy and forgiveness. The more I spoke with Veritas, the more I realized that he was never going to kill Absalom. I wanted to leave, and I hated him for not understanding what he should do to Absalom, but I had to stay. They were my link to justice, one I was unwilling to surrender.

Finally, they located him, and they set out to reclaim him. I begged Veritas once more to kill Absalom, but all he would say was, “I live to serve all believers.”” Gawain smiled inwardly, knowing that Jericho would not have done or said differently.

She growled, “Two days later Veritas and the cavalry returned to Antioch leading behind them a tattered, filthy Absalom. He looked terrible, bleeding and bruised from when he had resisted his captors. I remember his eyes most of all. They were hollow and empty, as if his heart and soul had departed his body, and all that remained was that shell of himself. But,” She practically growled, he was alive!”

Though I tried, I could never forgive Veritas. I wanted Absalom dead, and I tried to kill him myself while he was in the holding cells on the Army base. He didn’t even have the decency to be mad at me when he caught me sneaking into the cells with the gun. He simply took me aside and explained quite calmly, which infuriated me even more, that he had already brought this man to justice. He had excommunicated him; disgraced him, stripped him of all his wealth and dignity, and was he was going to be placing him into a jail where only the most despised prisoners of state were ever sent. There he would live out the rest of his natural life in a cold and dark environment, where he would be made to work the lowliest jobs that exist in the kingdom, and spend his days contemplating the fullness of his sin.

I was not satisfied with all of that. I wanted blood. My justice was crimson, as was my face throughout that entire conversation with Veritas. When he could see that he was not getting through to me he sent me away to a military substation, afraid that I would do something even rasher. I was so angry that the soldiers literally had to drag me kicking, screaming, and swearing out of the base.

The following weeks were filled with the trial of Absalom in the Templar headquarters in Antioch. I was asked to testify, and I sat through all of the proceedings. It seemed that the other Templar were just like Veritas and were content with allowing Absalom to live on, even after what he had done. The Knight Commander, acting as judge, followed the Paladin’s advice, who was acting as the prosecutor, both of them showing more mercy than that beast of a man deserved. Apparently, Absalom came from some high-ranking family with lots of money and members in the Templar Order, and the death penalty was too harsh for him. Despite my many appeals to the courts and to individual Knights, Absalom was sentenced to life in hard bondage at the penitentiary in the bowls of industrial centers of Zion.

Gawain, I learned a harsh lesson from all of this.” She looked hard into his eyes to see whether he understood why she had wanted Absalom’s blood so badly. Gawain was not sure if he did understand, nevertheless, she impressed on him the importance of her discovery, “The Templar are never to be trusted Gawain, never. One of them defiled and murdered my family, and the others were too decent, too high-brow, too civilized, to execute him like the mad dog he was and is!” Her voice was ferocious and snarling and it startled Gawain out of his thoughts.

He looked hard into her eyes as she bored into his. She has suffered a lot, and has some justification for wanting the man to die. The rest of his natural life…just how long was that exactly for a Templar? Would Absalom outlive Angela’s great grandchildren? Maybe they should have killed him. He nodded at her, his voice smooth, “Perhaps they were too kind.”

She smiled a vicious smiled that chilled Gawain’s heart, “That is damn right! I will never forgive them for what they did to me. Jericho might be a good man, but he can’t be relied upon to make the tough decisions that would lead to true justice. The Templar are too soft. The story ends with them getting me a job with the Army as an outlet for my anger. Some pity they showed, I transferred as far from those weak willed ninnies in Antioch as I could, and I have never looked back.”

Gawain was not sure if he agreed or disagreed with this assessment. Jericho was certainly not soft. He had watched the knight mercilessly slay dozens of demon thralls only a few days before this. But would he have done the same if those thralls had once been Templar Knights? He could not answer this question and he did not feel like going any further with the conversation that night.

He glanced at the wall readout; it was two o’clock in the morning. “Angela it is getting late.”

The simple and unexpected statement caught her off guard. She looked around behind her to see the clock as well. She sighed, slumping exhausted, her anger spent, “So it is.” She had been grinding her emotions for the majority of the evening, and Gawain could feel the heaviness settling into his own eyelids.

He got up, “Thank you very much Angela, both for sharing your time with me, and for trusting me with your past. I hope that you will allow me to come back tomorrow and tell you my own story…” He let the question hang in the air.

She did not get up but she did look up into his eyes. Her own were soft again and she seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. “Of course Gawain, please come back tomorrow, it will be lonely on base and I will welcome the company.”

Gawain smiled at her, a slow sad smile, but one that he hoped conveyed his pleasure at being invited back. She smiled back at him. Despite the weight of emotions, she had demonstrated throughout the evening, her smile was genuine, beautiful and radiant once more. Gawain felt his mind muddle for a moment, and he left as quickly as he could without being rude, welcoming the cold night air as it filled his lungs.

He set off back towards the now mostly deserted compound, his mind racing over the information he had learned. So Knights can marry huh, that seems logical though it must be hard to marry a woman who would age faster than you would. He followed the rope lining the side of the path, he had no flashlight and he needed the guidance in the near perfect dark beneath the trees. What exactly is a Paladin? What is their role in all of this mess that is the Templar government…what is excommunication, and why would they allow someone as cruel and sadistic live let alone into the Templar order in the first place? His mind swirled with these and other unanswerable questions as he walked past the sentry sitting by the entrance to the compound. They exchanged nods and Gawain moved inside the deserted barracks. There was only one other form in the room, and the steady breathing of the individual told him that she was asleep.

Gawain undressed silently and lay down on his cot. Angela, his mind sighed. What a terrible and interesting life you’ve had. I am sorry to know it, but glad you told me. It was a mixed emotion; at least she seems to like me… He pondered that for a second, for some reason anyway... His mind turned towards the unfairness of life and how there was seemingly no reason why one person should suffer so much rather than another. God…I know that you can hear me. I just don’t understand. Why do you allow this much pain? He slowly drifted into unconsciousness, happy that he would be able to sleep in, there was not going to be much to do around the base for a few days.

҂ ҂ ҂

Jericho issued the order to mobilize around 11:15 that night. He had already collected his shield and saddled Charlemagne. He stood waiting in the clearing with the APCs for the rest of the soldiers to prepare and fall in line. His report to High Command had been brief and businesslike. He had informed them of his plan, and that he would be out of contact for at least the next few days. They had wished him the blessings of Heaven, and that God guide his hands on the battlefield. He knew he had quite some time to wait, and so he knelt in the field and meditated.

There were a great number of Knights in the Dreamscape that evening; he spoke with those who seemed interested. They offered their advice and good wishes, he thanked them and bid them goodbye, perhaps forever. None of them knew for sure. This assignment was not safe in the slightest and it would not have been the first time that a Knight had lost his or her life in the heat of battle. While he wandered the library of his dreams and his body slowly became filled with strength, the base around him became active to the point of chaos.

Soldiers were scampering about everywhere preparing everything they would need. Sergeants and lieutenants shouted orders and corporals rushed to carry them to the rest of the troops. Ammo boxes were opened, armor was donned, blades sharpened, and provisions laid. The Captains were everywhere overseeing the preparations and ensuring that the half-asleep troops did not make any mistakes in the early morning hours. The glade around the still and silent Jericho slowly began to fill as the preparations were completed. Men and women armed to the teeth stood about waiting for the order to roll, horses snorted and stomped amidst the low murmured conversations.

All told, it only took two hours for all of the soldiers on base to become fully mobile and ready to move out. The last two figures to enter the glade were the pair of Captains who had remained behind to issue final orders to the sentries remaining behind, and to ensure that there were no stragglers. As soon as they entered the lit clearing, Charlemagne nosed Jericho who immediately awoke. He stood up using his spear as support.

He looked around at the troops gathered around him, everyone was silent even the horses, many of the soldiers casting furtive glances at him. Jericho smiled widely, but it was a dangerous and wild smile as opposed to his usually jovial nature. He nodded to the Captains and to the four men and two women standing next to them. “Let us begin!” He shouted into the night and leapt up onto the waiting horse’s back. Everyone moved at once, the disciplined soldiers formed themselves into the five groups that began to break up. Three for the APCs, one for Lieutenant Smith, and the smallest and most nervous group mounted and followed Jericho as he rode into the South.

Jericho finally felt ready, awake, and alive. The cool night breeze caressed his skin and rustled Charlemagne’s hair. They galloped hard for the first few minutes intensifying the feeling of coming conflict in Jericho. The meditation had been a good idea. Speaking with his fellow Knights on the eve of a conflict was always encouraging. He knew that the coming hours would be risky for everyone under his command and himself. As he rode hard towards their goal, his thoughts centered on one clarion though, Now, I WILL hunt down the demons.

The roar of the APCs and the crunching of hooves filled the woods for hundreds of yards. Nocturnal beasts scampered away and the trees themselves seemed to draw away from the eager soldiers traipsing about under their branches. The coming night would decide the fates of all those who passed under the eaves of the forest, but the Trees would remain long after these men departed. They took no more notice of them than the moon took notice of the sea. Nature was above such petty squabbles, for that night, at least.