“Now, strike,” whispered Jon to himself but so quietly that only he heard it.
Sorus noted the distraction but did not attack and instead circled to gain a better position and Thadeus snarled, “You bastard,” and regained his balance as quickly as he lost it. “I’ll kill you,” he said and moved forward, his sword a blur of motion. Sorus managed to block the first few blows but was driven quickly backwards and suddenly felt a stinging on the side of his face and then another on his shield arm.
“Now you die!” shrieked Thadeus lunging towards the former brewer with the tip of blade aimed directly at the center of Sorus’ chest.
Sorus suddenly remembered how Jon had stepped forward when the dragon child attacked him and did the same while also turning his body slightly sideways; this caused the thrust to slide inches past him. His own blade, the heavy sword of Sir Germanius, came down on the area between Thadeus’s shoulder and neck and bit ten inches into the flesh.
Thadeus’s momentum took him into Sorus and the two collided with a thud that sent them both backward a step. Thadeus snarled, and then the shower of blood that coated the left side of his face and body seemed to catch his attention as he reached up and touched the wound. The expression on his face went from anger to puzzlement, and then his legs collapsed out from under him, the blood gushing from the deep wound. He stayed on his knees for a second, his gaze still fixed at Sorus as his mouth opened and closed silently. Finally he managed to gasp, “A brewer boy?” and fell face first to the ground.
“Well fought, Sorus Nightwalk,” said Jon as he came up behind Sorus. “You should have taken him when he stumbled, but you hesitated.”
“I know,” said Sorus with a look down at his fallen foe. The blood geyser slowly abated although the pool of reddish brown ichor continued to grow. “I’ll need lessons.”
Jon nodded his head, “You did well though. The only badly fought duel is the one you lose. Now, I suspect the people in town will support us against the mayor, but I think it best if we don’t put them in that position. Shall we try to find the First Rider or look for Sir Odellius and the other townsmen?”
“I… I don’t know,” said Sorus. “Let’s just get the horses and get out of here for now. Is that all right Jon?”
The big gray knight nodded his head, “That sounds just about perfect to me, Sir Sorus, after you?” he said with a motion of his hand towards the stables. “They probably haven’t even finished brushing down the horses yet.”
Sorus started to lead the way but then looked back at the two bodies in the dirt, two men who, moments before, stood vibrant and alive, and thanks to a stupid disagreement now lay dead on the ground. Sorus knew that Thadeus had a daughter and maybe a son as well from a marriage that ended sometime in the past, and he now remembered the party just two months ago at the Smooth Strider where Decilus celebrated the birth of his first son. He looked at the two lifeless bodies and felt not just an overwhelming sadness at their death, for dying happened to everyone, but that he caused the death and not indirectly at that. His hand found Sir Germanius’s sword sheathed at his side and he bit his upper lip as he stared at the bodies for a long moment.
Jon watched the boy for a moment and remembered a similar moment in his own life, when he fought against the orcs of the Five Nations and left behind him a trail of corpses. His father stood next to him that day and told him someday he’d have to encourage young knights in the same position. “I knew someday I’d be the one leading others, telling them how to behave, I just didn’t think so soon,” he thought to himself and turned to Sorus. He let the boy look at the bodies for a moment longer and then stepped up behind him and spoke, “They’re dead and only dark magic can bring them back. You killed Thadeus because that is the way the world spun today. Tomorrow someone might stand over your corpse and wonder why. I don’t think there are any answers,” he went on and put his hand on Sorus’s shoulder. “My father says the only reason for anything is that which we give it. There is no grand scheme, no power to guider our destiny, we make our own way in the world, and if that’s not enough then too bad.”
Sorus looked up from the bodies. “Your father is a hard man,” he said to his friend. “I’d like to think there is meaning behind all of this whether it be the Black Horse, the White Mare, or some other god of the orcs or the dragon children, or the Dorians, maybe. I don’t know.”
“Give it meaning,” said Jon. “That’s what my father always says. Nothing happens for a reason but we go on living anyway.” The young man suddenly got a faraway look in his eyes and stood up straight:
“Because my life is my own to lead
Because my destiny is my own to forge
No one else can guide my hand
No one else can govern my mind”
“What’s that,” said Sorus as Jon began to walk off towards the stables.
“It’s part of the gray oath,” said Jon. “When a gray knight invites you to join the order you stand in front of the gray wall, plant a flag of your old allegiance on it, and say the oath.”
“Oh,” said Sorus. “So if I were to come back with you to Tanelorn and become a gray knight I’d have to give up my loyalty to Elekargul?”
Jon looked at him as they walked and nodded his head, “That’s right, Sir Sorus. When you become a gray knight you foreswear all other oaths and promise to lead your own life.”
“But isn’t that swearing an oath to the Gray Lord then?” said Sorus as they approached the stables. Their horses still stood out front as a young groomsman carefully brushed them down.
“No,” said Jon. “That oath is really to you, not the Gray Lord, not Tanelorn. You swear to be true to yourself no matter what. It’s a surprisingly difficult oath to say and to keep.”
“I suppose your father is the one who made it up?” said Sorus with a smile. “Ho there, Junius,” he shouted to the boy who brushed down the horses. “Saddle up mine and Sir Jon’s again, we’re heading back out.”
“Hey Sorus,” started the dark haired boy with a smile but then caught himself, “I mean Sir Sorus.”
“Word’s getting around then, is it?” he said with a smile and walked over to his friend. “There was trouble at the mayor’s,” he said. “You’re probably going to hear some bad things about me and about Jon but I’m on your side in all this. Jon and I are going to get to the bottom of this trouble, don’t you worry.”
“I was mostly worried that Sir Arturious was going to tan my backside for not brushing down the horses fast enough, so two less is a good thing!” said Junius and broke into a large smile. “I can’t wait until his twelve month is done, the First Rider has to put someone better in charge next time.”
“It’s good to worry about the things that affect you most,” said Jon as he meandered over and patted his trotter on the flank. “A good tanning of the backside is of more immediate importance than an invading reptile army. Let that be a lesson to you, Sir Sorus.”
Sorus nodded his head, “I see your point,” and then he stood and watched as the boy saddled up both of the horses.
“We keep a supply of grain and rations in saddle bags for emergencies,” said Junius looking at Sorus. “In case someone doesn’t have time to pack. I can get a couple if you like?”
“That’s a very good idea, Junius,” said the young knight and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go grab that while Jon and I finish prepping the horses?”
The boy nodded his head and ran off into the stable.
“I should have thought of that,” said Sorus to no one in particular. “I’m still getting the hang of being a knight, and now I’ve got to learn how to be a fugitive!”