“I need to know something,” said Arran.
Grime and soot smeared Liam’s lean face. The King hung in a harness across the old Knight’s armored back, similar to the baskets the peasants of the mountains of Rindl used for their children. The King slept, his little hands clenching. Rolling hills stood over the road, peaceful despite the tumults of war.
“Yes?” said Sir Liam.
“Where are we going?” said Arran.
They had ridden eight hundred miles in the last three weeks, across the breadth of the war-torn High Kingdoms. Arran thought it a miracle that the bouncing of their desperate ride hadn’t shaken the young King to death. They had ridden past ruined cities, their walls and towers ablaze, past small hamlets filled with bullet-ridden corpses. Of the thirty Knights that had escaped the ruin of Carlisan only nine remained. Once the Knights had been the finest warriors in all the High Kingdoms, able to master any foe. Now any unshaven peasant with a gun could kill dozens. It was a truth too hard to face.
More than one Knight had fallen on his Sacred Blade in the dark of the night.
“To take the King to a safe place,” said Sir Liam.
“And where would that be?” said Arran. Liam tried to ride away, but Arran spurred his horse and caught up to the older Knight. “Just where would be safe, Sir Liam? Marugon’s men are everywhere. His guns are everywhere. The winged demons are everywhere, flying through the sky or slouching in the disguise of real men. Just where is safe?”
“You will have to trust me,” said Liam.
“No,” said Arran. Liam spun, anger flashing in his eyes. “This has cost too much. I need to know where we are going, or else I cannot go on at all.”
Liam stared at him for a long moment, and then finally nodded. “Very well. We are going to the Crimson Plain.”
Arran blinked. “Why? The Crimson Plain is at the edge of the world. What is there? Are we to run so far that even the winged demons cannot find us?”
“No,” said Liam. “Arran…the Tower of Endless Worlds stands in the Crimson Plain.”
Arran’s hands tightened against his reins. “What? That is a cursed place. Marugon’s guns came from the Tower. And the Crimson Plain is a haunt for ghouls and devils. Why are we taking the King there? There is nothing there but death.”
“Because,” said Liam, his voice a rasp. “Because I plan to take the King through the Tower and to Earth.”
Arran’s temper flared. “Earth? Why would you take the King to such a hellish place? Marugon went there, Sir Liam Mastere, and he returned with guns and liquid flame and the other hell-machines! Have you betrayed us to our enemies?”
Sir Liam’s hands twitched towards the hilts of his Sacred Blades. “No! I have given everything to the cause of the King.”
“I lost my brother!” said Arran.
“I lost as much as you!” said Liam, his voice rising to a shout.
They glared at each other for a long moment.
Liam calmed. “Think, young Knight. I told you of the Prophecy of Alastarius, did I not?”
Arran managed a nod.
“Alastarius Prophesied that this boy, Lithon Scepteris, could save our world from Marugon.” Liam sighed. “Alastarius told me this moments before Goth-Mar-Dan, the king of the winged demons, killed him.”
“How do you know this?” said Arran. “Alastarius disappeared before the fall of Carlisan.”
“I was at Castle Bastion when it fell. I saw Alastarius betrayed. I saw Goth-Mar-Dan kill him,” said Liam, his face stony. “But Alastarius made one more Prophecy before Goth-Mar-Dan tore out his heart. Alastarius said he would return from the grave, that Lithon would find a way to bring him back. Alastarius was the greatest of the White Council. He could have defeated Marugon, if not for the betrayal. But if Lithon does not live, then Alastarius cannot return, and our world is…”
“I understand that!” said Arran. “But why are we taking the King to the hell that is this other world, this Earth?”
“Because,” said Liam. “Marugon heard the Prophecy as well. Once he learns that Lithon lives, he will look for the King. But Marugon will never think to look for the King on Earth. He will scour our world from one end to another…but he will not find the King.”
Arran sagged. “But how are we to keep the King safe on Earth? We have seen the horrors of the guns. What other nightmares might this world have produced?”
“Many,” said Liam. He paused. “But I do not think it is a world entirely of horrors, Arran. Marugon’s gunmen have more than guns. They have meat that is free of disease and keeps for years. They have cloaks and mantles of strange cloth, light as silk, yet warm as the heaviest fur. And they have medicines that fight putrefied wounds and deadly plagues. I think these things came through the Tower, as well. Perhaps there are wonders on Earth to match the horrors, Arran. We will find a way to keep the King safe there.”
“Maybe,” said Arran. “But the Crimson Plain is two thousand miles from Carlisan, on the other side of the nations. We have not even covered a third of that distance, and there are only eleven of us left. How are we to get the King to the Tower of Endless Worlds, let alone take him to Earth?”
“We shall find a way,” said Liam. “The true gods will protect us.”
“They have protected us so well already, after all,” said Arran.
Liam glared. “Our cause is just. We will find a way.”
“We should make a way,” said Arran.
Liam’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
Arran licked his lips. “Marugon’s gunmen have destroyed half our world with their weapons. Our Sacred Blades cannot stand against the power of the guns! If…”
Liam’s countenance hardened. “Do not say it!”
“If we take up the guns, kill a few of the gunmen and claim their weapons, perhaps we can turn the tide!” said Arran. “The gunmen are untrained peasant louts. Think of what a trained and anointed Knight could do with guns in hand. Sir Liam, we could…”
“No!” The King started to cry. A few of the other Knights glanced their way.
“But…” said Arran.
“No!” Liam chopped an armored hand through the air. “No! Do not think of it, do not consider it! Those guns are wicked things, a dark power that destroys and ravages! They are too powerful for mortal hands to wield. You have seen the wanton slaughter. Look at the corruption they have brought to Marugon’s soldiers. Look at the destruction they have rained upon the nations! I beg of you, Arran, speak not again of using a gun. The temptation will gnaw at your mind until it destroys you, until you become as wretched and evil as Marugon himself.”
“But we need a way to fight back!” said Arran. “Our swords are useless against their guns.”
“So be it,” said Liam. “I would die with the hilt of a Sacred Blade in my fingers, rather than the greasy handle of a smoking gun.”
“Even at the cost of the King’s life?” said Arran.
The two Knights stared at each other. At last Sir Liam flicked his reins and started his horse forward. “If you take up a gun, Arran, I will kill you myself.”
Arran fell silent.
***