The Calamity: Epilogue 2

The rock dug into his palm like dull knives. His forehead was slick with sweat, the desert heat lingering much longer than it should have considering the moon hanging overhead. The velvet night sky was welcoming, the pin pricks of stars like the stitching that held it all together. The light shone off the edges of the cliff and he desperately looked for how he was going to bring himself further up.

Taking a steadying breath, he did his best to center himself just like Morrigan taught him. He could hear her stern voice now, ‘Stop hesitating and climb. The longer you wait, the stiffer you’ll become and the faster you fall’. Chuckling he did as she would have commanded and put one arm in front of the other.

One hand grabbed an ugly jutting rock. A foot tucked into a gaping crevice. Another hand found a thinner purchase that his fingers clung to tightly. He pulled upward and felt the rock crumble in his grip.

For a second he was weightless, floating in the air. He knew what it was like to fly and this was very much like it. Except he felt the hands of gravity clinging to his shoulders, hands, thighs and back eagerly seeking to embrace him.

His lips moved, words leaving his lips as a whisper that echoed across the rocks. His hand dug into the rock like it were fresh dough and he slammed into the wall. Pressing his forehead to the coolness of the stone.

“What the hell is up here that’s so damn important?” he mumbled as he began to climb.

Each step was shaky but each grab tore a chunk of rock. Dropping sizable stones to the sand below he climbed, not listening to the moans of his shoulders and the shouts of his knees grinding against the wall.

“Hand. Foot. Hand. Foot. Left. Right. Left. Right.”

He reported this mantra in time to each step and pull. Like a song he changed his rhythm, high notes for each hand and low grumbles for each step. Before he knew it, he was rolling over the top. Spreading himself over, one leg and arm over the edge he sighed softly and then turned his head to stare at the sky.

It really was beautiful to look at. Watching them twinkle in and out of sight, the moon just outside of his peripheral but he still squinted into the light of it. Sighing he rolled onto his side and swung his legs over the side of the cliff and rested his hands onto his lap. There was more rock to his back, he at least had a path that he could walk on.

His hair once deep and chocolate brown was now a soft platinum blonde and cut very short barely touching his ears. His eyes were sharp and cheek bones were sharp but features still a little soft. Brushing his fingers through his hair he sighed.

“Took you long enough Al. I thought you would never make it up here.”

He looked over his shoulder and scowled at the Cerisan knight. Even in his tattered shirt and pants he still looked regal. His dark skin glowing in the moonlight. A sharp crooked nose, emerald eyes that were older than the face that held them. His hair was black and in one long braid down his back.

“Ben I’ve got half a mind to stab you,” he said throwing a glare like it was a knife. “Don’t push it.”

Benidict chuckled as he extended his hand. Alistair took it getting to his feet and stood at the same height. “You’re so cute when you’re annoyed.”

“Shut up,” he said pushing past him with a blush on his cheeks. He stomped across the path glad that there was space for him to actually walk and not have to climb. He heard Benidict following behind him and he did his best to continue to ignore him but it wasn’t easy because he had a presence that was all his own.

Alistair stomped forward, hands balled into fist and his shoulder’s ached from the hunch in which he walked. But he sighed and glanced at him. Though Benidict was looking ahead on their path he held Alistair’s attention. He was always just this side of aware of the Cerisan and he felt his cheeks warming again before opening his mouth to speak.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Benidict said surprising him and Alistair blinked slowly before glancing away quickly and nodding.

“It was better than staying at home. Vince and my sister have been out together on missions. And Morrigan has been…” he trailed off frowning because he didn’t know how to put it.

“Grumpy, emotional, scatter brand, angry, and quiet?” Benidict suggested and Alistair nodded.

“Yes. All of that.”

“I thought that she might get that way,” Benidict sighed and glanced toward the sky. “Do you know what day it is?”

He glanced at the moon’s position and mumbled under his breath a few times. “I think it’s near the end of the month.”

His knight companion chuckled but shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.” He sighed heavily. “It’s been about four months to the day since the Calamity. Since,” he paused for a moment and took a breath. “Since we lost Her Majesty. And Morrigan is still trying to process that loss.”

His heart skipped a beat because he didn’t realize it. The days had blended together so much that he had been at a loss to it. But as he said this he realized just how correct that was and stared at the ground. “I’m sorry. And we got into an argument the other day. I thought she was being stubborn.”

“She probably was. She’s always stubborn. But her quickness to fight was because of this. She’s been short with me as well. I confronted her and she almost drew her sword and broke down at the same time.”

They walked in silence together for a while longer, the path turning slowly. “What about you?” Alistair asked finally.

“Me?” he chuckled dryly and sighed softly. “I am handling it. The pain is fresh. A throbbing in my heart that I can’t touch. That I can’t soothe with a hand or water. It hurts and it will always hurt.” He his face contorted for a moment and then turned his gaze back to the sky. “But it’s why we’re on this journey.”

“Journey to where? I still don’t know where we’re going.”

“Patience Al,” he smiled. “You’ll see soon. And maybe we’ll be able to help our Sanguiknight.”

 They walked together along the path and with the new clarity Alistair was pensive. Biting his lip, he kept flexing his hands out and then clenching. Back and forth over and over. He kept thinking of himself and Morrigan. The words he shouted at her, calling her selfish and frustrating. His heart sank. Her words had hurt him but knowing their cause made him reconsider it all.

The breeze washed over him, gentle and cool which helped to fight the warmth around them. Benidict was watching him from the corner of his eye because he knew just how anxious his partner could and would be. Glancing at him he reached out and took his hand. He laced his thin fingers against his thicker ones and gave them a squeeze.

The intimacy made him jump. He still wasn’t used to things like that. Even in the isolated area in which they were both residing. But Alistair squeezed that hand remembering that Benidict was in pain, pain he wouldn’t really show in front of him.

They walked hand in hand for the rest of the path not speaking. Their shared company made the journey shorter but as they got to the summit of the rock face they were greeted by a church. At least what looked like one to Alistair. He stopped for a moment and his arm was pulled by Benidict with a somber smile.

The structure was tall, several formerly stained-glass windows along the walls most now shattered. The stone that kept the building up right was chipped and weahered by wind and stone but it didn’t look weak and ready to fall over, simply old. The windows that were still in one piece had pictures of a woman, garbed in red with dark skin and a veil covering her face.

They followed the path that sloped to the great doors of the church. Their hands separated and Benidict held a hand out to indicate for him to stop. Walking toward the great doors Benidict reached into his pocket producing a signet ring.

Sliding it onto his finger he held it out to the door and immediately bowed low to the ground. For a moment nothing happened and then the doors creaked. Slowly they opened outward, large woodened and stone contraptions spreading open. The sound of it gliding over the stone was rough showing just how old this place.

The interior was a soft silver from the moonlight streaming in. There were no pews or benches for people to sit in. There was only an altar at the far side of the room. A large faded, chipped and slightly torn image of the Queen of Cerise in the wall.

She sat, her dress red like blood and hands in her lap. Her dark hair was braided and tied back. Her face was covered by the veil that Alistair remembered seeing on her face. On the altar before her visage were several long since melted candles though some others were still there with saucers. They rested on a stacking table and as he stared he realized they weren’t alone in this church.

Someone was kneeling, a sword in hand and pressed against the stone ground. They wore a cloak around their shoulders and head was bowed deeply without any hair on their head.

Alistair looked toward Benidict who frowned but stepped in front of him and walked forward slowly. “Hello friend. What brings you to one of the churches of Her Majesty?” he asked in a tone that he hoped was calm.

The person didn’t move and the pair shared a glance. Benidict put his hand on the pommel of his sword. Alistair did the same adjusting the strap of the sword at his hip, ready to draw it in case he needed to. Benidict walked forward hesitantly, Alistair close behind him.

As they walked they could both just barely hear the words of the stranger. He was mumbling a chant or maybe a prayer. Alistair couldn’t understand the language of what was being said. As they walked one of them stepped a broken piece of glass and they both stopped startled.

The man jerked and then turned to face them. His face was heavily scarred, eyes blood shot and wide. The pupils were barely pin pricks in the veiny whiteness. The entire bottom half of his mouth was soaked in blood, dripping from his chin. A goblet was on the ground its red contents spilling on the floor.

“Heathens. The Queen’s voice echoes in my mind. To defend Her whims. To slay the heathen before me. You will not harm the throne. You will not harm the Queen!”

His shout echoed within the church as he whipped his sword in front of him. As it moved blood laced the edge of it and turned it from a short sword to a claymore sized weapon. He ran forward almost as a blur. It was as fast as Morrigan when she was under the sway of her sword.

Alistair froze in place for a moment but Benidict drew his own blade and it clashed against the blood sword. The force made him stumble backwards. The man snarled like a beast and with a huff swung the sword upward in a swing that launched Benidict into the air. Alistair gasped in shock but his training kicked in.

Drawing his sword, a blade made of stone instead of steel, he blocked the swing at his head and his thin arms shook. Squaring his shoulders, he stood his ground under the force of the attack. He could feel the manic energy radiating off the man like a cloud. It choked him, making him feel ill but he kept his grip on the sword tight.

“Heathen! Defiler! You will be cleansed!” With each word blood sprayed from his mouth into Alistair’s face.

He could hear Morrigan’s words ring in his ears drowning out the madness. “Stop running from every opponent! You’re stronger than any normal fighter. None will expect your strength. Be the mountain. When someone tries to move you, you stand your ground and move them!”

“Yes Morrigan,” he grit his teeth and let his magic out. Suddenly hiis arms bulked up to twice their size. With a tightened grip on the blade he pushed and swung down sending the man stumbling backwards. Taking a breather, Alistair whipped his sword in front of him and pressed his hand against the blade. Dragging it along the edge it glowed a bright silver as if the moon itself blessed its edges. It grew to twice its size and mirrored the blood soaked blade of the man.”

“What is this perverse mockery of the Queen’s blessing? You dare to mock Her in such a way. Death is too good a punishment!”

Snarling he ran at Alistair with a wide slash. Alistair jumped back avoiding it but retaliated with his glowing blade. Their blades clashed sending shivers up his arm. They clashed back and forth Alistair trying to push the man back before their blades clashed together again.

Unlike the last time Alistair wasn’t going to play fairly. He kicked at the man’s knee jolting him with pain and swung hard with the sword driving the man down to his other knee. Alistair raised his sword to swing down on the man but a hand shot up to grasp his magic enhanced sword.

The edge of the blade dug into the man’s skin but those crazed eyes turned to Alistair, laser focused. Swinging his free hand, the man’s blood soaked blade swung at Alistair’s exposed side. Before it could connect a thin red blade slid between the two. Benidict gripped his bloodied longsword with both hands and turned swiftly. He knocked the sword clean from the man’s hand.

The clatter of the metal across the ground was loud in the sudden silence as Benidict pressed the tip of his sword against his throat. “You claim to serve my Queen and yet attack one of Her knights.”

“You heathens will burn in the fires of my loyalty. I’ll present them to the Queen and she will honor me with Her favor!” he shouted and Benidict looked at him with eyes wrapped in cold red pity.

“You poor fool,” he whispered to himself. “May you serve my Queen in the next world.”

With a quick and careful flick of his wrist, the blood thrust forward and pierced the man’s neck with a small spray. Bendict stepped forward driving the blade down to the hilt and stared into the man’s eyes. “Close your eyes my brother. And rest. Find ourr Queen’s warm embrace and be at peace.”

The man’s blood shot eyes rolled almost entirely back and for a moment the madness cleared. His mouth worked but he gurgled on his own blood unable to form words. Benidict lay him onto the sliding his sword free and shaking his head slowly. “An unfortunate causality.”

Alistair watched warily, his arms shrinking the magic fading from the sword, reducing it back to stone. As the blood pooled at their feet Alistair turned his gaze back to Benidict. “What happened to him?”

“An unfortunate side effect of losing Her Majesty,” He frowned and when he looked at Alistair he was looking through him more than at him. Bendict walked toward the sword that lay against the ground. Touching the blade his hand jerked back, dripping blood.

“As I thought. He was a Sanguiknight,” Looking at the mural of the queen on the wall he frowned harder. “Without Her Majesty, he went mad. A mad knight without a monarch. A fate worse than death.”

Benidict turned that weary gaze onto Alistair and he felt the weight it, the weight of years that Alistair would never experience just dropped onto him in an instant. He felt very small and very young under that gaze and he couldn’t meet it. He tore his eyes away to look at the broken glass of one of the windows trying to find the origin from the shards on the ground.

He balled his hands into fist and walked straight up to Benidict. Benidict watched him carefully, his face a pleasant mask. Alistair touched his cheek gently and with his free hand he pulled him forward kissing him lightly and then pressed his forehead against his own. “You’re hurting Ben. Only a few months ago you lost your world.”

At the mention of that he felt the knight stiffen but then take a slow shudder of a breath. Reaching down he found his hand, squeezed it and then pulling him toward the altar. They both knelt in front of it and lowered their heads.

They stayed in silence for a long while. Benidict broke the silence first. “There are others out there. Who gather to preserve the legacy of Her Majesty. They are few and far between but they exist. Mori and I neglected to join them because we were used to facing our grief alone. But having you here does make the pain easier to cope with.” He said softly.

When Alistair looked at him he realized Benidict was staring. There were glints of tears in his eyes, his face a twist of emotions. Alistair moved to his side but Benidict raised a hand to stop him. “As much as I would enjoy your touch, right now isn’t the time. We came here so I could pay my respects to Her Majesty but also to take this.”

Standing he walked to the table and picked up a candle holder. It was gold, the candle wax long since burned away. But what made it special was the engraving on the bottom of it. “This is a relic from Cerise, one of many spread around the world. I wanted to take this home so that Morrigan will have a similar altar to pray to. And maybe convince her to stop holding the pain to herself.”

“She’s stubborn,” Alistair said with a frown.

“That she is. It makes her a great knight. But she’s not alone anymore. Even less so than she once was,” he squeezed his shoulder with a warm smile. “Plus you have a way of bringing her heart out. In a similar way Her Majesty did.”

Benidict stroked his cheek and he sighed in relief. “You both give me too much credit.”

“Credit due where it is earned. Now come along. Before the sun rises,” he instructed.

Going toward the fallen sword he plucked it off the ground. It was heavier than he initially anticipated but it was a quiet blade now. “Is it a smart idea to take that thing?” Alistair asked.

“Well he doesn’t need it anymore. And maybe I can find it a better master.” Benidict glanced at Alistair for a moment then sighed.

Taking the hilt as well he tied it to his hip and slid the blade into its new home. He flinched as it left his hand and stared at his hand, bloodied. The sword wasn’t as quiet as he thought. Alistair took his hand, staring at the blood and then at him with a frown.

“What is with you Cerisans and your blood weapons.”

He snorted and then began to laugh which was infectious because Alistair laughed as well. He felt a soft chill down his spine and glanced over his shoulder. For a moment he thought the portrait of the queen was looking at him but he shook his head with a small smile and a silent vow.

I’ll do my best to take care of these two knights.