The Old Knight's Shadow

The Old Knight trudged along a trail, eyes dead set on a lone shack at the foot of the hill. Now that it was in his sights, Chuyo's hand was clutched around a familiar weight of two wood-carved toys on a chain around his neck.

His hand trembled, and not only from the cold.

A light illuminated the windows, a warm, inviting light of a home, a warmth that left the Old Knight long ago. The wind pulled at his cloak, kept together only by frozen misery, tugged at the many holes and whipped his face each time he left the shelter of oaks and birches to walk over a clearing. Each step sank into the muck and sapped more strength out of Chuyo than the last. The air was hard to breathe in. Sent an icy chill down to his stomach and made him shiver each time he gasped as he lost his footing, or saw a monster-shaped shadow fleeting by. He had his eyes squinted for such a long time, and so hard he wasn't sure he could open them all the way again.

A root came out of nowhere, wrapped around his foot as if it reached out the ground with its gnarled wooden fingers and Chuyo fell on the ground, his knees clicked and his breath got punched out of his stomach. He winced from the pain that followed and when he opened his eyes, a thin blanket of snow covered his hands. Felt like the time he rocked the chair on his porch by the sunset and awoke in the dark. The Old Knight knew he could reach the shack. Just not right now when everything hurt and the wind howled as if it tried to drown all other sounds. Knew it right in his heart that he could, if only he had a little rest.

Chuyo also knew he made a promise, uttered by his son's grave.

He reached into his cloak, traced the shape of the wooden knight and the dragon with his thumb and his forefinger, and rose to his feet.

He imagined his approach to be covert. A tree to huddle behind, some undergrowth to crawl along over to an open window, where he'd climb in, sleek as shadow and- And the shack had its back against a steep incline of a hill and had a porch overlooking a clearing that wedged around the fence, not a stump or a thicket in sight. The Old Knight steadied his trembling hand, covered his blade with the remnants of his cloak, and walked over to the front door like a neighbor coming for dinner.

     A sliver of warmth shined through. The door was open.

He saw no one spying by the windows. Heard casual conversation inside. Someone giggling. The Old Knight unsheathed his blade, braced, and kicked the door open to a resounding, high-pitched scream from inside.

       The contrast of light against the darkness outside stunned him, but not nearly as much as having his blade up in the air ready to cut someone down in half, only to find out the two of them were near the ground already.

       Two children, playing by the hearth.

       He made a sound between a stutter and someone choking on a stale piece of bread. Walking up half the North in the winter all over again seemed an easier task than saying a single coherent word right there and then.

       'Nice sword,' said the little girl. Younger of the two and twice as fierce as her kind-faced brother. 'Can I hold it?'

       'What?' The Old Knight recovered by the sheer virtue of his rusted parenting skills itching in outrage. 'No! That would be terribly dangerous, for one so little.'

       'I'm bigger than her,' said her brother, face full of hope.

       'Not near big enough,' Chuyo said and pointed at the door. 'Or responsible. Unlocked door, this time of the day? It's going dark. Did your mother not teach you-'

       'Our mother died.'

       'Ah.' Months with no one but his horse for company did not equip Chuyo for such conversation. 'Your father around?'

       The girl stepped in front of her brother and lifted her chin. 'He's close.'

       'Lovely.'

       'You came to visit our father, mister?' Said the boy, hiding behind a curtain of her blonde curls.

       'I am.' And a long time coming.

       'We don't get many visits up here.' The girl's freckled face scrounged into a frown. 'Not in the winter.' She just had those eyes that drilled right past your eyes. Smart. Always doubting. Always asking, just like his Lyren did when he was little. Made Chuyo's heart skip a beat, his stomach clench.

       'I'm here for a good reason, young lady,' he said, trying to think of a reason. Gods, he was even using his good old stern parenting voice. It really came back fast. 'Your… father. Yes. I've seen him by the river in the valley. He told me he won't be back for a while, worried a lot about you two. He looked like he was in a rush, so he sent me.'

       The Old Knight looked at their faces. The boy nodded and smiled. The girl didn't buy it for a second.

       'Been trying to find your father for a long time. Me and your father fought in the same war, know him from way back,' said the Old Knight. Those eyes of hers bothered him. It was as if she could reach inside his mind and hook his thoughts out on the surface easier than fishing. He pointed at the sticks by the hearth and said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice 'I'm Chuyo. What do you have there?'

       The boy snatched up one of the wooden figurines, three twisted sticks bound together by a vine, all proud, and held it up high. 'A dragon.'

       'And you? What have you got?'

       Two sticks, bound in a cross. 'A knight,' she said.

       'There's a battle going on?'

       The boy's eyes grew large. 'How'd you know, mister?'

       ''There's a dragon, and there, a knight. Bound to be a battle.' The Old Knight found himself smiling. 'So, who's winning?'

       'He always does.' The girl sighed, to some amusement of her brother. ‘The dragon has scales harder than a rock, eyes that see in the dark, and a tail spike full of poison. And we can't both have a dragon, so I can't win.'

       The girl still followed Chuyo's every move but softened a little. He realized he towered over them and after an awkward attempt at sheathing the sword unnoticed, sat down beside them on the carpet. 'A knight can defeat a dragon, if he knows the secret.'

       'Does the secret repel fire?' She asked.

       'No.'

       The girl squinted her face in serious contemplation. 'Does it cure the poison touch?'

       'Not that either,' said the Old Knight, chuckling. He used to be annoyed by the barrage of questions. Used to send his son off to the blacksmith to get a left-handed hammer, to the baker for a sun-dried loaf and to the fisherman for an invisible net to surprise the fish. Gods, how he missed the questions now. 'A knight who knows the secret can exploit the dragon's weakness.'

       'Dragons aren't weak,' the boy chimed in.

       'No,' said the Old Knight. 'But right in the center of the belly, a dragon has a pale, soft bit of flesh, unprotected by the scales.'

       The boy considered this by turning over the imaginary dragon surrounding three wooden sticks in his hand as if he was trying to see if its true. The girl, however, beamed.

       'Really? How do you know?'

       'Really. I've ki-' Chuyo remembered himself in time. 'I've seen a dragon fly so low it hit that spot on a stray branch. Wailed so loud it rang in my head for a week.'

       'A weak spot, said the girl, and gave her brother a mischievous smile. She extended her hand to the Old Knight. 'I'm Sally. Nice to meet you, Chuyo.'

       'I'm Henry,' said the boy. 'I wish you didn't say that stuff about the dragon, mister.'

       'Got to have an even fight,' Chuyo said and couldn't contain a smile. He pointed at the boy's figurine. 'With a dragon so fierce.'

       'I'll make him bigger. You'll see!' Said Henry with such vivid expression Chuyo ruffled his hair without a thought and his heart warmed as the boy laughed.

       A sound came by the window, not of howl or the threat of thunder, but a cough, with hollow thumps of boots creaking along the snow.

       The Dragon rider was returning.

       'Anyone else out there, besides your father?' He asked, just in case. The children shook heads. The Old Knight dusted off his knees and went for the door. ‘Where are my manners? Best to greet him properly.'

Having said that, the Old Knight felt two odd looks burrow into his back as he waited by the side where he'd be hidden by the open door. The Dragon rider entered the shack with a weary smile on his face, his moves slow, breaths labored. Before he could adjust his eyes to light the Old Knight had him in what must've looked like an affectionate embrace if you were Henry and Sally and a chokehold from his as the knife in Chuyo's hand that was patting the man's shoulder settled on his throat.

'No sudden moves, please,' whispered the Old Knight, then, out loud, 'been a while Derrick, how have you been?'

'Been a while,' nodded the man. Stiff as a board from fear, or maybe surprise hearing his name from a stranger, but his voice did not waver.

The Old Knight leaned closer again. 'You and me, we'll have us a talk over there by the table, okay? Away from the kids. Now you act nice, go and hug them tight, and then come talk to your long-lost friend here. Clear?' He tried to punctuate his point with the tip of his knife but punctured it instead. His hands weren't as steady as they used to be. The Dragon rider gave him a dark look and dapped away the tiny drop of blood.

'Of course,' he said and dropped a heavy sack and the gear he held over his shoulder to the floor. 'Henry, I've caught your favorite by the lake, just where you told me to. Do you mind putting it over the fire while I talk to this gentleman?'

'Yes Pa,' said Henry and took out trouts from the sack. 

'Pa, did you know Dragon's had a secret weakness?' Said Sally.

The Dragon rider looked at the Old Knight, then back to his daughter, trying to make sense of this. He must've seen the spark in her eyes. 'I must've forgotten to tell you, love. Give me a minute with this gentleman and I'll tell you all about it.'

They sat down. The kids observed them for a while, or up until their father gave them one stern look that didn't need harsh words for company for them to get busy. Chuyo was so occupied enjoying the two of them working together to prepare dinner that he didn't notice the man sweating in front of him until the silence broke. 

Derrick shifted in his seat. 'To what do I owe the pleasure?'

       'You armed?'

       'Would you trust me if I said no?'

'I trust you don't have your fire buddy with you. I could smell that thing from a mile.'

'Haven't seen a dragon in twenty years.'

'Funny that. Me neither. Ever since I killed one, twenty years ago.' He saw a bottle below the bench and took it, along with some cups. Then he poured the man a cup. 'Yours.'

The former Dragon rider swallowed. 'I'm unarmed. Got an axe for chopping wood. There, by the hearth.'

The Old Knight nodded and let the man suffer the silence for a little while he poured himself a cup of that ale. He tried to think of all the things he wanted to say to his son's killer over the years, of all the things he imagined himself doing to him, yet nothing came to mind. The man cupped his hands around the cup, as if afraid he’d drop it. His hands shook too, calloused by honest work. His face bore deep wrinkles, worried yet loving, formed each time he glanced at his children. Wasn't the picture of the arrogant Dragon rider that seared into his mind all those years ago.

       'Know why I'm here?' Said the Old Knight.

       'No.'

       'And you haven't seen a dragon in how many years again?'

       'Twenty.'

'Must've been something. Dragon rider like you, twenty years away.’ Chuyo said. ‘What happened?' 

The man opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind. His eyes narrowed into the old Knight with such striking similarity to the little Sally Chuyo felt it was her inquisitive mind looking at him. Now it was the Old Knight who felt as if he ought to say something to fill the void, but no words came.

The Dragon rider shifted in his seat. 'Did… Did you have a boy in the army?'

'Up until twenty years ago, aye.' The words came heavier than any journey.

Derrick took some time to reply, looking like he chewed over some things to say and found them bitter. 'I've killed many men in those days.'

No hint of pride in the man's voice, only an empty hollow. He spoke up again, his voice a husk. 'Until one day I made a mistake, and killed a boy.'

'Mine was sixteen. Sneaked behind my back and joined up without my knowledge.'

'I still see his face at night,' said the man. 'Old Knight.'

'You've heard of me?' said Chuyo.

'A father seeking vengeance turned a Knight who made a kingdom tremble. I’ve heard of you.' Derrick said. 'A long time to carry such a grievance with you. Though… In truth, I don't go a day regretting what I- his death, so how could you forget.’

‘I’ve seen it with my own eyes.’ 

'I've retired right after. Tried to do some good in the world, you know?' The Dragon rider glanced at his kids. 'What was his name?'

'Lyren.'

'Lyren,' repeated the man. 'I wondered that for a long time.'

'Spent a long time searching.'

'That's some persistence,' said the father. 'Vengeance is a good fuel for long journeys.'

'It is.'

'We all pay up someday, eh?'

The Old Knight nodded.

The Dragon rider sighed. 'Let us go outside. If vengeance is what you want, it is what you shall have. But not here. Not in front of them.'  

'Cold outside,' said Chuyo.

'Yes. Though revenge is a dish best served cold, I've heard.' Derrick smiled without humor reaching his eyes and pointed the way.

'Aye. Revenge is a dish best served cold,' Chuyo repeated. 'When the heart has cooled down, the mind stopped boiling and the spirit learned to rest.'

The Dragon rider looked at the Old Knight, lip trembling, not saying a word. Chuyo shrugged, walked back to the fire where the two kids perked their ears up to catch whispers of the conversation, and hoped they heard none.

'These are two beautiful children. You've raised them well,' said the Old Knight. He knelt down, reached inside his coat, and fumbled with the chain until he had the two chiseled figurines in his hands. He handed the boy the Dragon and ruffled his hair again, then handed the girl the Knight and winked. 'You two be good now.'

'And make sure to lock the door, you hear me?' He said to the boy. 'Or else I'll come to take 'em back. And remember the secret.'

'Yes, mister,' they said, in chorus.

The Old Knight patted their father on the shoulder as he passed by. 'I forgive you,' he said and found he meant it. Chuyo walked out the door.

Didn't wait for an answer, or wanted one. Didn't even look back.

The blizzard was gone like it never happened. Chuyo walked along the trail and watched the stars and the snowflakes, calmed by the empty chain, the weight that no longer hung around his neck.