Thomas

Long ago in a time before the world lost its virtue and hope, lived a ragged and worn knight. He lived many years fighting as the Champion of the people, Thomas battled to thwart injustice and abolish oppression. This story is not one of his youthful adventures or a tale of whimsical moments among the scent of lilacs in the warm summer breeze. This is the final chronical in a great man’s novel.

Thomas heaved as he lifted his old worn bones to don his last armor he’ll ever wear. This haunting thought was rattling around in the old knight’s weary mind. He groaned as he belted his chest plate securely on. The pain, a reminder of days gone by telling of his great adventures and romantic memories. The gauntlets of steel and leather firmly in place he reaches for his greaves placing each metal plate to his shins, finally he dons his leather boots fit for his journey. The final groan complaining of his old pains left his lips as he sat his helmet upon his head. No longer focusing on the pain he wills his body to comply and he starts his decisive battle, his great death.

The mission seemed simple. Just three effortless steps:

Save the distressed damsel

Kill the dragon

Deliver the girl to the King

Even though each step was painfully calculated and each road memorized, the feeling of dread never left the Knight’s bones. It sent shivers of ice water thru his veins. Thomas tightened down the last belt on the saddle bags and mounted his faithful stead, Socrates.

Thomas reached the King’s castle and felt his heart flutter and his blood run cold. The castle was in great disrepair. It’s once formidable walls lay in crumbled heaps around one standing tower. The only structure to survive the decaying kingdom was the King’s Great room where his Throne lay. Gingerly, Thomas moved across the aging wooden bridge to the castle gate. The old structure groaned and sagged under the weight of horse and rider. Threatening to give way with every step warning of rot and decay eating at this Kingdom.

The deterioration of this once mighty Kingdom was not only reserved for its structures of stone and mortar, the people of the Kingdom have been transformed. The decay feeding off the earth made its way into the hearts of its people. With each day passing the rot emptied out their souls. The empty shells moved about in existence, their life now gone. The “ghost” residents walked idly by as our knight rode steadily through the town to the overlooking castle. The inhabitants neither acknowledged or interacted with our hero as he ventured through the sea of dead. With each movement forward Thomas felt the icy breath of death threatening to devour him. The living organism absorbing the kingdom threatened Socrates with each step. The distressed animal whinnied and danced, each uncomfortable twitch tipped and turned the aching bones of Thomas. The cold chill that creeped up the animals legs and forced his step to hop and gallop was quickly vanquished as he entered the foreboding castle doors. Thomas sadly looked back at all the “ghosts” aimlessly milling about without a sign of sight, or understanding, they walk on hopeless.

Thomas shook off the grip of death looming outside the castle gates and entered an enormous room, empty except for one long table and chairs of the finest oak. Stained with age and misuse the table stood alone. In the far back of the room loomed the King’s throne tarnished and no longer a gleaming vessel of hope and power. Upon the thrown was the King, His body slumped unnaturally forward his head dangling upon his weary shoulder. The King’s hair lay limply upon his head shielding any view of the Emperor’s face. Thomas moved wearily closer keeping his eyes locked on the King for fear of death, or worse.

As Thomas passed the massive oak table he saw a feast left to rot and decay. The once palatable meal now consisted of mold covered bread, mushed rotted fruit turning to piles of gelatinous goo. Exotic and expensive meats and cheeses moved with the life of maggots, buzzing flies swooped and danced in the acrid air about the rotting delicatessens. The aroma sweet and acrid like the smell of death filled the chamber. The perfume filled Thomas lungs leaving him choking, his chest burned with the need of fresh open air. The vision of the abandoned feast was nothing compared to what he saw a he reached the King.

The Emperor once a robust and confident man, now sat slumped and unnaturally hanging from his thrown. The King emanated with the stench of death and sweat. The pungent musky smelled wafted with each breath of the King. His stained and unwashed mustache blowing out with each bitter lungful sending a cloud of putrescence into the air. The sour scent displeased the Knight and wrinkled his nose as he moved ever closer to the King.

Subduing the desire to expel, his meager meal he indulged in this morning ,Thomas stood stall as he approached the King. The Knight stood at attention helmet in hand and sword on his back ready to fight for his King. He stopped took a deep breath and gaged with a soft groan as he attempted to address the King.

“Great King of Andaris, I have come to seek the bounty upon the head of the dragon, Vigo, and claim the maiden in your majesty’s name.”

His words clear and concise echoed through the mostly empty room. Thomas’s voice was low and raspy, from years of pipe smoking and battle roars, it’s sound was confident and demanded attention.

The rasping quiet cadence of the King’s breath stopped short for what seemed like an eternity, finally the King spoke.

“Bring me the girl”

The sound was faint and pained, Thomas could swear he heard fear in the old man’s voice. The girl was the quest, the Holy Grail, that would set him free. The King’s hand moved quick and deadly as he threw down a bag of gold coins at the hero’s feet. King Andaris then gurgled a laugh and a last command.

“Keep her alive and pure.”

The King said no more and did not move as our Knight walked confidently to the castle gate. He knew this would be the last time he or the King walked among the living. The gate slammed behind Thomas as he looked ahead at the sea of dead before him and the Dying King behind.

The road would be long and treacherous so Thomas stopped for supplies and one last night in a real bed with a full belly of ale. The Drunken Angler, was the last Tavern before civilization ended and the road becomes an adventure. Thomas sat at a table in the back of the bar near the warmth of the fire. Sipping a warm mug of mead and emptying his mind. His cheeks warm from the drink his old bones warming by the fires flames he let his mind wander to thoughts of deceit and a future far from here.

“I could run now take the gold and live simply away from Quests for glory and Adventures of fortune.

As quickly as those thoughts arose the reality of things settled in and Thomas knew he had no choice, fate had destined for this to be the unfortunate ending. Thomas raised one more mug of mead into the air, a defiant gesture to no one in particular, and toasted to his last drink before he leaves this world. SALUDE.