THE KNIGHT WHO CRIED DRAGON (PART TWO)

[To read part one, click here first]

After six days of travel, Kasta found herself in Camp Clearing, a former outpost of the Denbridge King, at the foot of the Blue Mountain. The town had long been deserted, but to Kasta’s madness-fogged mind, it was thriving. Kasta entered the ruins of an inn and opened her arms wide to the crowd.

“Travellers of the Clearing!” Kasta said to the empty air, “I am Sir Kasta Bailey, Knight of Nettle and I have come to slay the accursed Blue Dragon. Who will assist me in my quest?”

Even in Kasta’s fantasies, the proposition sounded absurd and the tavern laughed her to silence then returned to drinking. Embarrassed, Kasta found a spot in the corner to perch with a flagon of mead and itch her hands. She was just thinking of leaving when two travellers approached her.

“Good day, fair knight,” spoke one of the travellers, a tall, blind monk, robed in ornate purple silks. “My name is Master Gebwin and this my companion, Borothia.”

Borothia was a short, dirty-looking archer who offered no introduction other than to spit on the ground.

“By the grace of the great realm of Hirun, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Kasta bowed.

“We heard of your quest to slay the Blue Dragon,” Master Gebwin explained, “That fiend has been a great curse on our land and we all wish to be rid of it.”

“You would help me in my quest?”

“Of course, and we know where to find such a creature.”

And so, it was not long before the Nettle Knight and her newfound friends were trekking up the slope of the Blue Mountain, in search of the dragon’s lair. At great length, they came to the opening of a cave and ventured inside.

The cave itself was a long corridor of stone arched high above the adventurers’ heads, certainly big enough for a dragon. Kasta, Master Gebwin and Borothia, tread lightly, trying not to disturb the cave’s quiet lullaby of echoing water droplets. The cave appeared empty so far, but who knew how close they were to the dragon itself.

Slowly, the sparkling reflections that danced on the rock ceiling faded from blue to gold. The band turned a corner and stepped into a great cavern, filled almost to the ceiling with a mountain of treasure. Gold, silver and precious jewels of colours never seen glittered through the darkness. With childlike glee, Borothia ran to the treasure, eager to admire the necklaces and amulets of ruby and sapphire.

Master Gebwin tried to call out to stop his companion, but it was too late. The moment Borothia’s muddied finger touched just one crown; the great cave began to rumble.

Before Kasta could draw her sword, there was a great CRASH and a cascade of metal scattered in every direction, burying Borothia in gold. Out from the pile burst the mighty, blue-scaled Rawl. There was no mistaking that ear-splitting roar; this was the creature that had burnt Denbridge to the ground.

Kasta looked to Master Gebwin, just in time to see him evaporate. Kasta turned and saw Rawl’s great claw coming toward her. She just managed to duck, narrowly avoiding death.

“Aim for the stomach!” the blind monk called out, having just materialised atop the treasure pile.

Kasta took the advice and dived under Rawl’s soft underbelly, the only gap in his armour. One clean stab was all it would take. Our hero drew back her sword, the half-remembered cries of her friends from Denbridge in her ears as she pushed it up towards Rawl’s skin. But then she froze. Her blade was a mere hair’s breadth from gutting this beast and she had stopped. Suddenly a doubt overwhelmed her mind and sapped all the strength from her.

Was this real?

“What are you doing!” Gebwin cried out, “Slay it!”

Kasta came to her senses, but it was too late. Rawl had now moved back and raised himself to his full height. Kasta knew what was coming. She scrambled to get up. Rawl reeled back, drawing a deep breath, the back of his throat began to spark. Kasta was now on her feet, but still well within range of the dragon fire. In a moment, Kasta would be dead. She ran with all her might and dived behind a stack of gold just as Rawl’s great flames spewed out and around her. Kasta cowered behind her cover, only just out of reach of the terrible fire; she could feel the heat singeing her hair.

Rawl had spent his breath. He saw that Kasta had survived, so changed position and pulled back to draw another. This was it, Kasta could not run to cover in time. Rawl drew his breath, whilst Kasta prayed, but then Rawl stopped. Kasta looked up. Borothia had emerged from under the treasure and was pelting the dragon with arrows. The arrows could not penetrate Rawl’s thick armour, but were enough to turn his attention from Kasta.

“Shoot! That’s it!” Gedwin encouraged Borothia, using some incantation to sense despite his lack of vision.

Borothia’s distraction gave Kasta time to climb up the treasure pile and get right beneath Rawl’s soft stomach.

“Watch out for the fire!” Gedwin shouted to Borothia, quickly casting a shield spell around her before she was engulfed in flame.

Kasta was now directly beneath the beast, this time her sword would be true. She drew her weapon, poised to strike when…

“Excuse me!” It was a voice that Kasta did not know, but it was enough to make the dragon pull up from over her. Rawl took to the air, Borothia continued flinging arrows its way, but just could not hit his weak spot. As quickly as he appeared, Rawl was gone.

At last, Kasta turned to the person who had interrupted and saw two mounted knights, a woman and a man, at the bottom of the treasure pile. Both wore the same coat of arms that Kasta did not recognise.

“Ye gads!” the Mad Knight exclaimed, “Knights of the realm, well met! Have you come to offer your swords against this dragon?” she gestured towards the cave into which the dragon had just fled.

“What dragon?” the Knight replied, “What on earth are you talking about?”

“If you have not come to assist us, then why have you come here?” Kasta’s band began to clamber down from the treasure mountain and cautiously approach the Knights. Borothia drew her bow and pointed it at them.

“I have come to ask you to move along,” the Knight replied, slightly unsure of herself now the band had their weapons drawn. “This land is the property of the Duke and you are trespassing.”

“So, good knight, you have come to expel us from the realm, even when we do you the service of slaying the Blue Dragon?” but as Sir Kasta spoke these words, she was not sure she meant them.

“What dragon?” the second knight finally spoke.

“There is no dragon,” said the first. Kasta paused. She had heard those words before.

“This knight cannot believe its own eyes!” Gedwin chipped in. Borothia inched closer to the first knight, her arrow tip carefully trained on her throat.

“Perhaps you would also deny my bow?” she said. At this, the second knight began to retreat, but the first stood firm, staring Kasta’s band down.

“My father, Duke Thaddeus will hear about this unless you leave right now,” she said with deadly seriousness. Kasta had not heard of this title before, but then, she had never ventured into this land before, these knights would not let them stay here.

“You wish us to have an audience with your thane?” replied Kasta, intrigued.

“Stop speaking nonsense!” the knight cried with great force, “Leave this realm right now!” She bellowed out with great force and echoed throughout the cavern. Kasta and the others lowered their weapons.

“Very well,” Kasta said. In her mind, she was trying to reconcile various inconsistencies. How had they not seen the dragon? Why did they not take the treasure? The questions were overwhelming her. She attempted to keep her composure, “We will leave you, but be warned that should the dragon return, it would be yours to slay.”

And with that, Kasta paced straight past the knight and back into the cave from where they had come. Borothia quickly grabbed a handful of gold before following with Gedwin. As they marched out of the cave, it became clear that Kasta was deeply upset.

“It’s all right, Sir Kasta,” Master Gedwin said, attempting to comfort her, “Rawl may have escaped us this time, but we’ll slay the beast yet.”

“Don’t you see?” Kasta span round to Gedwin, tears of distress in her eyes, “That Knight of Thaddeus was right. The King was right. There is no dragon.”

“You mean, Rawl was a spell of some kind? This could be the work of my nemesis, Treroc…” Gedwin pondered as they pushed out of the cave and onto the mountain slope.

“No, it’s not a spell,” Kasta slumped to the ground, dejected, “It’s a delusion, it’s my imagination.”

“What?”

“When the dragon attacked Denbridge, I saw the dragon, I really saw it.” Kasta rubbed the skin between her thumb and forefinger. “But I also saw Perilly barbarians. And I thought I would die and suddenly the dragon, the wraiths, the fairies and everything I have ever told a tale of, it suddenly didn’t seem as real as that man.”

Borothia put down her gold and sat beside Kasta.

“Back in Denbridge, they called me the Mad Knight,” Kasta continued, now taking off her mismatched armour piece by piece, “I did not think they meant it, but perhaps I am mad. If I were, how would I know? How can I ever know what is real again? Perhaps there is no dragon and I am not a knight, but a peasant farmer, playing dress-up.”

There was a long silence, broken only when Master Gedwin began abruptly laughing. Kasta looked up at him, but he did not stop until eventually, he spoke.

“You think you’re confused?” Gedwin chuckled once more, “I have been blind from birth, I know nothing of colour or light or dark. You think you don’t know the difference between what’s real and what’s not? Try living your life with everyone around you telling you that there is a whole other realm of experience that they cannot explain to you and that you will never understand. You think you will never know what is truly real? I know I will never know.”

The mage pulled a friendly smile and knelt to Kasta’s level. “If I do not experience the world as everyone else does, is my experience any less valid? There is truth in what I touch, smell and hear, just as there is truth in your visions. They may not be accurate, but when you thought you saw a dragon, you did see barbarians. Your visions exist within you and therefore have a truth to them, just not in the way you see it.”

Kasta thought for a good long while, before concluding, “I’m sorry Master Gedwin, but I think I have spent much too long in the company of visions.”

The Knight stood and as she did, her armour fell away, leaving only a dirty and dejected young woman. She walked down the mountain and away from Gedwin and Borothia, who both faded into the night as if they had never been there at all.

Kasta never thought she would return to the village of Nettle, but after climbing down the Blue Mountain, past Camp Clearing, the ruins of Denbridge and through almost all Lostwood, Kasta Bailey finally returned home.

Her mother welcomed her with open arms and for the first time, the Baileys were eager to hear Kasta’s stories. Kasta, however, was not interested in telling them. Instead, she returned straight to work harvesting nettles and did not tell a single detail of her time away.

And so Kasta toiled in the fields once more, as she had done in her youth. Unlike in her youth, however, she no longer welcomed the visions but instead treated every new thing she saw with suspicion, taking a moment to carefully inspect whether it was real or fantasy. This was no small undertaking as Kasta found that just like when in a dream, the difference between the truth and falsehood is subtle and can rarely be discerned. This became her daily war, confronting a lifetime of visions with all the might and valour of a knight in battle.

It had been nearly a year since Kasta had left Denbridge and she had only just begun to systematically sort her sights into fiction and fact when she was faced with one final test.

Kasta was working in the fields, heaving at a particularly stubborn nettle when it gave way and she fell down onto her back. She stared up at the sky and a gloved hand reached out for her. She took a moment to decide if the hand was real or not and, still unsure, she reached out to discover it was. Kasta was pulled up and onto her feet. Upon seeing the person who helped her she saw that he wore the colours of Denbridge. Not only that, but the man was in fact the innkeeper who had given Kasta food and shelter all those years ago.

“By my eyes… Kasta?” the innkeeper blinked.

Kasta could not believe her eyes either and took a moment to discern the truth of this situation.

“What are you doing here?” Kasta asked, still trying to make up her mind.

“I’ve been made a scout in the King’s army. But what are you doing? We all thought you were dead.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Oh, well this is rare. Do you mean to tell me, that everyone but Sir Kasta herself knows the story of Sir Kasta?”

“Forgive me, I’m a little confused.”

“You fought the dragon at Denbridge. You could not kill it that day, but you journeyed across the land to slay it, sacrificing yourself for the good of the Kingdom. But I’m glad to see that last part isn’t true.”

“No, none of it is true, there never was a dragon, I never was a knight,” Kasta protested.

“Of course not,” the old innkeeper smiled, “I believe you, but I don’t think the rest of them will.”

“Rest of who?” But before the innkeeper could answer, the ground began to shake, the trees behind him began to sway and out from the undergrowth marched the might of the King’s army.

“Look who I’ve found!” the innkeeper shouted, waving them closer.

Upon seeing Kasta, the soldiers were immediately awed. They all broke rank and came hurrying up to see the nettle farmer.

“Dragonslayer! Dragonslayer! Dragonslayer!” they all chanted, gathering around her.

Kasta took note of everything and eventually decided that no, this was not a vision, they really were in admiration of her. Kasta allowed herself a smile. The soldiers ran forward and immediately hoisted her onto their shoulders and carried her to the King’s horse.

At the sight of the King, Kasta bowed in the mud. The King descended from his horse and joined her.

“What a surprise to find the Nettle Knight among the nettles.”

“Sire, you were right,” Kasta kept her head low, “I am no knight.”

“Hmm,” the King said, before crouching low himself so that only Kasta could hear, “And why do you say that? Because you have no armour? No steed? No squire? These can all be acquired.”

“Because I have not been knighted. I have lied all my life.”

“You may not have proved yourself in my eyes when Denbridge was razed. But to my people, you have become the legend they were desperate for. You have not proved yourself to me yet, but with another chance, perhaps you will. You lied that you were a knight, but who says a lie can’t be turned into the truth?”

The King drew his sword and placed it lightly on Kasta’s shoulder, before raising it over her head and onto the other.

“By the Kingdom of Denbridge, I dub thee Sir Kasta Bailey. Rise, Dragonslayer, Avenger of Denbridge!”

Kasta rose, an incredulous smile across her face. The army cheered around her. The King leant in once more.

“Now all you have to do is slay a dragon,” the King said and Kasta smiled back.

To chants of, “Dragonslayer!” and, “Avenger of Denbridge!” she joined the King’s army. Kasta may have still been ‘The Mad Knight’, but now at least one of her fantasies had come true.

ANAX