|
#1
FEB 14 |
 |
“The Gifted”
Pine needles crunched beneath the boy's feet as he ran; somewhere behind him he could hear the cries of an angry mob, out for blood. His breath came in ragged gasps as his aching lungs heaved for air. Every so often a tree branch would scrape his face, but he never stopped running.
The glistening stars above, which were said to be the Celestial gods themselves, did little to alleviate his growing panic. If the gods really were looking down on him they were very likely laughing at his plight.
Just a few hours ago his life had been normal; he was Scott Summerset, squire to Lord Essex, a knight of the crown. In fact, rumour had it he was just a few weeks away from being dubbed a knight himself. None of that mattered now as his life had been ruined by a foul demonic curse.
He had been tending to his master's steed, as he did every evening after riding and training with Lord Essex, when he heard quickly stifled cry for help. How he wished he had never heard it.
By focusing intently on all noise around him he could her someone talking very softly but menacingly from the other end of the stables. Without thinking he had run towards the voice and burst through the door into a small store room.
What he found was Derek Langshire, nephew of Lord Essex, accosting a young woman. As Essex's only heir, as the lord had lost his wife and child many years ago, Derek radiated arrogance one would expect from a member of the royal family. It did not surprise Scott to find him here trying to force himself on a girl.
What did surprise him was that the girl was Emoyen, daughter of the stablemaster. Although he had admitted it to no one, he cared about Emoyen dearly. The young lady regularly aided him in tending to his master's horse and the pair had formed a strong bond.
“Sod off Summerset,” spat Derek, menacingly, “the lady and I want to be alone.”
“Scott, please, he wouldn't let me go…” Emoyen tried to say but Derek slapped her down.
“Learn your place you common tramp.”
The rage had built in Scott like an inferno; he could feel the anger burning behind his eyes until at last it exploded from them like twin beams of hellfire. The blast hit Derek square in the chest and hurled the young man through the wall behind him.
Emoyen cowered in the corner and screamed so loud it hurt Scott's ears.
“What…arrrgghhh!” more crimson hellfire exploded from his eyes, blowing another hole in the wall and smashing a lantern. Flaming oil covered the wall and the hungry flames quickly began to spread.
The young squire was so bewildered by what was happening he didn't notice Emoyen charging at him, swinging a wooden bucket. The bucket connected with his head and sent him stumbling back out into the stables.
“Get away from me!” screamed Emoyen, “You're not my Scott! Leave this place you hellspawn!”
“Emoyen please, it’s me! I didn't mean to…” Scott tried to say but his love swung the bucket at him again.
“Liar!” she screamed, tears streaming down her face, “you're a changeling, a filthy devil child!” she swung the bucket at him when he tried to step closer.
All around them the flames we're rapidly devouring the stables; smoke stung the young man's eyes as the terrified cries of panicked horses assaulted his ears. Emoyen was right, he wasn't human; he was a changeling child, a filthy creature in human form.
And so he ran, not from fear of retribution, but from the look of disgust and hatred in Emoyen's eyes.
It wasn't long until he could hear a mob of angry people moving through forest after him. Several loud barks suggested the hounds had found his scent. They likely had pitchforks and flaming torches too; mobs always had pitchforks and flaming torches.
With the threat of a brutal death on his heels he ran, with no real idea where he was going. Panic had sent him running blindly into the woods, and that panic would likely get him killed.
Once again he felt the burning pressure behind his eyes and the twin blasts of crimson hellfire erupted forth, obliterating several trees. The sound could be heard for miles and surely enough the shouting of the mob intensified.
Onwards he ran, until his side ached so much he had to stop for air. Leaning against a tree, he sucked in the chilly air, ever aware of the advancing rabble. A rusting nearby had him snap to attention and reaching for a sword that wasn't there. A figure came pushing through the undergrowth, Scott couldn't make up his mind whether to fight or flee, until a familiar voice said, “Scott, it's me,”
Emoyen stepped into the small clearly leaving Scott completely stunned.
“Emoyen, what are you doing here?” He knew she despised him but he found it hard to accept that she would be at the head of the pack to track him down.
“Shhhh, sweet Scott,” she said soothingly, “we need to get you away from these angry men,” she grabbed him by the hand and started leading him in away from the approaching mob.
The young squire's world was being turned on its head again; less than an hour ago Emoyen would have burned him at the stake herself and now she was trying to lead him to safety. His exhaustion and the dramatic events of the past hour were playing with his senses; it was hard to stay focused.
“You…you hit me with a bucket…in the head,” he was in a daze, nothing seemed right.
“Shhhh, I wasn't in my right mind,” she replied soothingly. “I'm sorry I called you a killcrop, Scott,”
Things were starting to settle in his mind now that Emoyen was with him, especially when she spoke to him so soothingly. Lord Essex had always said his mind was as sharp as a blade, he never missed the small details, and this came in handy now.
He stopped suddenly and Emoyen tugged on his arm, “Quickly, Scott, they're coming.”
“You never called me a killcrop,” he said, “You called me a changeling and a filthy devil child…”
“Scott, I said I was sorry…”
“And how did you keep up with me without breaking into a sweat? You're completely dry.”
Twap!
Something coiled around his right ankle jerked him off the ground before he could react. His first instinct was some sort of animal trap, but he was proven wrong when came face to face with a goblin squatting in a tree branch. The thing that had ensnared his ankle wasn't a rope; it was the creature's elongated tongue.
Scott had battled against a goblin raid once before and the creatures had never shown such an ability before. The goblin resembled the rest of its kind; four foot tall with leathery green skin, bat like ears and teeth like broken glass, but it crouched in the tree like some sort of frog.
“Dammit Toad, I had him!” cried Emoyen at ground level.
“He wasshh on to you, Raven,” said the goblin awkwardly, as it was trying to talk with his tongue extended.
“This wasn't the plan, you disgusting little creature. You were supposed to wait down at the lake with the boat while I brought the boy.”
“We got bored,” said a much deeper voice from somewhere nearby.
From the shadows emerged an extremely large figure; it was the fattest ogre Scott had ever seen. In actual fact he had only ever seen one ogre before, but it had nowhere near the girth of this one. Like all ogres it stood at nine feet tall, with pallid skin and two upwards curving tusks. With arms longer than its legs it's looked like a big hairless ape.
“Damn you, Dook!” shrieked Emoyen. “I suppose you were looking for food again?”
“Yep,” replied Dook simply, before picking something unrecognizable out of his greasy brown beard and eating it. Scott shuddered, as it vaguely resembled a human finger.
It was hard to concentrate with all the blood flowing to his head, but the young man looked down at Emoyen and asked, “Emoyen, what are you doing with these…creatures? What do you want with me?”
Emoyen rolled her eyes in contempt. “I thought a squire would be smarter,” and to Scott's complete and utter shock, she changed.
Her silky pink skin rapidly turned a dark shade of blue, almost black, as her slightly plump form became more lithe and her long dark hair turned a bright shade of red. The simple peasant dress she was wearing melted away and shifted into a much more alluring white dress. In the time it took the young squire to gasp his love had transformed into an elf maid with a skin colour the likes of which he'd never seen before.
“W…what are you?” It wasn't the first time that night he'd been stunned.
“The future, Scott, and so are you” she grinned.
“What have you done to Emoyen?!” he demanded, although he was in no position to demand anything.
“Relax boy, she's probably back at the village, crying because her sweetheart is a demon.” She put a sarcastic emphasis on the word demon. “I was sent to collect you and posing as that stable wench you're so fond of was the perfect bait.”
“You were sent to collect me? By who?”
“Hehehe, Magnussh wantsh you boy,” cackled the goblin named Toad.
“Magnus? The blacksmith’s god?” asked a confused Scott.
“This is no time for questions boy,” the elf waved her hand dismissively. “You're coming with us and you don't have a say,”
“I'm not going anywhere with you…demon spawn!” As he spoke a chill wind suddenly picked up, rocking the tree Toad was crouched in.
Dook extended his hand and felt the rain drops falling on it. “I don't wanna get wet,” he grumbled. “Can we go home now Raven?”
Raven was looking around the forest, suspiciously, as the wind increased in intensity and the rain started to fall in buckets. A sudden lightning bolt illuminated two figures nearby, one male and one female. It seemed Scott was the only one to see these two figures so he remained silent, in the hopes that they were here to help.
“Not gonna happen, Raven,” said a gruff voice from nearby. “Drop the kid.”
Another lightning bolt illuminated the forest, revealing a rough looking figure in thick furs. Interestingly he held three blades in each hand, one between each finger. The woman behind him was even more interesting; her skin was chocolate brown and her hair as white as fresh snow. More importantly, she was floating several feet off the ground as her eyes glowed and crackled with tiny bolts of lightning.
“A sorceress!” gasped Scott.
“Idiot,” snapped Raven, glancing over her shoulder at the captive.
“Let the kid go, before I cut him down myself,” said the man with the blades. Toad's tongue quivered.
“Magnus gave you those claws, Logan; show some respect!” spat Raven.
“Enough of this,” said the dark skinned woman with a slight regal tone. “We will not allow another innocent to be corrupted by your master!”
She raised her hand in the air and a lightning bolt suddenly struck the ground before the elf and ogre; Raven was sent hurtling backwards but Dook remained unfazed.
“Heh heh, that tickled,” laughed the overweight ogre.
“Try this then, wretched creature,” the sorceress raised both hands to the heavens and a massive surge of lightning struck the ogre, followed by another and another. The fat beast was being pummelled by a shower of lightning, which was slowly bringing him to his knees. Quickly the ogre collapsed, unable to handle the massive electrocution, although he was still breathing.
“Good job ‘ro, I'll grab the kid,” said the rough man, as he charged towards the tree Toad was in.
As he jumped to grab Scott, the goblin leapt into another tree, taking Scott with him. His little captor certainly had powerful legs.
“Better luck nekshht time, hairball!” laughed Toad.
A deep growl emanated from his would be rescuer's throat as he ran to Scott. Suddenly a small tree struck him in the throat with a thick branch; a tree which quickly transformed into Raven.
The elf drew a small dagger and was about to stab the fallen man when a massive gust of wind blew her off her feet. The white haired sorceress then extended a hand toward him and Toad and fired a lightning bolt from her very fingers. The goblin leapt aside again, laughing, as the branch he was crouched on exploded. Scott felt hot splinters strike him in the face.
That bolt could have easily have killed him, his rescuers were just as dangerous as his captors. It was all too much for him; the revelation he was a hellbreed, his capture by more seeming demon spawn and now this dangerous battle.
The pain behind his eyes resurfaced, as his temples grew hot. Toad glanced his way and was stunned to see his hostage's eyes were glowing red.
“Uh oh” was all he managed to say before twin beams of force slammed him in the chest, sending him flying through the undergrowth.
Scott was unceremoniously dropped on his head, sending the insane scene around him into darkness.
When the young man awoke it was to darkness, for a brief moment he panicked. Where was he? He could feel a soft, down filled bed beneath him, and silky sheets covering his body, which seemed to be stripped down to undergarments.
Quickly he realised it was dark because he couldn't open his eyes. Touching his face with both hands he realized cloth was bound tightly around his face, holding his eyelids shut. As he tried to pull the blindfold off he felt a pair of hand take his and guide them away from his face.
“That's not a good idea, young man,” said a refined male voice.
Instinctively, Scott jerked away from the voice in surprise and fell out of bed onto the cold floor stones. His years of training with Lord Essex served him well though, as he was on his feet in a second, standing in a defensive position. Before he could even think to remove the bandages from his eyes though he heard a girlish giggle only a few feet away. His cheeks grew hot as he realised he was standing in his undergarments with a lady present.
Lady or not he was in a possibly hostile position and couldn't afford to let his guard down. Once again he tried to remove his bandages but this time he was stopped by slender, feminine hands.
“Please, Squire Summerset, I worked very hard to get those bandages on tightly.” He could hear the smile in her lovely voice. “Would you make all my hard work a waste?”
“I…I'm sorry my lady,” not for the first time that day he was lost and confused, but thankfully with a lady present his mind had something to fall back on; chivalry. “Forgive my immodest state of dress,”
“Think nothing of it. I undressed you in the first place so…”
“What?! You…a lady…I…”
“Oh shush, you knights are so prudish.” She guided him back to the bed and sat him down like a mother guiding a child.
“I'm not a knight yet…and I suppose I never will be now,” he said softly.
“Ah…but if you hold the Creed of Honour within your heart then you are truly more a knight than many of the so called knights in the world,” said the male voice.
Scott jerked around; the sudden, disconcerting appearance of the lady had distracted him from his situation.
The questions rushed from his mouth like a torrent, “Who are you people? What do you want with me? Why am I blindfolded?”
“Ah a curious soul, much like myself,” said the man, “My name is H'nk M'Koy, and your lovely nurse is Lady Jean Grey.”
“Hank MacKoy?” he couldn't quite pronounce the name the way the man had, it sounded foreign.
“Close enough,” chuckled Hank. “A pleasure to meet you, Scott.” He felt a strong hand take his and squeeze. Hank must have been wearing gloves as his hand felt like velvet.
“You're safe now, Scott,” said Lady Grey. “We rescued you from Raven and her cronies last night, but you sustained a nasty bump to the head…”
“You're the sorceress and the man with the blades!” he exclaimed.
“Oh heavens no,” Hank chuckled. “That was Logan and Ororo. Don't worry, you'll meet them soon enough. Just wait until Logan hears you thought I was him,” he laughed genially.
“Oh…ok, but why must I be blindfolded? I assure you I'm trustworthy.”
As trustworthy as I can be for a demon spawn, he though sadly. Before the sudden realisation hit, Lady Grey put it into words before him though.
“The bandages are just to keep your eyes closed until we can find a solution to keep your gift under control.”
“Gift? You must be jesting, Lady Grey? Demon blood flows through my veins,” he said dejectedly.
The Lady sighed. “Please, call me Jean. I understand how you're feeling, Scott, I really do.” He felt her hand take his and the despair eased a little. “Rumours are running rampant that ‘demonspawn' are cropping up all over Arthadia and the rest of Erith, but it's just people's fear of something new and different. I remember when my gifts first…”
“Your gifts?!” he exclaimed, yanking his hand from Jean's.
He didn't mean to do it; it was just a reactionary response. How could a woman who sounded so lovely be a demonspawn?
“Yes, I have gifts too; we all do,” she replied calmly, if he hurt her feeling she didn't show it in her voice. “We don't believe them to be curses of demon lineage. They are blessing from the gods.”
Scott couldn't help but snort at this, “The gods? There are no gods, and even if there ever was they're gone now.” Like any aspiring Knight in Arthadia he was duty bound to pray to the Celestial Gods for an hour every morning, it was more a tradition than anything based on belief. The gods had never done anything to help him; in fact, it would seem the gods were against him – killing his parents and brother at sea and now cursing him.
“And who needs them I say?” chimed in Hank. “Mankind has shown remarkable resilience without their deities to guide them, although the conquered people of the Empire across the sea may contest that.”
“And what is your gift, Hank?” asked Scott, looking to where he thought Hank would be standing.
“Why, I'm so devilishly handsome, of course,” he chuckled and Jean laughed softly.
The young squire decided he wasn't going to get any straight answers from the humorous man so he turned back to Jean. “What can you do, my lady?” he asked.
“You'll see soon enough, Scott, as I think actions speak better than words…” she drifted off for a second before saying, “my stepfather is ready to see you.”
“Your stepfather? Who…?”
“Ah, that would be Lord Charles Xavier,” replied Hank, as his strong hands pulled the squire to his feet. “It must mean he has the solution to your erroneous gift.”
Charles Xavier, Scott knew that name; he was Lord of the province directly East of Lord Essex's, a place called Greymalkin. Other than that he knew little about the man, just that he was a good but reclusive man.
Jean lead him by the hand down what he presumed to be a long hallway, while Hank get a strong hand on his shoulder at all times. After a few moments they stopped and he could hear a large door creaking open.
“Ah, do come in,” said a welcoming male voice. “Please help our guest be seated, Jean.”
Jean guided him into a comfortable chair, but he didn't hear either her or Hank pull up a seat. It was rather uncomfortable sitting in a room blindfolded, he didn't know where Xavier was sitting so he simply stared straight ahead. He also had no idea what to say.
“Jean, please remove Scott's bandages,” bid Xavier. “Hopefully Stephanos has provided us with the solution to keeping Scott's remarkable abilities under control.”
Jean's warm body pressed up against his back as she undid his bandages and goose bumps quickly spread across his skin. A surge of guilt accompanied his goose bumps as he thought of Emoyen. She would likely never want to see him again so he was better off forgetting about her, he thought. If only it was that easy.
As the last of the bandages came off he rubbed the crust from his eyes and the room gradually came into focus. He found himself in a large study; ornate bookshelves filled with a multitude of books, completely filled both walls to either side of him.
Directly opposite him, behind an ornate desk, sat Charles Xavier; he was a man who looked to be in his late forties with a strikingly bald head and warm, smiling face. He held is hands clasped before him and said, “Hello Scott,”
Before he could reply the pain behind his eyes returned and he cried out as the hellfire burst forth from his eyes. Xavier inextricably slid sideways out of the way and the blasts obliterated a curtained window behind the Lord, revealing bright sunlight outside.
The young man squeezed his eyes shut so tightly his face hurt and mentally berated himself.
“Don't blame yourself, Scott,” said Xavier, “sometimes our gifts are more difficult to manage than others. Thankfully, I believe we've come up with a solution, at least until you can learn to control your abilities on your own.”
Wood creaked as the older man shifted in his chair. “Here Jean, would you do the honours?”
“Of course, stepfather.”
Scott could feel her warm hands to either side of his head as something cool was placed over his eyes.
“You can open your eyes now without fear, Scott,” said Xavier.
He did so hesitantly. Everything had a tinge of red to it! Had his curse somehow damaged his eyesight? With his fingertips he felt the item Jean had placed over his eyes; they were two glass lenses held together with a small piece of wire, with another two pieces of wire to either side of his held which hooked around his ears.
He'd seen such items before, worn by elderly nobles and scholars; they were called spectacles.
“How…how is this possible?” he asked, he could still feel the burning power behind his eyes but the hell fire was no longer uncontrollable.
“I happen to be on good terms with Archmage Stephanos Le'strange,” replied Xavier, “and he managed to create an enchantment on these glasses which should keep your power at bay as long as you wear them. This is only temporary, of course; it is my hope that you can learn to control your gift on your own.”
The glasses were magic. Scott shuddered at the thought. As a knight in training he was taught to shun all forms of magic and rely only on his wits and his weapon. It would seem that he had little choice than to rely on the spectacles for now.
“I owe you a great debt, Lord,” said the squire. “How can I ever repay you?”
Xavier smiled warmly. “All I ask is that you stay here and let us help you to control your gifts. I see great potential in you, both as a leader and as one of the gifted.”
“The gifted?” asked Scott.
“Oh just our little name for ourselves, we're all blessed like you.” He gestured towards Jean and Hank behind him. As he turned around to see Jean for the first time he couldn't help but feel his jaw go slack; she was amazingly beautiful. She had the face of an angel with sparkling green eyes and just the slightest smattering of freckles across her nose. Her feminine physique was accentuated by a lovely yet simple green and gold dress, but it was her fiery red that was her most prominent feature.
Once again, all higher brain function shut down and he fell back on his chivalry training. Fumbling to his feet he took the lady's hand and kissed it with his quivering lips. “A…a pleasure to finally see you, milady,” he stammered.
She smiled, which caused butterflies in his stomach. “Lord Essex has you trained well,” she laughed, and all the blood rushed to his face.
To hide his blushing from Jean he quickly turned to Hank and jumped in surprise. He was like no man he'd ever seen, it was as if his mother had bedded with an ape; his muscular frame was bent forward so that the knuckles of his overly large hands rested on the ground and his legs were shorter than a normal man's ending in gigantic feet.
Scott was at a loss for words, his mouth hung open like when he first laid eyes upon Jean. Hank looked embarrassed, running sausage like fingers through his messy black hair but he managed a smile. “Told you I was handsome,” joked Hank, extending his enormous hand, which enveloped the young squire's own.
“I…what…” once again Scott failed to formulate a coherent sentence.
“The gifts the gods bless us with are many and varying,” said Charles, still in his chair. “I found H'nk here a decade ago being raised by natives. His parents, not understanding why their son was different, had abandoned him.”
The ape-like man looked away sadly, obviously not liking the memory. Being raised by natives explained the odd name, thought Scott. The part animal, part man natives were a strange lot and tended to stay in their forests, far away from humans that had colonized Parthoris almost a millennia ago.
“The Toth'ra aren't condemning when it comes to strange children,” said Hank solemnly. “I was happy with them but I always felt left out because I wasn't one of them, and then Charles came along and offered me a home with others gifted people like myself.”
“But surely you don't see this as a gift?!” asked a stunned Scott, indicating Hank's physique.
“Don't judge a book by its cover, Summerset!” said an upset looking Jean. “Hank's more intelligent than everyone else in this castle combined, and he has a beautiful soul!”
“I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean…”
Hank laughed. “Its water off nymph's back to me these days, squire. Besides, not many people can do this…” The strange man suddenly leapt into the air and grabbed an overhead rafter, with little effort he swung through the air, doing a summersault and grabbing another rafter with his feet. He waved to the trio below, as he hung upsides grinning.
Scott sat down, stunned. “This is all so much. Of course I'd heard stories about killcrops and changeling children but I always thought they were fairy tales, and I never thought that I would be one!”
“Stories about those creatures are just the people's way of explaining things they don't understand, you're nothing evil, Scott. There's no demon blood in your veins. You're gifted – blessed – and we're here to help you.”
“Forgive my asking, Lord, but what can you do?” he asked.
Charles smiled. I can hear the thoughts of others, as clearly as if they were speaking aloud.
The young man jumped out of his chair; Lord Xavier had spoken without moving his lips, he'd spoken directly into his mind.
“Be calm, Scott,” said Xavier, smiling warmly, “Unlike others in the world I use my gifts responsibly; I never enter another's mind without permission.”
With some hesitation, Scott sat down again and asked. “Are there many other kil…gifted people like us?”
“At first there were few but every year our numbers grow. I'm trying my best to find them but it is a difficult job to do on my own. Sadly, I'm crippled.” Placing both hands on the desk he pushed himself to his feet, or rather, to his foot; Charles Xavier only had one leg. He sat back down and continued his tale. “This is why I've been gathering fellow gifted in order to better locate and help our kind. You've met Jean and Hank, and Ororo and Logan rescued you last night. You'll meet them soon enough I'm sure.”
“Those others that attacked me last night, the elf and her cronies, are they gifted too?”
“Yes. Raven is skilled in taking the form of others; that one is deceitful and highly dangerous. If we hadn't stepped in she would have taken you directly to her master.”
“The goblin did mention someone…Magnus.”
Xavier rubbed his forehead, as if Scott has touched upon a sensitive topic. “Yes, Magnus. Once, in my youth, I knew a man named Erik of Lenshire. He was a remarkable man, a born leader and scholar, but sadly his mind was scared by a tragedy in his past; when he was just a child his entire village, was wiped out by acolytes of the Twelve Divines because they would not convert. When he discovered his gift, the ability to control metal, he believed he and the rest of our kind were chosen by the Celestial Gods themselves to inherit the world. Naming himself Magnus, after the demigod of the forge, he's been gathering likeminded gifted to his side and formed a cult known as the Brotherhood of the Chosen.”
“What has any of this got to do with me?”
“Magnus somehow learned your abilities were going to manifest, likely through one of his daughter's divination spells. In his mind he probably believed he was rescuing you, but once you were brought before his Brotherhood, there would have been no way you'd ever be allowed to leave alive.”
“Thank you, m’lord,” he bowed his head in gratitude. “Is Magnus a threat to the lands?”
“I'm afraid so, Scott, his force is small but powerful and ever growing,” the bald man's brow creased with worry. “I fear his Brotherhood will strike out with violence soon. They wish to dominate the ‘unworthy' people of the world.”
“And you don't?”
“No, not at all, we feel that we were gifted for a reason, but not to dominate the races of Erith. We're trying our best to create peace and understanding between the gifted and non-gifted people of the world.”
“Good luck with that,” he said sarcastically as he remembered Emoyen's reaction to his abilities.
Charles gave him a knowing smile. “It will be an uphill battle I assure you, but we have faith in the gods and mankind.”
Scott could not help but respect this man. He seemed kind and wasn't the hard taskmaster that Lord Essex was. What's more, despite the faith he showed in the non-existent gods, he wasn't a fanatic like many of the believers he had met in his lifetime.
“Will you help us, Scott?” asked Xavier.
There was a long pause as he pondered the lord's request before saying, “Yes, I'll stay. I…I have no home to go back to anymore. If I return to Langshire I'll surely be burned at the stake, or worse.”
“Well, we have more than enough room here, and if you wish you could continue your knight training under me.”
“You're a knight?!” asked a surprised Scott.
“I was once,” said Charles sadly, “I even served with Nathaniel Essex under King Argus for a time. But then I lost my leg, and there is little need in the world for a lame knight, so I married Jean's late mother and settled for managing Greymalkin and its surrounding township. It has been a long time since I trained another man in the arts of knighthood but I would proudly train you, Scott.”
“Thank you,” tears were welling in the young man's eyes and he was thankful his glasses hid this.
“I can tell you are a kind soul, Scott,” smiled Charles, tapping his temple. “You will fit in here just fine. Jean will now take you to your new quarters,”
Taking the cue to leave, the young squire quickly rose to his feet and made an awkward bow. He allowed Jean to lead him from the room and Hank brought up the rear. For a brief moment the young man suspected he was a prisoner before his ape-like companion said his goodbyes and left through a non-descript door. Scott's nose was immediately assaulted by a variety or odours.
“Hank's alchemy lab,” explained Jean. “Avoid going in there at all costs, unless you want to smell like crow droppings for a week.”
The beautiful young woman led him through the various corridors of the castle, showing him such rooms as the library, kitchens and servants quarters. She explained that due to the odd nature of the castle's inhabitants it was run by a skeleton crew at all times. Xavier didn't want rumours spreading, although the townships already seemed to understand that their ruler wasn't like other lords.
Eventually the pair reached a large courtyard dominated by one massive apple tree. Around the tree was a man-made pond lined with well-kept flowers.
“Ororo's garden. Beautiful, isn't it?” asked Jean,
“Yes, it's lovely.”
“So the runt's up'n walking again,” said a gruff voice from nearby.
Behind them, sitting on a large rock, was the rough looking man who'd saved him the previous night. He held a blade between each finger as he sharpened them with a whet stone. Upon closer inspection, Scott realised the blades were actually protruding out of the man's very hands. A slight trickle of blood ran from between each knuckle as he slid the whet stone up and down each blade.
“Scott, may I introduce you to Logan,” said Jean, adding in a stage whisper, “he's not very friendly but we keep him around anyway.”
“We met,” said Scott stiffly.
Logan merely grunted in response. “If you're going to stick around here then try not to fall on your head so much,” he added, before turning his back on the pair.
“Don't mind him; you just have to earn his trust. Come on, your room's this way.”
She led him through the other side of the courtyard and down a short corridor before opening a large wooden door. The room inside was bare, save for medium sized bed with a down filled mattress, a small desk and a chest of drawers.
“It's a little sparse at the moment but you can fill it with whatever belongings you have,” said Jean.
Scott's heart sank; all his belongings were back at the keep in Nabras and he likely wasn't going to be allowed in to collect them anytime soon. All he had were the clothes on his back, and they were worn and dirty.
“Don't worry, my stepfather is a wealthy man, he can replace all the clothes and other belongings you left behind in Nabras,” said Jean, as if she read his mind.
“La…Jean, can I ask you something,” she nodded. “Back when I woke up, you said you had a gift too. May I ask what it is?”
“Of course Scott, we have no secrets here,” smiled Jean. “I can move things with the power of my mind.”
“I don't understand.”
“Shhh, just watch.”
As if an invisible spirit had entered the room every drawer in Scott's chest suddenly opened and closed, while the door to his room slammed shut.
“That was you?” exclaimed Scott.
“Yes. Stepfather says the elves call it telekinesis. I can also hear thoughts, but no-where near as well as Lord Xavier does.”
“Oh…ok,” replied Scott, not sure if that was a good thing or bad.
“Well, I have duties to attend so I must leave you for now, Scott,” said Jean. “Please make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be served at sunset in the dining hall,”
With a smile she was gone, and Scott couldn't help but stare at the open doorway she had left through. She was such a lovely young woman, and despite his devastating new abilities she wasn't afraid of him. His mind flashed back briefly to Emoyen's face when his ‘gift' had revealed itself.
He couldn't help but feel ashamed for the way he had left her; a knight doesn't run away in fear, he stands and faces his enemies.
Even when his enemy is himself, he thought.
This isn't the honourable way to do things, I must go back, at least to show Emoyen that I'm not a monster.
With a strong resolve he retraced his steps through the castle until he reached the large main doors to the castle that Jean had shown him. Pushing them open just enough he slipped through and out into the afternoon sun. Nabras was just a few hours run west of Greymalkin and he reached the outskirts just as the sun was beginning to set.
The sight that greeted him there shocked him to his core; Nabras was burning.
To Be Continued...
Previous Issue | Next Issue