1999-04-08: Ghosts Speak Of Evil To Come
The candle splits the silence of darkness as the door creaked open to the camber filled with tomes. It has been ages since I have entered this room, yet events that are beginning to unfold draw me to this dark and musty resting ground for fables and legends of times past. As I comb the shelves mine eyes seek out that which I came for, “The Legends of the Heaven’s Knights”.
Tome in hands I clear away the ages of dust from the reading table and set the candle on the marbled surface. Page after page I turn, being ever so gentle not to disturb the aging parchment. Looking for the word which I heard earlier this morn in the graveyard as I watched an apparition of a warrior speak to one that lie in her earthen grave in the Britain graveyard. “KnightMage” I say, startling myself in the process, looking around to see if anyone hides in the shadows to take me. Pulling a chair forward I begin to read aloud the words that are written, yet I forget to sit down.
“The living shall wale out thy name on tearful lips as thy minions take them. I have chosen thee Kelras, thou shall be my Dark Knight. Thou shalt do my bidding for this world grows weak and I wish take it for my own. I give thee aid in the way of the KnightMages, there shalt be none that can defeat them, and your victory is assured.”
The KnightMage, I knew when I heard that word at the graves today there was a reason my skin chilled. Minions of a darker power they be, but twas ages ago when these texts were written. How is it possible that the word again flows from the tongues of commoners. I read on being drawn deeper and deeper into the text as my mind draws the images of long since dead heroes and villains wages in a deadly struggle which will deside the fate of a world already past.
“Fires burn across the landscape as a man stands and admires what he has wrought with his evil ways. A smile crosses his cracked and stinking maul as he watches his followers burn the small village to ashen waste. A cry rings out, not of pain or anguish, but of anger and strength. The smile now stripped from his face Kelras looks on as a woman stands over the once animate, now lifeless KnightMage.”
A woman, how fitting, Sylia Dragolt was her name, daughter of a merchant farmer yet trained in the ways of war by lord British’s royal guard. The training done in secret to keep it from her father who would surely not approve. How this woman came to posses the power to stop the KnightMage I still do not know at this time. Sylia, she would grow to become the founder and leader of the Heaven’s Knights blessed with the power to render the KnightMage lifeless. Turning the pages upon each other time slips away as though it never existed.
“Bodies strewn about the dirt and ash, tell the dark tale of a battle won by none. Two figures stand alone in this garden of death, both broken and breathless the battle still rages in their eyes even though their bodies stand motionless. “I know not thy name, nor do I care too, the suffering ye have caused is all I know and feel, it is what drives me to this end…Your end” Sylia spits out as she gasps for air. In a tone no lower than a whisper two words utter forth from Kelras’s mouth “Foolish Whench”.
As I turn the final page the paper crumbles to power in my hand. “NO” I scream as I slam my fist down upon the smooth surface of the table, dust choking the wind from my lungs. Composing myself I examine the crumbing bits of paper lying on the table. One piece holds a date, this date, only ages ago. Could it be Sylia did not finish Kelras? Has he returned with more minions? Are the ghosts of the Heaven’s Knights warning us of the return of the KnightMage? If so how shall we stop them this time?
I shall continue my research...
