FOREVER KNIGHTS: #4 Battling Black Roses

Netherwood, Netherlands

TEVERIUS

Teverius watched Serdephe. Standing in the gray light of the meadow in the early evening. So long hiding from the light, had sensitized his eyes which were now more accustomed to the shadows of the forest. I’ve heard Alazareth complain of the same on many occasions.

“My Wolf.” He heard Serdephe calling from the crone’s shack, a hopeful expression on her face.

She’s been doing this at night. He knew. Looking across the meadow at her. Knowing he was concealed by the limited light. But she stared back across at him, as though she could see. Gaze unflinching.

“My Wolf.” She whispered forlornly.

She’s gotten old enough to remember. He knew. Old enough to miss me when I go.

He needed that not to happen. I need to fade from her memory.

I gave her the demon dogs to protect her so I could slip away. He reminded himself against the sudden pang of guilt.

It was the right thing to do.

Though it’d been a little over a year now, she hadn’t stopped emerging each eve to call for him. And early in the morning.

She’ll forget soon. He told himself. Flinching at the sudden memory of her wild giggling when they’d ran together.

Tonight, she surrendered and turned forlornly back into the house. Giving two quick whistles, sent the demon dogs crashing through the trees to go lurk in their den. To frolic and play.

Something which true Targue no longer yearn for.

But they’re not Targue anymore. Tev was proud of the work he’d done. Though they were no longer immortal, once again human souls that’d one day perish, they wouldn’t be condemned. Though their physical bodies couldn’t return, their hearts had.

Serdephe didn’t fully understand what they were. But she knew she loved them.

And they love her. And that’s what matters…It offered him comfort in the rare times he missed her laughter.

I care for her. I’ll let her be. She’s safer that way.

But he watched over her.

Tonight, he sat still, watching that doorway until, strangely, the crone emerged from the doorway. She carried a burbling mauve cylinder. Streaming it on the ground around the stoop. It sizzled over the grass and wildflowers. Burning them to cinders.

Ash. He reared back. The implication making him uneasy.

She chanted something he didn’t understand. An ancient language. But it wasn’t uncommon for Dreads to use it. Good or bad.

Doesn’t guarantee she’s dark. He told himself. She’s cared for Serdephe, all these years. He shook his head and turned to go.

Still chastising himself for his apprehension, he returned to his hut. Forcing himself to lay on his cot. Listening to the sound of rain pattering over the thatched roof and against the thin wood walls.

Teverius was dreaming. He knew because he felt faraway. Dreamlike. Envisioning a quiet black night. Glimpsing a beautiful black-haired Dread creeping into the crone’s shack. So eerily muted in her ghostlike movements that even he couldn’t hear her. She walked in and found the crone abed, covering the old woman’s mouth.

The crone kicked and flailed, and soon black oil seeped like tears from her eyes. Running down her cheeks as she jerked wildly. Throat working desperately as she strangled. Oil soon seeped from her ears. After a long silence, she went still.

Deathly still.

When the Dark Dread moved her hand, oil burbled up from the old woman’s throat like a fountain. Her head rolling limply sideways.

The black-haired wraith turned and pulled the old woman’s withered corpse from the bed to land on a layer of the bleak goo. Silencing the thump. And smoothing the Dread’s efforts to drag her. Soon she’d pulled the corpse completely behind the shack tucked her under a scatter of loose branches.

Far enough away Serdephe wouldn’t see.

He was instantly sickened. Fearful of what’d happen to the purple haired girl. Having no idea if this was something that would truly occur.

Or merely some hideous nightmare.

Blue eyes flashed in the night as she turned back to the shack, evil aspirations written over her face.

As she returned inside, her hair curled, shortened and grayed. Peppered with dark hairs. Her skin wrinkled and hands grew knobbed with long black nails. Her stature bent and contorted until she was in the shortened frame of the crone.

Looking exactly like the Potionmaker…

She headed quietly for the curling stairs. Taking them carefully to be soundless. Her step nearly floating.

Unnervingly hushed. Step after step.

Agonizing for Tev to watch as sweat poured from his brow in his slumber. Flecking in shining blue drops that seeped from between his pores to coat his face. His pale white chest heaved with lumbering breaths. And unconsciously his hands worked tight fists as his back arched. Fighting turning to beast, in his panic.

It’s only a dream. He told himself. Trying to cool his heightening temperature.

Trying to calm.

The woman creaked open the door and saw Serdephe under a thin coverlet. Looking small and thin.

No. Tev felt his insides screaming against what he feared would happen to her.

I’ve tried so hard to keep her safe.

Why’d the demon dogs let the Dread get so close to her? Have they betrayed her? Thoughts raged through his mind.

Impossible thoughts.

The woman reached for the girl’s face. Her mouth. To do to her as she had the old crone.

Tev tried to drive himself from the nightmare to go check on Serdephe but something fought him.

“Stay here.” It was a man’s voice. Commanding him. “Watch. Understand.” The voice was so familiar.

One of the knights.

One he hadn’t heard in a long time. Chavias?

That thought should’ve made him fight harder to escape the nightmare but he instinctively trusted that the other man, he’d so often pretended to hate. Trusting Chavias was trying to show him something necessary.

Something I need to know.

“Now. You need to understand. Now!” Chavias’ tone was urgent.

Just when the Dread woman would’ve touched Serdephe’s face, a rasping hiss emerged.

“Bring her to me…”

Radix’s voice. “Lorna! Bring her to me.”