A Cursed Land
Another Strange Tale by Gordon Brewer
“I’m so thirsty,” the knight mumbled to himself.
As he limped along the narrow trail amid the dark forest, the weary man looked ahead. The pines appeared unusual, with their limbs pointed upward over the trail. Majestic and inspiring, with the light of the dying sun peaking through the dull gray sky. It gave him the same sense of holiness he remembered from the cathedral.
Wait, what was the name of that holy place?
The knight shook his head, then scratched his cheek. Dark flakes fell off on the back of his hand. It looked like dried blood.
What happened?
For some reason, the man could not remember what happened before he got on the trail. But the raging thirst drove him forward. He believed a stream or river must lie ahead. It had to. The knight believed before long that he would drink from the first mud puddle he found to soothe his parched throat.
As he walked, he adjusted his belt while he inspected his chainmail and clothing. The golden breastplate he wore appeared nearly black from the grime and tarnish. Automatically, he pulled his sword, shocked to find the ragged edge and corrosion on the metal. He condemned himself for letting it go, then he stopped.
A knight never lets his weapon turn into such a sorry state!
Convinced he must have stumbled upon the sword, he nodded to himself while sliding it back into the scabbard.
“Edward, isn’t it time to leave this world?”
The knight looked around for the voice and a chill ran up his spine. The first thing he noticed was the fact he stopped by the wooden gate of a small cemetery. In the middle of the graveyard, a large crypt sat with freshly dug mounds around it. The shallow graves had a rotting hand or a foot sticking out of the ground. He knew the sight of hasty burials given on sanctified ground.
Plague?
“Don’t you wish to join us?”
He looked at what he thought was a statue standing on top of the crypt. But the figure moved, sliding down to sit on the edge of the marble vault. Instantly, the knight backed away from the grim reaper who held a scythe in one hand. While the stranger’s face remained hidden in the shadow of his black hood, Edward had no doubts.
The creature pointed his scythe at the knight as he continued to back away.
“There’s no rest for the condemned. Join me. Only I can save you.”
“No—no, you’re not getting me!”
The knight turned and ran away. Stumbling across the trail, he pushed his way through a line of trees. As he entered the forest, he didn’t see the reaper shrug his shoulders before the figure disappeared.
Edward finally came through the trees into an open meadow. Out of breath, he looked back, relieved to see the reaper did not follow him. As he drifted into the field, the memory of his name came back to him.
Edward de Morley, that’s my name. I’m the 4th Baron Morley!
Visibly relieved at the insight, the man glanced back occasionally but remained alone as he walked. With each step, pieces of his memories came back, flashes of images mixed with fear and anger. Edward slowed as the field soon showed him. He was not alone.
Piles of rotting bodies lay in the thick, knee-high grass. The smell of decay and blood filled the air around him as he encountered more and more of the corpses. Still, the fleeting glimpses in his mind drove him forward until the knight came upon a single tree. Partially hidden under the shade, he looked down at a body. The dead knight sat propped up against the tree trunk. His thin nose and angular face looked familiar, but Edward had no name for him. Whatever identity the knight once had meant nothing anymore. The arrows sticking out of his chainmail and his cleaved skull made him nothing more than a memory to his loved ones.
“My dear friend, I’m sorry that I could not save you this day,” Edward addressed the corpse as he kneeled in front of him. “Once I remember your name, I’ll light a candle during prayers for you.”
Rising, the knight looked around, uneasy about the scene.
“Judging by the decay, your death occurred weeks ago,” he said, mostly to himself. “The army must be heading north to the port.”
He ran his hand through his long hair.
“You’re my friend, I know it. Yet, I can’t remember your name.” The knight grumbled. “You know, I met a creature I believe is the grim reaper. Now, I don’t fear death, yet I ran from him when I learned my name. Have I become bewitched?”
The man shrugged.
“Still, I need water, and I sense it’s over there. Rest peacefully with our Lord,” Edward stated as he walked away.
The knight headed toward the line of trees, partially obscured by a low fog. As he got closer, he noticed movement. He placed his hand upon his sword, but the fog only revealed the coarse trunks and thick branches hanging down. Edward went between the largest trees and a stifling stillness covered him. He scanned between the trunks. Then he halted.
Faint images of warriors showed themselves amid the forest.
“You haven’t joined us. We’re waiting!”
The man backed away, turning around as each figure repeated the line. Seeing a place to escape amid the undergrowth, Edward raced toward an open spot, a hollow. He felt the specters drawing closer, and he glanced back to confirm his peril. When his legs wobbled as the knight willed himself to reach the hollow, which seemed like a sanctuary.
When Edward pushed through, his foot struck an exposed root, and he tumbled down an embankment. He heard the splash of water. Rejoicing at the sound, he didn’t care about the specters behind him.
I’m so thirsty!
Immediately, he kneeled by the water. His cupped hands brought the life-giving wetness to his lips. As he swallowed, he gagged while his mind reeled. Instantly, he threw up. Coughing and retching from the foulness, he finally noticed something bobbing a few feet away. The horror immediately threatened his mind. A line of decaying bodies filled with arrows lay among the reeds.
Edward hurried away, gagging while trying to spit out the rancid taste. As he followed the bank, he recognized the area was a low-lying marsh. His overwhelmed brain focused on a path around the spot desecrated by the war.
While the knight slogged along, he finally came upon many boot tracks, which led him to a trail. The path forced him away from the water, but he decided the opportunity to reach a camp was worth it. The well-traveled route showed wheel tracks as well.
Could be wagons for the knights of the Holy Order!
His confidence surged at the speculation. Before long, he saw another meadow ahead. A grim smile came to his features when he noticed the tents in the distance. Edward looked at the sun falling in the west and gave thanks.
An inhuman cry broke out from the dry lips of Edward de Morley when he reached the camp. He fell to his knees next to the rotting tent inside a long-abandoned campsite. The torn flag of the holy order clamped to the tent barely moved in the still air. The knight reached over and ripped at the canvas, which fell apart in his hand.
“Tis, the devil’s work!” He cried out as tears fell down his cheeks.
He crouched over, his shoulders shaking as hope faded.
As the knight despaired, he smelled wood smoke. Gradually, the scent forced him to look up. Amid the dying light, he noticed a light coming from down the trail. Getting to his feet, Edward slowly headed toward the light.
By the time he arrived, the knight found a ramshackle hut a few paces away from the path. Partially hidden in the trees, he might have missed the building if he hadn’t noticed the burning candle in the window.
“I hail thee inside. I mean no harm, for I only need water. Can you spare some?” His grave voice broke the stillness.
After a moment, he heard the door unlatch and crack open slightly.
“We have nothing here, Sir Knight.” A woman’s fearful voice replied.
Edward stepped closer, putting his hands up in the air.
“I seek only water. I’ll gladly pay you for any food, if you have it. As an honorable knight in service of your master, I promise no harm will come to you.”
The woman poked her head out further, her raven black hair reflecting the light inside. She looked over the area. Then she stared at me before she finally nodded.
Edward followed her inside, where he found a tidy one room with a ramshackle table and two chairs. In one corner of the earthen floor was bedding made of hay.
“Where’s your man?”
“He’s nearby,” she replied with a grin. The woman went to the fireplace, where she stirred a pot.
“Sit, I’ll give you what I have left. It’s all I have, but you’re welcome to it. The soldiers took everything before they left me and my husband here. Even the forest has no game for us. Life is hard for peasants when an army leaves. You’ve seen the rotting corpses in the fields, next to our slaughtered sheep.”
The knight scowled at the words. He knew the truth, but for a commoner to say such things in front of a noble bordered on treason. He watched the emaciated woman pull a clay bowl from a ledge above the fireplace. Looking away, his stomach growled at the stew he smelled.
The woman brought the bowl to the table and placed it before him. He watched her greedily eyeing the contents of the bowl, almost drooling.
“Sir Knight, please enjoy what we have to offer.”
Edward rose, staring down in horror at the bowl. Inside the brown water was a human hand with the flesh cooked away.
“Foul creature! What blasphemy is this?”
The knight whipped around with practiced ease; his sword pointed at the spot the woman stood. However, she was gone.
“Tis, the devil’s work! Where are you, foul wench?”
The memory came back to him of a powerful witch who lived in the area. The priests warned the knights about her. Edward shook his head at the memory that came back. However, a thought also came to him when he heard a giggling voice in the air around him.
“HEE! HEE! HEE! HEE!”
He looked up into the moonlight, suddenly realizing the roof of the shack was gone. As he examined the surrounding room, he recognized everything was an illusion. The walls were nearly gone, and he stood amid the debris of a burned-out home. The knight extended his sword up at the full moon rising over the trees outside.
“I swear I’ll find ye witch and bring this to an end!”
After stepping out of the structure, Edward followed the slope down toward the sound of water. Unfortunately, he found another marshy area where the water stank. He stepped out into the muck until it came up to his knees. The rancid water remained undrinkable, and he threw up what little he drank.
Even with all this water around me, I can’t drink the stuff.
The night dragged on as Edward moved along the edge of the marsh. He kept trying to find suitable water, but the liquid would never stay in his stomach for long. As the moon dropped near the horizon, he finally spotted a watchtower. As he drew closer, he saw the flicker of lights coming from the arrow loops lining the walls like tiny windows. The door was open and soon he heard the rambunctious yells and hoots inside. When he peaked inside, a smile came to Edward’s face.
He recognized his fellow knights, who were drinking and eating at a long table. To his astonishment, Edward gazed upon one man who shouldn’t be there. It was the dead knight with the split skull under the tree. The dead man noticed Edward and hurried over.
“My friend, where have you been? Come in and join our feast.”
Despite his disbelief at standing in front of a ghost, Edward nodded and stepped forward. Overcome by the smell of food and drink, he immediately went to the table and lifted a clay mug to his lips. The mead inside tasted sweet and the alcohol effect hit him.
“We’ve captured a witch,” one of the other knights called out as he kneeled by a raven hair maiden tied up as a prisoner.
Edward couldn’t remember the name of his friend, but the memory of the woman came back to him. It was the same woman in the hut. She was lying next to the bloody corpse of serf.
“She’s a witch,” Edward grunted out as he drank from the mug. “I met her before, and she cast a spell on me.”
“Aye, we caught her trying to summon a demon with this sacrifice. Her man tried to stop us.” The knight lifted her from the floor.
With a leer on his dirty face, the man ripped away her tunic, exposing her upper body to the men.
“I say we have our fun before we take her to the priests to burn her at the stake,” he told the group. “Tis a fitting end to a follower of the devil!”
Stumbling away from the knight, the woman fell into the arm of Edward. He scowled at her for spilling the contents of his drink.
“Please, good knight. Don’t let them do this,” she begged, the tears welling in her eyes. “I only follow the spirits of the forest. I give potions to help those in need. You can see I pose no risk to your warriors.”
Edward remembered the incident in his head and his hand automatically reacted. The knight slammed his clay mug into her head. The woman fell to the floor while the other knights laughed.
“A medicinal witch, you say?” He kicked her as she lay there.
“Where were you when my brothers lay bleeding on the ground?”
The knight scoffed as he walked over to the table and casually picked up another mug of mead from the table. But his expression remained vicious as he downed the drink in one gulp. The feelings of his memories returning overwhelmed him with joy.
“We’re righteous nobles. The priests condemned all witches.”
He looked her over as he licked his lips.
“Still, you’ll save us from finding a homely farmer’s wife to bed this night. Gentlemen, let us enjoy the evening.”
The other knights descended upon the woman like wolves, quickly stripping her. They pressed her to the top of the table as Edward backed away. He grabbed a shank of lamb meat and ate while he watched them rape the woman. While enjoying his drink and food, he leaned against the wall amid her cries and screams. Edward laughed when he noticed their grunting silhouettes in the candlelight provided an erotic shadow-play on the walls inside the room.
“Say, leave some for me,” the noble knight chuckled while gorging himself.
When one knight finished, he switched positions with his comrade. The naked woman suddenly broke free of their clutches. She kicked away from another man as he hurried to the table. When she pulled a knife embedded in the tabletop, the drunken men laughed at the sight. She slowly backed away, oblivious to Edward behind her.
“Wench, what do you think such a puny knife will do? Come back to take our noble seed.” One knight gloated as he hitched up his trousers.
With a grim expression, the witch suddenly chanted, then slashed her hand. The men heard her call out for the land’s guardian demon. She smiled at them in triumph. The smile fell away, replaced by shock as she looked down. The tip of the sword blade extended through her belly, driving through her back.
Edward gave a grunt, still holding the sword in his hand. He finished the rest of his mug, then pulled out the sword blade from the woman’s body.
“Witch, you’ve proved your evil ways,” he coldly told her as she fell to the floor.
The knights gathered over the woman lying in her blood. She drew a strange symbol on the floor next to her as the men watched her die.
“Edward de Morley, you’re cursed,” the woman whispered. “I’m taking you with me to a special place. You’ll wander for an eternity while I keep you from meeting death!”
The knight laughed at the threat, tipping back his mug.
When he finished, the man found himself standing in a forest. He shook his head, then looked around as a voice whispered in his ear.
“Would you like to leave this world? You must follow the trail.”
The area looked unfamiliar. He stood on a narrow road with dark trees on both sides overhanging the road.
“I’m so thirsty,” he mumbled to himself.
Within a twilight world between realms, Edward de Morley started his endless journey once again.
FINIS
