What follows is the second installment of The Green Knight, written for the #SwordsofStValentine event. Please enjoy.

Inside the Wall

As the Blightspawn launched itself into the air, claws spread and tendrils writhing, Ajax’s world collapsed to a pinpoint, and he marked time in fractions of a second. The entire universe was observable from within the boundary of his magnum’s iron sights. And it was filling up with the livid carapace of his enemy. His finger tightened on the trigger as he prepared to make the monster pay dearly for the life of a Freeholder.

He did not, therefore, expect it when the universe became nothing but light and pain. The sudden flash of white between him and his attacker momentarily blinded him, and he staggered back. His heel caught on a root and he fell backward to the ground.

The air was full of crackling and an electric hum. Moments later came something between the sound of a blowtorch and a wet, fleshy tearing. Then came twin thuds, and the vibration of something heavy hitting the ground.
As form and color returned to his world and the black spots faded, Ajax found himself hard pressed to believe his eyes. Standing in front of him and facing away was Robert Mayhawk, his head bent. His booted feet were planted wide. He held his hat in his left hand. His right held aloft, of all things, a sword. To his left and right, placed between himself and Ajax, was the carcass of the Blightspawn, cloven entirely in two. The most uncanny thing was the lack of gore, until he realized that there was none because whatever had bisected the creature had cauterized as it cleaved.

Ajax was startled from his observations by the sound of a throat being cleared. Mayhawk resumed a normal posture and lowered his sword.

“I apologize for not warning you in advance,” he said as he sheathed the blade and brushed himself off. “I felt that we were a little bit…pressed for time.” He turned, attempted a smile of reassurance, and strode the fifteen paces to where Ajax half lay, apparently still at a loss for words.

“We really should get a move on,” Mayhawk resumed, offering a hand which Ajax automatically took as his mind slowly returned to the present.

“A…move on?” Ajax asked the question less of Mayhawk than himself, despite the fact that Mayhawk was indeed the one who answered - this time with an edge of urgency to his voice.

“I understand that you have questions…or will, once you get over the shock.” He gripped Ajax by the shoulders and turned him in the precise direction of Waterbury. “I promise to you on my honor that I will do my best to answer those questions, in the fullness of time. But I’m going to recall you to the present, because you’re needed here, now. What just attacked us is, if my terminology isn’t too out-of-date, what you refer to as a Hunter - is that not right?”

“It is,” Ajax said, forcing his attention to Mayhawk’s words and not the events of the last few moments.

Mayhawk nodded. “And what is the function of the Hunter class within a Blight hive?”

“They are built to attack outside the hive. They guard traveling groups and soften prey for—” He stopped short as his mind fully caught up with this line of conversation. His blood went cold. One did not simply encounter a lone Hunter; nor were groups of Blightspawn ever roaming in clean land, away from the hive, to no purpose. Hunters were foot soldiers, most commonly seen as escorts. “—For the Reapers to then harvest.”

Ajax went bounding off through the tree trunks like a deer. If there was even a single Reaper in the area, that meant half a dozen more Hunters at the least. They could have only one destination - the settlement. He refused to contemplate what it meant if he arrived after the monsters began their attack. The consequences for the Freeholders - for her - were too horrible to consider.

“…If I can make a suggestion?” came Mayhawk’s voice to his right.

Without breaking stride, Ajax glanced over his shoulder and was surprised at how little it shocked him to see the newcomer keeping pace behind him, his coat flying behind him while his hat remained oddly fixed on his head.

Taking the Freeholder’s silence as consent, Mayhawk continued, “I understand your desire to protect your home. Consider, though, that we are probably a little more than five miles out from the settlement, and that it will take us a half an hour to get there. Maybe less, optimistically, but not by much. Considering we don’t know where the rest of our departed friend’s pack is, should we not be trying to give them some type of advance warning?”

“No way to,” panted Ajax. “Pathfinders have access to the wirespeakers in their scout blinds, but we aren’t issued wireless. The Blightspawn have some sense that’s drawn to them.”

“The settlement has the equipment to receive a wireless message, though, correct?”

Ajax nodded. “Underground. Shielded. But the gear for picking up the beacon wave is there, yes.”

After a moment, the Freeholder felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked, and Mayhawk was offering him a dark green plastic brick with an antenna poking out one end. It was a short-range radio. Ajax wasted no energy on second thoughts but seized the device, turned the power knob, and then adjusted the transmitter to the band he knew the settlement was listening on.

“This is Pathfinder Ajax Clarke. I am inbound to the settlement on foot escorting an outlander. We were ambushed by a Hunter near my perch. It is likely that at least one Reaper is making its way to Waterbury. Please answer back with the lay of the field. Are you under attack?”

What followed was probably no more than thirty seconds of silence, but for Ajax it was interminable. Then the radio clicked and a voice crackled on the other end. “Pathfinder Clarke, this is Waterbury settlement. We are not under attack. No sign of Blightspawn and no warning from the other pathfinder perches. We will be prepared for your return. Answer back, is your outlander friendly?”

“As friendly as I could want, Waterbury. He killed the Hunter that was going to kill me. We’ll see you shortly. Clarke out.”

---

Waterbury was a four-mile square enclosed by a concrete wall twenty feet tall and ten feet thick all along its length. It was angled slightly outward and kept free of vegetation, to discourage climbing. The only ways through the wall were steel doors only thinner than the wall by a few feet, running in channels cut deep into the concrete. One door was set into the face of each of the walls of the square.

Ajax took comfort in the appearance of armed guards atop the wall. He waved to one of the guards observing their approach, who nodded in turn and shouted something down to the other side of the barrier. The steel door they were approaching from the south side groaned as the giant metal slap was slid open just enough to admit himself and his companion, and then quickly hauled shut once they were inside.

“Hello, Pathfinder Clarke.” An older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a gravelly voice walked up and placed his right fist over his heart in salute. Ajax straightened and returned the salute crisply.

“What is your report? And who is this man?” the older man went on.

“He crossed under my scout perch this afternoon,” Ajax answered, “I stopped him and asked his business. We were attacked by the Hunter before I got a full answer, but he says he has business in Waterbury. He joined me in taking down the Blightspawn. If I’m being honest…sir, he saved my life.”

The other man looked to Mayhawk, who smiled and bowed courteously.

“I’m the guard headman in Waterbury,” he said. “I’m called John Hillman. Thank you for helping our pathfinder here. I’d like a minute of your time.”

“Headman Hillman,” Mayhawk said, “I am at your disposal. My name is Robert…but call me Bob.”

Hillman nodded to Ajax. “You’re free for now, lad. I believe,” he added with a grin, “that you’ll find Sarah at the waterberg with the other young women doing wash.”

Ajax returned the grin, and was off at a trot.

“Kids,” Hillman chuckled to Mayhawk. “That one can barely stand to be apart from his girl. I’d lay coin there’ll be a betrothal before winter.”

“One can hope,” Mayhawk agreed. “Now what can I do for you, Master Hillman?”

“Yes…Ajax said you had business in Waterbury? May I ask what, and with whom?”

“That is a bit of a delicate matter, sir. You see—”

Mayhawk never made it further in his explanation. Suddenly the air was rent with the horrifying bellows of what sounded like at least a dozen creatures as large as the Hunter from earlier in the day. Then came a booming roar from something that sounded even larger and more loathsome. The earth shook as a large mass hit the outside of the great concrete wall.

“Headman!” shouted the guard on the wall who had admitted Ajax and Mayhawk a few minutes prior, “the Blightspawn are here! Counting eleven Hunters and three Reapers. And…sir, they’ve brought a Breacher as well!”

Hillman swore under his breath just before the force of another impact threw him to the ground. There was a scream from above. He looked up just as the guard, impaled on a gruesome, chitinous limb, was dragged from the wall and out of view. There was a sickening crunch, and then another roar followed by the sound of grinding metal as the door began to slide, under duress, to an open position.

I hope you enjoyed this introduction so far. You may find links to all the installments of this story here as it unfolds.