Forging of a Knight: Rise of the Slavekeepers

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Boots of leather encased in wet metal popped free from clinging mud. Labored breathing could be heard. The air was thick and hazy, broken by human forms that stumbled through floating clouds of yellow/green pollen. The invaders paused, confirming their direction. A maze of spiky trees, reaching well over one hundred feet high, dotted the submerged landscape. Their wide bases formed twisted knees of knotted, gnarly wood that stood out from the pea-green waters. Frogs croaked noisily, and then grew silent as the armored party drew close. Birds cried out, while dragonflies of the largest size dived and darted. The water was rank, and the smell of decaying plants added to the misery.

The Limblost Swamp was an unfriendly place, to which its name attested. Fed by a small lake centered in its bosom, the swamp bordered the western furthermost branch of the Turinthian kingdom. A small village named Torpah lay to the Turinthian side. It was a humble place, relying upon the swamp for subsistence. The great trees, known for their resistance to rot, provided harvesters a simple living supplying them to the woodsmiths in the cities that coveted them for construction and sculpture. That value alone warranted the placement of a small fort to protect the village, but it was also there for defense against other threats—the thieves and brigands that would sneak in to hide within the Limblost despite its dangers, and the hungry, deadly creatures that made the swamp their home.

The strangers were well aware of this, for they had come to root out one particular threat. Plop! Legs submerged into the flooded ground. Plop! Legs were pulled and tugged free, only to repeat the process again. Eyes burned from the pollen-mists, and bodies dripped with sweat from the heavy moisture of the air. One armored form slipped and fell, cursing and floundering, into a deeper area of water. Another spat continuously from the gnats that drew close to his face. A third, grimacing in disgust, poked a slithering grey leech off her leg guard, as it hungrily searched for exposed skin to bite.

“Accursed quagmire! This place was meant for snakes and beasts, not men!” said one of the knights, shambling to a halt.

“I’ll walk no more ’til we’ve had a rest!” another said.

The others were quick to accede to the request. Gasping, fumbling, they collapsed upon fallen trees half hidden in mud. Waterskins were briskly removed and shared, tossed from one knight to another. There were six of them, having travelled for many weeks to come to this place. They were silent and sullen, their proud armors dirty and stained. Dried roots, bread, and fruit were passed about, attracting a cloud of hungry insects. One knight removed her helmet, wringing free her brown, curly hair. The lone female of the group, she rose to her feet and stretched. As she did, her cloak caught on an upended tree root. Snagged, the knight pulled angrily, fumbling at the clasps on her shoulders. One of the other knights, seemingly younger and thinner than the rest, took immediate notice and sped to her side.

“Allow me, milady!” he stated, bowing exaggeratedly. “Your hands are too heavily encased. Let me help you.”

“I do not need your help,” she said with annoyance as she removed one of her metal gloves with a quick whipping of her arm. The glove flew into the brine, bringing further snarls of anger from its owner. The other knight briskly retrieved the now soaked piece.

“Your glove, milady,” he said gently, bowing before her with a flashing smile.

“Stop calling me that, Euric,” she said matter-of-factly, as she turned to continue her struggle with her cape.

The knight named Euric begged to help, pulling at the root while the female knight continued to argue against his assistance. As she struggled with both Euric and her own tugging, the cloak ripped nearly in two.