Last Knight (The Champion Chronicles Book 2) (35 page)

              Conner spun around, feeling his heart pounding hard in his chest.  He did not see anyone, only the bright white light.  He took another step back, trying to get out of the light, but it was all around him.  He turned to run away, but the light was there as well.  He turned again and again, trying to find his way out, but there was only the light.  Dizziness came over him as he spun, and he fell down.  He had no idea which direction he was facing, it all looked the same.

              “Fear not,” the voice said.  “I am not here to hurt you, but to help you?”

              “Who are you?” Conner called out.

              The brightness of the light directly in front of him shifted into a hazy fog.  A shadowy figure appeared from within the fog and moved towards him, but stayed far enough away that he could not see the figure clearly.

              “Where am I?” Conner asked with a shaky voice.

              “You are Here,” the voice replied.

“Where is here?” Conner asked, confused at the voice’s words.

              “Here is here.”

              “You are making no sense,” he said sharply.  The fear was starting to go away; in its place was irritation.  He did not like playing games.

              “Here is a place that you cannot understand, so I shall not try and explain it.”

              “I have heard of life after death.  Is this it?  Am I dead?” The fear was all but gone and in its place was an understanding that he was now dead.  It was true then, he thought.  There was life after death and he felt an odd excitement.  He and Master Goshin had spent many hours talking about the Creator and all that he offered for eternal life.  Although the words of the old Hurai had seemed believable, he had always been skeptical.  But now, clearly, Master Goshin had been right.  There was life after death and he was ready for it.  He remembered seeing Master Goshin die, and no longer did it sadden him, for he knew where he was.  And soon he would join him.

“You are not dead, even though your body has stopped working.”

The joy that Conner felt was replaced with further confusion.

“If I am not dead,” Conner asked.  “Then why am I here?”

“He brought you here so that I could give you your message.”

“He?  Who is he?”

“To you, He is the Creator,” the voice said.  “He goes by many names in your world, but to us, He is just He.”

“He has a message for me?  A god wants to give me a message?”

“Yes,” replied the voice.

The fog parted and once again the bright white light filled his eyes.  But there was more than just the light; there was a peace that overcame him.  It was a feeling of comfort and protection, like a warm blanket in the middle of winter.  He was safe in the light and nothing could hurt him.  And then there was more.  He could feel the presence of a greater being all around him.  It was his mother, once again, holding him in her arms, making him feel warm and safe.  But he knew it wasn’t his mother.  It was Him.  He was there to take him in.

And then it was all gone.  It left so suddenly that it took his breath away.  The loss of the feeling of warmth and comfort crippled him.  The despair of being alone broke his heart and he started to cry.

“Stop it!” Conner cried out.  “Bring it back!”

The fog came back and the shadowy figure was just barely visible right in front of him.  He no longer felt the despair of loneliness, but the warmth and comfort of his mother’s hug was not there, either.

“I want it back,” Conner repeated.  “I want the light again.  Bring it back!”

              The shadowed figured stepped forward out of the fog.  He was a tall man with long, flowing dark hair.  He wore a shimmering silver robe tied around the waist by a golden sash.  “My name is Michael.  Although my appearance does not show it, I am a soldier.  I have been fighting a war against the one you know as the Deceiver for as long as time has existed.  And it will likely continue on until time is no more.  The message I have is to tell you that the Deceiver is coming to your world, and we need your help to stop him.  The feeling of loneliness and despair that you felt is what all the people of your world will feel if the Deceiver wins this battle.”

              “I am not a god, how could I ever fight the Deceiver!” Conner replied.  “Are you not a god, too?  Why can’t you fight him?”

              Michael smiled as if he were speaking to a young child.  “I am not a god.  I am a being of a place that you would not understand, and I come to you in an appearance that would be pleasing to you.  Our battles are not like your battles, and as you would not be able to fight in our wars, we cannot fight in yours.  The Deceiver has brought the war to your world, and only the people of your world can fight it.  The only way for you to win this war, and to save your world, is for you to fight for it.  We, the soldiers of Him, cannot intervene in the lives of the people of your world.  It is one of the seven laws of creation.  To break the law is impossible for us.  We abide by it because that is the law.”

              “But the Deceiver, he can intervene?”

              “He is not bound by the same laws.  He can, and will, break them.  That is one of the differences that separates the army of the Deceiver from the army of the Creator.  It is what makes us who we are, and them who they are.”

              “You said you cannot intervene in the lives of the people of my world, but you are here, talking to me.  Is this not interfering?”

              “Right now you are not of your world.  You are dead to your world.  Your body is decaying as we speak.  You have separated from your body and you are here with me while your body lays on the ground in a cold, dark alley.  But because you are here, because you have come to us, the Deceiver will not know of this conversation.  He will not know of you, until it is too late.  If any of us had even made an attempt to enter your world, then the Deceiver would know, and our plans would be for naught.  So your death, as inconvenient as it is to you, is most convenient for us.  In fact, I have been waiting for some time for your death.”

              “I am truly dead, then?”

              Michael stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.  “You are not really dead, yet.  It is time for you to return, as your body will soon no longer be able to support your return.  And then you will truly be dead.  The war will soon be upon the world, and it is a war that you must win.  The Deceiver and his army will attack the world with a might that you cannot imagine.  You will lose many battles and many friends, but you must stay vigilant in your fight.  The Creator has set the past to guide the future.  Artifacts and people of the past will be there for you to help you in your fight against the Deceiver.  The first of these artifacts that you must find is the Ark of Life.  Its story goes back to the beginning of time and it is the most powerful weapon that the world has ever known.  But it cannot be used. Ever.  By you, by anyone.  Its power was not meant for the people of the earth, which is why it has been hidden and heavily guarded since the beginning of time.  You must find it without letting anyone know what it is.  Even if used for good, it will only result in evil.”

              “The Ark of Life,” Conner said softly, feeling a sense of dread.

              “Yes,” Michael said.  “And you can find it close to your heart.”  Michael touched him gently on the center of his chest.

              “It is in the city of South Karmon underneath the castle.”

              “Indeed, you will find it there,” Michael said, surprised at Conner’s quick guess.

              “I already knew it was there,” Conner explained.  “I was told about it already.”

              The smile on Michael’s face went away and his eyes grew wide.  “You were told?”

              “Yes,” he said.  “Prince Tarcious.  His is a prince of the Taran Empire.”

              “Are you sure?” Michael asked with a shakiness to his voice.  “Are you sure he told you it was in the Ark of Life?”

              He nodded.  “Yes, he wanted me to steal it for him.  He told me that our people stole it from him hundreds of years ago, and he wanted me to find it and return it.”

              The calmness in Michael’s voice had left.  He spoke quickly as if panic was going to overwhelm him.  “The Deceiver has made his first move.  He knows how dangerous and powerful the Ark of Life can be and he knows that if he has it in his hands, there will be no stopping him in your world.  Once the war starts, it will not end until your world is on fire.  He must not ever be able to touch the Ark of Life.  You now must go quickly, as quickly as you can, and find it and move it as far away from there as you can.”

              “But why me?  I’m nobody.  I’m not a knight, or a soldier.  I don’t even know what the Ark of Life looks like, or where it’s hidden.  I don’t know what to do with it, where to take it.”

              “You are but upon the road of life, and it is there for you to follow.  But you are not alone on the road.  There are friends that walk the road with you, to keep you company.  There are friends farther down the road that you have not met, that will help guide you.  And there are tools that you have been given to help you along your way.  You are no different than any other man or woman on the earth.  All have been given the same gift as you, the gift of life.  Each of us, even the soldiers of Him, have been charged with a purpose in life.  Your purpose is no more important than any other in the eternity of existence, but right now, in the fight for your world, your purpose is most important.  Go.  Go find the Ark of Life.  You will know what to do when it is time.  That is why you were chosen.”

              Conner glanced past Michael to the bright white light that was hidden by the fog.  “I cannot say no,” he said.  “Can I?”

              “The road that you walk upon is like a tree with many branches.  There are many paths to walk, some more treacherous than others.  Each branch you take is your own decision.  It is another of the rules of life.
             
  The Creator does not control you like a puppet, he has given you free will to make your own choices.  You can choose your own fate.”

              “I still don’t understand, why me?  Why did he choose me?”

              Michael started to step backwards into the fog that was starting to flow around them.  “That is a question only you can answer yourself.  In time, you will know the answer, if you do not know it already.  Good luck to you, my friend.  And may the Creator bless your life.”

The fog continued to roll upwards and covered Michael completely.  The fog faded away into the bright light until there was nothing in front of him.  Conner turned to look behind him and all he saw was darkness.  Without looking back, he walked away from the white light and towards the darkness.

***

Conner sat up, gasping for air.  The coldness of the air caused him to start coughing.  And then he began to shiver uncontrollably.  Flurries were drifting down from the sky, adding to a light layer that had accumulated on the ground and on the dead bodies next to him.  It was silent, not even a bird could be heard chirruping.

              His last memories were of being struck in the chest by crossbow bolts.  He had stumbled backwards, afraid at the pain that was shooting through his body.  He remembered falling onto his back
h
and looking up into the gray, overcast sky, crying because he knew he was dying.  But he wasn’t dead.  He was alive.  He touched his chest where the crossbow bolts had struck him.  There were holes in his tunic where the bolts had gone through, but his skin was smooth and undamaged.  Even the scars from where the bandits had cut him were gone.  It was as if he had a new body.

              He looked around and then he realized that he was lying not just next to a pile of bodies, but actually on top of them.  The smell of dead flesh struck him hard and he found it suddenly hard to breathe.  He tried to stand up, but there was a body right next to him that was leaning against him.  He pushed it aside, and a moan came out of it.

              Startled, Conner stumbled off the pile, scurrying away.  His legs didn’t work exactly as he expected and he found himself sprawled on the ground.  Looking back, he expected to see a dead man chasing after him.  But the body that had moaned was next to the pile of bodies, sitting up and holding five bloody crossbow bolts in his hands.

              It was an old man with long, graying hair and a shaggy beard.  His clothes were dirty and torn, but there was no sign of blood or trauma.  With clear, dark eyes, he looked directly at Conner and moved his lips, as if he were saying something.

              When Conner did not respond, the man repeated his words again, this time louder.  But Conner did not understand what the man was saying. 

              “You are him,” Hargon said, repeating his words in the Commoner language.  His voice was firm and strong and not that of an old man.

              Conner looked at him closer and realized he had only assumed it was an old man because of the shaggy appearance and graying hair. But as he looked closer, he realized that the man might have been old enough to be his father, but not as old as he had first thought.

“I am who?” Conner asked, slowly standing up.