Knight Purged Read online

  Knight Purged

  The Faerie Queen Book 2

  Jason Hamilton

  Story Hobby Media

  Copyright © 2019 by Jason Hamilton

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  An Arthurian Legend

  www.arthurlegends.com

  Story Hobby Media

  www.storyhobbymedia.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Cover art by Jesh Art Studio.

  Contents

  Map

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Also by Jason Hamilton

  1

  The pupil in Archimago’s eye recoiled in an instant as a gleam of the first light he’d seen in days made his entire face tense.

  It wasn’t even a lot of light, just a crack in the door to his cell at the top of the tallest tower in the City of Pride. But it was enough to send pain coursing through his head.

  Yet that pain was nothing compared to what plagued the rest of his body. It had been days since he’d eaten, slept, or felt the cool touch of water. He’d hung in this room by one arm chained to the ceiling, his toes just barely scraping the stone floor beneath. He was just close enough to touch it, but not close enough to enjoy the blessed release of taking the weight off his arm.

  But he was resilient. In his heart, he knew he deserved the punishment. He had let the knight and that girl go, and in so doing, he had foiled his mistress’s plans. Pain would make him stronger, better able to resist the strengths and magic of his enemies. As a sorcerer himself, he knew that pain was often a great proponent of magic. He would survive, and he would come out stronger than ever.

  Yes, the pain in his eyes was nothing. He was the master of his own pain.

  Blinking, he tried to catch a glimpse of a figure entering from outside. She was a thin woman dressed all in black, with straight hair that flowed down below her waist. And she had pale, beautiful skin. Had he not been tied to the ceiling, he would have knelt.

  “My lady,” he muttered. The sound barely escaped his swollen throat and his dry, cracked lips. It was his mistress, Duessa, she who imprisoned him here but also gave him reason to live.

  “Archie,” she said in a sweet, endearing tone. Her voice was a song, penetrating every sinew of his body and lending him strength. She was finally here for him. Even her presence was enough to ease his suffering.

  She strode forward and brought with her a glass. She approached his place in the center of the room, reached up, and placed the lip of the glass against his lips. Cool, delicious water dripped down his parched throat, in the most delightful sensation he had ever experienced. “Have you learned your lesson? Do you wish to serve me once more?”

  “I live only to serve, mistress,” he croaked. “But I fear my suffering does not yet match my failure.”

  She smiled, displaying teeth white as pearl, framed by blood-red lips. “That...was the correct answer.”

  The chain snapped as if on its own, dropping Archimago to the floor. In a flash of both agony and sweet relief, Archimago cried out as his body hit the floor, his limbs all but lifeless on the cold stone.

  “We’ve had some setbacks,” said Duessa, turning from him momentarily, letting him lie on the ground. “The girl and the knight managed to defeat the dragon at Castle Silene and walk away with their lives.”

  Archimago gaped at Duessa. How could those two have survived a dragon?

  “Do you want me to go after them, my lady?”

  “No,” she countered, sharply, “at least not directly. The knight is under the protection of the Faerie Queen now, meaning he will be more than a match for you.”

  “And the girl?”

  “The girl,” Duessa surprised him by smiling. “The girl is something different. I think she may be more valuable to us alive than dead, but time will tell.”

  “I see, my lady.”

  “Oh you do not see at all,” said Duessa, flashing him a cruel smile. “But you may still be of use to me.”

  “Anything.”

  “You are a sweet little thing are you,” she said, directing that smile right at him. It was enough to make him shiver. “The Faerie Queen is recruiting knights and other warriors to her cause. We must do the same.”

  “Surely knights are hardly necessary compared to the magic we wield.”

  “You underestimate the power of such men...and women,” she added with a thought.

  Archimago grew silent, not wanting to counter his mistress again. His body still ached all over, and he was not yet strong enough to push himself to a sitting position.

  “I have sent the other six Sins to various parts of the country. They are wreaking havoc as we speak, all of them devoted to chaos. Your job will be to bring what knights you can to one or another of them to be turned to our cause.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Archimago could not have hoped for a more worthy mission. Even his failure at containing the Red Cross knight could be redeemed if he brought others to the Seven Sins.

  “Good,” she said, her smile widening. “There is one in particular that I want you to follow. He has caught the eye of the Faerie Queen, and may shortly cross paths with Una, the girl. I want you to observe her and the knight, to discover their purpose. Acrasia is there and will assist you. I have others of my personal guard in the area. Let them do the fighting if it comes to that.”

  Acrasia, the Sin of Lust. Archimago had seen her before, but had never interacted with her before. “Of course, I will do as you say.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  She ducked down to where he lay and slowly placed a single finger on his temple. In the instant he felt her cool touch, all the pain in his body vanished and strength returned. He gasped as all ill sensations, from his hunger to his strained arm, simply melted into bliss.

  “There,” she said. “Now go.”

  And go he did. He rose to his feet and proceeded out of the tower with all his strength renewed. That strength carried him far, out of the City of Pride, out of the Forest of Arden, away towards the west of Britain in the direction his mistress bade him go.

  He was Archimago, a man destined to become the greatest sorcerer this nation had ever seen. Perhaps the greatest in the world. And no one would help him more than his devotion to Duessa, his mistress of Pride.

  Yes, he would find Una and
the Red Cross knight. He would find this new knight Duessa had asked him to follow, and he would make their lives a living hell. Oh yes, he could not attack them directly. Doing so would go against his mistress’s orders. But there were many ways to skin a cat. He would find one that suited him.

  2

  Sir Guyon rode alongside the Severn river with the image of the Faerie Queen on his shield, guiding his quest and his heart.

  He had to make his way to the Forest of Arden immediately. Word had come to him while in Bath that a dragon was slain, and the Faerie Queen was actively seeking men of honor and temperance.

  Men like him.

  So said a little man who had come to him in his dreams, at least Guyon thought it had been a dream. Men of such diminutive stature simply did not exist in the real world. How could a mother give birth to such a thing? She would not have known she was with child.

  But whether it was a dream or not, the directive was clear. He was to serve the Faerie Queen, the only woman he had ever sought after. Rumors of such a person had circulated for years, and many did not believe them. But not Guyon. He knew better.

  He stopped and swung himself out of the saddle to get a quick drink and let his horse rest. Fairstep whinnied appreciatively and bent his head to drink. Guyon gave him a rub and a few pats on the flank before crouching down to follow suit.

  His armor clattered and scraped as he bent low. Many would not bother to wear plate such as his without a looming threat or battle nearby. But Guyon knew it always paid to be prepared. And wearing his armor helped to build up strength. By contrast, there was little benefit to not burden himself thus.

  The cool river rushed past his hand as he dipped it in for a drink. He liked the river Severn, neither too large or too small, it was perfect for travelers such as himself. He could easily ford the water, yet not get swept away by it.

  Yet something tasted bitter as he took a sip out of his cupped hand, not a taste exactly, just a feeling of...what? Unease? Restlessness?

  He let his hand drop while he surveyed the land around him. If he felt anything in the water it was a reflection of the country’s deterioration. Not a literal poisoning, but one of darkness. There were magic sorceresses running wild, feudal lords at odds with each other rather than united against the ever-present Saxon threat. And now there were rumors that strange beasts had entered the world to destroy it, enemies of the Faerie Queen.

  He wasn’t sure how much he trusted those rumors, as he had yet to see any such creatures with his own eyes, and he was slow to trust frantic farmers who had probably never met any real danger in their lives beyond a dry spring.

  But the Faerie Queen, now she was someone he believed in, not because others spoke of her, but because Guyon had seen her himself, long ago when he was a boy. That image had burned itself into his brain, forming the basis for the likeness he placed on his shield, a thing of beauty.

  He had carried that shield for years, endured most of his training with it, and now he had a chance to use it in true service to the real leader of Faeries.

  A rustle further down the path caused him to turn. An older man emerged from the trees ahead, carrying a large bag of provisions. His graying brown hair fell around his ears, and his eyes were so light they almost appeared yellow.

  “Hello there, friend,” Guyon greeted the man. “Join me for some fresh water?”

  For a moment, the man paused, considering him. Then he rushed forward in a manner that did not spell friendliness.

  Guyon put a hand on the pommel of his sword before he realized the man did not look aggressive, but frantically concerned. “What is it, my good man?” he asked as the stranger drew nearer.

  “There is a knight approaching with a woman,” said the man. “I personally caught him attempting to force himself on her. He pursued me but I managed to get away in time.”

  Guyon’s jaw grew tight and rage boiled in his blood. “Such behavior is a blight upon all knights. Tell me where this wretch lives and I will avenge the lady’s virtue.”

  “He be not far, my lord,” The man pointed behind him. “Not two hills over.”

  “Good,” said Guyon, retreating to his horse and swinging himself into the saddle. “Wait here, and I will return.”

  Without listening for a reply, he heeled Fairstep and the horse leaped forward, speeding Guyon towards this dog of a man. Anyone with poisonous, lustful urges inflicted on the helpless had to be punished. And though Guyon served no lord, and no mistress save the Faerie Queen, he would be damned if he did not avenge such wrongdoing in the name of all that was right.

  He sped over one hill, then another, the sky opening as he emerged from the trees that surrounded the river into the plains beyond.

  There, ahead he could see a horse and a figure riding atop of it. Beside the horse walked another figure, short enough for a woman, though it was impossible to tell for sure at this distance. Rage made his face grow hot. This knight was so unruly as to bring the poor victim along with him, no doubt tied to the horse and forced to walk.

  Guyon let down his visor as he approached, and he unsheathed his sword from its scabbard. It was time to avenge yet another wrong.

  Una walked alongside the Red Cross knight, the air blowing through her slightly elongated locks. In the prison, they had kept her hair shorter, no more than just below her ears, and now it was starting to creep towards her shoulders. She wasn’t sure she wanted it much longer, but for now she liked the look, at least she had the last time she’d seen her reflection.

  “All those trees in the distance must mean we’ve reached the Severn river. I expect we’re close to Worcester by now,” said George, dismounting and pulling the reins of his horse, Pegasus, behind him. Though they had traveled for two weeks to get to Worcester, he said it with an air of sadness, and Una understood all too well.

  These last two weeks had been some of the most pleasant of her life. True, that wasn’t saying much, considering what she’d been through over the last three years. She had been driven out of her home when a dragon attacked, spent three years locked in a Londinium prison before escaping, and then several weeks in various perils, all leading her back to the land of her childhood. George had been with her through much of those adventures, though he’d required rescuing by her hand, with the help of the so-called “King” Arthur Pendragon.

  But if it hadn’t been for George, Una would also be dead, burned to a cinder by dragon fire. The Red Cross knight had defeated the dragon, even as Una discovered her parentage was not all it seemed. Not only was her father not her father, but he and her mother had been the ones responsible for bringing the dragon to their realm in the first place, all through some form of dark magic.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go.” Una glanced at George, her brow upturned. Through their many adventures they had grown fond of each other, building a relationship that led to a kiss after the defeat of the dragon.

  Yet George had to go. He was now in servitude to the Faerie Queen, the strange protector of the Forest of Arden, and by extension, the entirety of the British Isles. It was she who guarded the doors to a mysterious Otherworld called Annwyn, doors that had been forced open by Una’s parents and possibly others.

  “I know,” he said, his face somber. “I wish that too.”

  Una didn’t have the heart to actually ask him to stay. His honor was too great to let him break his oath to the Faerie Queen. Yet these two weeks with him had been wonderful. No monsters, no magicians, just the two of them talking during the day, and staying warm together by night. That kiss at Castle Silene had been the first of many.

  “What if we don’t find this new knight?” Una folded her arms, contemplating the idea. “I mean, don’t you have to stay with me until we find him?”

  The corner of George’s mouth upturned slightly, as if enjoying the thought of spending more time with her. “I have a feeling we’ll find him eventually. My biggest concern is handing you off to another knight.”

  He winked at her as
if to say his concerns were a jest, but Una could tell he was secretly worried she might forget about him in favor of someone else.

  “Hey,” she said, throwing him a look. “I am not so fickle as that. It takes more than a pretty face and a strong arm to attract someone like me. Do you think me so easy?”

  “I...of course I don’t,” he dropped his head in embarrassment. “I guess I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

  “About what?” “That someone like you would choose me.”

  Despite herself and the melodrama that often accompanied her relationship with George, she smiled. “Don’t sell yourself short,” she said, patting him on the back before winking at him. “You’re not so bad.”

  He chuckled, though that general layer of sadness had returned. He was not happy to see her go. That was clear.

  Una paused as she heard the sound of hooves in the distance. Turning her gaze away from the Red Cross knight, she squinted at the hills. Someone on a light gray horse was racing towards them at a full gallop.

  “I wonder who that is?” said George, curiously. Since they had been traveling across the bare hills rather than along the main road, they hadn’t seen many travelers.

  The stranger was not slowing down, and as he drew nearer, Una caught the glint of sunlight on his shield and plated armor. What man wore full plate in the middle of nowhere? Perhaps there was a battle nearby and this man was running to, or from, danger.