Page 25 of The Last Knight

The visitor’s glowing eyes dug into his. There was an air of impatience as he snapped his fingers to get Gunther’s attention. “You are dying. It is a simple decision. Save your men, serve me or you and your men perish today.”

He didn’t care what happened to him; however, he didn’t want the men he’d led to die. Those who had power sent them to fight a losing battle they barely understood while sitting back drinking wine and feasting on fatted pigs.

“I will serve you,” he replied in a hoarse voice. “Save them.”

The battlefield came into view again. Suddenly the enemy retreated, turning their horses and selves away.

What happened next, Gunther didn’t understand. Every Dutch soldier stood still as statues, the wizard walking among them, looking into their faces as if trying to identify them. He touched one on the shoulder and the man fell dead.

“No.” Gunther could barely speak, his lungs burning with the need to breathe.

“Ah yes, I forgot,” the wizard’s voice sounded in his head as the horse once again disappeared.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Gunther struggled to all fours. “Do not kill them.”

“I am called Meliot,” the wizard said in a calm voice. “That man was dying.” He continued his walk, touching a man here and there until several collapsed to the ground.

“Now, your new life begins.” The wizard’s smile sent shivers down Gunther’s spine. “Your men will not live long, many of them will perish in the next war. You are only prolonging the inevitable.”

“No.” Gunther got to his feet, swaying as if drunk. “You said you’d save them.”

The wizard chuckled. “I did. And you will obey me.”

“Not unless you keep them safe.”

The wizard looked at the young warrior Gunther had been watching earlier, touched his shoulder and Durst fell to the ground. He was dead.

Gunther bent, took a sword and rushed toward the wizard. “I give myself to you,” he cried out. “Do not hurt them.”

Now the wizard bent and touched Durst. The young fighter sat up looking about with confusion.

Meliot then waved both hands, sending Gunther into a tunnel of spiraling lights. It was as if he fell down into a void. There was no sound except for his gasps and attempts to keep from vomiting as he floated past swirls of lights that streaked past.

Finally, he landed on hard ground, the wind knocked from him. When he stumbled to his feet, he lost the contents of his stomach.

After a moment two things struck him. First he was fully healed, except for his unsteady belly, and secondly, wherever this was, he was no longer in his homeland.

The sky was a strange shade of purple with swirls of lights and there were three moons of various sizes overhead. One so large it was as if he could reach up and touch it.

Tall black trees with twisted trunks and spindly branches formed a forest of sorts. There was no grass on the ground, instead it was covered in a thick grey moss.

At the sounds of grunts, he turned around and stumbled backward. Huge, muscular beings who looked almost human, except for an elongated nose and mouth like that of a wolf or dog, stood in a line studying him intently.

Not only was he no longer in his homeland, but it seemed he was no longer in the same world.

“Is there anything else you require of me today?” Phillippe’s question brought Gunther out of reminiscing. Obviously the man understood he was not going to share how he’d ended up in the Dark Realm.

“No, you may go.”

Gunther pushed the food away, his appetite gone as a strange sensation overtook. Someone was calling for him.