One Last Knight. A Series of Short Stories.

Hey folks! Welcome back to the gates of Enverdolmal. 

I hope this finds you well!

I have been super busy, but I haven't forgotten about you all, my loyal readers!

I hope that this little nugget will be enough to hold you over till next week!

I will be dropping more character dives and such as well, so stay tuned yeah? 

We are at 38.8K Views in English and 31.5K in Spanish so thank you all for returning weekly to read my weird little stories.

I love you all. 

Enjoy this latest installment, and I will talk to you all soon! 

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??? Years ago. 

Grootawe, Eastern coast of the Sunder sea.

Seven days before the GBE (Great Blast Event.)

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The beach was nearly silent outside of the foaming, meter-tall waves that crashed against the rocks that littered the shallows along the Eastern shore of Grootawe. 

Not even the wind cared to make a sound it seemed, as the dark, deep grey clouds slid across the ebony sky like silk over a wooden floor.

The leaf's on the trees at the edge of the nearby forest shook and rustled as the warm midnight breeze rolled by in haste, as if to outrun something foul... 

Still not a sound could be heard.

Not a sound but that of the oceans restless tide.

Seven powerful, prepared and dedicated knights stood silently in a wedge formation, each but a meter apart from the other. 

Their silvery-white armor gleaming under the light of the shimmering nearly-full moon. 

Each with a single hand over one shoulder, gripping the long and gilded handle of their deadly yet ornate claymores.

Their polished coat of arms splayed proudly across each of their Dwarf-forged cuirass. 

At the center or a 14-pointed silver starburst was an unnamed Sera with golden-blond hair that flowed over armor that was very similar to their own.

She wore a crown with four points upon a head that was bowed in prayer to some deity that was far beyond anything that humanity had or would ever behold. 

A great and mighty claymore was grasped in her hands, the tip of its long and regal blade pointed to her feet. It was very much the same sword that each of the knights pledged their might to. 

Her magnificent silvery wings spread so wide across each of their chest that the tips adorned each of the knights pauldrons as well. 

Behind each of them flowed an immaculate hooded cape. 

The lead knight (who stood at the formations point) wore a long cape of crimson. 

Those to her immediate left and right wore capes of the same color and length.

The remaining four wore shorter capes of a jade hue. 

Regardless of color or style, all were equally daunting and awe-inspiring to behold. 

They were Spell Wardens. 

The best of the best.

The guardians of Enverdolmal.

Of Naeri.

Of Noordania.

Of Lustria.

Of Lumaleza.

Of Zentram.

Of Suidelain.

Of Grootawe. 

The most powerful and knowledgeable knights from amongst the most prestigious knighthoods of Enverdolmals seven standing kingdoms and queendoms. 

Each trained and educated very nearly from birth to be all that they were here today.

All that the Universe itself had ordained them to be.

As they stood together on the rain-drenched shore that night, waiting for a shard of hell to come to their embattlement, Gunderah -their esteemed leader, and the knight at the forefront of the formation- had to wonder: would their might and will alone be enough for what was to come? 

She could smell the rain making its way over the mountain range far to the east of where they stood, another huge storm was on the horizon.

Poor, poor timing.

She was the only one here who really know what was coming...

The mere thought of it made her tighten the grip she had on her sword just a bit more, her knuckles creaked and popped with the exertion. 

Gunderah was not one for fear.

She was trained well beyond such trivial, base things.

But this monster...

This...thing.

This demon...

It was one that she wagered could quite possible send shivers down the spine of a frost troll in the middle of a blizzard in the Beirklou Mountain Range.

Although she had the utmost faith in the six Wardens that had been deployed under her command, the were not HER squad...and she wished dearly that they were, as this was far from any ordinary or even extraordinary- hunt that any of them had ever taken part in.

She would bet her sword on that.

It was such a secret in fact, that the six Wardens behind her had only been told that It was a rampant "Sea Demon" and nothing more in order to keep from seeding doubt among them before the hunt.

This was an order and detail that Gunderah had not agreed with in the least...

She had argued that they all should be briefed. 

Hellz, she had argued that HER team and her team alone should be sent to deal with a threat of this level. A fact that the High Counsel had not disagreed with. 

But she knew, just as they, that that would not be possible.

Her entire team had been very nearly killed during the events of their last mission, a fact that had haunted Gunderah every since the night that she had woken up alone in the infirmary with one less arm... 

Truth be told, even SHE was not ready to be back on the field of battle, but the times had been tough in the wake of this particular demons awakening...and there was precious little time if any to waste laying around "healing."

As the clouds above shifted once more, obscuring what little light the moon cast that night, Gunderah felt a nearly imperceptible vibration pass beneath her feet. She glanced quickly to either side of her, nodding in turn to each of the Wardens. Their returned nods were all that she needed. The acknowledgment and tone of readiness would be passed down the line, of this she was sure.

Their training had been just as such as hers. 

They could communicate without a word if need be.

But these were not HER men and women, Gunderah had to remind herself of this fact.

It could very well be the difference between riding home tomorrow, and being carried in the back of a wagon. 

As the sand began to vibrate around her sollerets, she did her best to steady herself.

She knew that the six Wardens behind her were watching and waiting her orders via her body language alone.

She could not befuddle those messages with her own nerves and doubts.

She drew back her right leg, setter her foot and her stance.

The vibrations became a slow and rolling pulse.

She could feel dark and foreboding tainted Aether gathering in the air as it began to sweal and shift out towards the sea.

It was close.

They had but moments now before the twisted and terrible thing would emerge.

She closed her eyes behind her helmets fastened visor for but a second, one last prayer to the Sera's that she knew watched on from the Aetheral realm.

Before her the tide began to pull back.

More and more.

It rapidly regressed, reseeding and retreating further and further out to sea and exposing a damp and dank "field" of stones, bones, wreaked and sunken boats, and the tall, slender, muscled and rancid form of the last thing that anyone on Enverdolmal would ever want to see...

It was skinless...

Black and grey and red and brown all over.

It had six limbs.

Two humanoid, attached to what could be described as its "upper half."

The upper half of what looked to once be a human male. 

It was but half of a man. Severed at the waist and attached by some ancient and evil magics to the back of its other half...

It's long and irregular arms ended not in hands, but large and horrifyingly deformed hooves...

The other four of its limbs were that of a horse.

The horse to which the upper half was attached to near the center of its rotten and protruding spine...

The "lower half" was what appeared to be a long-dead and overly-decayed War stallion. 

It's once-proud muscles still taught, yet torn and twisted against bent and blacked boned.

Each long and gnarled legged ended not in a hoove, but with hands that were home to long and muscled fingers.

Each capped with a chipped and cracked pitch-black nail. 

The "human" head lolled and rolled about as if the bones in its neck were shattered beyond repair, it's eyes as black as its nails, its tongue loose and flailing about.

The horse head stood at attention, both eager and vigilant.

It's bent ears twitching, picking up signs of the living and its next meal. 

Its torn nostrils flaring, smelling the fear that drip from the neck of a farmer nearly half a mile away...

Green and grey acidic fluids dripping from its curled upper lip, hissing loudly as the toxic droplets hit the wet sand of the exposed seabed. 

All six of it's limbs seemed to bend in the wrong direction...

Gunderah and all six of the Spell Wardens bent at the knee just slightly, readying themselves for its inevitable charge. 

The monster...

The demon...

The THING that stood before them was the singular thing of a knights nightmare:

It was the evil and unearthly form of a Nuckelavee. 

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Thank you all for hanging around for this long.

You have no idea how much it means to me.

I am probably going through a mid-life crisis lbvs...but I have been super emotional as of late.

I am 35. 

That is -theoretically- the halfway point for a guy like me you know?

While writing this, Enverdolmal just hit 39.K English views! 

Thank you.

I simply don't have words.

Around this time last year, I am sure I was celebrating just under 2.K

YOU all did that.

I can't and will never be able to thank you enough 

If you would like to support me a bit more, feel free to buy me a coffee!

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I will see you all back here at the gates of Enverdolmal folks.

Safe travels.

And as always:

Stay safe.

 Stay healthy.

 Stay vigilant.

-Redd.