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“The signal has been lit in the East.”
Whispers broke out amongst the people gathered in the hall at the king’s words. Duke could hear snatches of conversations–fearful words, quiet prayers, wild theories.
For the neighboring kingdom to light their signal, blazing their kingdom’s crest high into the sky, it meant ruin was surely on their doorstep. Was it foreign crusaders? Assassins? Some cruel witch cursing the royal family? Some mythical beast laying waste to their land? All were equally possible.
Duke wondered why they all acted as if this were a surprise. The signal had been burning in the sky for hours, waiting for someone to heed the call. Had they not seen it?
“And thus we shall send our aid.” Their king intoned, his gravelly voice echoing ominously throughout the throne room, silencing all within.
Duke had seen the signal when he woke to perform his chores that morning. The brightly glowing embers had lit up the predawn sky in a flash of gold that took his breath away. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it–far from it–but still the sight made his heart beat faster in his chest. Somewhere someone needed help that only Gotham and her knights could provide.
The Knights of Gotham were skilled warriors, known throughout the land for their prowess in battle and their fearlessness in the face of mortal danger. Gotham and her many allies looked to them for protection, for guidance, for safety.
The bat emblazoned on their chests and shields, the royal family's coat of arms, was once known as a horrifying evil creature, a bad omen for all under its flag, but it had grown into a symbol of hope that Duke would be proud to wear should his king ever ask it of him. It marked those wearing it as a protector of the innocent, a guardian of hope, a shield against the ever encroaching darkness of the world’s greatest evils.
Knighthood was an honor bestowed on only a few capable men and women, but every child dreamed about it, including Duke himself. All his life he had cherished the knights who bore that symbol. He couldn’t think of a more noble calling than joining them to protect their home.
But knighthood had always seemed so far away for a boy like him, growing up the son of a simple blacksmith and a seamstress in a city full of petty criminals trying to swindle hard working people out of their hard earned silver. Even when the king implemented his program to train young boys from poor families–even a handful of daring girls–so that they might join the ranks of Gotham’s knights someday, Duke hadn’t believed he would ever count himself so lucky.
As a boy he used to practice swordplay using the rejected swords his father made. He would pretend to train with a few childhood friends, all of them imagining they were being called into the king’s service as his loyal knights. Their swords were clumsy, their stances all wrong, their footwork abysmal. It had all been pretend, but it had felt so right.
But now with both his parents too ill to work, Duke didn’t have time for such childish things. And he was much too old to be playing games of make believe.
Still, as much faith as he had in the Knights of Gotham, the signal worried him more than it usually did, enough so that he had rushed to listen to the king’s announcement despite all the work he was meant to complete that day.
To the East was the coast, the seafaring people that lived there were known to travel to distant continents returning with strange tales and artifacts from the world beyond the horizon, their fleet of ships easily distinguished by the brightly colored lanterns attached to their helms. There were many strong warriors in their country, many capable of great magic. The thought of them calling Gotham for aid sent a shiver down Duke’s spine at the possible dangers that awaited them.
He tried to put the announcement out of his mind, even as he watched the flurry of activity to prepare the knights for their mission. A few short hours later, as the king and his wards led the procession of warriors out of the gates, marching towards the East with solemn determination, Lady Katherine, the king’s cousin, took the throne, ruling the kingdom in his hopefully short absence.
But something in Duke’s gut told him that something was wrong, that they were walking into some kind of trap. A part of him just knew that those men would not be coming back if they faced whatever foe was lying in wait for them in the East.
He had no proof of it, just the pooling dread in his gut and the sickly slant of sunlight bouncing off the still burning light of the signal.
Duke’s mother had always told him to trust his instincts, to do whatever he thought was right. She’d even told him, in hushed voices where not even his father could hear, that he had a touch of the divine in him, the gift of foresight in his blood. He hadn’t known at the time what she’d meant, not until years later when others began to remark on how impossibly sharp his eyes were, easily seeing things no one else could, sometimes seeming to see things before they happened.
That was when the phantoms of the past and the future began to mingle with the present. The ghostly visions haunted him day and night, but eventually he grew to live with them, even use them to his advantage when he could. That was when Duke knew he would not lead an ordinary life as his parents had. He was meant for something more. What that was he couldn’t say, but certainly more than working his father’s forge.
His mother called it a gift, a blessing. But even she was afraid of what would happen if others knew of his abilities. After all, magic was frowned upon in Gotham. Not punishable by the law as in many other kingdoms, but distrusted enough that should it ever come to light, locals would chase him and his family out of town, out of the only home they had ever known. It wouldn't matter that they had known Duke all his life, he would suddenly become something else in their eyes.
People who learned magic were dangerous. People who were born with it even more so.
“This is such a bad idea.” Duke grumbled to himself, even as he ducked into the stables of a nearby inn in search of a horse. He had a half sharpened sword sheathed at his hip and a small bag with no more than a day’s rations slung over his shoulder. He had not so much as a saddle for the horse he was about to steal, but it would have to be enough.
The king and his men were barely a half day’s ride from the city, moving slowly because of their numbers. If he could catch up to them he could…what? Tell the king not to go? Tell him that he sensed trouble? It wasn’t as if they didn’t know they were heading for unknown dangers. He couldn’t even honestly say he'd seen a vision of what they would meet there.
But he could follow. He could help.
Duke caught up to the group of knights shortly after nightfall. They’d traveled farther than he’d expected, but were still the better part of a day’s ride from the border.
He only knew he’d found them when he’d been tackled off his horse and pinned to the ground by a slim figure, a sword pressed to his throat.
So much for the gift of foresight. He thought irritably.
Duke looked up at his attacker and was surprised to find the stern face of Prince Damian, the king’s only biological son, looking back at him. He was the youngest member of the royal family, even younger than Duke, but he was already a fearsome warrior. But despite the prince’s fierce reputation, Duke found himself relaxing. He’d found them in time.
“Who are you and why are you following us?” The young prince demanded, pushing the sharp point of his sword closer to Duke’s throat, threatening to break skin. “Tell me now or I’ll run you through.”
Duke gulped.
“My name is Duke, I’m from Gotham. My father is–was the blacksmith.” Duke had to take another careful breath, now for a whole new reason. He’d left his parents in the care of the town physician, as they had been for many months now, but still it pained him to think of them. He hoped they never learned of his foolish adventure here today. But he had no time to worry about his parents now. “I want to help you. I want to fight.”
A fierceness burned inside him as he realized that was what he was really here to do.
For a moment the prince scanned his face, scrutinizing his every feature for any indication of his honesty or lack thereof. Finally he pulled back with a scoff. “The Knights of Gotham have no use for an untrained peasant boy. You’d just be a liability to us.”
“Just because I’m not a knight doesn’t mean I’m untrained.” Duke snapped, probably harsher and more defensive than he should have considering he was speaking to royalty. “You don’t even know what you’re going up against.”
“And you do?”
Duke paused. His silence was answer enough.
“That’s what I thought.” Sheathing his sword, Prince Damian turned to walk away, probably back to the campsite. “I suggest you either make your way back home or find a place to rest for the night.”
“Damian?” Someone called out. “Any trouble?”
Before he could respond Sir Richard, the king’s eldest ward, emerged from the trees. He was effortlessly regal despite the stories of his nomadic upbringing. But Duke knew not to be fooled by that. He was one of the most accomplished swordsmen in the king’s guard.
“Not at all.” The prince replied. “Just a boy with delusions of grandeur.”
“Hey!” Duke finally managed to pull himself to his feet, his face growing warm with embarrassment.
Sir Richard glanced over at him, the white of his teeth shining in the darkness as he smiled. “Well we can’t leave him to fend for himself out here. If the bandits don’t get him then the wolves probably will.”
Duke felt a flash of anger at the man’s tone despite his friendliness. He didn’t need their protection. He needed to protect them.
As Sir Richard led him towards the soft glow of their campsite, Duke looked up to the sky, the magically burning embers of the signal shone brighter than the stars, but there was something sickly to it that made his stomach turn all over again. There was something evil waiting for them out there.
Duke was led over to the center of the campsite, several knights watched him as he passed by, though whether they recognized him as the blacksmith’s boy was hard to say. He’d met a handful of them before, but he doubted he was important enough or impressive enough to leave a lasting impression on any of them.
He kept his head down, uncertainty twisting in his gut. He’d been so focused on finding them all that he hadn’t spent any time figuring out what to do once he did. They weren’t going to just turn around as long as the signal burned in the sky, calling them to their ally’s side. Even if they knew the mission would lead them to certain death, no Knight of Gotham would refuse the call to help those in need.
Duke understood that. That’s why he was here after all.
Sir Richard brought him to the central campfire where Duke was slightly mortified to find the king sitting, his ever serious expression pinning Duke to the spot. He stood, taller and broader in such close proximity, his full height towering over Duke, making him feel small, insignificant. His expression didn’t change as he examined him.
At last he spoke, his voice even, no hint of emotion to betray his thoughts on Duke's arrival. “And who might you be, son?”
“My name is Duke, your highness,” Duke made an awkward and somewhat belated attempt at a bow. “I just…” He hadn’t expected to end up before the king, especially with nothing to say. “I just wanted to help.”
The king’s lips twitched into an almost smile, but a sadness creeped into his eyes. “I appreciate your desire to help. It takes a lot of bravery to face an unknown enemy.” He sighed and turned his attention back to the fire. “But I can’t allow you to come with us without knowing your strengths and weaknesses in combat. If there was time to test your abilities I might have been persuaded to allow you to join us, but there is simply no time. Our allies need us.”
Duke trained his eyes on the ground. “I understand sir.”
He could feel the prickling of eyes watching him and knew the king was once more looking at him. “You seem familiar. Who are your parents?”
Duke started in surprise. He had never met the king, though his parents had each had the honor at one time or another. He hadn’t expected the king to remember, let alone care. “My father’s name is Douglas and my mother’s is Elaine. My father used to make weapons for the Knights of Gotham.”
“And your mother once made a dress for my daughter.”
“Y-yes sir. She did.” Lady Cassandra was the only young lady in the king’s care and she rarely indulged in such finery as a fancy dress, much more likely to be found among the other Knights in trousers and armor. His mother had been so delighted by the request. It was the finest dress she had ever made. She’d beamed with pride even as she toiled away late in the night to make it just right.
“Yes, I remember them both quite well.” The king mused. “Good people. I was disheartened to hear they were affected by last winter’s plague.”
“That’s very kind of you, your highness.” And it was. How many kings cared for their people enough to be aware of such things as their seamstress’ name? “But I am not here because of my parents. I am here because I think whatever is waiting for you at the coast is more dangerous than you think.”
“I appreciate your concern, but that is a worry for me and my men, not for anyone else.” The king gestured to the camp behind him. “Now why don’t you get some rest? You can head home in the morning.”
It was a thinly veiled order. Duke knew that he couldn’t keep pushing or he’d be in for more than a gentle scolding.
He took the reins of his horse and settled in on the outskirts of the camp, carefully avoiding the eyes of any knights. He wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he wanted to, not with the way his heart hammered in his chest and the signal above seemed to grow brighter by the moment.
He would not be dissuaded by a few people telling him no, even if they were the royal family. He was on a self appointed mission, and he was going to see it through, even if it was the last thing he ever did.
He leaned against a sturdy oak tree, eyes scanning the area carefully. As he focused, allowing the familiar warmth of power settle behind his eyes, the silvery echoes of the past raced along in front of him followed closely by the golden flickers of the future. The ghostly pale images of the past pitched their tents and scarfed down their supper. The faintly visible men of the future loaded their horses and smothered out their fires.
He just needed a moment, a single moment to do what needed to be done.
There.
The bewitching hour where the only light came from the signal in the sky, where all the men were quiet and still, resting for the journey ahead.
If he was careful, if he let his powers guide him, he’d be able to take a proper sword, some armor, and a fast horse.
Then he’d be able to head for the coast, well ahead of the Knights of Gotham, and determine for himself what dangers lie in wait for his king.
If he was wrong, if nothing out of the ordinary awaited him, he’d be imprisoned for theft. Months or years depending on how cross his victim was and how important their title. Assuming he survived the encounter long enough to return home.
But if he was right, he might be able to save them all.
So he gathered what he could, plucking his supplies from those he was sure wouldn’t wake. He was pleased with how the armor fit, even more pleased with the balance of the sword. For one brief moment he felt like he was a knight himself instead of a thief in the night heading for a battle he probably couldn’t win.
As he quietly led one of the pure black horses that filled the castle stables away from the camp, he thought he saw the face of an almost familiar young woman with dark hair and even darker eyes watching him. Rumors of the Lady Cassandra’s proficiency in stealth and observation flashed through his mind, filling him with fear. But as he turned to face her, she vanished and he had to wonder if she was real or perhaps a vision from another time. Still, he hastened his escape all the same. If she was real, he wouldn’t have the head start he wanted.
He rode as fast as he dared through the dark woods, the blazing signal above him his only guide, until eventually dawn broke and he felt safe to ride at a more brisk pace. All the while he kept looking back over his shoulder, desperately searching for any signs he was being pursued. Once or twice he was sure he spotted the bat of the kingdom’s crest only to realize it was a flicker of what was to come.
He crossed the border shortly after midday. It may have just been his imagination, but he swore he could smell the salty sea air already.
His crimes had certainly been discovered by now, but his mission was not yet complete. He had to soldier on. But he had never been this far East before, had never even left his kingdom before. He didn’t know the way to the nearest towns or ports. He didn’t even know the name of the city that held the signal. It could be another day’s ride or more.
He slowed his pace, eyes on the lookout for anything unusual. He hoped he still had a decent enough head start on the Knights so he could afford to slow down so as not to be taken by surprise now that he was in unfamiliar territory.
The sun beat down on him as it made its slow descent to the horizon behind him. The longer he walked the heavier the air became, as if rain was about to fall despite the lack of clouds in the sky. Trees gave way to grassy hillsides, allowing him to see miles ahead of him.
All looked clear.
Soon he became aware of the creeping silence.
When was the last time he heard the chirp of birdsong? When had he last seen an animal of any kind skittering in the brush? When had his own breathing grown so loud in his ears?
His horse grew agitated, nearly bucking him straight off. It took all his strength to remain upright.
The sky above grew darker, much quicker than it would have had the sun set naturally. The signal, now almost directly above his head, continued to shine, almost mocking him with its brightness.
His horse bucked again and he toppled to the ground, narrowly avoiding the crush of hooves as it raced into the growing darkness. He called out after it, but was met with silence as the thud of hooves soon vanished as well.
Shadows crept from the edges of his vision, slowly engulfing everything around him. They snaked out from behind trees, underneath rocks, even pushing up from the ground beneath his feet, alive with their intent to ensnare him in their trap.
If fear had not already begun to grip his heart, he would have felt vindicated.
“So the great kingdom of Gotham has only sent one measly knight to aid their fallen allies?” A deep voice rumbled from all around him, the boom of the sinister laughter that followed shook the very earth itself. Whatever creature made such cruel sounding laughter would not hesitate to kill him. “What cowards they must be.”
Duke looked up at the sky. The signal morphed into two large yellow eyes that bore down on him in the darkness. Sharp bloodstained teeth slowly became visible beneath them, a vile parody of a smile with far too many teeth.
Then a large set of claws swiped at him from the right. He had just enough time to roll out of the way and back to his feet. He unsheathed his sword and brandished it in front of him, though he couldn’t tell just where this darkness ended and the creature began. Perhaps the creature and the darkness were one and the same.
The creature laughed again. “Well at least they sent a knight with some skill and a fighting spirit. Perhaps I shall have some fun after all.” It’s words were like poison in Duke’s ears, filling him with terror he had never known before.
Tendrils of black raced forward to grab his legs, pulling them out from under him. He crashed heavily to the ground, all the wind knocked out of him. But he couldn’t take the time to recover. He slashed his sword down at the shadows gripping him tight. With each swipe his sword cut cleanly through them, dissipating them like formless smoke, only for them to come back together and grab hold of him once more. More tendrils grabbed at his legs, his arms, his neck. They tried to hinder his movements, tried to leave him helpless, but still he fought on.
The creature snapped its barely visible jaws at him, its teeth coming mere inches from Duke’s face. Its jaws were wide enough to easily bite him in two. The heat of its breath was wet on his face, and Duke briefly wondered if the stories of fire breathing dragons were true. Then it pulled away, back into the darkness.
It was playing with him, enjoying the fear in his eyes. But soon it would grow bored with him, killing him without remorse and without hesitation. What would he do when that time came?
Duke saw a flicker of movement to the left, the ghostly image of a set of claws coming for him, the flicker of a bloodstained smile just behind it.
Acting on nothing but pure instinct Duke twisted his body, slicing through as many shadowy tendrils as possible and driving his sword upwards.
The roar that followed was nearly deafening, shaking the earth with its intensity, but Duke was still able to hear the thud as a severed claw fell to the ground at his feet.
His sword was slick with a dark black substance he quickly realized must be the creature’s blood. It dripped down his sword onto his hands. The pool of it surrounding the severed appendage grew larger at an alarming rate.
His stomach turned at the sight and he stumbled back away from it, but he couldn’t dwell on it long. Another flicker of movement came from above and he had just enough time to bring his sword up to parry the next blow.
The creature roared in frustration as another attack was thwarted. The darkness around him grew, heavy and oppressive, the ground beneath his feet growing slick with the beast’s blood, but Duke’s vision flared with the golden images of what was to come.
He saw each attack seconds before it occurred, giving him just enough time to react. It was like following along in a dance when he had yet to learn the moves, but could easily copy another’s.
With each step, each block, each narrow dodge, Duke was able to let his instincts take over. Even as his breathing grew labored and his body grew heavy from exertion, he let his powers guide him, keeping him alive no matter how ferocious the creature’s attacks became.
The battle dragged on for what felt like hours. Occasionally he would hear strange shouts from out in the darkness. They sounded human, just as terrified as Duke had been, just as lost in this world of shadows. He knew he had to save them. There was no telling the number of people who had lost their lives to this beast, who would continue to lose their lives if Duke wasn’t successful, if he didn’t come out victorious in this fight.
But Duke knew he couldn’t keep this up forever. He needed to finish this once and for all before his body gave out from exhaustion.
He let his body go still, even as the creature raged above him, even as the shadows seemed to close in around him until he could see nothing beyond the point of his sword.
He breathed in.
He thought of his father’s steady hand and his mother’s warm smile. He thought of his king and his kind words, his solemn face. He thought of the Knights of Gotham still marching towards this beast unaware of the dangers they’d face. He thought of the signal blazing high in the sky, calling for help, calling for him. And he thought of the touch of the divine that lived inside him, pulsing with each beat of his racing heart.
The creature lunged.
Light exploded all around him, chasing away the shadow all around him, bright and blinding but oh so invigorating after so long in the dark. The light grew brighter still, lighting up the sky until people for miles swore the signal had been lit once more.
The creature hissed, recoiling from the light, it's serpentine body now visible without the shadows it hid in.
Duke let out a guttural shout as he rushed forward and slammed his sword directly into the heart of the flailing beast.
The light began to fade.
The beast collapsed heavily onto the ground, wisps of smoke curling up from its large body, a mockery of the control it once had over the shadows. It shuddered one last death rattle and fell still.
Duke looked to the sky as the sun finally returned. Sunlight glinted off his armor, its golden glow haloing him in his victory.
He could hear the shouts of others nearby. Turning, he saw flags bearing the crest of Gotham’s royal family were visible not far away. He locked gazes with the king who stood in front of all his men, a look of awe on his face as Duke squared his shoulders and stood taller.
They say that when the signal is lit, Gotham will always send aid.
And when the Knights of Gotham arrive, there is nothing that can stop them.
That was what Duke was now, even if he never bore the title. Though perhaps someday, sooner than he could have imagined, he will.