Sworded Tales

The Knighting of Colin McGrath

Had storybooks been written about the true history of the faerie creatures which danced amidst the countless dreamers, there no doubt would have been a multitude of chapters dedicated solely to the tales that were woven around a rather savage legend who went simply by the name of Madeleine…the Butcher.

As the legend goes, the young maiden had been born into a rather elite caste of families that held titles to land and fortunes that were, at the bare minimum, centuries old.  She was in fact the first, and only, daughter to a rather persnickity ruler who, although rumored to have been endowed with a most magnificent glade of flesh, seemed cursed to remain childless despite the numerous stabbings with his mighty wombslayer.  So upon the announcement of his royal lady’s preganancy, local fief gossip inevitably seemed to circulate back to the issue of possible fathers for the would be child…and of course, there were the circumspect murmurs and whispers that hinteda at the possibility of dark magics being used to assist in imregnating the aldy.  The typical rubbish that can be found on any corner of any village across the entire kingdom.

So despite what Firak the Innkeeper, Liotta the laundry maiden, or you the reader may think about ht esomewhat shady origins of our babe in question, it bears little significance to the rest of our tale…as you will soon see.

The birth of Princess Madeleine was a rather grand affair, filled with the usual celebrations, contributions, salutations, and inebriations one would expect in association with a royal birth.  As the king’s noble eyes came to rest upon the exquisitely beautiful girl child just pulled from the sanguineous, splayed legs of his wife, a tear formed in each eye.  Now if the truth be known, one tear was indeed shed with the joy of fatherhood and the fragile perfection of the daughter before him.  But the other…the other was shed from the sheer angst of knowing that there was still no heir to the throne of his ancient kingdom and that his aging body must again try to sow a royal seed.

This tear, this thought, did in fact foreshadow the demise of the mighty ruler late one evening several years distant.  A tragic tale of a heart that would burst in the throws of passion, and, as rumor had it, a spear of flesh that refused to lay down and die with its master.  For it had normally been customary within the kingdom to inter the late ruler on top of his shield to offer protection from the spirits of the damned as he traversed through the land of shadows into the Great Hall beyond, but in this case, the heavy shield had been placed across the front of the once powerful man, and needless to say, there were more than a few smiles and snickers from the women in the crowd as the corpse was paraded on its final journey.

Women laughing at dead king’s you say?  What place does it have in this most legendary tale?  Well, you’ll see presently how any humor, even gallows humor, is a welcome reprieve before we reach the end of this story.  But indeed it seems we have strayed from our path yet again.

To say that the young princess was pampered or spoiled would be akin to saying that the sun was toasty or that a Rillian Thunderhog had antisocial tendencies.  Her proud father had to order an addition built on to the castle to house the gifts and pleasantries she received throughout her childhood.  An entire wing was then added to accommodate the princess and her belongings as she reached womanhood, and the tributes of would be suitors seemed to rain down upon her in unconditional torrents.  However, as you probably suspected, it was not her father who issued this second construction, for he had succumbed to pleasure of the flesh shortly before Madeleine’s sixteenth birthday.

Not surprisingly, and as if the fervor over the princess was not great enough, the death of the mighty leader created a rift in the political fabric of the kingdom, for with no heir to the throne…who would step into the shoes of the king?  All shape and size of man attempted to gain the favor of the queen and her lovely daughter.  But how could any be viewed with an unbiased eye?  Did they not all see a kingdom to rule behind the loveliness of the fair maiden?  Would dear sweet Madeleine ever know the truth of love, or would she be doomed to marry for the sake of the kingdom?

She often reclined on her balcony and stared into the heavens pondering these same thoughts.  Her delicate hand dangling at her side caressing the silky scruff of the shadowy gray moor cat that served both as vigilant bodyguard and loyal best friend.  What truer animal to spend countless hours lazing and lollygagging around with a princess?  Having been domesticated and trained for nearly as many generations as the kingdom had existed, the great felines had come to symbolize the stability and continuity of the lands and their rulers.  A young kitten was usually raised with each member born into a family of nobility, and on more than a few occasions, had succeeded in outliving its noble blood bond mate.

But enough about old pussies.

On this particular evening, maid Madeleine was counting the number of star couriers that raced across the sky, as she had done countless nights before, and although four couriers may seem a rather dull number when compared to the six hours she had spent gazing into the sky, her eyes were still sharp and twinkled with the spryness of youth.

Tilting her head to smile at the great cat by her side, she released perhaps her seventieth sigh of the day.  Surely you are familiar with the type, long, drawn out, and meant to elicit an intense feeling of pity from any living being within earshot.  The pitiful breath was brought up short though, as beneath her hand the cat’s mighty head shifted ever so slightly to one side, the silky ears twitching forward.

Madeleine instinctively looked up and uttered a startled squeak.  Losing her balance on the ridiculously ornate, wooden chair she had been occupying, she tumbled backwards and landed with a raucous crash.  The bellow from the great cat having its tail startlingly smashed was nearly as deafening as the thunderous roar of the flaming sphere that raced over the kingdom rooftops.  From her vantage point on the floor, Madeleine stared wide-eyed as the sizzling wonder flashed directly overhead, across her field of vision and out of sight in a matter of heart beats…which were now coming at a pretty rapid thump, as you can well imagine.

The castle immediately came to life, and the princess was only one of many who had entirely too few hours of sleep that fated night. Eye witness accounts had stated that the searing fireball had landed somewhere in the forest to the east of the castle with a cataclysmic explosion, but search parties had been unsuccessful at tracking down the supposed crash site.  By morning, many of the searchers had ceased their hunt, and a larger number of the eye witness accounts became sketchy and uncertain, undoubtedly clouded by large quantities of mead.  Within a few days, the great fireball had simply become another story to share around the fire when the wee hours began to drag.

Yet, another significant event had occurred that night besides and because of the mighty celestial disturbance.  The young princess met the conqueror of her soul.

The anxious princess simply would not abide sitting around on her princessly ass, waiting for the next worthless scout to return to the castle with a hazy, uncertain report that shed absolutely no light on the marvelous phenomenon that had awestruck her.  Having had quite enough, Madeleine stealthily took to the streets having convinced her feline bodyguard that she needed some spirits from the kitchen to calm her.  The light cloak she wore and her well trained musical ear allowed her to successfully navigate the village streets without being encountered.

Traveling swiftly across the chilled farmland, a mere sliver of moon winked down at the princess as she seemingly floated across the fields toward the distant wood.  Stopping only occasionally to insure that she had not been followed and that there were no unusual sounds near her in the night, Madeleine slunk into the forest edge hardly twenty minutes after her hasty departure.  She smiled back at the castle from the cover of a large tree as she thought of the large padded feet which would soon be making their way after her.  How a part of her did love to cause that big cat grief!

Turning deeper into the wood, her gaze fell upon a light in the distance which most certainly must be the location where the flaming sphere abruptly ceased its descent.  What else could it be on this quiet eve?

As she cautiously approached the luminescent orange glow, she began to hear the sound of voices.  She neared and listened intently and came to the realization that this was only a group of the castle Watch which had settled in for the evening rather than continuing their search.  Having approached unheard, she only watched a few minutes as the men were sitting around the fire seeming to check their gear and exchange coarse words about most uncivil issues.

Madeleine, having heard quite enough, intended to step into the clearing and berate these incompetents in her most spirited voice for discontinuing the search for the heavenly sphere.  Her eyes chose the target for her verbal assault, a figure who was standing and laughing to his compatriots in a rather melodramatic tone.  As she took a deep breath to begin her tirade, right before her very eyes the Watchman quickly and smoothly altered his shape into a semi-formless humanoid with long, curved talon-like fingers, the deep laughter still booming from his lungs.  Madeleine drew up her step abruptly and shortly but could not prevent the slightest squeak emerging from her lips.

Every head in the clearing swung toward her in horrific, coordinated grace.  The rage which had only moments ago boiled in her blood, now ran as a cold river of fear.  Dopplegangers!  Her mind had a moment to register, and then the entire clearing of creatures surged toward her.

Needless to say, the chase was on.  Madeleine, being much smaller and lighter than the large armor clad horrors pursuing her and having just traversed the terrain into which she now fled, had a decided advantage at the beginning of her flight.  However the body often responds differently when functioning as the panic stricken prey than as the blood hungry predator.  Over the pounding of her heart she could hear the creatures slashing through the brush behind her.  They uttered not a sound other than the crunch and thrash of navigating the wooded terrain at night.

Glancing back several times, the princess was in awe to see how much of the gap her monstrous pursuers had closed.  If she did not act soon, they would be upon her.  Her brain quickly surmised that she must have angled away from her original course of entry into the forest, or else she would have broken into the open by now…not that that would have improved the situation very much.

Oh where was that damned cat when she needed him most?!?

Madeleine began to fear that the painful labored breaths and the piercing stitch forming in her left flank would be only the first of many unpleasantries she would experience on this nightmare eve.

Her mind began to drift on the edge of an insane panic.  She would always remember the feeling of exquisite pain from each of the small stinging cuts the underbrush delivered to her as she was fleeing through the night, as if wasps had alighted on her delicate skin, plucking her flesh with precision.

When, suddenly, a glimpse of movement registered in the corner of her tear-filled right eye.  She turned and instinctively reared back expecting the first searing rip of a taloned hand.  She only had time to visualize the dark shape seeming to race across the ground with a menacing speed as it collided against her light frame with a dull thud, knocking the rasping breath from her lungs and lifting her clear of the forest floor.

The swing was timed about as well as the young woodsman could have hoped.  He managed to scoop the young girl into his arm and continue on an upward climb into the trees above.  Unfortunately the impact slowed him more than anticipated, and he feared that they would not reach the lofty perch for which he had calculated, ending this valiant rescue before it had even truly begun.  With a final twist of his lithe body and a rather simian gesture, he managed to hook his legs over the branch and lock his feet together firmly.

Now if you had told this young fellow he would find himself hanging quite horizontally by his feet from a tree branch thirty feet in the air with a beautiful maiden in one arm and a stout vine in the other as a bunch of bloodthirsty brigands scoured the woods below, I believe he would have laughed riotously and offered a bit of advice about consuming overly large quantities of the local mead.  But life has a way of casting the dice without anyone’s consent, and this time they seemed to have rolled straight into his life, up his chest, and embedded themselves firmly in both of his nostrils.

As if this precarious and ridiculous position wasn’t bad enough, the young girl began to squirm and wriggle within his grip.  He pulled her closer and whispered through her absurdly soft locks of hair, “If you do not stop squirming, we will both fall…”

He could see her eyes widen as they realized that the earthen floor was much farther below than she had thought.  The astute woodsman knew she had not yet taken a breath from the stunning impact of his ample frame, and he smiled slyly in anticipation of the necessary events that were to follow shortly…to insure her silence and safety of course.

As the young maiden attempted to draw a mighty breath of air, the woodsman leaned in quickly and planted his mouth firmly on her delicate lips to stifle the noise which would surely bring their hunters down, or in this case up, upon them quickly.  The young girl writhed against the offensive gesture, struggling to draw a breath of fresh air.

From the repeated writhings of our damsel in distress, the woodsman’s legs slipped free from the branch, and as the pair swung silently through the night, two thoughts carved a path through his mind amidst the sensory confusion.  The first, and most obvious, was that he hoped the brigands had moved far enough along to grant them a chance to steal away before they circled back around.  The second, was the sheer amusement at how wonderfully romantic this picture would be if the circumstances were marginally different than those at present.

As he and the maiden dropped to the ground, feet thudding lightly, he gently set her down where she promptly hunched over and gasped for breath.  Only safe for the moment, the woodsman turned his head to search for possible stray brigands.  He was pleased to see no indication that they had sensed how their prey had managed to evade them.  Yet.

When his head swiveled back around to check on his charge, it was met with the crisp thwack of a delicate open hand and the tear-filled, fiery eyes of a witch if he ever saw one.

“You bas–!!!”, Madeleine started, but the quick hand of the young man was across her lips again embracing her before she realized he had even moved.

“Do you mind if we get away from those rogues before you berate me for interfering with your merry chase?  Or shall we just sit here and wait for them to return?”, he hissed into her ear again.

The rage was still in her squinting eyes, but she shook her head quickly.

“Follow me then…and keep quiet.”

With that they silently crept into the night…

It was not until some days later that the woodsman saw his female charge from that evening of mad pursuit.  They had managed to safely navigate to the roadway which served as the main thoroughfare for the castle , and there they procured passage for the girl on a passing merchant’s wagon.  The sky had begun to tint with the hues of the morning dawn as the wagon rumbled toward the towering spires beyond, with only a quick, furtive glance from the young maiden to serve as thanks for the daring rescue, she vanished into the morning mists.  Yet it would be a very long time before the beautiful, fiery face would fade from his memory, or the taste of her would leave his mouth.

Several settings of the sun had passed when the woodsman met with his friend, the crier, who often provided solid tidbits of information with regards to soldier movements and military activity within the surrounding area.  Upon questioning the young lad, he learned of some atrocities which had been occurring on the outskirts of the castle farmlands.  Buildings, herds, families had all been set ablaze and left to burn ferociously without any indication of battle, looting or quarter given.  There had been sightings and rumors of a great black shape moving silently through the nights.  The whisper of doppleganger infiltration had also begun to spread with speeds comparable to the swiftest steed.

The woodsman nodded his head in deep concentration and acceptance of the information provided by the crier.  He had lost count of the number of times this lad’s rumors had turned into truts in the not too distant future.  A dark weight settled on the woodsman as it appeared that these dark times were indeed growing darker.  Beasts, dopplegangers, and fireballs from the sky.  What would be next?  Quakes?  Plague?  Famine?

The woodsman acquiesced to himself that it was time to muster his forces and attempt to turn the tide of this rapidly deteriorating military conflict.  Neither the morale of the queen’s army nor the citizens could wait any longer.  His focus snapped to attention when the crier continued by saying that the queen would be holding a challenge as of sunup tomorrow for all noble takers.  Apparently, whichever lord could first bring the head of a doppleganger to the foot of the throne would not only be entitled to partial control of the kingdom military but would also be given the opportunity to court the queen’s lovely daughter.

Despite himself, the woodsman could not help but smirk as he handed a few coins to the departing crier.  The gears and cogs in his sharp mind began to spin and whirl with increasing speed to a nearly fevered pace.

The following sunrise brought a flurry of activity as the announcement of the queen’s gambit surged through the population.  Nobles, knights, squires, and lords across the kingdom began the hunt for the elusive dopplegangers.  The simple woodsman had set several of his own wheels in motion, greasing palms and calling in favors on more than one occasion.  By dusk, one of the local lords had apparently apprehended one of the mysterious creatures and wished to present it to the queen as soon as possible.

At the fated event, the queen sat anxiously on the throne while her disgruntled daughter stood in waiting by her side, her eyes like daggers.  The queen smiled at the cold mask the princess wore and patted her arm lightly.

“You will understand the need for this someday, my dear,” urged the queen.  A muffled ‘hrumphf’ was all that was forthcoming from the spirited youth.

There came the resounding creak of the throne room entry door which heralded the arrival of the six heavily armed guards escorting the lord and his prisoner into the main room.  The well-trained guardsmen then fanned out around the room in their accustomed circle.

A startled gasp leapt from Madeleine’s mouth as she saw the young peasant girl, who was tied, bound and looked rather bruised and battered, being lead by a most dashing and stately noble.  Certainly this could not be one of those horrendous creatures which had chased her the other night?

Introductions were made.  Pleasantries were exchanged.  The moment of reward rapidly approached.  All that was necessary was proof of the capture.  The lord withdrew a long hunting knife from his belt and moved it toward the throat of the little girl.  The princess went rigid with fear and was about to voice her disapproval when the man threatened the girl in a loud voice to change her shape.  The frightened look in the little girl’s face suddenly twisted into one of loathing and evil as her youth seemed to melt away and the bones in her face began to realign.

The creature shifting into its natural doppleganger state caused both royal ladies to recoil instinctively.  A shiver ran down the spine of the young princess.

There was a long silent pause.

A pause where the lord’s full lips curved into a triumphant smile.

A pause where hearts beat and eyes stared.

A pause that was suddenly interrupted by a deep male voice, “Now that truly is fascinating…and intriguing.”

The lord’s smile vanished as smoothly as it had formed as one of the guards stationed behind the throne casually stepped forward.

The queen interjected strongly, “Guard!  What is the meaning of this interruption!?!”

A firm but calming hand was raised by the guardsman to indicate an explanation was indeed forthcoming.  Bending slightly, the guard removed his helmet to reveal the young woodsman.

“Forgive the intrusion, my queen.  My name is Colin McGrath, a loyal servant and ally to the kingdom.  I bring urgent news,” the woodman demurred with his head bowed.

Three sets of eyes moved at that precise moment.  Two, those of the queen and the lord, narrowed to slits, questioning this most unusual occurrence.  The other set, belonging to the princess, flew open in astonishment at the sight of the woodsman who rescued her several nights ago.

The queen paused pensively.  “You have broken protocol and placed all of us at risk with your bold actions, Master McGrath,” the queen started.

“Indeed,” the lord issued in a low murmur behind young McGrath.

Colin’s eyes remained fixed on the queen.

Her rebuke continued, “I do not believe the urgent news you bring warrants the means with which you chose to attempt its delivery. Thusly, I will have a guard escort you to the dungeon, from whence you will be summoned…at my convenience.”

Colin’s jaw set in its sockets, but acquiescing, he nodded his head, “As you wish.”  As he turned to depart, one of the guard’s near the entryway moved toward the young woodsman.  The look of sheer delight on the face of the lord as Colin approached was almost enough to anger the level headed woodsman beyond rational thought.  These thoughts of malice were careening through Colin’s mind as the queen spoke several moments later.

“Hold.”

And that one word, that single syllable, not only changed the history of the kingdom that now surrounded them, but it instantly turned the happy lord’s face into a rather menacing sneer.  Much to the delight of the young woodsman, who came to a halt on cat’s feet directly by the lord’s side.  Colin turned with one corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly just in time to see the young princess resume her erect posture.

“My daughter seems to believe that the information you possess Master McGrath can indeed benefit us all…and is most timely,” the queen stated flatly.  A breath passed.  “But we shall see…won’t we, sir?”

Colin nodded in affirmation, “Thank you, milady.”

Moving quietly to the foot of the throne, he looked up at the royal ladies and began, “My travels and experiences have taught me a great deal about most forms of life that are indigenous to the kingdom.”

Slowly he began to circle the room, continuing, “Even the most extravagant of species can be tracked, watched, and understood given enough time…and patience.  It would appear that Lord Westermoor here, indeed professes those qualities, which have allowed him to capture the most stunning and elusive doppleganger.”

The lord merely looked away disgustedly as the creature he held prisoner twitched and writhed in a most disgusting manner.

Having circled behind the odd pair, Colin said, “I believe the one element he has failed to consider though, would be that of surprise!”

With the last word came a blur of movement from the woodsman, a long hunting knife seemed to materialize from out of nowhere into each of his strong hands.  The only reaction that either the lord or his doppleganger prisoner had time to entertain, was that of gasping and seeing several inches of honed steel jutting out from their chests.

The royalty sat stunned gazing at the bodies which were tumbling to the floor before them.  The shape of the lord now shifted and altered to meet the form of the prisoner laying beside it.

The young woodsman moved quickly with the momentum of the event.  Scooping up the fallen lord-doppleganger’s hunting knife, he bowed before the queen and said, “My sincerest apologies, my queen, but as you can see, these creatures will go to any length to upset your reign.”

“I h-h-had NO idea!” the queen stammered, “My sincere–”

“A moment, milady,” Colin interrupted, “Our business here is not finished.”  As he scanned the room, the princess spoke.

“What do you mean NOT finished!?”

The woodsman’s head swiveled around and met Madeleine’s gaze.  He smiled.  She did not.

“The doppleganger infiltration into your court was devious and skilled.  This pair of creatures here traveled with a third member, I’m sorry to say.  And, I believe he is among us right now,” Colin finished.

There was a hushed silence as all eyes scanned around the room.

“Rooting him out should not be too difficult,” Colin continued.

“Explain yourself,” the queen said coldly.

“Certainly, milady.  Of the remaining eight individuals in the room, I can discount the two men behind me as they are from my contingent and accounted for.  I can certainly discount myself, because I know who I am.  And I believe you are who you say you are, my queen, or this entire contest would not have been declared.  That leaves four.  The three guards and your daughter.”

“I never–!” started the princess.

“Please, your highness,” Colin consoled, “There is no need for anxiety.  We will simply carry a candle around to each of you, and when the flame flickers greenish gray, we will have our prey.”

With this, Colin smiled and signaled one of his men at arms.  The guard lit a candle on a wall sconce and handed it to the woodsman.

“Now, who shall be first?” he questioned.