Free Bloodless Knights by Melissa Lynn Strasburg

seemed to me, I didn’t question him further, merely thanked him as
we approached my mother’s door. “They think she has the cholera. Be careful not
to get too close to her. I’ll lead as we go in. Stay silent.” The Friar pushed
open the door. I followed him in.
    The
room was colder than I imagined a tomb would be. No fire burned, but light came
from dozens of candles glowing brightly on one side of the room. My mother’s
canopied bed had the red velvet draperies pulled shut. A large glass pitcher of
water sparkled near her bed, alongside a tall tin glass. Mother’s
lady-in-waiting, Sheifa, was sitting quietly in an ornate oak rocker, knitting.
Two healers that I did not recognize were standing on the opposite side of the
room speaking softly. All the rooms’ occupants turned their attention to us as
we entered the depressing cavity.
    “We
have come to say prayers for the queen. I must bid that ye all leave the area.”
The Friar’s authoritative voice was a sign he meant not to be trifled with.
    No
questions were asked, the parties drifted from the room without a fuss. They
all bowed their head toward the friar as they exited the room. I felt rather
impressed with Friar Thespis. Although I had always respected him as a man of
the cloth, it never occurred to me that others feared him as well.
    A
few moments passed. The Friar told me he was going to the hallway to be a
lookout while I spoke with my mother. He sternly raised a brow at me, “Please
hurry, Tristen.”
    I
assured him I would be quick as he swiftly left the room and silently closed
the door behind him.
    I
rushed to the bedside of my mother and pushed back the curtain. She shielded
her eyes with pasty hands making me pull the drape almost shut again as I
peeked my head in only allowing enough light to see her by. The bed was dressed
with a plain sheet and many down pillows surrounded her. I pushed back the hood
of my robe to see her better.
    My
mother looked ghastly pale. Her usually gleaming hair was pasted to her neck
with sweat droplets. Her snow white bed-gown was soaked and clung to the sheet
like fresh washed laundry begging to be hung on the line. My mother’s eyes were
dark and sunken into her head; the blues were completely blacked-over with
dilated pupils. The lady’s lips were cracked and bleeding; she looked more like
a monster than my mother.
    “W…a…ter…”
she hoarsely cried at me.
    I
poured some water and propped her head with pillows to help her drink. Her
breath smelled of garlic and her tongue was black. I felt sick seeing her this
way. I would take her place to stop her hurting. It bothered me to know that
just yesterday she seemed fine and full of life.
    After
she drank, her eyes focused on me, “Tristen, my boy?” Her fiery hands touched
my cheeks. She tried to see me and hold my hand, but exhaustion took hold and
her hands fell to her chest.
    “Mother,
it is me.” I took one of her hands and clasped it between mine as I brought it
to my heart. Tears tried to overcome my eyes but I would not let them fall. As
devastated as I was, I would not let my mum see me cry.
    “Tristen.
Thou must go away from here as quickly as ye can. The devil has turned thy
father mad.” Her slow speech tired her; she paused to gasp for air. “Please
find the dragon and destroy it before it destroys everything. Don’t worry about
me, my son, I love thee dearly. Very shortly I will get away from here too.”
    Her
hand relaxed in mine and her lips tried their hardest to present a smile, but
she couldn’t do it. Strength was leaving her body causing her to shrink before
my eyes. It seemed she had held on just long enough to talk to me. The last
words from her mouth before she closed her eyes were, “Ye must stay alive
Tristen! Now go!”
    “Mother?”
I didn’t know if she was completely gone or just resting but she blinked her
eyes slightly as if telling me she was ok but too weak. “I love thee, mother. I
will doeth as ye bid.” I