The Zombie Knight

Chapter Seventeen: ‘Hold thee dear...’

Hector proceeded on, though the cruiser now sported a bent kickstand, a grass-smudged dent in the gas tank, and a missing left side mirror. His helmet had cracked open like an egg, and now he could feel the wind brushing the top of his head.

He soon stopped to refuel. He looked for a new helmet in the shop, but it didn’t have any.

‘Maybe you should just use your helm,’ the reaper suggested.

Hector reached into the satchel over the rear tire and pulled out the helm. The large gouge across the top right temple abruptly reminded him of his fight with Geoffrey.

‘Then again, maybe not.’

Hector pursed his lips to one side. ‘I think I... hmm...’ He pressed his palm to the metal and slowly moved it across the cut. In his hand’s wake, the sundered metal was filled in. Once finished, he held it up to look at his work. His iron was clearly darker than the rest of the helm’s sheet metal, so it looked like a kind of jagged scar with specks of iron splaying outward.

Garovel tilted his head. ‘Hey. Since when have you been able to do that?’

‘Uh... just now, I guess. I didn’t really think it’d work, honestly...’ He tapped a finger against it, and the iron rattled. ‘Ah, it’s loose, though. I couldn’t make it fit perfectly...’

‘Huh?’

‘Instead of just filling it in, add an entire layer of iron.’

He blinked. ‘That’s a great idea...’ He breathed deep and moved his hand all across the helm until it was completely darkened. The dents from the original molding were no longer visible. The new coating stuck fast, one solid chunk. ‘Wow... it’s a lot heavier now, but it’s a lot stronger, too...’

‘And it doesn’t look so shit anymore.’

Hector snorted a laugh. He considered coating the inside of the helmet as well, but he figured it fit his head snugly enough already. He did add smoother corners to the jaw, however.

‘Hmm. What else can you do with your iron?’

‘Uh... I’m not sure, actually...’

‘Try creating something from scratch. Like a replica of your helm.’

His brow receded at the idea, but he nodded and returned the helm to its satchel. He rubbed his hands together a moment, then slowly pulled them apart until it was as if he were holding an invisible ball between them.

Gradually, he could see the dust appear on his skin, gathering into powdery chunks, then into one larger mass, like grains of sand forming a tiny hill and climbing it.

But it didn’t take shape properly. Hector squinted as the iron amassed into an amorphous lump, far too small and nothing like the image in his head. He frowned at his work.

‘Wow,’ said Garovel. ‘You really did start shitting out metal turds.’

‘It doesn’t look like...’ His frown deepened. ‘Actually, it kinda does...’ He let the lump drop from his hand and made it disintegrate before it touched the pavement. ‘Specific shapes are too difficult,’ he said. ‘Just giving things a thin coating is way easier.’

‘I suppose that’s to be expected,’ said Garovel. ‘It’s like the difference between tracing a picture and drawing something completely new. But your skill is definitely growing. And iron coating could prove immensely useful. How much coating can you create?’

‘Let’s see.’ Hector stuck his arms out as if hugging the air in front of him. He concentrated, and the metal began to swirl around his fingertips. Iron powder collected together, covering his hands completely in lustrous metal, running up his wrists, reaching for his elbows. It stopped before touching his shoulders, however, and he shut his eyes, shaking his head. ‘I think that’s all I can get...’

‘Well. Color me impressed, Hector.’

‘R-really?’

‘Yeah. Unless you’ve just trapped your arms in your own metal, that is.’

He smirked and annihilated the iron. He stretched his arms and popped his knuckles.

‘By the way, those people are staring at you.’ Garovel pointed to the pump station behind Hector, where a family of four was gawking with varying degrees of confusion.

Hector flushed red. “Uh... I was, uh... that... mgh...”

‘Time to go?’

‘Y-yeah.’ He donned his helm and gave the family a stilted wave before roaring out of the gas station.

His helm didn’t have a visor like the riding helmet, so he had to get accustomed to squinting against the bit of wind that made it through.

He came upon an amusement park with a big green sign that read ‘Serpent World’ in swirling letters. He’d forgotten it even existed out here. The place was famous for its winding coasters and snake exhibits. He remembered wanting to visit as a kid.

Seeing the park meant they were close to the capital, he recalled, and sure enough, no more than ten minutes later, he could see Sescoria’s skyscrapers in the distance. A couple of suburban towns still lay in the way, but they soon fell behind him.

Traffic picked up as he entered the city, and he stiffened his posture, trying to watch the road even more carefully. He eased to a stop at the first intersection. ‘So, um, how do I get to the royal palace?’ he asked as he waited for the light to turn green.

‘The Queen doesn’t live in the palace,’ said Garovel. ‘She lives in Belgrant Castle.’

‘Oh... then what’s the palace for?’

‘Ceremonies, international receptions, that sort of thing. Though, I’m sure she could’ve lived in the palace if she wanted. Some of her relatives probably do.’

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‘Huh...’

‘You really should know more about your own country, Hector.’

‘I, ah... yeah, okay...’

‘Just keep going until you see Belgrant Avenue and turn right. Should lead us straight there.’

Hector had only been to Sescoria once before, years ago for a field trip in elementary school, and he didn’t remember much--just some museum, an old knights’ monument, and the palace itself, which was a massive, turreted affair with people always bustling through it. The city center, he discovered, was oddly similar in that regard. Pedestrians and vehicles filled the streets, and buildings were often rounded, if not perfectly cylindrical, with flat rooftops and arching windows.

Blue was a frequent color, he noticed. Sky blue brick here, pale blue wood there, even the sidewalk turned a faint blue as he rolled up toward the Belgrant Gatehouse.

To Hector’s eyes, Belgrant Castle was certainly no less impressive than a palace. Through the gaps between the fence’s thick, white bars, he could see a lush garden sprawling across an entire city block and a fountain splitting the center walkway up to the main entrance. The castle itself was a multi-towered structure, rising up four stories and flying Atreyan flags on both ends. He’d also heard that the rear of the castle extended out onto a small lake, but he couldn’t see it from this angle.

Passersby were starting to give him strange looks, so he removed his helm and held it under his arm. He saw two lines in front of the gatehouse: one for vehicles and one for foot traffic.

He looked at Garovel. ‘What’s the plan?’

‘You wait here, while I scout the situation.’

‘That plan sucks.’

‘No arguing. I’ll tell you if I need you.’

‘How would I get to you in time? Just climb the fence in broad daylight?’

‘Yes.’ Garovel grabbed Hector’s shoulder. ‘I don’t care if you have to break into the castle live on television. You get your ass over there and protect me.’

Hector felt the vigor course through him. He inhaled deeply and exhaled a laugh. “Okay, I will,” he said, drawing more discomforted glances. The sudden energy made every muscle in his body anxious. ‘How long does this boost last?’

‘Should last about half an hour before I need to renew it. So, I won’t be long.’

He looked through the fence another time and saw numerous guards patrolling the grounds. ‘Keep me updated.’

‘Of course.’

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

The guards found the body stuffed into a storage locker. They said it was a young man named Mark Stockton. She remembered him. He was a serving boy, no more than seventeen. He often brought her meals. She doubted that was coincidence.

Helen decided to cancel the rest of her silent meetings. Time was no longer her ally, she realized. And besides, Mehlsanz refused to leave her side now, apparently afraid to chance upon the murderer without Helen to protect her.

She found her husband just outside their bedchamber. She dismissed the attendant he was talking to and pushed him into the room, shutting the door behind her. “I need to know something, and I need to know it now,” she said.

The King straightened and met her gaze. “Yes?”

“Were you the one who tried to have me killed?”

His expression turned over on itself. He blinked and opened his mouth but hesitated. After a moment, his eyes narrowed. “Is that why you have been so distant these past few days? You suspect I had something to do with it?”

“Yes.”

He lowered his brow and breathed a short laugh. “I always did like your candor.”

“I do not see what is amusing,” she said. “Goddess, William, if you had that boy killed because of some quiet grudge against me, then I--”

“I did no such thing! Helen! How can you even think that I--?!” He stopped himself, pensive. He took a breath and scratched his brow. “No. I understand. This is just like you, isn’t it? Suspecting everyone. And as well you should, I suppose. But I promise you, I had nothing to do with it. Any of it.”

“Convince me,” she said.

His expression hardened. “Fine. What are your reasons for suspecting me, then?”

It was her turn to be reluctant. “Well, firstly... you did not wish to marry me.”

“Helen, that was a lifetime ago...”

“What was the reason? Or reasons. Tell me the truth, William.”

He cast his eyes at the floor briefly, frowning as he looked back up at her again. “I had feelings for another woman when we met. She was a commoner. My parents did not approve and so organized my marriage to you.”

A familiar story. Her brother David experienced something similar, though he did not go through with the marriage--or rather, he had gotten the woman to hate him so much that she refused to go through with it. As for William, Helen could believe him. She remembered how timid he was in those days, particularly around his family.

“I never resented you,” he said. He took a deep breath. “In fact, I... I’ve never loved anyone more in my life.”

Her eyes widened, and she turned red.

‘Wait, what?’ Mehlsanz floated around the two of them. ‘Why the hell are you blushing? You’ve been married to this guy for years, already.’

Helen struggled for the right words. “I did not realize you felt that way...”

“I often find it difficult to tell you my feelings...”

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

“William, I also... love you.”

‘Hold on, this is a trick, isn’t it? You’re trying to trick him, somehow.’

The King smiled.

The Queen smiled.

‘Holy shit, it’s not a trick.’

Helen’s smile weakened. “I also thought you might resent me for never wanting children.”

“Honestly, I never wanted children, either,” he said. “My family wanted an heir, of course, but I was quite content with upsetting them by then.”

‘What the fuck is happening right now?’ said Mehlsanz. ‘You do remember that there’s a murderer loose in the building, don’t you? More than one, if you count Nathaniel.’

That brought Helen’s attention back to the present, and she looked at William again. “If you are not the one responsible, then the most probable suspect is Gabriel.”

The King blinked at her. “Gabriel?”

“Nathaniel poisoned my wine,” she said. “I have known all along that he was the assassin, but I do not yet know who convinced him to kill me.” She could see the gears turning in William’s head.

He pressed a hand to his temple. “Gabriel... yes... He has been trying to convince me to support the expansionist movement for months now. He wanted me to talk to you about it. He thinks you don’t listen to him.”

“That is because I don’t.”

“His nationalism must be even stronger than I imagined if he would go so far as to have you killed. His own sister...” He straightened. “This changes things. I need to meet with my aunt again. She probably knows more about Gabriel than I do.” He moved for the door.

Helen stepped closer. “Before you do, can you find a guardswoman named Lynnette Edith and tell her to come see me?”

“Lynnette Edith?”

“I do not wish to see her in public, but I need to amend my orders for her.”

He nodded. “Very well.”

They paused a moment, standing by the door together, both abruptly realizing that their conversation had ended. Then the King kissed her, and they let it linger.

“Please be careful,” she said.

“You as well.” And he was gone.

Helen turned away from the door, rubbing her flushed face and trying not to look at Mehlsanz.

‘Well, aren’t you just adorable.’

She stiffened. ‘I was merely trying to ensure his cooperation.’

‘No, you weren’t.’

‘W-we are often apart, traveling internationally. Our relationship has--has been very--oh, why am I justifying myself to you, anyway?’

Mehlsanz just laughed.

‘Excuse me,’ came another voice.

They both turned to see a second reaper hovering by the window.

‘I apologize for the interruption, but I’d like to inquire... Wait. Aren’t you Mehlsanz?’

‘I am.’ She tilted her head. ‘Garovel?’

‘You remember me. So it was you who revived the Queen, then?’

‘Indeed.’

‘I didn’t think the Vanguard was in the habit of reviving royalty. Wasn’t there a rule about that? Affecting the living world too greatly or some such?’

‘I left the Vanguard,’ said Mehlsanz.

Garovel floated closer. ‘Why?’

‘It’s a long story. Reviving the Queen was my attempt to stop the Vanguard from hunting me down.’

‘They want to kill you?’

‘They don’t just let you leave, anymore. It’s not like it was when you were there, Garovel. I attached myself to her because now killing me also means killing her.’

‘Ah.’ Garovel eyed the Queen. ‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty.’

Helen nodded. “Likewise.”

‘What are you doing here?’ said Mehlsanz.

‘I was worried that whoever revived the Queen wanted to exploit her influence. I’m relieved to see that’s not the case. Or is it?’

‘Of course not. Did you bring a servant?’

‘I did.’

‘How powerful?’

‘Why do you ask?’

Mehlsanz hesitated. She looked between Garovel and the Queen. ‘I was backed into a corner. They were going to kill me. You understand?’

‘I don’t. What’re you getting at?’

‘The Vanguard won’t come after me,’ she said. ‘But now... Abolish probably thinks that the Vanguard is trying to seize Atreya.’

“Give the lady a prize,” said a voice beyond the bedchamber door. A man entered, dressed as a butler. He had a reaper with him. “That is indeed why we have come.”

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