Chapter 9 The mark of the Stag

The pain was, incredible, far worse than falling through the world.
And Turg was certain that it was the grasp of death causing it. Of course that meant the giant above him must be just that, death given form. He tried to remember his fathers teachings, he had taught him words and rituals pertaining such matters. “First look at his marks.”spoke the memory of his father.”A skull means power, a breaking tower is anger, a wall means you can’t sway him, a crown means trouble, bow to the sword, for it stands to rule, but if death bears a stag on him, run, for he is mad and will not hear your plea.” When he had asked how his father knew all this, his eyes had gone misty, and his only answer had been.”Because I’ve seen it.” That surely had been true, for a few days later he had seen death again, for the last time.
With a side ward glance he could see at least two of the giants, of which the smaller one bore a tower on his chest, the taller one, who had a woman’s voice, was covered in skull marks, and a mark he did not know, a shield. The third, he could not see, mainly due to the position of the giant on his back.

Mordred looked to his fellows with calm, the slight exercise the group of attackers had provided him with had cleared his mind, and ironically eased it as well. “Sir Ton, would you be as kind as to explain something to me?” He paused to allow Sir Ton to humor him, although it was mostly formality he found it was useful to maintain courteous  when the situation allowed it. “I would be honoured Sir Mordred, although I must confess that in our current situation I might not be able to.”The comment made Ariadne raise her left hand to her forehead, and Mordred was pretty sure he could hear a slight distortion in the sounds Gwenn34 allowed to enter his helm, as if the A.I. was giggling. “We are on a planet that is no planet, inside the halls of the ship that should be unbreachable, facing apparently human opponents, that claim to be orks, while investigating a murder on, at the least, one of our own, that happened centuries ago, yes?” Sir ton had been nodding as he spoke, every point had been on his personal list as well . “Yes Sir, all true, so what is your question? ” Ariadne’s posture betrayed mild irritation and, oddly enough, curiosity. “Where did the people we came to save come from, how did they get into the Camelot, and most importantly, who killed the slain Knights? ” Sir Ton stood as if he was caught in deep thought, Ariadne simply shook her head, about to ask Mordred what he meant, only to be stopped when it was Sir Ton who spoke. “I believe they might be descendants Sir, after all they would need to bear the markers in their genetic make-up otherwise the Camelot would not have opened a path for them. The killer however is a riddle I can’t fix Sir.” Ariadne seemed frozen in place, more than she should, so without thinking Mordred moved towards her and placed his left hand upon her left pauldron, while switching to a private channel.”Are you well?”there was a tense pause before she spoke with a slight edge of worry to her voice. “I fear, nay I dread that I solved the puzzle of the killer, and if I did, You won’t like it.” Mordred nodded to her.” I believe it was Arthur, but have no definitive proof , yet.” It was then that Sir Ton hailed them both. “Sir, The captives, they are,,, err that is to say,,, sir?” Mordred turned on his heel and stopped himself from speaking as he immediately understood why Sir Ton had flustered, their captives had gotten up, but had made no attempts to escape, instead they were bowing.

This entry was posted in Geen categorie, Last Order of Knights and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s