Dark Lord of Kismera: Knights of Kismera Read online

  DARK LORD OF KISMERA

  Tamara H. Hartl

  Copyright 2015 by Tamara Hartl

  Dark Lord of Kismera

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in this review.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to current or local events or to living persons is entirely coincidental.

  p. cm.ISBN: 978-0-9963146-0-2

  Fic HarPS 3563 M4

  Editor-in-Chief: Mindy Reed, The Authors’ Assistant

  Cover and Book Design: Rebecca Byrd Arthur

  E-Book design: Danielle H. Acee, The Authors’ Assistant

  Published by Dragon Mountain Press, Shiner, TX

  Printed in USA

  This book is dedicated in memory of my mother, Ellen Hylton who always encouraged me to pursue my dreams. Even when one of those dreams took me 1,500 miles away from home.

  In the time of the pharaohs

  there was the revered Goddess Hathor,

  mother to Ra and consort to Horus.

  Lost to the dust of legend and myth is the

  knowledge of her other sons, Zakar, and Arahtok.

  This was done at the manipulation of Hathor herself

  when the ruling pharaoh at the time of Arahtok’s

  birth became jealous of her son’s existence.

  Confiding her fear for her beloved son’s safety to

  Horus, they came to the decision to send Arahtok

  to a parallel plane where he would rule another

  people in his gentle way. To ease his loneliness,

  Hathor created a helpmate, Tala, to be his consort.

  Unbeknown to Hathor, Zakar, the elder brother,

  followed, causing much mischief along the way.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  THUNDER SOUNDED AS two horses flew toward each other; a high rail, called a list, separated the two combatants in the jousting arena. Lances lowered in readiness, the knights braced in their saddles, anticipating impact. At the last second, the knight dressed all in black ducked under his opponent’s lance and pulled his black horse to a sliding halt at the end of the course. Horse and rider spun around and prepared for a second charge. The Friesian stallion snorted and pawed in eagerness, causing the crimson tassels on his draperies to swing. The knight spurred the horse lightly, and the stallion leapt forward into a full gallop.

  Blue-gray eyes sighted his target through the slit in his visor. He aimed carefully, making sure he hit the perfect part of his opponent’s armor. He braced for impact. Pop! His lance splintered on contact. The other knight made an undignified dismount from his horse.

  Squires raced out from the edge of the contest area, two to each knight. The Green Knight, who had been unhorsed, was helped to his feet by his squires and checked for injuries. At his nod that he was unhurt, one squire handed him a long sword and retrieved his green shield adorned with a white fleur-de-lis. The other knight caught the bay horse from which he had fallen. The Black Knight’s squires held his horse while he dismounted and then he was similarly outfitted with sword and shield.

  The crowd was on its feet now as the squires backed away and the knights moved in, ready defensively. The eager Black Knight lightly rapped the crimson lion painted on his shield with the hilt of his sword.

  The knight in the green and tan colors moved in first, sword swinging in a vicious arc. The Black Knight deflected the blow and moved to the side to attack. Crouched and ready, the Black Knight attacked, his sword flashed in the light as he swung fiercely at the other man. The Green Knight dropped his sword low to block the blow to his leg. The Black Knight moved quickly, despite the weight of his armor, and struck again, giving the other knight only time enough to block with his shield. The Black Knight’s sword made a heavy thud against the shield. The Green Knight staggered under the force of the blow, caught his balance, and made a rush at the other man.

  He knew his opponent could have used that stumble to his offensive, but was toying with him. He tried a deceptive move toward the Black Knight’s hips, causing the man to sidestep slightly. The Green Knight then spun, his green and tan surcoat belling out around his knees, and his arm flashed around with a punishing blow aimed at his foe’s ribs. The Black Knight was ready for the move and turned to catch the blade with his own shield. His right arm moved in an arc over handed and forced the Green Knight’s sword downward.

  Steel rang against steel in the quiet of the arena for a while and an eager crowd held their collective breaths. They heard the grunts and gasps of effort through each man’s helm as the two fought. After several more minutes of ringing steel, the Black Knight caught the other man behind the knees with the flat of his blade, bringing him crashing down.

  The Green Knight landed on his back and struggled to rise. The Black Knight quickly brought the tip of his sword to the other knight’s neck, and with his other hand, raised his visor.

  The crowd had been cheering on their champion, but hushed to hear his words. “Do you yield?” he asked loudly and clearly.

  The other knight nodded, and at that motion, the Black Knight sheathed his sword and helped his opponent to his feet.

  The crowd went wild then as one of the Black Knight’s squires returned with his horse and took his shield and helm. He remounted and as he settled back into the saddle, the stallion half-reared. As the crowd began to quiet, a voice boomed into the arena.

  “Ladies and gentleman, our victor the Black Knight.
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  The Normandy Hotel and Casino hopes that you have enjoyed this demonstration of medieval combat. Please give our hero another round of applause as he makes his victory pass!”

  Chapter One

  DRACE MACKINNON, THE BLACK KNIGHT, current hero and champion of the Las Vegas hotel and casino, The Normandy, spun his big black horse in a tight circle. He galloped the horse around the arena and brought it to a sliding halt in front of an elderly woman of about eighty. Her granddaughter and grandson were seated on either side of her. He removed ribbons with tiny bells from the trapping around the stallion’s neck then sidestepped the horse close to the railing. He extended a gloved hand to her, crimson and black ribbons trailed from his fingertips. As she reached for the ribbons, he caught her hand, leaning over, and raised her hand to his lips; he brushed a kiss over her knuckles.

  “My beautiful lady,” he said in a deep voice, and turned her hand, dropping the belled ribbon into her palm. Marion Theile of Dayton, Ohio blushed to the roots of her hair. “I am told today is your birthday,” he continued at her nod. “I wish you the happiest of days.” He gave her a broad smile.

  Her blush deepened. “Oh my word,” she gasped.

  He backed the horse away from the rail, bowed, and then rode another round of the arena to the cheers and applause of the crowd.

  One of the squires from the show doubled as a groom and had taken the black stallion back to the stables to unsaddle and rub him down. His other squire, who was new, was currently helping divest him of the armor he wore. It was not the full suit of armor, which was sometimes displayed, but had a breast and back plate over a chain mail shirt made as realistic as possible.A black surcoat with crimson trim and a crimson lion on the front went over it. It was almost impossible to get into or remove by oneself.

  Done with the evening’s performance, Drace was in the props room drying his shoulder length hair with a towel. The mahogany brown hair was almost black with sweat after being under his helmet and the hot lights in the arena. While Drace stood ruffling up his hair, the new squire unbuckled the leg guards from his muscular calves. When she stood up, her blond head barely came up to his chest. Violet eyes looked up at him as he automatically raised his arms for her to undo the straps on the sides of the breastplate.

  “Thank you, my Lord,” she said in her softly accented voice.

  “Hey, I told you only ‘my Lord’ me in the show. I’m just Drace here, ok?”

  Vashti was so cute when she blushed that it made her purple violet eyes and long platinum blond hair even more striking. “My apology my Lo… Drace. Please sit down so that I may reach your shoulder straps.”

  “Thank you,” she said as he sat on a bench for her.

  A damp towel caught Drace in the face when Joe, his red haired rival from the show, threw it across the room.

  “How do you rate the new chick?” Joe quipped as his own assistant worked on his armor. “Come on Vashti,” he teased, “when are you going to leave that big lug for me?”

  “Hey, I resent that,” the college kid who was divesting Joe of his breastplate grumbled as he fumbled with a stubborn buckle.

  Joe lightly shoved his brown-haired, lanky squire. “Man, you know I was just kidding,” he laughed. “You’re the best.”

  “Dude, you’re just saying that because my mom bakes you brownies.” He gave a little sound of triumph when the buckle finally came free.

  Joe grinned, “Well maybe that’s true Samuel.” He he mussed the kid’s hair. “Doesn’t hurt that she’s a hot number and she always delivers those brownies in person.”

  Samuel laughed, finished with Joe’s armor, and set it on a stand behind him.

  Drace smiled at their horseplay. Vashti had gotten him out of his chain mail shirt and the heavy linen shirt he wore under it, leaving him in his breeches and boots. She handed him another towel. “I’ll leave you to your bath now, my…Drace,” she whispered.

  “Thanks, Vashti. See you tomorrow,” he said as she gathered up the discarded towels. “Hey, where did you say you were from again?” he asked before she left.

  Vashti was a puzzle who Drace and Joe had been trying to solve for the last week. Drace’s previous assistant, another college youngster, Kevin Blackwell, had called in sick and no one had heard from him since.

  Vashti had shown up at the personnel department later the same day looking for a temporary job. Her exotic voice and striking looks, plus an obvious intelligence, impressed the Human Resource Manager. He introduced her to Drace. He liked her as well, and she was hired on the spot.

  Drace and Joe made up a game of ‘Who is Vashti?’ They didn’t even know her last name. Drace’s opinion was she was in a witness relocation program. Joe though she’d killed a boyfriend and was on the run. It was something different every day. Whatever the reason, she remained closed-mouthed. Therefore, it did not surprise Drace when she avoided answering his question.

  She paused at the door, gave him a wide, dimpled smile, and said, “I do not believe I did. Have a good night.” With that, she exited the props room.

  “That’s going to remain a mystery,” Drace muttered. He stood, gave a back popping stretch, made a mental note to check on Kevin, and then headed for the men’s locker room and the showers.

  After his shower, Drace, now in worn jeans, a college team t-shirt and beat up sneakers, checked on the Friesian stallion, Pride.

  The tall black stallion’s ancient breed originated from Friesland in Northern Holland. They had been used as warhorses in the middle ages. Pride’s mane and tail were long and wavy, his mane coming halfway to his knees. Drace kept it loosely braided during their days off from the show. The hair around Pride’s fetlocks, or ankles, was long and called feathers, almost completely hiding his large hoofs. Pride, an intelligent horse with expressive eyes and small ears, always seemed to be listening to Drace when he spoke. Pride was listening now as Drace approached the stallion’s stall, talking softly to the horse, just as he would a human friend. In the quiet of the stable Drace removed a few small tangles from Pride’s long mane, while contemplating their schedule and long-awaited hiatus.

  Drace went to a royal blue, late model, crew-cab Chevy Silverado pickup, in the performers’ lot, and pulled out onto the Las Vegas strip. There was a lot of late night traffic. He enjoyed the lights and sounds, but sometimes missed the quiet of his former home in Virginia.

  He had grown up among several horse farms, his parents’ included. They had raised and shown Swedish Warm Bloods and Oldenburgs, breeds of horses commonly used in Three Day Eventing. Drace had been a top competitor in those events, making an Olympic alternate at age nineteen; his father had been one of his instructors.

  As he drove, the window down and the radio tuned to a rock station, the volume low, he reminisced of those days. The Three Day Eventing, or combined training, is a grueling test of endurance, speed, strength and courage for both horse and rider. Over a three-day period, the horse and rider team perform three tests. One is Dressage, a highly schooled test of all the horse’s gaits in complex maneuvers, the rider’s commands barely visible. The second is Eventing or Cross Country, derived from cavalry training. The challenging outdoor courses are highly technical. They have large obstacles to jump and various distances in between to gallop, certainly not for the meek. Drace had fallen hard several times competing in Eventing, including one fall that had resulted in a broken arm and collarbone, and a concussion. The third test is stadium jumping where horse and rider jump high or wide jumps within a designated time. Knocking a rail down or going over the time count against the score.

  His reminiscence was abruptly cut short by memories of his parents’ deaths. His father had been killed six years ago in a car accident; then his mother six months later had succumbed to cancer. Drace now owned the farm and was leasing it to a friend from college and her husband; they trained show jumpers. Drace’s goal was to return someday and breed horses like his parents. He was toying with the idea of adding Friesian horses to the farm
. He was saving his extra cash with hopes of purchasing Pride in a year. Pride’s owners were talking of retiring him from the show, then possibly selling the horse afterwards. Drace had already talked to them about being first in line to purchase the twelve-year-old stallion. For three years, Drace and Pride had been performing at the theater. The first year doing a dressage demonstration, then the medieval tournament was added. To Drace, all that time together made them family; parting company would be difficult.

  As he drove, he thought about his college friend in Virginia. She probably wouldn’t recognize him now. He hair was still dark brown and his eyes a blue-gray hue. His hair was longer now and his body had filled out from lanky athletic to muscular. The equipment and weapons were heavy—and while the performance itself was a workout, Drace still lifted weights and ran five days a week.

  He stopped at a drive-thru and ordered a bacon cheeseburger combo; then he headed to his small apartment.

  He pulled into the parking lot of the neat, modest complex, found his covered parking spot, killed the engine, gathered his gym bag and supper from the passenger seat, and exited. He locked the door with the clicker, strolled across the lot, passed the pool, to the side stairs, and went up to his second level apartment. Once he entered, an orange cat, which he’d found as a kitten in the alley behind the casino, greeted him.

  “Hey, Thomas. Did you do anything interesting today?” Drace addressed the cat.

  Thomas meowed in reply and walked proudly into the kitchen. Drace got his answer when he flipped on the light and found a new roll of paper towels shredded all over the mat in front of the kitchen sink.

  Drace frowned at the cat as he cleaned up the paper, and instantly forgave him as the cat rubbed against his legs, purring loudly. Drace picked up the cat and looked into its eyes. “Do in another roll, buddy, and I’m trading you for a dog,” he threatened. He set the cat back on the floor, fed him some dry food, and then stood by the sink eating his supper.