The Knight and the Dying Man

The Knight and the Dying Man

Far to the east of the Mirror Coast, over the boulder strewn plain of the Sanees lies the Forest of Yesterday. The trees of this forest stand tall and wide. Their trunks are a drained gray, the leaves adorning each long and narrow limb and branch a riot of color. Reds brighter than blood, blues deeper than the sea, yellows more radiant than the sun waved lively on a breeze that could not be felt. These leaves of vigorous color formed a roof above the forest more beautiful than any starry night, though clearings did occur that permitted a sobering view of the pale blue sky or deep black night blanketed by stars put to shame by the shining leaves in daylight.

A knight approached this forest from the road taken down the coast. Though many a battle he had triumphed over and skilled was his sword-arm, he had yet to choose a sigil to receive the adulation and boons due to him by his brave deeds. His shield hung from his saddle unadorned, plain wood and iron it was. His peers had taken to calling him the 'Naked Knight,' and this, the knight named Joseph did not like.

So he had departed from the kingdom he served to pursue a quest to name himself. He found naught but fishermen and swindlers on the Mirror Coast, so he continued on his journey to vanquish foes and battle monsters until he was inspired to take up a crest and title.

"This is surely a forest fraught with beasts of old, Squire," he told his horse at the mouth of this great wood.

He neither had a squire, so he had granted the honor to his horse. Squire pawed at the ground and huffed. He did not like the forest.

"Come, brother," Joseph insisted, "I know you are more brave than I."

Knight and horse entered the forest and traveled for hours in silent awe. The knight had never before seen such vivid colors and light. He was sure his sigil would be found in short order. No birds sang overhead in the boughs of the wondrous trees but a kind of music existed still --in the form of the scratching of all the multitudes of leaves together on that phantom wind. The chorus was completed by a soft spoken stream of clear water tinted by all the colors cast by the leaves above. It wound is way down the narrow path alongside the horse and knight.

"No beast at all stirs within the brush, Squire. No monster awaits us here, I suspect. The sight alone makes the journey worthwhile," the knight acquiesced, dismounting to lead his partner into a clearing that lay before them.

The gentle stream pooled there, in a swollen pond of otherworldly rainbow water. The knight brought his horse to the water, and left him to drink. Vines and fragile grasses blanketed the floor of the forest here, blessed to drink in the unobstructed view of the sun. The knight removed his helm and looked up at the pale blue sky ringed by a border of leaves alive with light and color and eerie gray wood. He thought it all beautiful and felt content, naked shield or not.

Squire the horse neighed suddenly, alarmed. The knight donned his helm and went to comfort the anxious animal.

"What worries you, Squire? Did you drink?"

In response, Squire knocked a hoof into the water's edge and loosed a splash onto the creeping vines and subtle grasses. A hiss sounded in the air as the vines shriveled away as if in agony. The grasses burned away from just the smattering of drops that taunted it. Joseph gave a cry of revulsion and took Squire away from the pool by his lead.

"Poison!" he cried. "Let us be on, Squire. Surely purer water awaits us deeper in."

The knight mounted the horse and they rode through the clearing to continue down the path, winding deeper and deeper into the heart of the forest. Hours flew by on their steady trek, and the colors of the leaves darkened, indicating the passage of the sun. The knight caught glimpses through the dense canopy of the coming nightfall and endeavored to reach a clearing to make camp in. So too did he strive to ration his supply of water for him and his horse, so long as the only source of water yet encountered was treacherous.

As the moon took to its watch over the forest, the knight and his horse reached another clearing, this one containing a pool of water similar to the one found prior. Joseph released his horse to graze if he wished and looked up at the moon.

"This forest must be the child of the moon --how it alights to be in her gaze!"

And Joseph was right. The leaves shone like a hundred species of firefly perched along the colorless trees. The light of the moon produced an ethereal glow in the leaves just as bright as day but contrasted more magically with the dark of night.

Squire made no sound to agree but the splashing of water as he took in clumsy mouthfuls.

"No! Squire, cease!" the knight shouted when he identified the noise. He dashed over to his horse and tugged on his reins. The beast dutifully followed him away from the pool, spilling water from his rumbling swallowing mouth onto the vines and grasses ghostly in the moonlight. The vines snaked fast and the grasses only yielded to the heavy drops. "How can this be?" questioned the knight aloud.

He stooped and fingered the vine, stroked the grasses. They yet lived. Squire had returned to his drinking in the meanwhile and stood as hale and strong as the day the knight had acquired the creature. Hesitantly, he approached the pool and removed a mailed gauntlet. Bending low, he scooped a handful of the water and brought it to his lips. He sucked in a drop. He tasted. No water ever tasted so pure, so vital. The rainbow of leaves danced just under the surface of the pond, instead of reflecting off of it. The knight resigned from figuring out the matter and drank greedily from it until his thirst was sated and then some --for the next day's ride. He filled his empty skins with the water as well, intending to test its quality in the daytime.

Refreshed, relieved, and having supped on provisions carried down from the Mirror Coast's markets, the knight removed his armor to sleep. He unsaddled Squire and made a bed from it with his blanket and cloak. His bond was so secure with the animal he had no cause to hobble him for the night. Under the moon and stars he lay against his saddle. He listened to the leaves and the rude sound of Squire's grazing and was soon asleep.

He awoke with the dawn, rested and robust. The leaves welcomed him back to the forest with their crinkling and their marvelous color. He rose and found Squire near him, as far from the pool of peculiar water as he could get. The knight tossed a stone just so and the splash reviled the foliage just as it had the day prior.

"Here is the true test, friend," Joseph said to his horse. He untopped a skin of the water gathered in the night and spilled it onto the ground. No hiss or burning took effect, neither from the other skins as well. He hazarded a sip fist, and, finding it just as cold and revitalizing, poured a generous drink into Squire's mouth. "Let us be on, Squire. I've not felt so invested with energy as I do now!"

The knight armored himself and saddled his horse. As one they traversed onward under the canopy of ultralight leaves. He stared up at them in awe as he had when he first laid eyes on them. Squire ignored them and kept on the path, as he had when he first passed under them. They walked through another clearing without stopping, sure of the toxicity in the water. Joseph ate in the saddle and offered Squire apples from his hand while he walked on.

It was near sunset when they heard the first sound unnatural to the Forest of Yesterday --a voice! A sad keening, truly. The knight knew it as a pitiful plea for aid and spurred his steed down the track without pause. The fleet passing of Squire made a breeze of its own that sounded the leaves to urge the knight on with a high ululating whistling he paid no particular heed.

They broached another clearing and found this one unique. It was triple the size of the previous clearings, which were about the same diameter. Two pools of the poisonous water sat still on either end of the clearing, and a great tree shot tall from the center of the space. A man, thin and bald, sat on one of the branches of the great tree. He wore a roughspun robe and a look of sorrow Joseph the knight had never before seen so acute.

"Uncle, what ails you?" Joseph called out, thinking the distressed man a monk, and addressing him in the custom of his kingdom.

"Why do you call me uncle?" the man asked in a voice on the verge of tears.

The knight reined up before him and replied, "Apologies, friend. I mistook you for a man of the cloth. Tell me, why do you wail in this tree?"

"I know nothing else to do but wail."

The knight looked up at the man, his face perplexed as the other's was sad. "Prithee, why do you know naught but to wail up in that tree?"

"I've lost all else. Forgotten all else," the man lamented.

"So you've lost your memory, friend? Is that the matter?" the knight asked, his face alight at the prospect of solving the man's problem. "Perhaps I can help you recollect your memories. Where do you hail from?"

The man stared down at the knight, and his frown deepened. He turned his eyes to the pink and orange sky above. "It matters not!"

The knight scratched what he could of his chin. "I believe I hear you, friend. I have quit my homeland for the time being as well, though that is another matter. Do you remember who your parents are, or what your surname is?"

"It matters not. It matters not," the man sang sadly, rocking forward and back upon his branch.

The knight extended an arm, as if to still the man. "Careful, friend. Do not fall, lest you forget anymore," he tried to jest. The man showed no sign of hearing him so the knight moved Squire to stand where he was like to fall. "There, friend, be at ease."

The knight did nothing but watch him, then, until he calmed and sat glum upon the branch once again.

"Do you know which forest this is, sir?" the man finally asked him.

"I believe you have me there. No, I've not the name of it."

"It's the Forest of Yesterday," the man said, as if it were conspiracy to name it.

The knight looked around the clearing, as if seeing it for the first time. "The name is apt. Pray tell, why do they name it such?"

"It is said the whole of the world was covered in a forest such as this, eons ago." The man returned his eyes to the knight, and almost smiled. "But for me, it is called such, because yesterday was my last day of life, sir."

The knight did not grasp the man's meaning. "How is that so, if you live to speak to me at this very moment?" He sounded more confused than concerned.

The man was excited now. "Because I die with the setting sun!" He became erect on the branch, his chin held aloft and his arms extended in praise of the retiring sun.

Then did Joseph understand. "Friend, you cannot mean to harm yourself. To end yourself. Do you?"

"I do, knight! Time enough has come and gone." He stood, staring at the setting sun, measuring its course remaining. His legs wobbled and he lost his balance --toppling over and out of the tree, hands outstretched to break his fall.

The knight reached up and plucked him from the air, falling back out of the saddle in his effort to prevent the other's. He broke their fall with his armored back and released the man at once. Squire whinnied and trotted away to wait by the pool. "Are you injured?" Joseph asked the man.

He lay prone on his side, silent tears spilling from his eyes. "No. No I'm not."

"Would you tell me what is wrong?" Joseph asked softly.

"I'm dying," the man sobbed. He covered his face.

Joseph stood over him, uncertain what to do for him. But he knew what to say. "Surely there must be a cure for what ails you. Let's go on a quest, you and I, to recover your memory and cure your illness," he said, forgetting all about his own quest.

The man shook on the ground. "No cure. No cure," he mumbled. "Leave me. Leave me."

"Will you attempt to slay yourself again?"

"Yes!" he spat, pushing himself up with his hands. "I will! I'll drink the water if I have to. That will make short work of me."

"I'm sure it would, friend, but look, the moon comes out to purify the pool," Joseph pointed out.

"What? No!" He looked and saw it was true: night was come. He dashed for the pool closest but Squire moved to intimidate him. He spun on his heel but saw the knight would not allow him to reach the other pool. He sank to his knees before the tree. He said nothing, made no face.

The horse turned back to the pressing matter of drinking the water rendered safe by the moon. The knight sat before the man straight out in his mail. He said nothing for time but, "How did you come to this place?"

The man did not respond for a time as well but answered, "There is nowhere more peaceful."

The knight nodded and readied himself for sleep. He followed the routine he had set the night before but laid against the trunk of the tree this night. He worried about what the man would do. He knew he was defeated for the night. Lest, he trusted Squire enough to rouse him if he were relentless. He slept.

He woke and found the man back in the tree, but on the other side, perched on the branch above him. Squire stood under the other, his rear to the cursed water. The knight dressed and put on most of his mail before he addressed the man in the tree. "Good morn," he said.

"It is not, sir. Yesterday was to be my last."

The knight ate with naked hands and offered his morsels to the man. He took a meager amount, reluctantly at that. "I apologize for offending you, but I will not apologize for preserving your life," he said simply.

The man frowned at him and looked away. He stopped eating and laid the food beside him. The knight finished his own meal and went and led Squire to wait beside one pool, and then stood himself before the other.

"What are you doing?" the man called down to him.

The knight unsheathed his blade and buried it a few inches into the ground. "Squire and I shall stand vigil until nightfall." He dropped his visor.

The man saw the guard was secure, but climbed down the tree all the same. He first tried to coax Squire away, but the horse was as honorable a soldier as its master and was unmoved, despite his dislike for the water. The man moved away and asked, "What if I were to go?"

"You would not be far before Squire and I were upon you."

The man judged it true and resigned to sit in the shade of the tree, his eyes shut to all the color and splendor of the forest. Thus the man and the knight spent their morning: one standing guard before poisonous water, the other lost beneath a tree.

Come noon, the man began his mournful keening again. Joseph could feel the hairs of his neck stand on end but he bore the eerie sound. Squire nickered across the clearing, made uneasy by the noise. The knight judged the man set in his lamentations and went to Squire, granting him a long draught from one of the skins to soothe him. Holding the skin, he went to the man and offered him a drink.

"You will let me die?" he asked hopefully, opening an eye.

Joseph frowned and lifted his visor. "Nay, man. Its water of the moon."

The man shut his eyes again.

The knight stood and put the skin away. He knew the man would begin his keening again but knew not what he could do to take his mind away from the pain he felt. He made to rest a hand upon the hilt of his sword as he was wont to do looking over a battlefield but found it missing. The knight smiled and strode to retrieve his sword. He brought it to the man's feet.

The man felt and heard his approach and tentatively opened an eye. He saw the sword and his eyes brightened. "Will you-"

"It is for me, not yourself."

"You would not let me slay you."

"You misunderstand, friend," said the knight, drawing his dagger. "Perhaps you were a knight, in your lost memories. If we should play at swords, you may remember your past."

The man stood and considered the sword doubtfully. "I think not that I was a knight."

"Draw it up. See how its weight suits you."

The man bent and hefted the sword up, its point resting on the ground. He looked to the knight for reassurance and received it in earnest. He heaved and swung the blade into the air, nearly slicing the knight, if he had not dodged out of the way. The man looked horrifically sorry but Joseph merely laughed, closing his visor and bringing up his dagger.

"Do your worst," the knight commanded him.

The man bit his lip and wobbled under the swaying length of steel. He leaned forward and the blade took him into the knight. The sword clapped bluntly against his shoulder plate and slid down his arm. Joseph swung his forearm so the sword would remain aloft and lazily swiped his dagger in the man's direction.

The man dashed away, eyes wide, his sword listing over his shoulder. The knight waited for him, and dodged away from a swing. The next blow he turned with his dagger. He took another in his other shoulder and another into the side of his head that sounded a tremendous clang and sent the knight onto his side.

The man dropped the sword at once and fell to his hands and knees beside the knight. "Forgive me, forgive me! I meant it not at all! I am no knight, I would never strike you so!"

The knight lay on the ground, his ears ringing within his helm. When it passed and he could hear the man's blubbering he opened his visor and laughed heartily, filling the air with booming laughter that had known only pitiful keening before. "You're the only man to lay me out in many a year!" Joseph exclaimed. The man stared at him, shocked for a time, and then joined in laughing with him. He laughed till tears split from his eyes and tore down his cheeks and he fell onto his side as well.

The knight got to his feet and said, "You did not wound me; my armor is sound, friend."

The man stood as well, but he did not wipe the tears from his face. He was crying now. "Did you hear what I said, sir? I am no knight."

The knight sheathed his sword and dagger. "That is clear, there is no shame. You were simply something else, before. It was still enjoyable, was it not?"

The man then did wipe his tears away, though more soon followed. "It was. But it matters not. It matters not," he said, making way for his tree, briskly.

The knight followed, asking, "Why not? What troubles you?" He looked up at the man perched on the branch and felt frustration welling up within. "I will not allow you to end yourself. I swear it as a knight. If you throw yourself from that tree once more, I shall catch you, and take you to your lord to receive his judgement."

"I have no lord. There is no judgement I have not already passed under," the man said through his tears of fury and something else the knight feared the man would never reveal.

"No lord?" Joseph whispered to himself. He shouted up at the man, "Tell me who you are! My patience wears thin, friend. Speak plain to a knight, I command you!"

"I am no one! There is no lord that would have me, no name that would not slip away from me out of shame. Leave me, to be noone and to become nothing, that I was so close to being!"

"That is not plain! You... No name?"

"No name. I deserve not a letter, not a syllable."

Joseph had to sit down. The man denied any name, and would die without one while he searched tirelessly for one to truly live under. "What is your great sin, man? I cannot fathom a crime so severe as to erase a man's name."

"I was born," the man said after a frightful shudder and sigh. "I am, so I suffer."

"I don't understand you, man. I take my sword to whatever makes myself or the people suffer. But a sword cannot be taken to birth," he ended softly.

The man nodded in the tree. "You cannot. So I have suffered."