The Thrice-Ninth Kingdom X

 Before dawn of the 10th day, the Chapel of the Hawk

Winds howl and shake the old building as Batu, leaning heavily on his cane, returns from his garden with a bundle of brushwood and some herbs. Soon the room smells of roasted cembra nuts and pine bark tea. “The cursed Winter King!” Batu mutters, blaming him personally for the storm. “I won't be able to call the hawk and you can't leave as long as the storm rages.”

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

With the first light of morning, the Fox Knight approaches the hermit and sits cross-legged across from him. The little fox nestled in the old man’s lap raises her head in a query. “I fear Liška will be in peril if she continues traveling with us, could she stay here with you, grandfather?” She stands slightly and a small bark erupts from her, as if she understood the words and did not find them to her liking. With both hands, Milos scratches under her chin to soothe her and her eyes squint in pleasure. “Little one, the hermit needs your help and your companionship. Goddess willing, we will return to you both soon, but for now, you should stay here where you will be safe and cared for.” Lulled into complacency by the knight’s touch, Liška abandons her protest for the moment and curls up again in the old man’s warm lap. Milos slowly withdraws his hands and rises without a sound.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

Black clouds gather above the chapel casting darkness all around. Raging winds shake the twisted trees and the shivering grass. The Dove Knight grasps the hermit’s hands: “Please, old Batu, you need to call the spirit in spite of the ominous weather.” He takes a handful of feathers off his armour and puts them in the old man’s hand, some are hawk’s, most are dove’s. “The hour calls for haste, it is not the time for caution. I’ll be standing beside you and helping if I can.”

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake searches the chapel, curious at this strange shrine to solitude.

Referee

You find a collapsed wooden staircase and manage to climb up into a small turret that is battered by the winds. Through a miracle the narrow stained glass window had survived centuries of similar storms and in its twilight you make out a broken harp, a lectern and a mouldy book that turns out to be a chronicle written in dozens of different styles. The last entry reads: “They hunt us like deer and there is no acolyte to succeed me. May the hawk show mercy to whoever seeks shelter in his temple.”

Heldris, outside snow is whirling all around you and Batu leeches onto you as strong gales threaten to blow you both off your feet. The old hermit has donned the headdress and its feathers violently flutter in the storm. Lightning illuminates the dark clouds and thunder echoes over the summit. Batu raises his arms and shouts his prayers but they are blown away before you can hear them. Then a red-tailed hawk emerges from below the summit struggling against the powerful winds, tilting his wings this way and that to stay balanced. Batu falls to his knees and prays and the hawk spreads his wings and for a moment the fury of the blizzard breaks and in the silence you hear Batu sing and the hawk hoovers in the air and whistles a high and sweet note and under his wings you feel save. Then the winds howl around you again and the hawk is gone. When you return to the chapel you are wet and shivering and Batu slumps in front of the fire and mumbles: "He promises to ... protect you ... as he protected me when I fled the hunters."

Anastaz, you brave the blizzard in order to find the right spot to observe the surroundings but you only see the swirling snow. On your way back you cross the small garden in the lee of the rocks, yellowed herbs and devil shrubs holding on for dear life. You collect fallen branches from the pines and return to the chapel.

Krummholz Pines

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz goes back out, a hand in front of his face to keep the snow from blowing into his eyes. He crouches in the garden and pulls small handfuls of yellow grasses. When he returns inside, he is shivering, and crystals of ice cling to his clothes.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

As Milos watches the shivering hermit rest by the fire, he is moved by the man's bravery and simple piety. He casts his eyes across the humble chapel around him and sighs at its dilapidated condition. Without further hesitation, he begins to make what repairs he can to the place. A pile of broken furniture provides wood to patch openings in the walls where the frigid wind whistles through. As the Fox Knight goes about his work, he remembers the flight of the hawk he saw upon their arrival and prays to the spirits of this place, muttering quietly under his breath.

Only in silence the word,

only in dark the light,

only in dying life:

bright the hawk's flight on the empty sky.

When Anastaz returns with an armful of herbs, Milos looks up from his work "What have you found, my friend? Bring them over here so we can sort the herbs and ascertain their uses."

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz spreads out the herbs on the floor in front of him and Milos. As Milos surveys the flora, the Salt Knight blows into his hands to warm them, and says under his breath, "I'm reminded me of the fable of the Man and the Satyr."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos cocks his head to the side as he examines the plants in front of him. "I don't recall that fable. Will you recount it for me?"

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

"A man is travelling on a cold winter night and sees a cottage. He knocks on the door and finds a satyr living there, who offers him shelter. The man goes inside and starts blowing on his hands and rubbing them together. The satyr asks what he's doing, and he says 'Warming myself up.' "After some time, the satyr serves the man a bowl of stew, and the man gently blows on the bowl. The satyr asks what he's doing, and the man says 'Cooling the stew off.' "The satyr then demands the man leave. 'I cannot trust someone,' he says, 'who blows both hot and cold with the same breath.'" The Salt Knight looks almost sheepish. "It's childish, and I never quite understood it. But it stuck with me all the same."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

The Fox Knight tucks his chin to his shoulder and laughs with delight. Then he looks up at his comrade with a broad smile. "I suppose that makes me the satyr in this instance! But for my part, I enjoy your breath whether it blows hot or cold, dear friend." Surprised at his own words, Milos blushes heartily and turns back to the herbs, abashed. After a moment of silence, he holds up a half-frozen clump and exclaims "I recognize this! It is devil's shrub. My mother used to brew a tea from its roots as a tonic for the body and spirit."

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz strokes his chin. "We will have no small need of spirit in the coming days."

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos retrieves a stone mortar and pestle from a dusty cupboard and begins to grind the roots of the plants into a pulp for brewing. The gentle rhythm of stone against stone and the dim crackling of the fire are all that is heard for a spell in the small chapel. The pungent earthy smell of the roots fills the enclosed space and Milos remembers the warm embrace of his childhood home, for a moment forgetting that they are trapped in a hostile land, hunted by fiendish predators.

Referee

Batu has passed his hands through the herbs, removing dirt and wigglers. While he is listening to Anastaz' story and the soothing rhythm of the mortar he is feeding earthworms to the small fox in his lap. She is looking curiously at the hermit whenever he stops and gently paws the hand with which he feeds her, whining and squealing in delight when he finally offers another treat.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

The wind, still blowing, has run out of rage, and the shadow of a winter sun emerges from behind the dark clouds. Outside of the shrine, the Dove Knight dons the falconer’s glove on his left hand. Slowly, the cold iron of his prosthetic begins to warp and soon sprouts silverish feathers. Heldris’ head starts spinning as the rest of his body follows the strange metamorphosis, a streaked plumage sprouts all over his body which rapidly twists itself into a new shape. Before his fellow knights and the hermit, now stands a large peregrine falcon. The striped feathers on his chest and underneath his wings almost seem like a delicate hatching that resembles the Dove Knight’s tunic. His head and his back have a plumage dark as the clouds overhead, broken by a white collar. The left wing, however, remains of a silverish tint, as if it were made of a light and precious metal. Two black inscrutable eyes peer at the knights and the hermit, then slowly turn north. The large wings spread as the falcon pushes itself up and lets himself into a sudden gust of wind, rising up into a feeble ray of sunlight under the dark sky.

Among the Clouds

Referee

The ground falls away and you rise ever higher and the mountains become mere sand hills a child had formed with its hands. In the beginning the winds seem to fight you or gusts seize you and push you away but soon you learn to move with them and let them carry your wings and beak and feathers. You almost touch the clouds and now you are among them and now you fly in the light of the sun and your only regret is that you don't see her lovely face. For the first time in your life you are truly the Dove Knight, free and unrestrained and the world is full of possibilities. When you remember the reason you took flight, you fold your wings and dive through the clouds and catch the next breeze and glide over the snow covered world below. A wild river, raging and foaming, splits the region in half, a wide band of grey water impossible to cross. You follow its meandering course and find an ancient stone bridge and a tower with a banner flapping in the wind. You circle over it and a Knight raises her bow but you rise quickly again before the arrow can reach you. On your way back east you find a hill of bones and when you look closer it seems to be a burial ground of sorts, a tomb with a gate, and although the thought of sleeping among the dead troubles you it would provide shelter from the elements. As soon as you touch the ground on the summit of the chapel you stumble and your left wing becomes heavy and clumsy. The glove slips from it and the world turns around you and when you come by your brothers are with you but you can't speak for a long time. Only when Batu holds you and whispers in your ear you become human again.  

Ser Perilake, The Gilded Knight

Perilake sits and reads the chronicle, hoping for some insight into the thrice ninth kingdom.

Sir Milos, the Fox Knight

Milos sits in the chapel's doorway on a small stool, taking advantage of the afternoon light to finish the last repairs on the smoothbark armor. He looks up from his work and sees Anastaz across the room, speaking softly to the old hermit, and smiles to himself in appreciation of the Salt Knight's understated kindness. Then he adds the final stitches to the armor and rubs his sore hands as he contemplates his work with some satisfaction. The Fox Knight rises with the armor in his arms and notices Perilake reading in a nook near a window. He hesitates a moment, shakes his head a bit, and then leaves the armor next to the Gilded Knight's bedroll.

He walks out into the garden to stretch his legs after sitting so long and scans the sky for any sight of Heldris' return. Seeing only clouds, he looks out across the garden and notices somehting unusual under the low boughs of a spruce tree. He kneels at the foot of the tree and pulls a branch aside to reveal a patch of slender mushrooms with pale green caps. "Ah, Death Caps. You are hardy to have survived here." He sighs and looks at the ground for a moment, considering the company's plight and the threats they may soon face. "Just in case" he mutters under his breath and proceeds to collect the toxic caps with gloved hands.

Referee

Perilake, in the light of the stained glass window you flip slowly through the pages and read how the first hermit was guided by a hawk to find the sacred place and how the chapel was built. It seems as if at that time the Kingdom was ruled by humankind who lived in peace with their elfin neighbours and centuries passed in which the duty of the chaplain was handed down from hermit to acolyte and nothing of note was recorded except for a poor harvest in one year or a draught in another. Then the Queen of Realm appointed an elfin advisor and the Realm prospered and harvest was bountiful and bridges and roads were built and libraries and towers to observe the stars and the wisdom of the people of the Thrice Ninth Kingdom was famed in all of the known world. And every ruler desired their own advisor and when they came, they promised knowledge and prosperity but what they brought was envy and spells of ruin for humans and their own kind and the Rusalki turned wild and bloodthirsty. And some say they had been wicked all along and others that the spells corrupted them. You read about a great crusade from neighbouring realms and of protective spells that were woven to keep them at bay. You learn that the rule of the Kingdom alternates between the Elf and the Winter King and that their rivalry goes back to their role as advisors to hostile holdings. The last hermit mentions the chapel far in the north and that they haven't received a message from the hermit of the beaver in years.

Sir Anastaz, The Salt Knight

Anastaz sits down, cross-legged, beside the old hermit and converses with him in low voices about Batu's time in the Thrice-Ninth Kingdom, and the life he has lived in near solitude over the years.

Referee

Perilake sits at the window reading through the chronicle and Milos joins Anastaz after awhile and you listen to Batu's story when you suddenly hear the screeching of a hawk and when you run outside Heldris lies in the snow twisting and unable to speak. Later you sit around the campfire, the Dove Knight with a blanket over his shoulders and a tea in his good hand.

Sir Heldris the Dove Knight

After the inebriating experience and metamorphosis, the Dove Knight manages to relate what he has scouted in his flight, before falling into a state of great confusion. Batu takes the knight close to the fire and covers his shoulder with a heavy shawl. He casts some dried roots into the fire and patiently waits, mumbling some sort of prayer. The burning roots soon release a dense fog. With two large green boughs, the hermit directs and shapes the fog around Heldris, and nowhere else. He pulls the shawl over Heldris’ head and turns his prayer into a song, as he paces rhythmically around his patient. Through the shawl, the Dove Knight sees the flying hawk in the dark forest, as a strange shadowplay before his eyes. The bird stares back at him, and tends to him like a mother with her nestling. The ritual continues for several hours, until the voices of the birds outside announce the new day.

A dream

Protected from the dreams of the Fae the Knight's sleep is undisturbed and guarded under the wings of the hawk.