It wasn't the scorching heat that woke him. Maybe he'd felt it enough during his life, whether it be the comfort of a fire after making camp or the pain from sealing a wound with the flat of a hot blade. He'd felt it countless times in many ways.
But it was the accompanying smell that roused him. No flames ever shared the same stench of their crude branding. Every burning body differentiated itself from another. Kindling on the fire and timber were distinctive. He recalled the various smells in the forge as a blacksmith went to work on lengths of iron and steel.
The smell prodded him insistently. It was a start.
A high-pitched scream jostled Kurtis to a bleary alertness. It was a shred better than the drifting unconsciousness. His head throbbed as the sound seemed to latch onto his ears. Familiarity pressed him further as he struggled to recall the source of the voice.
One side of his face rested on the cool wooden surface of a floor. A tingling sensation of familiar warmth caressed the other until it began to intrude all around him. His eyelids fluttered for a moment as awareness mingled with the contradicting sense of touch.
He rolled over and winced from the effort. He'd felt such pain before, and it wasn't the worst he'd experienced. Far from it, but such hurt was still an impediment.
Shadows danced along the ceiling with an orange glow. A burning sensation flared in his nostrils as he inhaled. It was a culmination of various discomforts and intrusions on his perception.
The muffled stomp of heavy boots nearly drowned out another muted cry as a wooden support beam broke free from the ceiling. Kurtis stared unflinching as the debris collapsed a few feet away and sent sparks swirling through the air. It ended abruptly, and all was silent, save for the faint crackling of flames.
Where - am I? he wondered.
Kurtis forced his hands underneath his body and struggled to lift himself. His limbs were like rusted piston rods. The steam was out of him. The arms that could wield a sword with quick thrusts and fluid arcs were the weight of lead. His weakened legs nearly failed him, and he rested his hand against the wall to keep himself upright.
He ran his hand down the coarse surface and stared at his palm. I know this place...
His feet slid along the wood floor when he managed to focus energy into his crumpling legs. He suppressed the pain of a broken bone that stuck through the skin of his left leg near a shattered knee.
The scream of the girl was replaced by what sounded like an adult male’s. A loud crash and more shouts followed.
A dizzy spell blurred Kurtis's vision and he stopped to brace himself again. His fingers clawed at his black hair slick with fresh blood. He pulled hard enough until the roots of his hair screamed and kept him from losing consciousness again.
His vision doubled the world. He attempted to move between two tables and realized that only one truly existed. He suppressed a shout as his battered knee collided with one of the table's legs. The scrape along the floor sounded more like a length of steel scraping against armor.
A loud clicking sound followed shortly after. Kurtis glanced to the side in order to locate the source, his throbbing eyes protesting against the quick movement and sending false signals to his brain. When he managed to retain a bit of clarity, he noticed the humanoid shape leaning up against the wall a few feet away. An individual wearing a full set of armor propped a small hand crossbow in his lap and fumbled with a bolt in the other. His weak fingers clumsily inserted the bolt into the crossbow's serving. The usual trigger finger on his one hand was now a mere stub that no longer bled thanks to the heat that continued to intensify in the room. He let out a few short gasps that temporarily suppressed a cough, which eventually spewed an arc of blood that splattered on the floor.
Fuck... Kurtis started stumbling in the man's direction.
The unknown soldier only managed to rest his middle finger on the trigger guard before Kurtis was upon him. There was no planned distribution of weight, no positioning and certainly no finesse, just the fall of Kurtis's body from gravity to stop the hand crossbow from aiming.
The man attempted to cry out but only managed another strangled choke. Kurtis clamped a hand over his mouth as a precaution and raised a fist that he brought down on the man's temple. The desperate soldier reached out with his other hand and clawed at his attacker's face in the hopes that his fingers might scratch at the eyes. But Kurtis instinctively went by feel at this point. The heat on one side of his face prompted him to conserve his blurring sight rather than his own admonition.
They scrambled on the ground for a few more seconds when Kurtis reached for the bolt still inserted in the crossbow's serving. He pulled the bolt free and reeled back from his mounted position as his arm flailed. He leaned forward and stuck it in the man's neck. He didn't aim for any vitals. The sharp weapon pulled free and dug into the soft flesh again and again and again. Blood spewed from the fresh wounds and rose in the soldier's throat.
Kurtis didn't stop plunging the sharp bolt into the man even when he stopped struggling. Air escaped through his clenched teeth as he brought his arm down for the last time. His forehead collided with the dead man's breastplate and jarred him from the continuous, mindless stabbing of the corpse.
He sat for a moment and stared at the marred symbol on the dead soldier's breastplate. Scorch marks nearly consumed most of the outer portions while blackened blood concealed the rest. But he'd seen it before. He knew it, but couldn't quite place what it signified.
He pushed himself from the body as another scream reached his ears. He purposefully averted his eyes from the man's face and started away from him in a floundering crawl.
Kurtis rested his hand against an oak door and let his forward weight force it outward. He breathed a silent thanks that it was already slightly ajar.
The greater heat was the first thing to register on his senses. Tongues of flame licked the ceiling and crawled up the walls. A tipped cauldron of boiling water hissed as it settled underneath a double-edged axe still in the grip of some unknown warrior. One arm was missing from the corpse and lay a few feet away. A broken table covered someone else like a body bag, the splinters pressing into portions of the skin as if they were used as projectiles.
At the far end of the room stood three soldiers in full armor with the familiar insignia displayed on the back. The image was clear on the polished armor – a depiction of swords hovering in a circle to protect a coiled crown. A pull-down mask attached to their helmets covered their faces.
Sprawled at their feet, a young girl with blonde hair matted with blood hid her face in her hands. She sobbed silently and curled into a ball, as if making herself smaller would eventually lead to disappearing altogether.
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One of the men in royal knight armor knelt and forced the hands away from her face. The girl couldn’t have been older than twelve short summers. The soldier brushed the side of her hair away to reveal a curved black mark that looked like a tattoo.
“She’s just a kid,” one of the knights said, his voice muffled by the mask. “Off her quick.”
The third knight standing off to the side angled the tip of his sword at the girl’s chest.
Kurtis recognized the girl. He didn’t know from where or how. All he knew was that he couldn't let her die.
Gods-fucking dammit. Kurtis pulled his healthier leg underneath him and shifted his weight to favor the other. He managed to forced himself to his feet and suppressed the pain that seemed to spread through his limbs in waves.
He was about to take a step forward when his body suddenly locked in place. Panic settled on him as he struggled to move. Sound retreated, and then he was deaf. The hungry flames surrounding him slowed and labored back and forth like leaves in a gentle breeze. They soon froze in place after a few more seconds, and the whole world simply...stopped.
But his awareness still lingered, and he felt the presence to his right.
A hooded figure stood leaning against a stone wall with arms crossed and head lowered. The strange individual didn’t seem to acknowledge the stillness of the world. A grunt escaped the opening in the hood and the unseen face turned left and then right in bewilderment. The darkness within the hood finally settled on Kurtis who remained motionless.
“Oh…hmmmmm. Here, then...” The hooded figure pushed himself off the wall and took in the delayed destruction of the cabin.
He casually wandered over to the frozen knights who surrounded the young girl. After a moment, he simply nodded his head and took in the rest of the room. After a cursory inspection of the dead warrior with the axe, he took a sliding step to the left and stood before Kurtis.
“Oh...huuuummmmm.” He tilted his head when he noticed the shivering of Kurtis’s eyes.
He then looked up at nowhere of note as he went back to his contemplation. A nod. A cracking of knuckles. More humming.
A grunt escaped Kurtis that broke the hooded man from his reverie. “This memory. Yours. Prominent. Significant? Yes. Though time-span short. Curious. How retained?”
The strangeness of the hooded person dominated Kurtis’s unease. The fuck is with this guy?
“Ah. For purpose. Understood. Past affiliations? Necessary? Hmm…no.” The man went silent once more. A few seconds later a shocked gasp escaped him.
The darkness of the hood turned to regard him again. “Hell Knight,” he breathed.
The figure backed away and shook his head. He reached a hand behind him and the stone wall rippled like a drop of water breaking the surface of a pond. The wall swallowed the hooded individual, and he was gone.
As soon as the man vanished, Kurtis felt the warmth and movement steadily return to his body. The knights began moving again in slow motion and the flames resumed their frantic dance.
Heavens, what is happening? Is this really a memory? Kurtis thought. It was beyond outlandish, as if he was experiencing something from a forgotten past with a being that clearly didn't belong.
Sound returned to the world, and so did the girl’s whimpering.
No time to contemplate. The girl.
The crackling of the flames in the cabin deafened the knights from Kurtis’s dragging feet. He bent down and ignored the searing heat that seeped into the steel of the axe handle still gripped by the old warrior. A flash of recognition halted Kurtis for a brief second as the man's face struck a familiar chord.
Kurtis whispered an apology. He pried the fingers loose that curled in a death grip around the axe’s handle.
The knight who raised his sword at the young girl seemed uncertain. His arm quivered as the sword grew heavy in his hands.
One of his comrades lifted his mask and gave him a questioning look. “What’s the matter?”
The man lowered his sword. “She’s a child.”
The crouched knight stood up and scoffed. “She’s the daughter of a magic user. Don’t be fooled by her shell.” He drew the short sword strapped to his waist. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
They still weren't aware of the battered man standing behind them. Kurtis shifted weight to his stronger leg and brought the axe over his head. One of the knights noticed him at the last second and took a horrified step back. A strangled choke subdued his cry of warning. The knight preparing to execute the girl noticed his comrade’s jerking movements and turned his head just enough to see his killer.
The axe dug through the helmet like it was rice paper and cleaved the man’s skull. The two knights to either side didn’t even have enough time to collect themselves as Kurtis moved in on the bewildered one to the right who hadn’t readied his weapon. The axe was dug deep into the other knight’s skull, so Kurtis stepped into him and bladed his hand. His fingers found the exposed area between the helmet and cuirass; the fingers dug deep and crushed the exposed larynx.
Kurtis turned from the gasping knight to focus on the other whose blade was on a path to his stomach. He ignored the pain in his one useless leg and deflected the blade with his hand. Blood spewed from the soft skin between his knuckles.
The momentary surprise from the knight was enough for Kurtis to grab a steel poker hanging on a rack next to the fireplace. He bent his arm upwards, almost in a throwing motion, and dug the tip of the poker into the knight’s neck. A bubbling gurgle emitted from the mask and blood spewed from the thin breathing holes near the mouth. Kurtis pulled the poker free and thrust it forward once again for good measure. The blood from the neck wound spurt and painted the knight’s pauldrons a new shade.
Kurtis watched the knight’s body fall before regarding the other one that desperately grasped at his throat which was turning a nasty purple. Kurtis reached down and retrieved the man's sword. The soldier tried to speak despite the pain but was mercifully cut short by his own blade.
Kurtis stared at the bodies for a short while. The flames were now closing in, as if they were aware of the only two lives left amongst the carnage.
Why am I here?
Kurtis stared down at the girl who now looked up at him with dried tears that seared to her skin from the relentless heat. He reached out to her and she didn’t wince under the comforting hand.
The brief moment of relief was quelled by the stifling shouts from men outside. The young girl clapped her hands over her ears and shut out the cries of anger directed at them.
It was then that the path opened before Kurtis. The path of knowing. He took a few staggered steps back and reached for a specific floorboard between his feet. With a bit of effort, he lifted the plank and a few more followed suit. Revealed beneath the cabin floor was a ladder that led into a darkness that even the hungry flames could not penetrate.
Kurtis looked up at the girl who crawled next to him. She remained resting on her hands and knees as her eyes locked onto Kurtis rather than the salvation that waited below. She shook her head and her eyes brimmed with fresh tears.
It wasn’t until Kurtis motioned to the ladder that she lowered herself onto the rungs. He gently, but firmly, pressed his hand on one of her shoulders to urge her on when she stopped. She stared up at him before the darkness consumed her face. Her lips formed words that Kurtis couldn’t quite make out.
Then, she was gone.
He rested on his side for a few precious seconds until he heard more enraged shouts from the men outside. Someone barked an order from somewhere closer just beyond the opposite wall. The cabin was surrounded.
Can't let them... Kurtis's thoughts trailed off as he attempted to recall the reason for everything that had transpired.
Can't let them, he repeated.
Kurtis replaced the floorboards and stared at the corpses near the fireplace. He focused on the fire poker resting on the stone mount that he'd used to kill one of the soldiers. His hand raised to his neck on impulse and he massaged it with his fingers.
He couldn't afford to be captured. The men outside might have individuals adept at mind probing. His memories were already muddled to begin with, and he wasn't sure what they might find that eluded him. If something important about the girl was hidden in the back of his mind...
"Won't let them find her," he growled.
Kurtis pulled himself forward in a one-armed army crawl and propped himself up against one of the bodies. His fingers curled around the poker and he turned it over into his other hand. He held it firm in both hands and took a few heaving breaths to steady himself.
Do it, goddammit. Fucking do it!
He raised his trembling arms and angled the tip of the steel rod at his throat. His eyes darted around frantically in search of something, anything to avoid looking at the small point.
They'll find her if you don't! His mind screamed at him.
What he was about to do went against all his teachings. Everything they'd taught him said that his damnation was assured. There would be no place in Heaven for him.
Do it! Do it! Do it!
Tears poured down his face. The tip of the poker came closer and shook between his eyes.
She will die!
Kurtis screamed and lowered his arms. He jerked the poker towards him and it pierced through his throat.