The Autumn Knight

The Autumn Knight strode through the forest, sword clutched casually in his hand, swinging back and forth by his side. Leaves crunched softly underneath his metal boots. He wore a suit of plate armor with a leather jerkin hung over it. A long red cape draped down his back, with the emblem of a gold leaf embossed upon it. Wherever the Autumn Knight walked, the leaves around him twisted and changed into their fall colors before softly snapping off their branches and drifting down to the ground below. The air around him remained perpetually chill, giving the faintest hints of a coming frost. Many a thief and vagabond in Eternity’s Forest had learned to take that sign of a sudden chill as a warning, at least among those lucky enough to escape the sudden edge of his sword. He was the knight of change, of harvest, and of serenity.

He was the Autumn Knight, and he had guarded the woods with his three brothers for generations.

Now, he answered a silent beckon from one of his siblings, one he knew instinctively the other knights had heard as well and had likewise answered. It drew him towards a part of the forest he knew well, a small grove of trees at the center of the four sections of Eternity’s Forest, where he and his brethren met when they must discuss important matters.

Even now, as he trudged along the path towards that well-known spot, the Autumn Knight slowed down temporarily, lifting his helmet to look up at the webbing of branches that filtered the sun’s rays into countless shifting beams of golden light. It was never dark in Eternity’s Forest, and even time itself seemed to pass at only the slowest of trickles. Many travelers passed through Eternity’s Forest while on their way to other locales across the countless worlds the woods bordered, but its only true denizens were the four knights, who guarded it unceasingly, protecting the lives of all who passed through. The Autumn Knight loved his woods more than anything else.

He came at last to a boulder as tall as a man covered in lichen which blocked his path. With surprising grace, he grabbed the top of the boulder with his hand and in a single smooth motion pulled himself onto the boulder’s top. From there, the Autumn Knight had a view into the grove beyond, a view which almost made him drop his sword in surprise.

In the untold eons he had guarded Eternity’s Forest, the Autumn Knight had seen many things both magical and mundane, but nothing prepared him for what he now witnessed. The grove itself, a rough circle of elm, oak, and many other types of trees with an almost unnaturally clear space in the center where no sprouts ever seemed to take root, remained unchanged. However, in the heart of that grove, surrounded where he fell by a patch of newly sprung flowers and grass, now lay the body of the Summer Knight. His armor’s chestplate had been torn open, and the gaping wound in his chest had tiny buds of fresh plants already growing up out of it. Besides his limp hand his spear had fallen, its shaft splintered in two by whoever had slain him.

The Autumn Knight drew in a sharp gasp at the sight. While the summons had felt unusually urgent to him, he had not expected to see anything like this upon his arrival. He stood there mutely for a moment, before the already chill air swirling around him grew colder still. His gaze snapped upwards as he saw, entering from the other side of the grove, the Winter Knight.

Dressed entirely in polished armor as brilliantly white as the snow that followed him everywhere and carrying a massive warhammer, the Winter Knight was a sight as stark and merciless as the season he embodied. Bandits and killers throughout Eternity’s Forest had learned with good reason to fear him above all the rest of his kin.

“I found him already slain,” the Autumn Knight told the Winter Knight.

The Winter Knight snorted, swinging his hammer back and forth experimentally. “Whatever criminal perpetuated this heinous crime will pay dearly for their impudence.”

While normally more forgiving than his sibling, in this case the Autumn Knight had to agree. “The Summer Knight was the kindest and gentlest of us all. He never liked fighting, even fighting evil. He felt much more comfortable helping those in need,” the Autumn Knight said sadly. “What kind of sick being could bring themselves to commit this act?”

“I don’t know,” the Winter Knight growled. “But when I find them, they will know the true wrath of the Winter Knight, as harsh as the blizzard.”

As he said this, into the grove walked the final of their kin, the Spring Knight, lithely bouncing along from step to step. He wore only a thin suit of chainmail and had a multitude of daggers stuck into his belt, his preferred tool for guarding the woods. His green hood, drawn close to cover his face, couldn’t hide his wry, impish smile, which vanished as soon as he saw the Summer Knight’s fallen body.

“Oh, dear,” he said softly. He glanced from Autumn to Winter. “Do either of you have any idea who did this?”

“None yet,” the Autumn Knight said thoughtfully.

“We will begin investigations immediately,” the Winter Knight growled.

“Quite,” the Spring Knight said. He danced lightly over to where the body lay, knelt next to it, and tsked loudly in disappointment. “In all the years of our service, this has never happened.” He looked up once more. “It must have been one of us. Only we would have the strength and skill to do it.”

“I have no idea what you mean, brother,” the Winter Knight sputtered. “The very idea that any of us would kill our kin is…is…preposterous!”

“Perhaps,” the Autumn Knight murmured. “For the moment, there is little assigning blame without evidence will accomplish. The flowers Summer left in his wake will be his only grave marker, as he would have desired. We should focus on tracking down this killer as swiftly as possible. We cannot ignore for long our regular duties of guarding Eternity’s Forest.”

“It gets harder and harder all the time,” the Winter Knight grumbled. “The more vermin we crush, the more appear, it seems. And now with Summer gone, we will have to take turns patrolling his territory.”

“Indeed,” the Autumn Knight said. “But, as with all our tasks, we will fulfill them, as we must.”

“As we must,” the Spring Knight agreed.

“Aye, as we must,” the Winter Knight grumbled.

Their brief, tragic meeting concluded, without another word the three knights turned and journeyed their separate ways.

***

It was difficult to measure time in Eternity’s Forest, but it felt to the Autumn Knight that practically an epoch had passed since the slaying of the Summer Knight, and not a clue had been found of the killer’s identity or their intent. Eventually, the Spring Knight had given up the hunt. Soon after, the Autumn Knight had as well, worried about the drain it was demanding on his energies which he needed to deal with his countless other duties as Eternity’s Forest’s guardian, especially now that more criminals and vagabonds seeming to infest the woods every day. In the end, even the grim, focused Winter Knight had ceased looking, resuming his normal patrols.

It was on one such patrol near the far edge of Eternity’s Forest when the Autumn Knight saw a group of taletellers, wandering folks who made their living narrating stories. As he watched, their bright wagon painted in a riot of clashing colors came to a halt, ambushed by a trio of highwaymen.

The taletellers’ wagon, which rattled along one of the many well-worn dirt paths through Eternity’s Forest, had been forced to halt on account of a fallen log the brigands had dragged across the road. As soon as they had done so, the highwaymen had shown themselves, advancing with murderous glee. The brigands were a dingy, ragtag lot, their weapons rusty and their clothing ragged. They weren’t true bandits, the great predators who took down the mighty merchants or kings who occasionally ventured through the Autumn Knight’s domain. Rather, they served the role of petty scavengers, lurking behind their superiors and feasted on the remains of their prizes or, occasionally, going after targets they thought vulnerable enough.

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The taletellers, shawls drawn tight against the bitter winds, shied back from the advancing brigands, one of whom carried a pike while his two accomplices held ancient swords.

“We have nothing of value,” the leader of the taletellers, an elderly man in a blue and yellow coat whose colors had faded with age, whispered.

“Nothing of value, you say?” the brigand carrying the pike, the evident leader of the lot, said with a nasty, throaty chuckle. “That’s for us to decide. Give us your possessions, and we won’t hurt you…much.”

“Cease this instant,” another voice shouted from off the side of the road. All turned to look. Standing between two ancient oaks, framed from behind by the eternal afternoon light, stood the Autumn Knight, sword clasped firmly in his hand. “Let these people pass, or else I will be forced to mete out justice myself.”

The lead brigand sneered at him. “That’s a lot of fancy words coming from a bloke who can die, same as the rest of us. From where I’m standing, we got you outnumbered three to one.” He gestured with a flick of his head to his companions, who grinned wickedly. “I think we’ll gut you and take that nice, shiny sword of yours for ourselves. What say you to that?”

“I say you are welcome to try,” the Autumn Knight replied softly.

The lead brigand charged towards him, pike pointed straight at the Autumn Knight’s heart. His sword a sudden blur, the Autumn Knight casually parried the pike’s head to the side and, as its owner stumbled forward under his own momentum, struck him across the face with the dull end of his blade with enough force that the brigand fell to the ground, senseless.

The other two brigands began circling around the Autumn Knight more warily, noting uneasily the speed with which he had dispatched their leader. After a moment of hesitation, one stepped forward, bringing his sword down with an overhead blow. The Autumn Knight caught the edge of his foe’s blade with his own sword and, with a sharp twisting motion of his wrist, wrenched the weapon out of the brigand’s grip. Flung free, it landed in a clump of leaves besides the rear wheels of the taletellers’ wagon.

The Autumn Knight shifted his stance, waiting patiently for either brigand to make a move. The one who he had just disarmed instead turned and bolted away in a panicked flight, quickly vanishing from sight around a bend of the path. His companion instantly fled as well in the opposite direction, leaving the Autumn Knight free to walk past their fallen leader to where the taletellers stood.

“Magnificent swordplay,” the chief taleteller said breathlessly. “I have only heard of its like in the greatest of the old legends. Please, Master Knight, allows us to show our gratitude. We insist, spend a meal with us.”

The Autumn Knight bowed his head slightly before saying, “I would be honored to do so.”

He walked past the wagon to the fallen log, lifting his sword above his head before hewing it in two with a single mighty blow, allowing the wagon to pass by. Even as the wagon clattered along, dragged by two weary beach-colored horses, the Autumn Knight managed to keep pace on foot, amazing the taletellers still further.

“You aren’t truly human, are you, Master Knight?” the elder taleteller asked from his seat at the front of the wagon. The Autumn Knight did not respond.

They reached a sheltered spot beneath the overhanging branches of an exceptionally massive and ancient redwood, where the taletellers unpacked their belongings and quickly set up camp. The taletellers passed around a meal of pot pies while they entertained the Autumn Knight with stories they collected from their journeys through and beyond Eternity’s Forest. They told him of the cursed captain beached forever on a small island in the Mystic Sea, of a young hero who tried to escape the prison of his castle only to find a greater prison beyond. They told him also of strange enchanters who strode an ancient desert, and of a world not unlike his own wood where the land remained always in twilight. The Autumn Knight enjoyed all these stories in turn.

“I would have liked to see those lands,” the Autumn Knight admitted remorsefully. “But, alas, my duties bind me forever to this place.”

“What a sorrowful fate,” one of the younger taletellers, a woman with a long, brilliant red scarf wrapped around her neck, said. “The worlds beyond are so beautiful, it’s a tragedy you will never get to experience them.”

“We must each bear our own burdens,” the Autumn Knight told her. “I love this forest, and as much as the worlds beyond sound fascinating, my place is here.”

“Sounds like a lonely task,” the youthful taleteller said.

“Not as much as you would think,” the Autumn Knight replied. “My siblings, the Spring and Winter Knight, aid me.”

The taletellers all glanced at each other nervously. The Autumn Knight tensed suddenly, leaning forward. “What is it?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“We…came across something a way back in the woods. At first, we didn’t want to tell you, as we were so grateful after you saved our lives, but…,” The elderly taleteller’s voice faded off as he glanced away uncomfortably from the Autumn Knight’s penetrating glare.

“What did you find?” the Autumn Knight asked in a quiet tone. “If it was related to any of my siblings, I must know.”

Wordlessly, the elder taleteller reached into a pack by his side and retrieved a white, shiny helmet, one side of which was badly dented. The Autumn Knight immediately recognized it as the headpiece of the Winter Knight’s armor.

“Thank you for showing me this,” the Autumn Knight said before standing up abruptly and turning to walk away from the campsite.

“You’re leaving, and so soon?” the elderly taleteller protested. “Where are you going?”

“To meet with the Spring Knight,” he said softly. “He and I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

And, while the taletellers watched, their savior walked off into the depths of Eternity’s Forest, vanishing within the rows of trees.

***

The Autumn Knight stood in the center of the same grove of trees he and his brothers had always met at, waiting patiently for the answer to the summons he had sent out. The body of the Summer Knight had been completely overgrown by this time, transformed into a tangled mound of flowers of every possible color. The Autumn Knight stood beside that mound, his helmet twisting back and forth as he watched the trees surrounding him.

With lightning speed, a knife came hurtling towards the Autumn Knight, who with one smooth motion caught the knife in his hands and threw it back, where it lodged in the trunk of a nearby elm.

“I suspected it was you,” the Autumn Knight shouted. “Reveal yourself, Spring.”

From behind the elm the Autumn Knight had hurled the knife at stepped the Spring Knight, his grin beneath his hood stretched into a smile of manic joy. He casually juggled another knife back and forth from one hand to the other, studying the wary Autumn Knight with evident glee. “So abrupt, Autumn. I’ve always loved that ruthless efficiency about you. A conversation finished, you depart immediately. A threat uncovered, you challenge it directly. Refreshing. How did you figure it out, brother?”

“What you said when we found Summer’s body was right, even though you said it to distract Winter and I from yourself,” the Autumn Knight explained. “Only one of us could have killed him. I knew I had not done so, and when I looked at the body, there was no sign of frost or ice, so the Winter Knight could not have done it, else he would have left that mark of his touch behind. Therefore, it had to have been you.”

The Spring Knight sucked in air through gritted teeth. “Clever. Why didn’t you do or say anything?”

The Autumn Knight hefted his sword from one hand to the other. “I couldn’t prove it. I regret my inaction now, as it allowed you to kill again. I must admit in turn to a curiosity as to how and why you did these deeds.”

“The how was simple enough. I met with Summer, and, since he didn’t suspect I had any suspicions towards him, I was able to just walk up and give him one quick jab into the heart,” the Spring Knight said, emphasizing with a jerk of his hand towards the mound of flowers. “Unfortunately, I didn’t check to make sure he died immediately, and he sent out a mental summons for the two of you as he lay bleeding to death. I didn’t make that same mistake with Winter, the trusting fool.” The Spring Knight sighed and shook his head. “And as for the why, I think it should be clear. Look around you, Autumn. We’re strangling these woods, keeping them from changing or growing. Even Winter noted how we are just barely holding back the tide of scum and crime that seeks to overwhelm our home. Every once and a while, a fire must clear out a forest before it can grow back again, healthier and more vibrant than ever. We are preventing a calamity which would wipe away all this rot. I knew I could never convince the other two to see my way, so I had to dispose of them. You, Autumn, are guardian of the season of change. Surely you must see the value of my plan.”

“Change for change’s sake only leads to poison, Spring,” the Autumn Knight said softly. “If you wish to orchestrate a calamity, think first of how many innocents would be swept away in that fire as well before Eternity’s Forest could begin growing back. I cannot allow this.”

The Spring Knight clicked his tongue. “I feared as much. I’m very sorry, Autumn.”

“Not as sorry as I am,” his brother responded.

The Spring Knight charged forward, hurtling his knife as he did so. The Autumn Knight batted it aside with his sword, even as the Spring Knight, who had closed the distance between them, drew out another knife from his belt and lunged for his brother’s throat. Reacting with lightning speed, the Autumn Knight lifted his arm to ward off the attack. The knife slipped through the plates of his armor and pierced him in the shoulder. Ignoring the wound, the Autumn Knight suddenly shifted his stance forward, slamming into the Spring Knight with his full weight. The blow sent the much slimmer Spring Knight sprawling backwards on his back. He reached for another knife at his belt and hurled it, but the Autumn Knight deflected it aside with his blade moments before it would have sliced his face. The Spring Knight reached again, then frowned in frustration as he realized that he had run out of knives.

“So quickly, the fate of Eternity’s Forest is decided,” he said in a tone of reflection. “A shame, really. I had hoped-”

Whatever the Spring Knight would have said was cut off as the Autumn Knight brought his sword down and struck him through the heart. He died before his brother had even finished pulling his sword from the wound. The Autumn Knight stood there, panting for a moment, before picking up his fallen brother by the arm and dragging his body over to lay besides the Summer Knight’s grave. Pressing a hand against his own wounded shoulder, he trudged to the edge of the grove and glanced back at where the Spring and Summer Knight now laid, side by side.

“I must find Winter’s body, to make sure he is given a proper burial as well,” the Autumn Knight said quietly. “Then, I will continue in my duties. The other three may be gone, but Eternity’s Forest remains. And while Eternity’s Forest remains, the Autumn Knight will protect it.”

Slowly, he walked off into the woods, his sword, the edge of which was still stained with blood, dragging along the forest trail behind him through the wet, golden leaves.

He was the Autumn Knight, and he would guard the woods, alone, for generations to come.