The White Knights
by Natalie J. Holden
A cat in human body. Resides somewhere in real world, but works very hard to get out. Has a master file with 200+ described worlds. Recently published her first novel The Outworlder that is all about being different.
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Light rippled on the surface of the mirror, announcing visitors. Dyah Ni touched sigils engraved into its frame and an aerial view of the colony appeared on its surface: her own abode was surrounded by a few dozen much smaller huts, with a single road snaking between them before joining the dark forest path. There were three dark figures at the very edge of the pane, approaching in a slow, but steady pace.
She ran through the possibilities in her mind. It was too early for tax collectors. Either there was a problem in the main colony… Or there was about to be a problem in Rampia.
It was just her dirty luck to land on the most problematic colony in the entire Meon Cluster. All because of its unusual occupants.
Dyah Ni touched another sigil and the map dissolved, replaced by the image transmitted by one of the security lenses installed around the village. The visitors were still too far to make out the details, but she thought they must have been humans, unusually large even for the outworlders, and riding some strange, spiky beasts.
The atmospheric crystal installed by the door was glowing red, signifying high levels of pollen, so Dyah Ni donned her breathing mask as she left the lab. Just in case, she sent a quick telepathic signal to her pupils to hide and placed her wand in her thigh-holster.
She stepped outside.
If she was an outworlder, she’d probably consider the day pleasant. The sun, a perfect orb of chartreuse, was high in the sky, flanked by two moons: white and pale golden. The air was warm, but not too warm, still fresh after yesterday’s rain. Despite that, the cloud of pollen was so thick that the houses surrounding the lab were obscured as if by a chiffon veil.
That actually suited Dyah Ni: like all Dahlsi, she was slightly agoraphobic. Luckily, the buildings were tall and the forests around Rampia were even taller, which mitigated her anxiety somewhat. Still, she refused to move more than a few paces from her lab and stood with her arms crossed, waiting for the newcomers to approach.
With the corner of her eye she spotted little shapes scurrying through the underbrush towards the buildings. She hoped they’d make it in time.
The visitors emerged from the forest. Up close, they seemed even bigger, an impression amplified by the fact that they were all armed, and Dyah Ni felt a stab of unease.
The first one was burly, clad from head to toe in shiny plate armour, with a sword so ridiculously long and wide it seemed impossible to use it as anything other than a prop.
The second was tall and lanky, with a lean face and bird-like features. This one wore only a shirt of chain-mail, with a bow and quiver on his back.
The third seemed to be the oldest of the three, with a grizzled, neatly trimmed goatee and bushy eyebrows. He wore no armour, only a long, uncomfortable looking robe dyed deep indigo and brightened with golden threads. In his hand he held a long wooden staff, adorned with golden wires. All three had bright skin, straw-coloured hair, and dark eyes.
Dyah Ni could not, for the life of her, determine where they had come from.
They paused at the edge of Rampia, the archer’s eyes scanning the area, while the sorcerer closed his eyes—casting or sleeping, she wasn’t sure. Only the sword sword guy had the decency to actually look at her.
“Greetings, woman.” He lifted his hand. “Take us to the leader of this hamlet,” demanded the one with shiny armour, after sweeping his gaze over the village, not even pausing on her.
This is gonna be fun, she thought. “You’re looking at her. I’m Dyah Ni Davara, sil-kahar of Rampia.”
The man finally looked at her, with a mix of contempt and disbelief on his face. He was pretty handsome, she couldn’t help noticing, with a tall forehead, slightly aquiline nose and wide, stern jaw.
Really, really fun.
“A male leader,” the man clarified, using the tone Dyah Ni would consider appropriate while addressing people with brain damage. She rolled her eyes.
“The nearest male leader is vel-kahar—world-leader—of Lliriuk,” Dyah Ni informed him. “He’s stationed in Ah-Feren and since that’s the only place you could enter this world, I’m guessing he was the one who sent you here. If you have business in Rampia, you have to speak to me.”
The man knit his eyebrows, as if Dyah Ni’s words forced him to tap into some deep-hidden reserves of brainpower.
“We don’t have time…” he started.
“Neither do I.” Dyah Ni cut him off. “As a sil-kahar I have duties, and entertaining guests is only one of them. And not even the most important one. So, either tell me what you want or turn around and go back where you came from.”
The man looked at one of his companions, then the other, as if searching for help. Not finding it, he turned back to Dyah Ni and straightened up.
“My name is Ralakh the Noble.” He paused and glanced at her, as if to check if he made a proper impression.
Dyah Ni had never heard of him and made sure her expression conveyed that—as much as she could with the lower part of her face hidden behind a mask.
The man cleared his throat and continued. “I am the fourth son of Great Prince Anurak, lord of Karthi in the faraway world of Asaarnen, and a member of the Order of the Light.”
At this point Dyah Ni couldn’t hold it any longer and snorted a laugh. Luckily, she managed to mask it as a cough. Nevertheless, Ralakh pouted in reproach.
“My companions are the Master Archer Derek and the Great Sorcerer Salaamin. We’ve heard about the great evil running rampant in your settlements and came to put an end to it, guided by our holy duty.”
“I see,” she said dryly when it became clear that he had finished talking. Ralakh’s eyes widened, but he remained silent, as if not sure what to add after finishing his trained speech. Dyah Ni sighed.
“What is the great evil you speak of?” she asked, accidentally adopting the knight’s pompous speech pattern. He brightened, almost smiling, as if he had been waiting for her to ask.
“Goblins.”
Dyah Ni took a deep breath.
Why? Why did she have to be the one assigned to the most problematic colony in Meon Cluster? Why couldn’t she oversee humans or kas’shams or… anyone.
Damn it all.
When she was sure her voice wouldn’t tremble, she asked, “And what is your grudge against goblins?”
The knight looked at her with pity. She thought that if he gave her one more look like that, she’d claw his eyes out.
“As I said, they are servants of evil. Don’t ask me for details for ‘tis not the knowledge for a woman’s mind. Just tell us if it’s true that those vile creatures abide in Lliriuk.”
“’Tis not the knowledge for a man’s mind”
His eyes bulged. Dyah Ni took a wider stance and put her hands on her hips. The breathing mask hid her smile, but the knight must have noticed her eyes crinkling, since his face reddened and his lips twisted into an angry snarl.
“Stop mocking me, woman!” he demanded, putting his hand on the hilt of the sword. “Or I swear by Inis, I’ll teach you manners! Speak now, where are those vile things?”
“Not until you tell me what you want. And leave that sword, it doesn’t impress me.”
He clenched his teeth, and for a moment Dyah Ni thought he might attack her. But then, the sorcerer spoke.
“Even a woman should know that goblins are the most evil among mortals, capable only of the most reprehensible acts of savagery and cruelty.”
“Like what?”
“Tis not…” started Ralakh.
“If you finish that sentence I’m gonna punch you in the teeth.”
The condescending tone was starting to grate on her. For Dahlsi, the only difference between men and women was what was between their legs, but Dyah Ni spent enough time among the outworlders to know many cultures attached strange ideologies to their genitals. The ideas presented by assholes like Ralakh were usually the worst. Only fixable with a wand.
“Pardon our crudeness,” the sorcerer stepped in diplomatically. “But, we merely wish to preserve your innocence. If you knew the things those beings are capable of…”
“I’m responsible for taking care of all of Rampia. I can take whatever you throw at me.”
“They are evil, woman. Is that not enough?” spat Ralakh, his face as red as the sky of Dahls.
“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” she said, knowing full well how absurd the outworlder’s morals could get.
“The Book of Revelation says the goblins arose from defiled corpses,” broke in the archer, his tone calm and composed, sounding too intelligent compared to the nonsense he was spewing.
“And my biology textbook says they’re just a product of evolution,” she mocked. “Like every other living being.”
“They cause untold damage in the villages,” added the sorcerer. “Kidnapping children, maiming animals, spoiling food, and fouling wells.”
Dyah Ni sighed, crossing her arms again.
“Look guys, I do understand the need to blame someone for your misfortunes. It’s easier to fault some mean goblins than realise you dug your latrine too close to the well or beat your kid so much that they decided to run away with the miller’s daughter rather than spend another gods-damned day more with you. But it really won’t solve anything. Especially if the goblins in question live on another world. And they can be used in more productive ways than as target practice for your archaic martial arts.”
Ralakh’s face reddened again.
“We shall not rest until that plague is erased from the face of the universe!” he bellowed. “And if you refuse to aid us, that means you’re in our way!”
Before anyone could say anything, he took out his sword and kicked his beast’s sides, spurring it to charge straight at Dyah Ni. But halfway through it halted suddenly, squealing in pain, and reared, throwing its rider to the ground. Poor fool very nearly impaled himself on his sword.
“Yep,” said Dyah Ni lightly. “We have a protective shield around Rampia.”
“’Tis nothing,” hissed Ralakh. “Salaamin will deal with your foul magic. And then we’ll get you out of the way and find the creatures you’re protecting.”
Dyah Ni shifted her eyes toward the sorcerer, who pulled a pouch from the folds of his robe and scattered a cloud of white dust. It blew forward and settled on the invisible shield, glimmering ominously.
“Look, guys, I have nothing against you, but I can’t let you hurt my protégés.” In fact, she was beginning to feel a bit bored, and the exposed skin on her forehead was starting to itch from the pollen. “Just turn back and go away. Find something better to do with your lives. Grow peas or something.”
They didn’t listen. Of course they didn’t. Salaamin continued with his spell, murmuring and making sharp gestures in the air in front of him. Dyah Ni glanced at the panel on her left and noticed that the protective spells placed around Rampia were faltering.
Well, if that’s what you want…
Ralakh bellowed again and ran towards her, with a sword raised above his head. Dyah Ni reached for her wand. It was nothing like the heavy staff held by Salaamin, oh no. It was the best Dahlsian technomagic could offer: small and sleek, with a double core and a lens made of pure dallite, all sheathed in soft, smooth plastic. Dyah Ni didn’t even have to utter a spell; the device jumped to life, as if only waiting to be used, pulling the energy from Dyah Ni, transforming it, and shooting a wave of kinetic force at the knight. Ralakh was thrown back, flailing his limbs as he flew across the pavement, stopping only when his back met a kardon tree.
Derek the Archer reached for his bow, but Dyah Ni wasn’t going to wait to find out what he was capable of—she sent him flying too, along with his mount. Poor animal was too heavy to fly, so it covered the last stretch of his journey rolling on the ground, bleating miserably. Salaamin followed them, just to complete the picture.
“Now listen, assholes, because I won’t say it twice.” Dyah Ni stood with her hands on her hips. ”In Dahls, goblins have a citizen status and as such are protected from anyone who wants to hurt them. As a kahar of Rampia, the job of protecting them falls to me and by the Great Sphere, I will do it in any way I can. And as you see, I can do a lot. So, this is the last time I ask: get the fuck out, or I’ll get you out.”
“I will not leave it like this!” screamed Ralakh, who had already managed to get himself standing. He shook his head like a bull preparing to charge, but before he could make a step, Dyah Ni sent him flying again just to drive her point forward. His companions were glaring at her, but when she shook her wand, they dashed away, barely stopping to pick up their unconscious leader.
Only when they completely vanished from sight did Dyah Ni feel a movement beside her.
“Sil-kahar?”
She turned and her eyes fell on Zyjl'Kahrit, crawling on all fours, his gray skin blending in with the dirt. She smiled.
Goblins! They wouldn’t re-invent the wand, but after training they could use it as well as any human. Were they mean? Sometimes, but rarely dangerous. Cruel? Not more than any other sentient beings. In the old worlds they often stole, but only because humans had pushed them from their lands and relegated them to the barrens and deserts, where there was nothing to eat.
“It’s all right, Zyjl'Kahrit,” she said, placing her hand between the creature’s big, triangular ears. “Go back to work.”
Yeah, goblins weren’t perfect. But they had one major merit.
They could do the same work as humans, for half a food ration per day.
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