Tarok the Wanderer and the Knight of Kah

Tarok had wandered for days. The townsfolk of Byl had been less than useless filled with contradictory claims and full of chatter about the blazing fire in the middle of the night. Tarok had set Bey Aorun of Sivrek’s camp alight and the fire had roared for a night and a day. Once Tarok had confessed to the arson the townsfolk wanted nothing to do with him, fearing the Prince of the West’s repercussion. Tarok had argued that he wanted the direction two merchants had gone but the people told him competing tales. Eventually he gave up and headed west, towards the coast.

For three days he trekked through flat plains with little more than sheep for company. Dried wheel tracks carved through the softer patches of soil, few as they were. Tarok had no way of knowing how old the tracks were but it was a direction and that was enough.

He camped beneath an olive tree perched on a rocky knoll shading him from the sun during the day and shielding him from the wind at night. A wind that tore from the north carrying a knife-like chill. From atop the hill Tarok sighted three towns judging by the smoke on the horizon. One to the south, one west, and one north. He had enough of settled people and their petty grievances. The prattle over fences and the thin ale. The haggard appearance of the women and the thin wrists of the men. It was a bore. Worse. It was an affront to Uruk. Weak and spineless cowards hiding in their stone huts being subjugated by men half the world away. Tarok spat an olive stone into the dusty earth. His village had been one of warriors faithful to Uruk, strong in arm and gracious in looks. A good life ruined by bow wielding horse riders from the east. He peeled the flesh from another olive with his teeth and spat the stone into the dirt.

The moon had risen and with it came the chill wind. The Star of Uruk shined bright in the sky. Tarok imagined Anchorite Iltani and her Vestals performing the rituals of war and justice. He wondered who would spill the blood or if they had saved enough from the men he had slaughtered. He hoped the latter for Uruk would smile upon Tarok the Wanderer and bless his axe arm and provide ample sport. He lay back in the dirt and gazed at the stars knowing he would travel north, then west, then south and continue along the coast if he had too.

A horse snorted. Hooves clattered against stone. Tarok snapped away and leapt to his feet. Kah was at his height. The night velvet and illuminated only by the faint grace of the gods above. Metal clinked against metal. Hooves grated on rock. Chains rattled in the darkness. Tarok reached for his axe. A spiked flail hit him in the chest and sent him sprawling on his back. Two fiery eyes appeared in the gloom. A warrior in black armour astride a black horse draped in darkest cloth advanced. The horse grunting beneath the shawl that brushed the ground.

Tarok stood and held his axe in two hands ahead of him. He had heard of such warriors. Knights of Kah. Warriors of the Night. Prowling the land in search of monsters, enemies of Kah, and worthy foes.

The Knight of Kah kicked his horse with horn studded boots and surged towards Tarok, three headed flail swinging through the air. Tarok waited until the last moment and rolled out of the way, the flail whistling over his head. Tarok swung around with his axe and caught a strip of black cloth for his effort. He readied himself for the next charge, standing with his legs wide and planted.

The black knight rounded and charged again. The flail of black iron sailed through the air, the light of the moon dancing over its spiked orbs. Tarok swung upward aiming for the rider. Flail sparked against axe and the chains spun around the handle. The Knight did not slow down. Tarok was forced to the ground, his hands firm on his axe. He bounced and skirted along the dusty earth and down the hill.

The Knight of Kah roared and yanked at his flail. Tarok held strong, feeling sharp rocks cut into his chest and dirt scratch the wounds. The Knight slowed and came side onto Tarok. The Wanderer tugged hard on his axe as the Warrior of the Night lifted his arm. Tarok stood and slammed his fist into the horse’s flank. The horse whinnied and bolted. Tarok swung down feeling axe and flail dig flesh. Blood splattered Tarok, he wondered if it was horse or rider. With a flick of his wrist the Knight of Kah freed his flail and galloped into the velvet night. Two eyes of flame flickered in the distance.

Hooves stomped and the rattling of chain grew louder and louder. The Knight emerged from the night, flail rotating in the air. Tarok ducked and slashed out with his small axe. A fan of blood. A cry of a horse. Tarok turned to find the stallion limping on three legs. Blood gushing from the stump of his hind. The rider urged the robed horse onward. Tarok dashed to the Knights off-hand side and raked his small axe along the horse’s flank. The horse collapsed, throwing the black knight to the earth.

Tarok stalked over to the Knight of Kah sprawled on the ground, flail beside him. The heavily armoured warrior dragged himself through the dirt. Tarok reached the flail first and kicked the Knight in the face. Blood burst from within the helmet and he was thrown on his back. Tarok wrapped the chain of the flail around the man’s exposed neck and pulled. The chain dug into flesh. The Knight of Kah floundered in the dirt, his spiked gauntlets clawing at Tarok’s hands gouging out chunks of flesh. Tarok held firm until the chain lacerated the Knight of Kah’s neck. The man flinched, legs kicking, and finally lay still, arms falling by his side. Tarok tightened his grip to make certain.

‘Let all know a Warrior of Uruk has slain a Knight of Kah!’ Tarok bellowed into the night. The Star of Uruk flickered brighter.

Tarok slung his axe onto his back and kicked a stone near his foot. The odd square stone made a dull sound as it struck his boot. He knelt down and felt the reddish square, on one side where carvings of runes he could not make out. Tarok kicked the head of the corpse and returned to lay beneath his olive tree.

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