A Knight at the Inn (3/3)

A/N: This three-part story is inspired by an old Vocal prompt where writers were asked to select 3 words from a word search to include within a piece. I decided to challenge myself further with 10 random words from an online generator and include them within a fictional story. There are as follows:

• Exile
• Stomach
• Panel
• Owner
• Institution
• Rider
• Remark
• Draw
• Summit
• Ambition

When they appear - they are highlighted in bold.

Enjoy!

The cloaked figure lifted her hood. Underneath lay a face of evil. Skin stretched across a skull with no flesh. It had no eyes, lips, or nose. Matted hair hung in loose clumps above a wide smile full of rotten teeth.

Ser Amery struggled against his restraints desperately. They had little give. He could not escape, he realized as they rubbed into his wrists hotly. He paid for his efforts in sharp cramping pain.

“What? Don’t you recognize me, darling?” she taunted.

Ser Amery froze.

"A...Anwir?"

"Aha! Sharp as a river rock, Ser!"

Ser Amery shared widely at his captor. How could Anwir change from such beauty to such horror?

"You cannot be her!"

“Perhaps the seductive scent of my stew will convince thee?” she alluded, waving her hand to the large pot on the fire.

“Though, this one is different from the one you tasted, yes. Much more special. More…rich,” she trailed off, turning to retrieve a long butcher's knife from behind her.

"Let me loose! I command thee, as a Knight of the realm!"

Anwir cackled sharply.

"Nay! I do not think I will, darling."

"What do you want, Devil?"

"What I want is very simple. I have no desire for matters of the heart. What I concern myself with is matters of...the stomach." With this she began to slowly admire the butcher's knife in her hand, twirling it around her fingers. Spit was flying from between her teeth as she spoke.

"Brave Knight," she scoffed, "is it brave to ignore the King's orders? to lie with a woman you barely know? Nay, I see thee, Ser."

She stepped closer to her bound victim.

"I know bravery. The most loyal of royalists, the most celibate of priests, and the strongest of fighters have all come to stay at my inn..."

Ser Amery's breath caught.

"And, you know what?" she laughed in contempt, "They all tasted far too dull!" she grinned widely and lunged at Ser Amery.

Acting instinctually, Ser Amery threw himself to one side to avoid the sting of the blade. Then, he kicked the pot with his bare feet. It swayed precariously. Thick liquid sloshed inside. He was now on his back, staring up at Anwir with wide eyes.

Despite the stakes of the situation, Anwir seemed little more than mildly annoyed.

"Naturally, I have concluded that what the soup is lacking, is richness..."

Anwir stood on Ser Amery's bare chest. Her long toenails dug jaggedly into his skin.

“You know, I have never tasted Knight before!”

Ser Amery wiggled from under her foot, using his legs to kick himself back to the wall of the cave. He stood shakily, swaying in pain. It was as if his very bones were made of mud.

“Ugh, I should have known a great beast like you would need a higher dose…” she mused.

“Why would you eat me, witch?”

“Why? For pleasure! The flavor! The thrill! Surely a bloodthirsty Knight like you can understand?”

Ser Amery's heart ached at the words. In truth, he did understand the thrill of killing another. When he saved Warin by beheading a heathen, he remembered how good it felt to see another person's head fall from their body. How satisfying Warin's smile was.

“You are right. I do understand. I understand how good it can feel to kill someone. How thrilling it can be to close the chase. I have looked my darkness in the eye. I have looked the true devil in the eye too and I reject them! I banish them! I am better than my hunting instincts and you…”

Anwir raised her brow.

“You are nothing more than an overindulgent predator!”

With a mighty roar, Ser Amery kicked the pot with all his strength towards Anwir. The sickly boiling stew spilled over her, sticking to her skin. She screamed inhumanly, dropping the butcher's knife.

Ser Amery swiveled and grabbed the knife in his bound hands, contorting himself. He twisted it in his grip and cut the rope.

His hands were free, and he stood to face his enemy, naked and human.

Several bright lights flew from Anwir’s hands toward the Knight. He dodged them but used the light they produced to quickly see the exit of the cave. Behind Anwir, a tunnel led upwards and ended with a wooden trapdoor. An escape.

He lunged at her with the knife but met nothing but black smoke. She had dissipated. Anwir of the Wolds had no interest in a fair fight.

She reappeared behind him. Before he could turn, he felt claws dig into the skin of his back, dragging him back off of his feet. He bit back a wail of pain, grunting. She flipped him easily. Anwir straddled his hips, blood staining her fingernails.

Ser Amery stabbed at her again, aiming for the skin covering her eye sockets. She blocked his arm with her own, an unnatural strength fueling her movements. She grabbed the knife from his hands and waved her own in a complex pattern. Suddenly, roots emerged from the dirt below Ser Amery, tangling his limbs and pinning his arms down. The arm nearest the fire began to singe.

Spread wide and defenseless, Ser Amery stopped his struggle when he felt cold metal on his neck. Anwir held the butcher's knife to his skin. It was biting. In another flash of smoke, she transformed into her former beauty. She smiled, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

"Good... give in, darling."

Thoughts of his joy in battle, his cowardliness in facing the King's marriage, and his foolishness that night flowed through Ser Amery's head with the blood in his ears.

'Perhaps this is my deserved punishment.'

"Such a shame," a man's voice spoke.

Ser Amery looked around in confusion. There was no one else in the cave. Anwir continued to talk, but Ser Amery could not hear her. It was as if his ears were full of water.

"Such a fine head and ye aren't even using it..." it spoke again.

He knew that voice.

"Warin?"

"Chirping in yer ear again," Warin's voice laughed.

"How..."

"Amery. Use. Your. Head."

Ser Amery threw his head forward with abandon. Anwir screeched in pain, recoiling from him. She returned to her true visage, features fading to her skull-like form. The roots around Ser Amery's arms also recoiled. He stood quickly.

More lights flew from her hands. Ser Amery dodged them before charging at her, knocking her into the fire with his shoulder. She screeched wildly.

Ser Amery did not wait to see if his foe was vanquished, he scrambled up the tunnel leading to the outside of the cave. His blunt nails scraped into the dirt. When he emerged, he could see the outside of the inn draped in grey moonlight. He stumbled to his horse, who had remained in the stables.

She jumped on his steed and, before he could command, it immediately cantered away from the inn at full speed.

“Good horse,” the Knight gasped, clinging to the horse's mane. He had not stopped to retrieve the saddle or reins. “We have both lost our possessions tonight, it seems,” Amery commented on his nakedness.

The horse ran fast through the trees, seeming to find a path in the moonlight. Ser Amery didn’t much care if the horse ran to Scotland, as long as it ran away from that cursed inn and the hungry witch within.

Thankfully, the horse had more familiar travels in mind as, soon enough, Ser Amery could see Segrave in the distance. It glowed a beautiful orange, reflected in Fishbrook's waters.

“Thank you, good horse,” the Knight whispered in astonishment. The horse puffed air in return. The sun was beginning to rise again. They were home.

It had taken the Knight two days of doing no more than sitting with his head in his hands before he could leave his house again. Even then, he simply strolled along Fishbrook, reflecting on his spooky night.

It had all started with the King’s command to marry Lady Blathnaid. The prospect terrified Ser Amery, though he hadn’t stopped to consider why it had unnerved him to the point of considering treason.

Warin had died a noble man. He was born a peasant but had no less bravery than the bravest Knight of the realm. Lady Blathnaid being born of peasant blood was undesirable but of no real consequence. Ser Amery knew that in his head, but in his heart...

In his heart, Warin's death hurt. No blade had ever cut the Knight so deep. He felt as if his blood would turn to saltwater if he had to feel that again. What was worse than Lady Blathnaid being a peasant was her being a kind and noble person, only to be taken from Ser Amery.

That was why he had run away. His broken heart had led him astray.

The calamity of Anwir followed his cowardice. A deserved punishment for listening to the dark side of his heart. The seduction, the evil magic, the...mutton soup. Ser Amery gagged at the memory.

He could have been an ingredient in Anwir's next batch - nothing more than chunks of meat floating in a fatty stew. The thought chilled him. If it hadn't been for Warin, he never would have escaped.

Ser Amery knew not if the voice was a ghostly presence, magic, or his own mind playing a cruel trick. Whatever it was, he was thankful for it. It had cut through Anwir's spell and given Ser Amery the strength to fight back 'using his head'.

Ser Amery's head was telling him that Lady Blathnaid was indeed a sensible match for him - and the need for new Knights was an understandable one, especially with supernatural entities hiding in the woods. If Anwir could settle right under the nose of Segrave, there was no telling what was lurking elsewhere...

Lady Blathnaid arrived in Segrave a day later with the Baron beside her.

"Hail, Welcume!" Ser Amery greeted them, waving them into his townhouse.

The Baron entered first. He was dressed in fine red robes, with gold stitching. He stared at Ser Amery with surprise as he passed.

"Tell me hastily, have your feelings changed?" he whispered to him.

"A great many things within me have changed these past days..." Ser Amery replied before trailing off, catching sight of Lady Blathnaid.

She was dressed modestly, in form, and in expense. She wore a light blue dress, covered with a strong leather corset. Underneath, a billowing white shirt with long sleeves blew in the wind. Her face was round, her skin tanned. She had a thick scar across her face, laying across her nose.

"Beatrice?" he questioned in surprise. He knew this woman.

"Ser," she bowed low, before walking into the house.

"Seeing your face brings your name to me, but I cannot recall from whence I know you..." Ser Amery said.

Lady Blaithnaid looked at Ser Amery, examining him.

"I cannot recall," she said softly.

"I am sure between the two of us, we can remember some of it," Ser Amery said hopefully.

Suddenly, the Baron addressed the two of them officially.

"Lady Blaithnaid, Ser Amery, you are hereby commanded, upon meeting, by the King to be wed in three days' time. Together, you shall oversee Segrave and produce noble children to serve the realm. Now, I have some further business to attend to, I must go."

With that, the Baron of Segrave walked through the same open door that he was invited through moments ago. He shut it behind him, leaving Ser Amery and Lady Blaithnaid alone in the grand townhouse.

"Three days," she said quietly.

"Three days," he repeated.

"I do not feel ready..." Lady Blaithnaid choked out a sob.

"Please sit, I will serve you a drink," Ser Amery offered her a chair.

With great guilt, she sat down and took a glass from Ser Amery. He sat across from her. She looked distraught.

"Do you know what I did when I heard the King's command from the Baron?"

Lady Blaithnaid looked up at him.

"I got on a horse, galloped away from Segrave, and ran afoul of a wit-... a thief. She stole everything from me."

Lady Blaithnaid began to laugh.

"I thought my sister had lied to me! She said she saw a Knight of the realm returning to Segrave on horseback, completely naked!"

Ser Amery felt heat rush to his cheeks. He, too, began to laugh.

"It would appear my soon-to-be sister-in-law has received my naked form before my wife!"

Lady Blaithnaid stopped laughing. Her own face began to blush. Ser Amery felt her mood shift.

"Please, listen to my words. I was a much different man days ago. I was displeased to hear of your origin, but not so anymore. The truth was, I was afeared of being left alone again..."

Lady Blaithnaid took his hand, urging him to continue.

"A man I knew and fought beside died. He was of poor birth but noble in character...so noble. When I heard you were of poor birth, I was afraid you would do as he did; take my heart only to disappear."

She squeezed his hand, looking at him with earnest brown eyes.

"I know now, that there are worse things than life and death. There are evil forces threatening our beautiful Segrave. Forces we must battle by living well - together."

"I thought you would be a great beast, I have never met a Knight who did not possess a great deal of brutishness..."

"I can be a great boar, but you will never be held against your will in my house... in our house."

They stared at each other for a moment. The air was clear between them.

"I think, Ser Amery, that I would like to know you better."

"And I, you, Lady Blaithnaid."

"Beatrice," she insisted.

"Then there shall be no Sers in this house either."

"Thank you, Amery."

Fishpool Brook was flowing fast alongside Lady Blaithnaid and Ser Amery as they walked on the banks of the river. A day before their promised marriage and they had taken some time to breathe away from the preparations to spend some time alone.

"I remembered from whence I know you," Amery said happily.

"Oh yes?"

"I knew your brother, he tended to a farm near my house when I first came to Segrave," Amery informed her.

"Oh." She hummed sadly.

"He was a good man. I saw him with you one day. He had told me about his sister and I recognized you from his descriptions of your..."

"My scar?" she asked him.

"I do not wish to be unkind..."

"You are not, Amery. It is certainly a defining feature."

The two continued to walk in silence, unsure of what to say.

"Do you dislike my face?" Beatrice asked suddenly.

Ser Amery took her hand, stopping them from walking.

"At the risk of sounding strange, I find it comforting."

"Comforting?"

"Aye, Beatrice, comforting."

As Beatrice looked at him in confusion, Amery considered his options. Should he tell her about the seduction he was subject to at the Inn? About Anwir?

"There was a...woman, who was a perfect vision. She was most alluring and she drew me into her clutches quite easily."

At this, Lady Blaithnaid frowned.

"But she was rotten inside. Evil and rotten. Her form was a farce - her true self was hideous."

Beatrice looked into Amery's eyes.

"I feel as if you are not telling me the full tale, how can a woman change her image so?"

"You are right - In truth, I am not sure how to put this experience into words yet!"

They laughed together.

"All I wish for you to know is this. Your scar is of comfort to me as I know your face is your own. It is honest, and because it is honest, it is beautiful. You are beautiful, Beatrice."

The two stared at each other. Beatrice looked stunned, Amery looked earnest.

She leaned up to kiss him. It was short, just enough to feel the softness of each other's lips - a promise of more. Their hands tightened. A bird began to sing. Amery heard Beatrice draw a sharp breath.

"What is that?" She asked softly.

"It is a woodlark, my darling, a very happy woodlark."

A/N: The story has been told! What do you think of it? This story took a month to complete and was such a labor of love! I thoroughly enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it!

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