The Mystical Knights: The Sword of Dreams Read online

  THE MYSTICAL KNIGHTS:

  THE SWORD OF DREAMS

  BY

  K.A. ROBERTSON

  Text copyright © 2016 by K.A. Robertson

  Cover illustration by: http://www.selfpubbookcovers.com/ravenborn

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author.

  For Holly, Jill, Aj, Chris and Derek: the original Mystical Knights; thank you for feeding my imagination, and for giving me one of the most incredible friendships of a lifetime. Without you, there would be no story.

  Much love to you all, wherever you go.

  CONTENTS

  ONE:

  THE EYE OF THE SEER

  TWO:

  THE KNIGHTS OF WILLOW CREEK

  FOUR:

  THE MEETING GROUNDS

  FIVE:

  THE MYSTICAL KNIGHTS

  SIX:

  THE GIRL IN THE MIRROR

  SEVEN:

  THE RISE OF THE PHOENIX

  EIGHT:

  THE SWORD OF DREAMS

  NINE:

  TEARS IN HEAVEN

  TEN:

  LACRIMAE SANGUINIS

  ELEVEN:

  BEYOND THE LOOKING-GLASS

  TWELVE:

  ZEPHYRLIS

  THIRTEEN:

  FIRE AND ASH

  FOURTEEN:

  THE DESCENT

  FIFTEEN:

  THE THREE PATHS

  SIXTEEN:

  THE LOST BROTHER

  SEVENTEEN:

  THE GIRL WHO CRIED

  Raging fire, phoenix heat;

  Rushing wind, dragon feat.

  Pegasus of watery vice,

  Warrior brave, for Earth he fights.

  Flashing thunder, a griffin cries;

  Mind of lion, strong and wise.

  World of darkness, filled with fear,

  With this last hope, a single tear...

  -Holly Bianchi, the original Silver Phoenix

  Chapter 1: The Eye of the Seer

  Nia’s eyes snapped open. Everything was a blurry shadow; she could just make out a bit of light through crack in the doorway. Nia sat up in her bed, back and shoulders rigid, her heart thrumming. Where am I?

  The lavender walls of her bedroom soothed her fuzzy mind as her eyes found her Converse sneakers resting haphazardly by the closet. Her suitcase still sat in the same place by the bureau, her clothes still folded inside, not wanting to be touched. I'm safe, she reminded herself. I'm home.

  It had been three weeks since her mother died, two and a half weeks since her father had reappeared back in her life, two weeks since the funeral, and two days since Nia had found herself stumbling into her father's cottage. Too much change too quickly can be hurtful to some, but Nia found it to be something like a dream. There was no time to think if she kept moving forward. Things always had a way of reorienting themselves around deep gaps. It was like taking a pebble out of a stream; everything else just moves right in to fill up that hole.

  And then she'd wake up.

  She shivered, wrapping her star quilt tightly around her shoulders. She had never realized how cold she was now. How numb and broken she felt, sitting in the darkness of night while the sounds of television whispered from the living room. How alone she was now that Mom was no longer here...

  It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

  Nia knew she shouldn't; the pain she would feel after the memory would be worse than it felt now, but she pulled the quilt over her head anyway, squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply.

  She was huddled on her mother's lap, that awful nightmare still fresh in her mind. Nia pressed her face into her mother's neck, breathing her into her soul.

  "Our people came from the stars," her mother had said, raking her fingers through Nia's tousled hair. "They'll never speak to you with their lips, but you will hear them with your mind. Keep your mind wide open and you will never be alone..."

  Never be alone...

  Nia reopened her eyes. Gone was her mother. Gone was the warmth of her mother's bed, the softness of her touch, the gentle sound of her voice...just gone.

  It hurt to breathe. Hurt to think. That ugly hole in her heart stung with every beat. Nia pressed her head against the window and looked up at the stars. "I miss you," she whispered, her breath leaving a fog on the window glass. She dragged her finger through the warm condensation. For a moment, through the pattern her finger had left along the glass, Nia thought she saw something; a strange and tall shadow standing near the trees, watching her with large black eyes. Nia blinked and squinted hard. Nothing there. I must have imagined it.

  She laid back down, wriggling down into her blankets and pulling her quilt up to her chin. Her eyelids were heavy again... The last thing she saw before succumbing to sleep was a bright streak of white cut across the winter's night sky—a shooting star, a soul finding its way home.

  * * *

  It was dark. Silhouettes of trees towered above her; a stone gazebo sat on top of a hill in the distance. Nia paused, frowning as she looked down at her shoes. It’s nighttime, she thought, baffled at the absurdity of the situation. What on earth am I doing walking through a park in the middle of the night?

  The wind rustled and waves of cold crawled down her spine. Puzzled, Nia scratched her head and peered around in amusement. She hadn’t been a sleepwalker in years. Why start up again now? Nia pulled at her jeans and green tee-shirt awkwardly, trying to decide for herself if any of this was real. She took a deep breath; the air was thick with the frosty smell of winter.

  It felt real. Smelled real. It even sounded real. But at the same time, Nia wasn’t sure. No divining dream she had had before had ever felt like this. This was...surreal.

  A gentle thrum of constant energy crackled in the distance— the white noise that was always there in the background in each of her visions. She closed her eyes, feeling the electricity as it rushed through her veins, and concentrated long and hard on what she was about to see or hear.

  Nia sighed and reopened her eyes. There were things in front of her, standing together in a line. Creatures—monsters even. She jumped back in surprise and gaped at the sight of the things, however she was not afraid of them.

  A silvery Phoenix with ebony colored tail feathers stood at the head of the line, its eyes unyielding. It wore a silver pendant across its heart: a circular Celtic knot that seemed to smolder against the Phoenix's light plumage. Beside the Phoenix sat an elegant emerald Dragon who wore a brilliant oval emerald pendant. At first glance, Nia had nearly mistaken the pendant to be one of the Dragon's pearlescent green scales, the facets seemed to move together, swirling much like a cyclone. A Pegasus that glimmered like white crystal toed its right hoof against the grass, causing its precious teardrop pendant to glisten underneath the moonlight, while a topaz Griffin with strong black talons clicked its beak. Tied around his feathery neck was a yellow topaz stone that hung from a gold chain. Lastly, a gladiator Warrior stood before Nia, its eyes like blazing sapphires amidst the dark blue night. The Warrior's triangular knot-shaped pendant pressed gently against his heart, sapphire stones set against a jade green colored metal. The blue stones seemed to burn brighter with every breath the Warrior took.

  The creatures were still, neither speaking nor really watching, but just there-solely because they had to be. Nia’s mouth opened, and she unconsciously said the first thing that came to mind. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Indeed.”

  None of the figures had spoken; this
voice had echoed from behind her. Nia turned slowly, as if not to frighten the speaker, and was amazed at what she saw. There, coming down the crooked path, was an elegantly dressed woman, swathed in purple and gold cloth. Her face was hidden, cloaked by blackness. At her side, was a prideful golden lion, his mane fierce and the color of honey, his eyes just as purple as Nia’s. But he seemed much more than a lion. Like the other creatures, he possessed greatness, the loyalty of a true warrior hung in his very being. The lion blinked up at Nia with his great eyes, and Nia could have sworn that the ghost of a smile had crossed his ancient face.

  “We have been waiting for you. There is much that needs to be done.” The woman had spoken again, her monotone voice echoing far out in the distance. The voice sounded familiar to Nia. It was like a shadow of a dream that had danced away from her at dawn’s first light.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Nia said.

  “What is there to not understand?” The woman spoke gently. “You have arrived. The battle can finally be won.”

  “Battle?” Nia looked around again, expecting to see tanks and cannons somewhere in the proximity but she came up empty handed. She fidgeted nervously.

  “Don't worry, dear one. You will be ready in time.”

  I will? Nia racked her brains for any memory of a battle she would be fighting in, and again came up empty handed. She sighed, biting her lip and looked at the woman, yearning for answers. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand why I’m here. What is my purpose?”

  The woman stared at her (or at least Nia supposed she stared at her-it was hard to tell) for one beat of a heart before speaking again. “I cannot tell you that, Niambe. But what I can share is this: you are a Mystical Knight, daughter and defender of Zindel’Tyr, ruler of the Neteru.”

  Nia blinked, knowing she was missing a very important piece of the puzzle. “But I thought my dad was an engineer.”

  The woman sighed, showing her first sign of irritation. “Samuel Mitchell is your natural birth father, the one who helped to create the physical body you have now. But the ancient creator, the one who gave you the gifts you possess—that is Zindel’Tyr.”

  Nia chewed on her lip, processing the information just given to her. “So—so my psyche was created by some guy who wants me to go into some battle?” It sounded even more stupid once she had spoken it out loud.

  The woman chuckled, almost purr like. “Unlike the others, your gifts of the mind do not come with the soul. They must be passed down, mother to child, for generations upon generations. All of your life you have felt an absence, a certain longing for something untold? This is what you've been craving. Your destiny awaits you, Gold Lion.”

  The lion at the woman’s side looked away from Nia to gaze up at the woman with its kind eyes. They sparkled like faerie lights, shining like beacons through the night. The woman stroked the lion’s regal mane once before turning her blind stare back towards Nia.

  “In hardships and struggles, you will need guidance Niambe,” the woman said, stepping towards her soundlessly as if she were simply floating through the air. “Take this amulet—and wear it. If ever you need help, your guardian will aid you in battle.” The woman pressed a gold amulet into Nia’s limp palm.

  Nia looked at the amulet that was in the shape of a gold lion’s head and looked back up into the woman’s shrouded face. “And if I don’t wear it? What will happen?”

  The woman laughed as she turned away. “Even you don’t know what will happen, my dear girl? Times are darker and more perilous than ever. Nothing is what it seems...”

  You got that right, lady, Nia thought, clutching the amulet tightly in her right palm. “I have just one more question.” The woman paused in her footsteps. It took Nia a moment to notice that the lion was at her side now, gazing at her with kind affection. “Erm...what is your name?”

  “That,” the woman said with a final tone, “is something you already know.”

  “You won’t even give me tiny hint?”

  If the woman could smirk, she probably did. “No hints. You know what you need to do. It's in your blood."

  Chapter 2: The Knights of Willow Creek

  It was the hollow sound of rain pouring down against the window that she woke up to. Nia had always found it quite hard to sleep whenever it rained. She always felt bothered by it, as if those raindrops were someone’s tears falling from the stormy gray clouds.

  As she stretched, something heavy fell to the floor with a loud clank. Her brow furrowed, she rolled onto her stomach, wondering what on earth she had fallen asleep with the night before. She had never been one for jewelry—and she didn’t own anything weighty. She gasped as she looked over the edge of the bed at the smooth wooden floor.

  On the floor, its chain twisted against the grain of the wood, was the same golden amulet that she had held in her dream.

  Nia stared, her mind wheeling backwards as she tried to remember where she had gotten the necklace from—an old thrift store maybe, or at a yard sale. Scooping the amulet into the cup of her hands, she glanced at the window. These windows couldn't open from the outside. And they were locked on the inside. The lion’s gold face twinkled at her through the dark as if it were alive. As foreign as the amulet was, the way it's carefully crafted grooves pressed into the palm of her hand felt strangely familiar—she'd held it before—somewhere other than in her dream the previous night. But where had it come from?

  She strained to remember the important parts of her dream as she pulled through her clothes. Five creatures—no guardians—and then the lion was the sixth. That strange woman... It had to have been just a dream. Usually her visions weren’t so cryptic. Besides—what sort of future did she have with her mother? Nia pulled on a pair of leggings and her favorite skirt before sinking her socked feet into their rightful purple Converse high tops.

  Nia bit her lip, staring down at the amulet, uncertain and curious all at once. She ended up tucking the amulet inside her pocket. Sometimes her psychic dreams were hard to remember, like grasping for water with your hands.

  Sighing, Nia made her way entered the messy, disheveled living room and into the bathroom soundlessly. She gave the gigantic fish her father had mounted on the wall a worrisome look as she walked by it; 'Ol Bessie's razor sharp teeth and beady looking eyes made Nia uneasy.

  Nia peered into the old mirror with a hopeful expression as if maybe something had changed overnight, but the face peering back was the same face she had looked at every day. She smiled at herself, her violet eyes burning like smoldering coals. Nia often wondered if it was a genetic disorder that made her eyes that unusual shade; every woman born with Natali blood had purple eyes. When Nia was small, she used to try and convince people that her eyes were a very dark shade of indigo.

  She shook her raven black tresses from her face and carefully reached into her pocket once more. The amulet felt as though it had a pulse, vibrating gently against her palms. Crinkling her nose, she cautiously brought it up to her ear. She could feel warmth emitting from it, but it made no noise. It tingled against her palm like a tickle.

  “Niambe...” Nia spun around, clasping the amulet between her hands. Sam was leaning against the door frame, a quizzical expression evident on his face. “You look just like your mother.”

  Nia smiled firmly and turned back at her reflection. “Thanks." The similarities between her and her mother had always been uncanny.

  Sam beamed at her. He was already dressed in a red flannel shirt and torn jeans, ready for a day's work at the shipyard. Yesterday's tousled brown hair was brushed and he had given his graying beard a much needed trim. He looked very little like the Dad she remembered. This one looked tired all over his face, as though he had lived without sleep. His cheeks were riddled with crevasses and crags, the wrinkles from all the worrying he had done this past month. The only similarity she could find was his eyes that were that were crinkled with age, but still warm and brown and familiar.

  I need familiar.

&nbs
p; Sam pushed away from the door frame and glanced towards the kitchen. “I uh, made some breakfast if you’re interested.”

  Nia’s stomach tightened. She squeezed the amulet lightly. “Dad,” she said, smiling feebly. “Thanks for cooking—but you really didn’t have to. I—I usually don’t eat in the morning. Makes me nauseous. You know that.”

  “Ah,” he said, “that’s alright.” Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably.

  “But if you want,” Nia rambled on, her tongue lashing fast than her brain could think, “you can save it—we’ll have breakfast for dinner! Mom and I—” Nia took a sharp intake of breath, her chest flaring with hurt. It hurt like a thousand knives driving into her flesh, peeling it back and splashing it with sea salt. She's dead, she thought disapprovingly, mentally reaching out to regain control before the dam behind her eyes could break. You watched her die.

  “Hey.”

  She was hardly aware of Sam's outstretched hand. Sam’s thumb moved in slow circles along her cheek, pushing a few strands of hair from her eyes. She had been sure her father’s hands would be calloused and rough from fairing the seas, but they were strangely soft. “It’s alright. We can have breakfast for some other meal. Don’t you worry about it.”

  Nia pulled her head away before the feeling of his comforting hand could become real. She walked past him into the living room, wringing her fingers with one hand, her head buzzing like a stir of whispers. She clenched her teeth behind her closed lips, seeking some sense of control. She knew remembering would hurt, but the pain she had imagined felt like tickles compared to what it felt.

  As her mind began to calmly refocus, Sam cleared his throat. “Here’s some lunch money then,” he said, handing Nia a crinkled five dollar bill over her shoulder. “Make—make sure you eat something today, alright? No need for you to go hungry.”

  Nia took the money and looked at him, feeling sane and stable once again. "Thanks Dad."