Tuesday, June 2, 2020

The Ninth Knight by Stephen James Wright

Release date: May 20, 2020
Subgenre: Epic Fantasy, Sword and Sorcery

About The Ninth Knight:

 

Prosperous and middle-aged, Sir Gaveran yearns for knightly adventure and chivalrous deeds.  He persuades seven other knights to meet with him - rich and powerful Garrien, upcoming knight-errant Perinell, poor but honest Calan, aesthetic Lyas, foreigner Rykon, masked and enigmatic Yvon, and ill-omened Alair.  Gaveran persuades them all to join him in an oath, to seek adventure in the coming year....

But, as the eight knights swear on their swords, a ninth blade is laid across theirs - and the shadowy figure of the Ninth Knight follows each knight as they quest, observing them and, perhaps, judging them.


Excerpt:


            “Oh, well,” said Lyas, “it could certainly prove diverting.”  And he rose from the table.
            “This is within my power and my honour,” said Garrien, and he too stood.
            “There is risk inherent in this,” said Yvon’s whispering voice, “but, sometimes, risks must be taken.”  And Yvon stood.
            “I –” Perinell found himself standing, almost without his own volition.  “I am already seeking to prove myself, and this will be a part of that.”
            Calan muttered something Perinell could not hear, but he, too, rose from the table.
            “I am already a wandering warrior in a far-off land,” said Rykon as he stood.  “Adventure comes unbidden, sometimes.”
            “This is true.”  And Alair was standing, too.
            Gaveran’s ruddy face broke into an exultant smile.  “Then come, my friends, follow me!”
            And he led them out of the dining chamber, and down stairs, and along corridors, while the sound of the feasting in the great hall was a constant roaring in their ears.  Perinell felt his head swimming, for all that he had tried to be sparing with the wine.  He found himself unable to keep track of the twistings and turnings of their route, but Gaveran plunged on, confident and relentless, and Perinell tried to keep pace.
            Eventually, they found themselves in the echoing stone space of the old chapel, dimly lit by fluttering flames in wall sconces.  “The font!” cried Gaveran, and led them to the stone basin that stood uncovered before the simple altar.  “Swords, all!”  He drew his own sword and held it aloft.  There was something almost unreal, Perinell thought, about the scene – the press of knights, all in their different armours, the naked blade shining in the ruddy torchlight – He drew his own sword and raised it.  All around him, there was the whisper and rasp of metal on metal, blades sliding out of sheaths –
            “Down on the font!” Gaveran cried.  “We swear on these blades to go forth, to quest for adventure, and to meet it as befits valiant knights!  So swear we all!”
            And they all echoed back, “So swear we all!”, as the blades crashed down flat on the stone font.
            “It is done,” said Gaveran, and staggered.
            “It begins,” said Alair.
            “Back, my friends,” said Gaveran, “back to the dining chamber – we need not begin at once,  I think, not so soon after a heavy meal –”  Someone laughed; Perinell was not sure who.
            But they trooped out of the chapel, and Gaveran led them back, somewhat uncertainly, to the dining chamber and the last remains of the feast.  Perinell found himself at the rear of the company, looking at Yvon’s unrevealing back.  He shook his head.  Sir Yvon was a muffled enigma, but that was not what troubled him.
            Gaveran – Garrien – Yvon – Rykon – Lyas – Calan – Alair – and himself.  Eight.  That was eight.  No question of it.  So why was he convinced, when the swords crashed down and the oath was sworn, that there were nine blades lying across the old stone of the font?


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About Stephen James Wright:

Stephen James Wright uses his full name on his books, but has been described as one of nature's Steves. He is obstinately opposed to the whole "two cultures" thing, and, having an MA in linguistics and an MSc in software engineering, he is (academically speaking) neither fish, flesh, fowl nor good red herring. He has been a fan of science fiction, fantasy and horror all his life, which is probably why he has never amounted to anything. He lives in the Home Counties of England, and blogs about SF and related matters
 

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