Article: 2017 of alt.barney.dinosaur.die.die.die From: djg7@crux2.cit.cornell.edu (David Joseph Greenbaum) Subject: Story "The Talons of Honor" (part one) Message-ID: <djg7.751405770@crux1.cit.cornell.edu> Sender: usenet@piccolo.cit.cornell.edu (NNTP Connect) Nntp-Posting-Host: crux2.cit.cornell.edu Organization: Cornell University Date: 23 Oct 93 19:49:30 GMT Lines: 68 Status: OR The day had dawned hot, and Sir Guillaume could taste the dust of the road in his mouth. Every plodding step of his exhausted mount raised great powdery clouds. Sweaty grime covered the knight's brow, and his ragged breathing foretold a quick collapse. Still, he perservered on. The sun slowly fell from the sky, and the dome darkened, and the stars lit, and the moon rose on it's pillar of silvery light. About the hour of the third watch, Sir Guillaume rode into Becque, a small town in Alsace. He drew his horse up in front of the Meister's house. He dismounted with all the care of a man made of porcelain, and walked very determinedly to the nail-studded door. He rapped three times, hard. Several moments later, the door opened and the round face of the Meister peered out. "What in the name of our Lord's balls to you want at this hour of the evening? Can't see, you blind bat, that I've been asleep?" he shouted. "Upon the breast of Chretien R., and in the hand of Molai, rally the Temple. The infidel has arisen, and with them, the devil from his purple ichor has spawned evil-" the knight swooned,"And he shall raise his tide o'er the Earth..." Sir Guillaume crashed to the floor in a dead faint. The Meister stood in the doorway, in shock, his whitened features peering out, envisioning a tall violet hued wave. He had always been a simple man, and the thought of the knight's words echoed in his breast, freeing long chained fears. Soon he called his son, Kurt, and the two together carried the sleeping knight up to a bed. The Meister's wife came out and examined the man. "This man is sorely ill, the phlegm consumes his innards and a fever racks his brain." Then she drew forth a golden medallion, and gasped. "This man is of the Brotherhood of the Temple! Why is he here?" she demanded of her husband. The little round man stood defiantly and said nothing. She shrugged and laid the medallion back on the body of the sleeping knight. She instructed her son to bring cool cloths, and she laid them on his brow and returned to bed with her husband. Kurt remained in the room and sat vigil over the night. Sir Guillaume began to mutter in the hours before dawn. He face grew feverish, and he began to cough, mercilessly beating his lungs. Kurt soothed the knight, but it was to no avail. As the horizon lost it's swarthy complexion, the knight swam ever closer to consciousness. He came clear as the sun peeked above the horizon, in a burning, intense lucidity that the knight knew was the harbinger of death. Kurt was dozing on a stool by the knight's bed. The knight carefully shook the boy's hand, and Kurt awoke. The knight whispered," Go for your parents. Now." The boy bolted from the room. A few moments later, the Meister and his wife came into the knight's room, with Kurt looking stricken in the corner. The knight drew his golden medallion forth and whispered to the Meister," I pass on, my strength spent on this world. Your son watched over me, with devotion unequalled. I would have him...assume my mantle, and guard the Temple of Solomon with his honor and life. I bequeath to him my sword, my steed, and my armor. Train him in for it, Meister." "I will, Guillaume. I will." "Good. Now send him out of here. I must tell you of the danger in the East." The son walked out of the room with his mother. "Stefan, the devil has arisen in the mountains of the East, in the Caucasus. A mighty army of heretics rises, to sweep over the East, to control and despoil Outremer, and then to destroy Christendom. The leader of this army is Ali Hussan Khamenei...and he seeks to convert all to his mad faith. His colors are purple and black, and his rule...is madness. Swear to me that you will marshall the Temple of France and England to the aid of the Grandmaster. Swear it on the soul of Hugh de Payns and the Holy Christ! Swear it!!" "I do so swear it noble Guillaume." "Good. Now I can die in peace." ----end of the first part---- If you have any comments or suggestions, please e-mail them to me at djg7@crux2.cit.cornell.edu. I would welcome help. TRES