A Knight's Purpose (Book 1) ✔️

Strings

Ansely glared down at the blank page of the tome in front of him, ignoring the sun setting on the skyline behind him. Normally the view of the soaring skyscrapers would be enough to raise his mood, but not today.

His glass desk was complete empty accept for the book, still leather bound with it's iron symbol sewn to the cover. On the page to which the book was laid open, the same instruction that had always been written there remained - Kill the Knights.

A tally of six marks was beneath that. On the next line there was one more, marked in red instead of black. ONE knight was all that stood between him and his destiny.

He flipped the page and saw the last page of the book was still completely blank. The book was feisty (a term he'd been delighted with when it had come about in the 1890's) and refused to show him the next spell or instruction until the previous task was complete. After over a thousand years he was certain that there were other copies of the Book of the Iron Claw circulating - he'd run into a few other warlocks, often termed mages or magicians in this era, who also worked through the books instructions.

The Iron Claws had been working in the shadows under his instruction for neigh on a thousand years now, but still one Knight eluded him.

When he'd first gotten to the page about killing the Knights, three had already been dead and there were spells for locating the others. Now, there was simply nothing beneath the tally marks. He glared up at the dark figure that had just appeared standing opposite his desk.

"Ansely, why isn't the last knight dead yet?" Claudus had a very flat voice, almost no inflection or emotion.

"Because I can't find him!" Ansely hissed. "When you first appeared to me I thought you were supposed to help me accomplish the goals of this book. So tell me, where is the last knight?"

"I helped write that book you insolent pup. I do not serve a mere human half breed." Again, no inflection but Ansely seethed at the insult. "I serve a greater man."

Claudus had refused to say who no matter how many times Ansely asked.

"But you want the Knights dead as well, so tell me where the last knight is and then I can kill him."

"If you cannot find it, then it has forsaken its vow and poses no threat. You shall begin the last ritual." Claudus seemed to glide over the ground in a dark haze.

He passed a hand over the desk and as it moved sheaf after sheaf of vellum appeared on the clear glass. Ansely looked at it all greedily.

"This calls for human sacrifices," He mused as he spread the papers out to better read them all. "And years of spells."

"Getting squeamish now, Ansely?"

"No, simply curious. How will this give me more power?"

Claudus pondered for a moment, debating an explanation. "Magic does not come from this Earth you live on. This will open the door to the place where magic comes from and so you will gain access to more power."

"This will take hundreds of magicians to pull off."

"That is why you reestablished the Iron Claw. We will send for the others of the Book to come and help you with their men as well. This is the last goal of the Book. Is the promise of immortality and all you have been given not enough?"

Ansely knew he was treading on dangerous ground. Whenever Claudus questioned his loyalty to the cause there was a high possibility he'd end up dead. Case in point, the large black claymore that materialized in Claudus's hand. He held it idly, but his eyes never left Ansely.

"No, this is what I want. Power, immortality, greatness and you have given it all to me. The Iron Claws will of course obey your command. But to do this we will need to stop searching for the last Knight," He cautiously probed the other man.

Claudus nodded. "As I said, the Knight poses no threat. If it does, I will kill it." And with that he popped out of existence.

Ansely grit his teeth. The Iron Claw's member all thought he came up with this plan for power himself and found the ancient rituals through careful reading. No one realized there were those who pulled even his strings.

At least he'd faced the soulless Claudus this time. Ysbadden, full of fury and roiling power, was more likely to burn his entire organization to the ground just to watch him rebuild it all - what was waiting a few hundred years to an immortal?

He pulled out his precious tome and threw it across the room. Then called it back and rubbed his scarred palm across the rough metal on the cover.

"Sorry, my darling. I must do as my Masters command and leave your tender instructions behind."

He'd been a fool when he asked for Immortality, never realizing the strings that might come with it. But, he mused, given the chance he'd do it all again. The power was just that good.