Labyrinthine

One

In all other manners of context it would have been a calm summer's day near the lake. The sun beat down on the ferns and lake weed so that a slothenly smell clung to the air. The lake, covered in green and as black obsidian as the moonless night, was not large. In fact if one owned it they would be ashamed to admit it. Its banks were overgrown, for there had not been a servant to scythe or plant near the lake for years. The result was a forbearing black eye in the cushion of green and yellow. The lake lay at the bottom of a large valley and the figure atop the hill was as still as a statue as he stared down.

Like an infantryman intent on the front lines the figure remained tense. His armor was as black as the lake, and it mimicked the lake's glinting water in the sunlight. He carried a shield and held the reins of his horse in a balled fist. His sword was silver and sheathed and he felt the constant urge to take up arms.

The horse he perched on stood eighteen hands, and wheezed from its long trek. It was a dark chestnut, and it was marked with gray scars from close calls in battle. White foam formed at the edge of its mouth and spittle drained in long ropes down to the grass. He kicked his heels against the belly of the horse and ignored the cool sweat that pooled under his arms and in the palms of his hand. The horse's heavy wide feet picked up and plodded forward. The knight felt his stomach turn while his mouth watered in warning. He pulled down his visor in nervous speed and flicked the reins. He felt the hurried gallop of his horse and the wind working its way through the holes of his visor as they raced down the hill. His heart quickened and so, he unsheathed his sword and heaved into the air. He had no fellow infantrymen to carry on the battle cry, a fact he was suddenly aware of when the rhythm of his steeds hooves beat in time against the soft grassy earth.

He was afraid, he knew himself. He had been a knight since the age of fifteen. A lordling, born into the life of silk and coin. But his father was no cushy kingsman. The knight could not miss his father's manor because there was nothing to miss. He had grown up in the squires' quarters and knew no comfort.

As they approached the lake his horse skidded on its back legs and reared. The lakes' tendrils made the ground surrounding it marshy and loose, sliding about like the top skin of gangrenous flesh. The knight's breath caught in his chest, felt his body wilt from the shocking momentum but his steed steadied itself and stood still, shocked as well.

If the knight had not grown attached to this horse, known its very temperament, he would have thought it was the near fall that spooked the horse so deeply. But he had fought in skirmishes with this horse, the slaughter of men and the clangs and clamor of swords had not deterred it from raging on amidst the chaos. The horse was backing away from the lake, its hooves silent and its ears flicked up in search. Its long tail flicked back and forth in irritation and he shoved off his horse, landing in a splash on the ground.

If the knight had not been alone. If he had brought his father's servants or his shieldbrothers he would have seen the stark white figure in the middle of the lake and he would not have walked towards her like she was grasping his armored hand and pulling him closer. The contract that hired him required him only. And so he thought nothing of it.

The knight was entirely enraptured by the site of it. Her hair billowed about her like the slow-moving clouds in the sky. He could not feel he cold sludge of the lake, nor the scrape of rocks against his obsidian armor. He was chest-deep before he could make out her features. She looked like marble, or glass, slightly transparent like the parchment one held up to the sky.

Black smoke began to billow out past the lake but he could not take his eye off her. The contract stated the removal of a monster nuisance down in the valley, an easy job with a payment of high gratitude. Yet he did not feel the her touch as she lifted off his helm and he did not feel the pain as the lake began to devour him.