The Robber Knight's Secret

34. The Fall

WARNING: This chapter is where Reuben begins his transformation from good knight into deliciously evil knight ;-) So there might be some goings-on that some people would consider extreme or improper. You have been warned...

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Reuben's face twitched in a way that made Ayla feel cold inside. It was just there for a moment: a strange expression that she could not place, but that nevertheless frightened her.

And then she realized why she thought it frightening: because it was an expression she had never really seen on Reuben's face before. Pain.

"He must have been getting desperate," Reuben murmured. "Love makes you do desperate things. It is the only way I can explain what happened next."

Ayla heard a strange noise. When she looked towards Reuben's hand she saw he was holding the metal mug so hard his fingers had made dents in it.

"I heard a snap," he said, tonelessly, "and the next thing I knew, I was falling. For a moment I thought my horse had collapsed. Now I know what it was, of course. The Duke had cut my saddle girth—just enough so it would tear the rest of the way during the joust. The last thing I remember was one of the wooden poles of the stands rushing towards me, then there was nothing but blackness. Blackness and pain, endless, infernal pain."

Not appearing to be aware of the motion, he reached up to his forehead and touched the scimitar-shaped scar there. Ayla had always wondered where it came from. Now, the realization trickled over her like ice-cold water.

She couldn't even imagine what it must have been like. She had seen Sir Isenbard gallop often enough, had been on the back of a horse herself often enough, to know how fast one could get if one really pushed it. An accident at such speed must be horrendous.

Still...

It wasn't enough to explain the haunted look on Reuben's face.

"What happened to me after that I have no idea," he continued, his eyes lost in distant darkness. "I didn't feel how they carried me out of the lists, or what was being done to try and heal my wounds. I only saw, heard and felt the flames of pain, scorching away my flesh until there was nothing left of me but a ragged skeleton. I could see my own hands of bone, burning in the dark. Death and fire and devastation—that was all I was."

"That does it!" Burchard's voice was hoarse. "That's proof! The devil claimed him with hellfire! Theoderich, get Linhart and a dozen men in here. I want this abomination in chains and ready for execution by sunset. Do we have enough wood for a pyre?"

Theoderich, Reuben and Ayla all ignored him.

"I lay in the dark for the Devil knows how long. Hours? Days? What did it matter? I screamed and screamed in agony, saw monsters and demons mixed in with strange shapes and bright lights perform a dazzling dance that only I, in my torment, could see. I was sure I had died and gone to hell. And then, suddenly, the pain ceased."

He put such an emphasis on hose last words that Ayla felt obliged to ask: "S-someone was helping you? Healing you?"

Reuben shook his head, looking at her strangely—as if she were a thousand miles away, and he could never reach her.

"No. Don't you understand, Ayla? All pain ceased. Everything. The agony of my wounds, the ache in my bones, my headache, even the itch in my big toe I hadn't even noticed until it disappeared—everything was gone from one moment to the next. There was calm. Serenity. Heavenly peace."

He laughed a bitter laugh that sent a shiver down Ayla's back.

"I still don't know what happened, what kind f mysterious power touched me that day. Was it a devil? An angel?"