The beautiful young womari reclined resignedly upon her feathery bed. She felt as if her heart had been placed in a lidless steel box as she grazed at the dripping stone walls of her bed chamber. These walls had comprised her realm for almost a year, since her father's return from the wars. In her despair, she had often wished that Father had not emerged safely from his encounters with the enemy's swordsmen and archers. Yes, it was a terrible thought, but no more terrible than her current predicament. Her father believed that her chastity was a trophy to be guarded, like a precious multicolored banner of his regiment. He had seen fit to furnish her chamber with all the rich accouterments of a queen, but these riches could not disguise what her room really was: a prison. She could hear her jailer downstairs now. He was sharpening a lance that had no doubt tasted deeply of the blood of his enemies. It felt as if her very heart was on the grindstone. The barred window that she now gazed from was the only outward-looking aperture that the room possessed. There was the oaken door that led downstairs, but its window was tiny and opened upon the barren visage of grey walls. The larger window, by contrast, presented a breathtaking view of the surrounding countryside. The great forest beyond the clearing was greener than the finest emeralds, and the water of the brook that ran past the tower was cleaner than freshly cut diamonds. She stood at the window and gazed at these things, but did not truly see them. An image of her true love filled her mind's eye. Her heart ached as a million questions ran through her mind. Where was he now? Was he thinking of her? She wished against reason that her heart was a dove that could take wing and fly to him, wherever he may be. The dazzling view from the window blurred as tears obscured her vision. He grasped the black leather reigns tightly and pulled, as his mount carried him to the base of the tower. He gazed skyward. From this new perspective, the structure took even more impossibly tall than it did from the horizon. Somewhere up towards the top of the hideous building was where she waited, hidden away from him by the forces of jealously and spite. "Soon, my love," he muttered softly. "We shall be together soon." He glanced around, his mind racing with the question of how he was to release her from this bleak prison. The main door was made of weathered oak: From the looks of it the wood was thick enough to withstand the most solid battering ram. His heart beat faster as his mind raced with thoughts of her. He remembered how her green eyes shimmered with the radiance of a cat's. He would always remember her eyes, even if he had been separated from her by a thousand years. And it did indeed feel like a thousand years since he had seen her. He desperately surveyed his surroundings for a means to gain entrance to the tower. Finally, he unfastened the leather straps which held his saddlebag closed. He began to search the saddlebags, sifting through countless jewels and trinkets that he had won in battle and planned to bestow upon his love when he finally encountered her again. At the bottom of the bag sat a thick coil of leather rope. As he fingered the oiled leather, a plan began to develop in his mind-. A smile grew upon his face as he vowed that he would gaze upon his love's beautiful face again very soon. Her heart ached as she closed her eyes and imagined losing herself in his embrace. She thought that perhaps if she wished strongly enough, she would find herself in his arms when she opened her eyes. She made her wish and opened her eyes, but alas, all that she held in her arms was the musty air of her chamber. She sighed heavily, every fiber of her being aching to be with the one she loved. Why was her father so determined to keep them apart? How could the man who sired her be so cruel and blackhearted? When she was a babe in swaddling clothes, her father's eyes would gleam with adoration for her. But now, his desire to keep her quite literally locked up in this tower like some convicted footpad felt like a heavy black boot pressing in upon her very soul. Perhaps this too was an expression of love, but it felt like the exact opposite to her. The young woman sometimes even dreamed of her father: not as the smiling protector who carried her through the gardens of her girlhood on his shoulders, but as a demon who threatened to snuff out the very fabric of her life. She always awoke from the night terrors trembling and sobbing hysterically. The worst part was knowing that even as she realized the ethereal nature of her demonic vision, there was still nobody to whisper her back to a peaceful slumber. Her sadness began to swell within her and blossom into anger as she rose from the bed and paced the small room. How dare her father treat her like this? Hadn't she been the most dutiful of daughters, attending to his vassals while he stained the ground red with blood of his enemies in far-off lands? Hadn't she acquiesced when he refused to allow her to accompany him? To keep her separated from her true love like this was simply not fair. Her father had been a kind and just man at one time, but perhaps the horrors of war had changed him. She did not know why he was doing this: she had asked him countless times, and he refused to answer. No matter. She would embrace her love once again, father or no father. She had a plan. He checked the knot again. It was secure. He had uncoiled the leather rope and tied one end to his steed's saddle, and the other to the oaken door's iron handle. His horse performed as expected when he gave the gestured order to pull backwards. The steed bowed its head, its tousled mane reflecting the white brilliance of the sun's rays. Every muscle on the beast's body tensed as it took one mighty step backwards, then another. The rope's leathered tendons strained against the pressure, but held fast as the door's iron hinges began to groan. The groan soon graduated to a metallic whine, as the hinges finally gave way and surrendered the oaken planks that they held so diligently secured in the half-century since the tower's construction. The rider regarded the newly-created portal with a satisfied grin: his plan had worked. His hands were fall of praise as he stroked the obedient mount's fur. He unsheathed his sword and strode purposely towards the tower's yawning maw. God pity the man or beast that dared to stand between him and his love now. She worked carefully and expertly at the twisting, jeweled encrusted vines of pewter that formed her wrist bauble. Her breathing came in ragged, shallow spurts as she worked, the fear of being discovered was finally satisfied with her handiwork, and the silken skin of her fingers was chafed and red, she turned the newly-fashioned took around in her hands. It probably would work. It had to. She knelt gingerly beside the oaken door to her chamber. As slowly and noiselessly as possible, she inserted the tool into the door's iron keyhole. A fine veil of perspiration threatened to obscure her vision as she worked at the lock's internal mechanism. After endless seconds, each of which seemed to stretch to its own personal eternity, she was rewarded with a satisfyingdecisive, metallic clink. With trembling hands, she reached for the door's handle, halfexpecting it to remain unyielding secure. But all the cherubs of Heaven must have been smiling on her that early evening. The handle turned downward, and she was able to swing the door ever so carefully towards her. The air from the stair-chamber beyond the door brushed her face like the breath of God. She was finally free. The only obstacle that now kept her from her love's embrace was her father. He moved through the portal with a mixture of confidence and caution that only life as a soldier could cultivate. The darkness inside contrasted so markedly with the predusk sunshine outside that his eyes instinctively became narrow slits. Moving with the instincts of a predatory animal, he prowled through the drafty room, dodging ornate furniture with every step. His gaze settled upon a shower of sparks which emanated from a dark comer of the room. Coming closer, he fell into a crouching position, his sword at the ready. In the comer of the room, a grey bearded man sat at a giant honing wheel. As the traveler approached him, the bearded man rose from his seat, fingering the silvery lance that he had been sharpening on the diamond dust-imbedded stone. At this, the traveler tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and prepared to do battle. He recognized the bearded man -- his love's father - as a learned warrior whose escapades in far-off lands were legendary, but none of this mattered to him now. If it was necessary to cross sword arms with the hoary old warrior in order to feel his beloved's embrace again, then so be it. He was ready to drink deeply of the bearded man's blood. The bearded man must have absorbed the traveler's intentions through his eyes, because he seemed to shrink away from the younger man's gaze. As the traveler moved closer, his love's father resignedly settled back into his seat and removed his hand from the freshly-honed lance. His eyes never left those of the younger man. He turned away from the bearded man. In another comer of the torchlit room, the traveler noticed a stone staircase snaking skyward. He knew in his heart that these stairs led to the chamber where his love was imprisoned: he had seen them in his dreams. He started up the stairs. She stepped through the portal, closing her eyes and allowing the fresh air of freedom to swirl around her. He was here, inside the tower! She could sense his presence. Her heartbeat began to accelerate to an almost frightening pace as she resisted the desire to call his name. What if her father heard her? It didn't matter. The overwhelming need to embrace the man she loved welled up in her, and she called his name. In an angel's voice, and when she heard him call her name, her ears tingled with the beauty of it. She knew without a doubt that his voice was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. She took the downward stairs two at a time, and stopped halfway down. There he was at the foot of the stairs: his armor shining in the torchlight, his eyes dancing like blued steel moons. His heart threatened to explode from his chest when he saw her. She was a vision in white, a beauty that far surpassed the memory that he had carried in his. dreams each night. He sheathed his sword and climbed the stairs towards her, tears stinging his weary eyes. They embraced for a small eternity there in the middle of the staircase, their hearts melting and running together like sweat nectar. He kissed her mouth and face again and a2ain, his senses filling with her sweetness. Finally, they pulled away to gaze into each other's eyes. Her eyes were such a dazzling green that they took his breath away. He noticed that she too had been crying: silvery trails wound their way down her soft cheeks. He wanted to kiss her tears away, but found that he could not move. He stood, fixed by her wondrous gaze. It was as if her eyes were burning into his soul. He felt as if he were shrinking before her beauty. Was in only a sensation, nothing more? She seemed to grow larger, until she filled his vision and towered above him. His heart raced faster. He was changing somehow. Was this what if felt like to find one's true love after being apart for so long? Yes. This was the final culmination of his long journey to find her again. His tears flowed more freely as he turned the joy of it over his mind and soul: he was hers, and would never leave her side. Not in a million eternities. He was home. The salamander curled languidly around his mistress' silken ankle. She smiled down at him. She had no use for men; her familiar was the love of her life, and she was so very happy to finally have him back. Back to White Knight #11 Table of Contents Back to White Knight List of Issues Back to Master Magazine List © Copyright 1998 by Pegasus-Unicorn Productions This article appears in MagWeb (Magazine Web) on the Internet World Wide Web. Other military history articles and gaming articles are available at http://www.magweb.com