Descendants
Andrew Katz
Knights are dead and gone since the days of Camelot. The ancient battles pitting sword and shield against one another are just a distant memory, one that very few even give validity, and that’s exactly how it should be. I mean honestly, if people knew half of what really went on in the shadows and under the bed they’d probably wind up institutionalized. Luckily, that’s where Sir Godric Patronar comes in. Sir Godric is a Knight. That’s right, an armor-clad, sword-wielding powerhouse of old, with all the powers and responsibilities that come with that position. They’re not all gone, and a few, like Sir Godric, even reside in the Kingship of North America. Trouble has been brewing in the Kingdom… and it’s kind of Godric's fault. He killed a bunch of gnomes, which in turn pissed off some trolls. Now they’re trying to kill him and start a war with all of humanity. It’s up to Sir Godric to stop the impending war but it’s kind of hard when an ancient evil is awakening and trying to block his path at every turn.
No more than five steps out of the building, I became very happy I had prepared for trouble. Standing in the way of my now wrecked Jeep Wrangler, were four very unhappy looking rock trolls. They were all muscle, stone, and snarls, and just like good old thugs they brandished weapons.
They had a baseball bat, tire iron, chain, and spiked knuckles between them. Bad news about the weapons, they all seemed to be made of dragon bone and would be able to do quite a bit of damage. I wondered where low life thugs would have gotten weapons like that, and why they’d fashion dragon bone into them, but that wasn’t the most pertinent thing at the time. The trolls themselves ranged from about six and a half to seven feet tall. I glanced at Dev. He had slipped on two knuckle-dusters (made of my special alloy) and was smiling an anticipatory smile that didn’t touch his eyes. It occurred to me that not one of the trolls were as big as he was and that it was probable that none of them had even a thousandth of the training we did.
Outnumbered two to one, we would mop the floor with them. And of course as my confidence peaked, four more of the blasted things circled in behind us.
I dropped out of my coat, rolled my sleeves up to the elbow, and pulled my blade from the back of my jeans. It didn’t make a sound as I flicked it open. I looked at Devin and asked as nonchalantly as I could manage. “Which four do you want?”
Oh, by the way, my name is Sir Godric Patronar, Knight of the Realm, Anointed Warrior, Master Blacksmith, General Smartass, and Heir Apparent to the Kingship of North America.
They had a baseball bat, tire iron, chain, and spiked knuckles between them. Bad news about the weapons, they all seemed to be made of dragon bone and would be able to do quite a bit of damage. I wondered where low life thugs would have gotten weapons like that, and why they’d fashion dragon bone into them, but that wasn’t the most pertinent thing at the time. The trolls themselves ranged from about six and a half to seven feet tall. I glanced at Dev. He had slipped on two knuckle-dusters (made of my special alloy) and was smiling an anticipatory smile that didn’t touch his eyes. It occurred to me that not one of the trolls were as big as he was and that it was probable that none of them had even a thousandth of the training we did.
Outnumbered two to one, we would mop the floor with them. And of course as my confidence peaked, four more of the blasted things circled in behind us.
I dropped out of my coat, rolled my sleeves up to the elbow, and pulled my blade from the back of my jeans. It didn’t make a sound as I flicked it open. I looked at Devin and asked as nonchalantly as I could manage. “Which four do you want?”
Oh, by the way, my name is Sir Godric Patronar, Knight of the Realm, Anointed Warrior, Master Blacksmith, General Smartass, and Heir Apparent to the Kingship of North America.
About the Author:Andrew Katz is a young, up and coming author from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. His novel, “Descendants”, is his first full length work. Action, adventure, and a healthy dose of sarcasm are staples of his writing. He has also published a short story in the anthology “Dark Light”, centering on the same protagonist as his novel. Andrew loves music, reading, his dog George, and relaxing in the sun. He may not be the most exciting person, but he makes up for it with imagination and… unpredictability.
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