Memory
David Ferranti
I. The late morning sun shines down from a deep blue sky
onto the swaying gold-green grassland. A horse races at full
gallop across the plain. A knight sits astride the horse, his head
bare and his armor whole. Beside them runs a lady, her long
hair streaming out behind her. Her feet leave no mark on the
grass.
Beside the lady lopes a great hound. There, amidst the green
spring of the world, they can outrun the creatures of earth
and air. There, they know one another and laugh and do not
grow weary. At the edge of the horizon, a mountain grows
taller, proud and majestic. The snow that crowns its peak is
bright and shining and does not melt.
II. The late afternoon sun filtered through a grey sky blanketed
by thick clouds. On the forest floor, beneath the gently waving
branches, a tall bay horse trotted at a steady pace.
Beside the horse walked a knight, his body encased in heavy
steel plate. Scars marred its gleaming metal surface, running
from the greaves to the cuirass up to the great looming helm.
One steel hand hung loose at the figure’s side. The other
hovered above the hilt of the sword that protruded from the
knight’s hip. On the other side of the horse, a great hound
paced, paws silent against the leafy-covered ground.
On the horse’s back sat a young woman wearing a simple robe.
Her hair was long and unbound, and it rippled in the breeze.
The knight paused for a moment. His sword-hand drifted
up towards his helm, then froze and returned to its original
position. The lady narrowed her eyes and dismounted. The
knight began to walk again. He had only taken two steps
when his limbs went limp and he began to fall.
Faster than light, faster than thought itself, the lady leapt
forward and caught the knight, hands gripping his steel
shoulders. Carefully, ever so carefully, she lowered him to
the ground. They would make no more progress today. The
shadows were already too long.
III. There was a stream not far from where they were. She
went and filled the waterskins and dipped her hands in the
cool flowing water. The fading dull light made the surface of
the stream look like liquid glass. By the time she returned to
the clearing, the forest was already in the grey grip of dusk.
She knelt by the knight’s side and trickled water through the
helmet’s vision slit.
“Can you hear me?”
No answer. Her fingers brushed the cold metal. She upended
more of the waterskin, spilling some of the precious liquid.
“Can you hear me?”
The knight came awake all at once. He made a wordless
sound and tried to rise. She put a hand behind his neck and
helped him sit up.
It was dark now. The small fire she had started in the center of
the clearing threw off some light, but the rest of the forest was
shrouded in shadow. The night air was chilly.
“I am sorry,” she told the knight. “I did not know you were
unwell.”
“I feel much better now,” the knight said. The looming helm
moved from side to side.
“Good.” She sat cross-legged by the fire and sipped from the
waterskin.
The hound padded to the knight’s side and sniffed at him.
His hand rose and the steel fingers stroked the thick fur on the
hound’s back. The flickering flames made his armor dance
with bright motion.
“Did you remember anything?”
“No,” the knight replied. “Nothing.”
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