Filed To Story: The Knight and the Moth Book PDF Free by Rachel Gillig
It was. The sprite was not as quick as the knights, who rode in expert circles, avoiding its attempts to snap at them. But the gargoyle and I were still, and the sprite had caught us in its orange gaze. It came closer, making the entire world tremble.
I reached for my hammer. Felt a hollowness in my palms and the soles of my bare feet. “Perhaps we should-“
The sprite’s monstrous cry stole my words, so loud my ears screamed. The cart horse spooked, jolting forward, and the gargoyle and I were upended, tumbling from the cart onto the road.
We fell in a tangle, my foot in his ear, his left wing lodging under my ribs.
“How undignified.” The gargoyle let out a whimper. “Did anyone see me fall?”
“Bigger problems,” I managed. The mountain sprite was closer now, its great eyes trained on our cart, creaking behind our cantering horse. It began to run after it, dropping its great snout onto the road, as if rooting. With five great strides, it caught up to the horse and cart. Opened its gaping mouth.
And ate the horse, and the cart, in one snapping bite.
I heard the groan of wood, the crunch of bones-the horse’s final scream.
The gargoyle and I shared a horrified glance.
The earth shook again-this time from the knights. They’d re-formed the line, and were riding once more toward the sprite, whips cracking. I took the gargoyle by the arm, yanking him onto his feet. We darted off the road, diving behind the cover of a craggy granite boulder.
The knights cantered past us. I saw Maude in the center, leading the charge.
The sprite turned, its great eyes widening as it faced the charge. When it opened its mouth, shrieking loud enough to split the sky, I could feel its fury, its fear.
The horses whickered, reared, but the knights kept their seats. Save one, who slipped from his saddle, unnoticed by the rest, who cantered ahead. He landed among rocks, his gold armor, gold hair, shining among gray granite.
Benji.
The gargoyle and I ran forward. When we reached the king where he’d fallen, the knights were a ways away. They’d come upon the mountain sprite, whips and swords drawn, and more horrible shrieks sounded.
“Are you all right, Benji?” I looked him over, pulse in my ears. “Your leg-are you-“
“Fallen and caught between rocks like a pathetic turtle?” The king gave me a queasy grin. “Sadly, yes.”
The gargoyle tutted. “How embarrassing. I would never fall in such an ungainly way.”
“Help me get him out,” I snapped, taking the king beneath his arm. The gargoyle took his other arm, and we tugged until Benji let out a cry.
He shook his head. “It’s my greaves. The left one is stuck.”
It was. The armor around Benji’s leg was bent from his fall, catching in deep crags in the rocks he’d fallen upon, lodging him there. “We’ll have to take it off,” I said.
Benji nodded at the horizon. “They should be done soon.”
When I looked up, the mountain sprite was fleeing, the great beast limping and bleeding-crying out as it stumbled over hills and bluffs to get away from the knights.
“Mountain sprites are cumbersome and ravenous but easy to drive off,” Benji said. He looked to his whip, which had fallen twenty paces away. “Sadly I am as talented with one of those as I am on a warhorse-“
The earth rolled with such fervor I felt it in my bones. The landscape was shifting again, another hill, another sprite, rising from the earth twenty paces in front of us. It came onto its four legs, stomping upon the earth, its great orange eyes wheeling over Benji.
The mountain sprite let out a dissonant rumble, crushed Benji’s whip beneath its hooves, and began to stalk forward.
“Fuck.” I dove for the king once more. Pulled his arm with all my might.
But his armor remained trapped.
“Do something, Bartholomew!” The gargoyle was wringing his hands, dancing nervously on his toes. “Bite off his leg if you must!”
“Oh, gods.” My sweaty fingers slipped over steel. “How do I get your armor off, Benji?”
The king’s face had lost all its color. He was staring up at the mountain sprite with unblinking eyes. “There’s a clasp-I can’t reach it.”
I ripped a fingernail, blood joining sweat as I wrenched at the clasps around Benji’s leg. But they, too, had been damaged from his fall. I could not get him free. Meanwhile the sprite, with its long snout and terrifying eyes and wide, muddy mouth, was getting closer.
The knights had rallied once more-their attention and urgency directed our way. They rode full force toward their king. Oh, how they rode.
But they would not get to the sprite before it got to
Benji.
The king shook, and so did the rocks around us, the mountain sprite drawing closer. Vast as its body was-its snout wide and its brome-covered skin thick-I could see the sprite was smaller than it could be. I could count its ribs. See the jagged points of its shoulder and hip bones. It was hungry.
Starving.
Benji looked back at me, tugging his leg to no avail. “Run, Six,” he said, pale as death. “Run.”
I dropped to a crouch, fixed directly between the king and the sprite. Whips cracked in the distance, but the creature kept coming toward us, its hot breath blowing the hair from my face.
My hand fell to my belt. I withdrew my hammer and chisel.
The sprite’s nostrils flared. It must have known, being a creature of Traum, that tools could be weapons, and that weapons were instruments of pain. Still, it kept coming.
“Go,” Benji cried, yanking heedlessly against rocks.
I didn’t.
The sprite drew closer. Closer. It shrieked, and the wind carried the horrible knell, and I held my ground. Raised my hammer. Harnessed all the strength I possessed.
And swung.
A great fissure, like a burst vein, exploded beneath the tip of my chisel, and a thunderous crack split the air-louder than a hundred whips. The granite rock holding Benji hostage split in half, freeing the king’s leg. I took him beneath both arms. Wrenched him free.
Benji let out a gasp, and the sprite kept coming-
Stone arms wrapped around me. “Hold tight to the boy, Bartholomew,” came the gargoyle’s craggy voice. He spread his great stone wings. Sprang from his feet.
And then we were in the air.
Wind slapped my face, my arms locked and straining around Benji. He held me, too, and the gargoyle held both of us, chuckling to himself as he soared. “What fun! What a wonderful display of valor on my part.”
He flew us directly over the knights as they cantered toward the mountain sprite. The beast screamed-tried to run. Was no match against their swords. They cut it down, and when it fell, the earth shook a final time.