51

The man awoke from the so-called unending slumber for the umpteenth time. Once again he had no memory of his past but for a few fragments - those fragments that would turn out to be the most important parts. Tiny seeds planted themselves in his head, urging him to go forward and recover his memories. He had known this would happen again, and so decided to leave reminders for himself scattered about, in the hope that he could find what had been lost.

Little did he know how hard it would be, but that wasn't the issue just now. The issue now was getting his bearings, and dealing with the Giant standing on the horizon line.

The man looked down at himself. He wasn't high up in a tree this time, or way down below the ground, or face-planted in a ditch. He wasn't completely out of the woods, though, in more ways than one - he was slumped up against the base of a huge fir. He wasn't wearing much - pants and an undershirt, and hiking boots. But to his left was a large black duffel bag. He looked inside and saw a strange assortment of items.

A long spear, almost like a knight's lance, but not quite. More like a pike. Its tip glowed faintly in the shadows of the afternoon light. Underneath the pike was an old and worn, yet sturdy, wooden crossbow, just the right size to be held in one hand in an emergency, its tips fashioned out of the same material as the pike - perfect for hooking and smashing. A smaller, reinforced leather satchel within the duffel bag seemed to contain several dozen crossbow bolts. The man couldn't be sure, but he thought that they were made of the same strange metal-like substance. Lastly there was a wallet and a Kevlar vest, which he quickly put on. Better to be safe than sorry.

The man zipped up the bag and looked around again. He was just about to get up when there was a barking noise from somewhere behind him. A huge St. Bernard quickly trotted out of the woods and began licking him about his face. The suitably huge keg of brandy around its neck got in the way some, but the man didn't mind. He tried to ask what her name was, but found that he couldn't - he had no tongue.

But the dog seemed to understand. It composed itself, then, very slowly, said, "Don't be scared."

When the man showed no sign of running away the dog continued. "I don't remember anything either. But we're a part of each other." The man nodded - the dog seemed to feature very prominently in what little memories he had left. "Now. Let's go get him."

The man nodded again and got up. The dog crouched down, offering her back for him to ride, and they rode off toward the Giant in the distance. Or was it a windmill? Something about it was spinning around, for sure.

They arrived within seconds. There It was, in all Its horrible glory. Its tentacles stopped twirling about and the Giant leaned down as if to talk to the man.

The man found he could speak with the dog inside their minds - simple thoughts, but it was enough. He could talk through her when needs must.

"Are you my goal?" asked the man, through the dog.

The Giant said nothing.

"Are you my god?" continued the man.

The Giant said nothing.

"Are you my gallows?" asked the man, and then the Giant nodded.

Yes, said the Giant. 

The man, though overcome with a furious rage, patted the dog on its neck, and they rode away without a backward glance, looking for some trace of civilization.

While they rode into the night, the man tried to make sense of it all. What should I do? he wondered.

Almost immediately another voice answered. Find the hammer, said the voice.

The man pondered this for a moment. And who am I? he inquired.

The voice took a while before it answered. When it finally did, it wasn't very helpful.

You are many things, and many men, said the voice. You were. But now?

The voice did not continue until the dog finally tired and they had to rest for the night.

You will have no name. You are the Knight-Errant.