The Evil Warlord and His Chosen One

The fencing sword had been purchased for ten pieces of gold. Lord Jonathan Blackdawn plunged it into a tree stump. His eyes glowed red as power surged through him and he locked the stump and sword into a moment of time. Until he released the spell, the stump would not rot, the sword would not rust, and no one could pull the sword from the stump. 

He smiled as he walked out of the glen. This glen is going to be the center of a lot of attention once I deliver the prophecy.

 * * * * *

One arrow ended the lives of Helmut and Isolde Grimshard. They were kissing on the threshold of their quaint little thatched hut. Their twelve-year-old son Heston saw the bodies fall. He had just enough time to scream before he has snatched up by Robert Hals; the muscular archer looked around for danger as he pulled the boy along with him. When they were safely behind the treeline and hidden from view. Robert allowed the boy to cry. 

Later that night, when the boy simply ran out of tears to cry, Robert pulled him to the fire and threw a cloak on him. He sat next to the boy, putting a stick with meat on it in the fire, and looked into the fire. "I know who killed your parents." The boy went silent and stared at the older man. "I can tell you or you can live a life without worry." The man turned his meat. "If I tell you, your life will be hard. It will be full of challenges. Or I can forget and you can live a life like any other." He looked at the meat and put it back into the fire. "What's your decision, boy?"

The boy set his jaw. "Tell me the name."

Robert looked at the boy. "Lord Jonathan Blackdawn." 

The boy inhaled slowly. He exhaled slowly. "Fine."

Robert gave the boy the stick. "Start with this. We begin training tomorrow."

The boy tore into the meat on the stick. Robert smiled. 

 * * * * *

The next six years were tough. The boy learned how to fence; his arms showed the scars of his mistakes. He learned to shoot the longbow and to track the wild animals; he was soon ensuring that their table always had meat. He learned how to out-think his opponent; mastering cards was easy when you stopped worrying about the cards and worried about your opponent. He learned how to become one with the shadows; soon no place was beyond his reach. He learned the limits of his body; he pushed his body to the extremes. 

Along the way, he picked up three friends. Frederick Wainwright was the son of a wagon builder, strong of body and fast as a fish in the water. Alan Snow was the best thief he knew; he had to be just to eat dinner. The boys were as thick as thieves, and enjoyed the halcyon days of youth, swimming in the local rivers, running in the local forests, barely avoiding capture by the local constabulary. The years were good. 

They got better when he met Felicia. Around her, the shadows around his heart almost disappeared. She challenged him in ways no one else could as he challenged her. When she left for some sort of finishing school, he thought he would never see her again. When he found she was to be a lady-in-waiting at the court of Blackdawn, he resolved to follow her. 

He was no longer the pale stripling he had been when he was orphaned. He was tan and athletic. His need for revenge was a mere physical reaction when he was young; now it was the hunger that powered him. He had accepted the tattoo of the salamander on his shoulder, a red and black sign of the fire within his breast. He was known for his blue gloves and hat; he had accepted the nickname of "Heston of the Lake."

The night Felicia left for Caer Mavri Agvi, Heston served Robert venison stew. He looked at the older man. "It's time for me to leave and go questing."

Robert smiled. "Yes, it's about that time." He walked over to the bookshelf. He opened a book and withdrew a piece of vellum. He handed the paper to the new man before him. "Read this when you get close to Blackdawn's castle." Heston put the paper in his pocket. "It's instructions on how to defeat him."

Heston smiled. "Thanks."

The next morning he would leave on a well-built wagon, a gift from Frederick's father; when Frederick said he needed to follow Heston, Frederick's father had smiled and told him to be back before winter. The two hugged and Frederick wiped tears away as he took his position on the wagon. The wagon had two weeks of supplies, tents, and even places for their weapons; Heston put his sword on a pair of hooks while Frederick put his hammer in its case. Alan joined them outside of town, smiling; he had said goodbye to his father, a letter written in dog feces on his whitest wall. He kept his daggers on his person. 

The three boys traveled west, the wind at the back, laughing at the adventures they would have, the men they would fight, the women they would love. The three would be as one to rescue their fourth. 

 * * * * *

It took the boys a week to get to Caer Mavri Agvi. In a few more days, they had found work within the castle itself, with Heston joining the guard, Frederick the carpenters, and Alan the scullery crew. They even participated in the games just a few days later meant to celebrate the new ladies in waiting, of whom Felicia was one. While Alan won a couple of races and Frederick the axe throwing, Heston won several wrestling matches. While this did garner the boys more attention from the girls, Heston noticed that several village elders lit up every time one of them saw him. 

Noticeably absent was the Lord Blackdawn himself. He had been called away on some private business and would be gone for a few days. 

Later that day, he took out the paper he had been given and followed its instructions, finding himself just outside a small cabin. He knocked and the door opened onto a thin man with a long beard. "You finally arrived." The man smiled. "Rumors have been flying around you; the village elders see you as someone who could defeat the evil Lord Blackdawn." 

Heston smiled. "I hope I prove them true."

He motioned for the boy to come in. "Oh, and call me Domn Ascuns, or just Dom."

During the dinner, they discussed the problem of Lord Blackdawn. The man pulled out a map and pointed to a glen just a few hours distant. "Inside this glen is a sword in a stump. No one has been able to draw it from the stump. It's rumored that the sword can be used to destroy the evil warlord."

Heston smiled. "Then we should go there immediately. The sooner we retrieve the sword, the better."

Dom returned the smile. "Sounds good. Let me grab the torches and we're off."

Within hours and under the light of the full moon they arrived at the stump. Heston stepped forward and put his hand on the pommel of the fencing sword. He inhaled to gather strength, then pulled on the sword. Dom's eyes glowed, but Heston has so focused on the sword he saw nothing. The air warped just a little as the spell dropped and Heston was able to pull the sword. He waved it about and nodded. The two walked back to Dom's cabin. The two celebrated with a flagon of ale. 

 * * * * *

When Heston woke, he was alone. He dressed and walked to work, smiling as he felt the weight of his new sword at his side. 

Heston found himself assigned to the courtyard. Lord Blackdawn was holding a special audience: To celebrate the new ladies-in-waiting, he was granting boons. There was no doubt he was feeling magnanimous as the girls would be used to not only wait on his daughters until their own weddings but as rewards to his favored generals. Heston bristled as he realized what fate awaited Felicia if he did not rescue her. 

After an hour or two of granting boons, he ordered the courtyard cleared. He had a page bring him his sword. He removed his own shirt, revealing a network of scars covering a muscular frame. He grabbed the sword and pulled out the thin fencing sword from its sheath. He looked over the blade and then held it aloft. "Today is a magnificent day. So today I have one last boon to grant to one of my guards: Defeat me in a duel to first blood and you shall become one of my battle captains. Just one scratch to win your fortune!"

There was some clamoring. Then a man emerged, removed his shirt, and unsheathed his sword. Despite the man's muscle or large sword, Lord Blackdawn not only parried his blows but then snagged his weapon and sent it flying. He swung once and a bright crimson mark appeared on the man's chest. The man fell to his knees. Lord Blackdawn gestured for him to be taken away. 

Heston gulped, then steeled himself as he moved into the battle arena. He noticed Frederick and Alan among the crowd and saluted them; they returned the salute. He removed his own shirt, revealing his own scars from a lifetime of training to defeat this one man. He noticed Felicia smiling at him; he smiled at her in return. He unsheathed his new fencing sword and went into a battle stance.

Lord Blackdawn appraised his new opponent. "I applaud your ambition, young fighter." He moved closer to Heston. "But you won't win this fight, young Heston."

Heston gulped as he realized that the man knew his name. "Probably, but it won't be for lack of trying. Someone needs to bring you down." He steeled himself.

Lord Blackdawn rolled his eyes. "You could have walked away from this." He locked his eyes with Heston's. "But not now."

The two fenced, thrust meeting parry, lunges leading to ripostes, those parried. Heston grew more confident with each swing. He stepped away, gathered all of his strength, and swung his blade down on the head of the tyrant. "Die, for all of those you've killed!"

Lord Blackdawn flicked his wrist and his sword cut through Heston's blade. Heston fell to his knees watching the tip of his blade fly away. "But it was enchanted. It had to be…."

The older man smiled. "No. It was a cheap sword on a stand, waiting for fools such as you to take it up." The older man prepared to thrust. "You should have treated this like a sparring duel." He looked for the best possible spot. "But you made this personal." He thrust, his sword penetrating the young man's heart. 

Lord Blackdawn pulled his sword out. Heston fell to the cold stones. 

 * * * * *

Robert Hals entered the lord's chamber. "So, sire, the boy performed as expected?"

Lord Blackdawn smiled at the moon. "Eighteen years ago I gave them a prophecy, 'The boy with hands of blue and the fire on his back shall arrive to liberate you.' Seeing poor Heston arrive with his blue gloves and the tattoo of a salamander, an animal of fire, gave them hope, and then that hope was crushed. The village elders will remember this and pass it down the generations. Their 'Chosen One' failing them will be remembered for some time and make them easier to deal with."

Lord Blackdawn gave Robert a heavy bag. "Yes, he did. He did precisely what I needed him to do."

Robert took the bag. "Thank you, milord." Robert exited as quickly as he could.

Lord Blackdawn poured himself a glass of wine. "Guess I need to reset the stump for the next one." He sipped from it and then sat down in front of his desk. He paused to remember something. "That was the eighth boy. I need to slow down a little; I only have a handful left and it looks like this will be a long reign." He smiled as he opened a book.