13 October 2012
There was once a young man who was born to the cloth, destined to master the 'word' of the land. Some called it magic and some called it faith but the young man called it a path not meant for him. You see today was his passage to manhood, when he would be recognised by all as a man; a day he would also receive his true name. It was a week of trials of the many houses, of the many ways. There were the trials for archery, horticulture, priesthood... Well you get the picture. And so the young man prepared for his trails, aided by his father while studying for the cloth. The young man participated in the trials that were expected of him but his heart longed for a particular one. This young man had a secret he had never uttered, save to his closest of friends; he wanted to be a knight, a soldier, a warrior. He read tales of quests and dreamt of his own heroic quest. This young man yearned for the way of the blade.
As night fell, he donned the suit of armour for the trials of the blade and went out into the night with the group; they did not know the true identity of the young man even as he followed deeper into the Dark Forest. "Hold fast young warriors." The Knight in charge commanded and everyone stopped, waiting on his next orders. "Welcome to the trials of the blade. Your first task is simple." He started. "You will all go your own way through these woods and bring back the largest, meanest quarry you can find, before tomorrow's competition. Any questions?" He continued but was met with silence. "Good luck. I bid you adieu." He said as he turned his steed and vanished into the woods.
It wasn't long before the young man found himself alone in the thick dark forest. His senses were alert, weary of the fearsome creatures that he had been told made this forest their home. He felt the unfamiliar heavy weight of the suit of armour and many a time almost tripped on his own sword. He stopped dead at the centre of the trail, straining to hear a sound he thought he had heard. That was when he realised that there was no sound... Not a critter, not a rustle, not a sound. The young man thought perhaps the way of the blade wasn't meant for him, perhaps he should have listened to talks of destiny and stuck with the way of the cloth. But from the depths of himself he found resolve and continued deeper into the forest. The trial became his quest and his thirst for adventure was all...
Suddenly a breeze came from behind and with it whispers of his name, he looked around and was certain he saw eyes within the trees, beyond the trail. With unsteady hands he reached for his sword and clumsily drew it from its scabbard. His whole body was racked with nerves and he thought of the different creatures that were said to live here. He started to recant words of protection, some called them prayers, but then he saw a bright, white light in the distance. Again the voice called to him and in his mind was placed an image of a maiden but her light was too bright to behold. Yet he heeded her call and raced up the trail, his sword held at the ready. His steed shuddered as the sight giving the light came into view, the young man motioned to continue and his steed reared itself on its hind legs, throwing the young man off the saddle; the horse turned and bolted away. (tbc...)
© 2012 by Marcellus Amadeus
Heroic Quest Pt. 1 • Opuss № I