The Imperial Knight
The morning was a crisp, clear day in early fall. Cale had wanted to be out of the city before it roused itself, but that seemed a tall order. The sun had not yet risen above the city walls and people were already outside gathering food.
The deluge had brought a miracle to the land. The tidal wave flushed all the diseased and rotten water out to sea. The grimy, gray-green walls of the city that had been cleansed by the steam now stood glistening white in the morning sun. When the floodwaters finally receded, they left the soil swampy, filled with millions of crayfish and frogs. Enough so the ground seemed to writhe and wriggle at night, but also enough to feed every stomach in Uruk, refugees included. After three days of crayfish pie, Cale was sick of it. The high road was clean and dry, empty of all travelers. Cale had it all to himself. Then he reached the crossroads. Thunder nickered lightly.
If Cale turned north, he would be home in time for the fall harvest. Apples in the orchards would be ripe soon. The scent of autumn fruit would be everywhere. Then it would be the season for slaughtering hogs, smoking them in preparation for winter. The tiny village of Urt, nestled between the Fog Hills and Fire Mountains, would soon be filled with the scents of roasted pork and apples. He could return to his life of pig farming, master of his own house in a community where people went about their daily lives, never questioning the past, never wondering about the future, never looking up to the night sky and wondering about the outside world. Cale Tannor, runt of the litter, who read every book in the village and longed for adventure, would finally be home.
To the south lay danger, adventure and peril unknown. Cale would be chased by wild animals, beaten by lawless men and hunted by demonic Phantoms, all for the sake of some rusty old Swords. There would be no safety, no turning back, and no way out. It was a quest Cale must follow through to the bitter end or die trying.
The choice was his.
"Yatahey!" a voice called from behind. Cale turned back at the two riders’ approach.
"Ya'at'eeh!" Cale smiled back.
"Ah, so you do speak my tongue," Jazreal grinned.
"I'm a quick learner. What are you doing here?"
"Well, we couldn't very well sit around after you saved the city," Vyk quipped. He had fully recovered from his wounds and was in remarkable health. "Saving a city kind of inclines them to pay off all your debts for you. I was becoming a little too well known, anyway. Hard to pull a con when everyone knows your name. And besides, all that fame was going to my head."
Jazreal slapped his shoulder. "We're going with you."
They were certainly dressed for it. Vyk wore his oilcloth duster and had saddle bags full of supplies. With bedroll and bow and saber, he was a Ranger once more and happier for it.
Jazreal was likewise equipped for travel with her Sword secured to her back. The new leather jerkin and green tunic looked good on her. She’d tied her hair back in a red ribbon, though Vyk apparently still could not get her to wear boots. The black horse she sat looked fresh, fast and lean. A mule followed in tow carrying extra supplies.
"It'll be dangerous."
"Exactly." Vyk winked. "And I know just where we can find it, too."
"Someone needs to watch over you boys." laughed Jazreal. "You find too much danger on your own."
Cale turned back to the road. To the north lay the home he so desperately wanted to see, but also memories of loneliness, abandonment and rejection. To the south lay great danger and almost certain death, but the promise of eternal companionship. It wasn't even a choice, really.
Ready?
"Absolutely." Cale turned Thunder south and galloped down the highway. "The world awaits!"
The End