Unlikely Hero

The sun rose above the rim of the world, blinking its way into the early morning sky. The birds began their mournful chirping in the trees. Peit awoke with a start, he yawned loudly and sat up stretching his arms like a cat. Peit was always up early, his job as a blacksmith’s apprentice required it. Though only fourteen, his arms were heavily muscular and tanned brown by the sun’s heat. He clothed himself in his work garments and smoothed his hair back with a fine comb made from birch wood. The rest of his small village was waking and merchants were setting up their stalls, packing them with everything you could think of, fruit, vegetables, small amulets to ward of the evil spirits. Peit passed them all and walked with a steady pace towards the smithy. Rothan his master was already there, heating the coals gently for hours until they reached the correct temperature. Rothan was easily the biggest man in the village, with legs like tree trunks and a chest like the prow of some grand ship from down the coast.

“Good mor’ing little master.” he said in his deep, rustic voice. His voice was like a great oak, large and strong, yet delicate. “Are you ready for another large order?” He spoke with a slight smile, knowing that Peit liked his job and was always happy to put in the work needed.
“Oh yes sir, very ready sir!” he said excitedly. “Good, good,” Rothan intoned, “the kingdom’s armies are always in need of supplies, and we’re willin’ to give them.” He smiled slyly, “As long as they pay.” He paced into the smithy and Peit followed. Rothan handed him a list. It had an inventory written on it. It ordered: Ten Large Kite Shields, Thirty Five Long Swords, Nine Full Iron Helms and One Thousand Arrow Heads. It was indeed a large order but the did have the Kites and Helms in stock. “Do half the swords today, and the others tomorrow.” Rothan called from behind a screen where his supply of ore was kept. “Ill see to the arrow ‘eads!” He emerged carrying a sack of iron ore, which he handed to Peit, who hauled it to the left hand forge.

They began to smelt the first few ores in a bowl like device, which was situated on a long pole. When it was in liquid form, he poured it into a thin bar mould. When this was cool he broke off a piece and heated it until it was almost liquid, but solid enough to pick up with tongs. He carried it quickly to an anvil, grabbing his small hammer and he began to shape the metal. For an hour he laboured, stopping only to reheat the metal as it cooled. Finally it was finished, the blunt blade of a long sword sat before him. Proud of how his work was progressing he began to whistle and he fitted the blade to the hilt. He added a small, polished, red gem pommel to the end and looked at his work admiringly. He took his creation to the grindstone and sharpened it, sparks flew in every direction causing him to squint and covering his arms in tiny burns. When he had finished, in his hands he held a marvel of sword craft, it was a fine looking blade, colours seemed to twist in it and the sun glinted off of it and sent a dozen rays of shimmering light in every direction.

Rothan appeared at his shoulder, “My that’s a pretty blade, let me have a look.”  He took the sword from Peit’s hands and turned it shimmering in the sun. “ I have never seen the likes of this before!” he exclaimed. “Are you sure you used the right ore?” he asked quizzically. “Yes I am sure,” Replied Peit nodding his head in recognition. “You may have the day off, but take this to the weapons master in the next village.” Peit laughed with joy at the prospect of going to present his creation to the greatest swordsman in the east kingdoms. He set off at a jog down the road, pausing only twice to catch his breath. He covered roughly twelve miles in about an hour and a half.

He reached the door of the famed Master Foldur and knocked twice. A young man, who Peit recognised as Master Foldur, opened the door.
“And what may you want, my friend?” asked Master Foldur. Peit stood straighter and replied, “Please sir, I was told by Rothan my master to show you this” he handed the blade hilt first to the young man. “My goodness!” he cried enthusiastically. “I have never seen the likes!” “Was this his own creation?” he said raising an eyebrow enquiringly. “No sir, it was mine.” Peit said with a slight grin. “Yours eh? Well I’ll be damned.” Peit’s chest swelled with pride at Foldur’s amazement  “This is a mighty fine sword, I reckon you should keep this one.” He held it to the light again “It will keep you from danger.” He handed the blade back, “Well I’m a busy man and cannot chat all day, be off with you!” He smiled, and Peit stepped back as the door closed. Praise from this man was rare indeed, and he felt honoured to have pleased him. He began to walk slowly back towards his village, along the dried mud that caked the path. He entered a small copse of trees and felt the quiet close around him like a blanket. As he rounded a bend, he saw a figure in the path. It was a woman, clothed in white, and tied hand and foot. He approached quickly, he saw her frightened eyes and her gaze was not on him but behind him. His own eyes grew wide as he realised it was an ambush. He ducked to the side a split second before a swish of steel cut the air above him.

He rolled and turned. The thing that had attacked him was neither man nor animal. It had the short stocky body of a muscular man, but the head of some devil. Its red eyes gleamed and it swung for him again. Peit raised his sword just in time to deflect the blow into the soft turf. He dodged behind the strange creature and raised his sword as he had been taught in training. It approached swinging its head from side to side, like a wolf eyeing up its next meal. It hissed through its teeth, a strand of saliva dangled from its jaws as it approached. It struck again and again its blow was deflected, but this time it sheared down the side of Peit’s arm, leaving a trail of blood. The beast snorted with pleasure as it smelt his blood,  it realised it was ten time stronger than the boy and would soon wear him down. Quickly, ignoring the white-hot pain in his shoulder and arm, he raised his sword once again. The being lunged forwards, raising its sword high for a devastating blow. Quick as a flash, Peit flung himself through the parted legs of his opponent and rolled to his feet, twisting, and plunged the blade into the unprotected back of his enemy. Severing whatever sort of spine it had and killing it instantly. It toppled forward into the grass, its sword tumbling from its lifeless grasp. His breath came in short gasps, as he stumbled towards the woman. She lay still, her eyes slightly glazed in shock, as he cut her bonds with his blood-smeared sword. He helped he to her feet with one hand, the other lay numb against his side. The blood dripped from his fingers and ran in rivulets down his legs, pooling in the grass.

“Thank you kind boy,” she said quietly. “I thank you for your timely arrival, but I expected a man not a boy to rescue me but then we are all mistaken at some point.” Peit just nodded in reply, as they stood there resting, they heard the sound of many horses. The galloping of hooves grew nearer and they looked up, a dozen horsemen rounded the curve and headed for them. They reigned in at the last moment and the knights circled them. They lowered their lances to point at Peit.
“Unhand my lady, villain!” said one in a regal voice. “As your king I command you!” The woman he rescued stood forwards. “Brother, this is my rescuer not my captor, leave him be!” The man got down and raised his visor. “Well then noble boy, for rescuing my dear sister I shall knight you.” The king tapped Peit on the shoulders with the flat of his blade. “Arise Knight of the Realm.”  Peit rose with a grin on his face. “You shall be knighted publicly later, but what is your name?” he asked. “Peit.” Said Peit. “Then welcome, Sir Peit, though never before has one so young been granted such an honour.” “Then I am proud!” Peit said smiling. He clambered on a horse and rode with the king and his men back to his village and a very surprised Rothan.