Young One

“If you want to live you’ll stay quiet. You understand?” He sneered at me as he held a knife to my throat. What else could I do? I was only eleven and there were six of them. They had swords and knives, I had nothing. I did as he commanded and sat quietly terrified as they ransacked the little monastery that had been the only home I had ever known. Nothing was sacred to them as they tore through the priory looking for anything of value. It was eleven years earlier that my tale begins.

I have never met my mother or father and I know not if they are dead or alive. I was found on the steps of Mount Trelar Monastery wrapped in a piece of dirty linen in a basket made of dried grass. The monks took me in, and gave me a home.

My first memory is of Brother Aldren, I remember he used to let me ride him like a horse and our days would be filled chasing down imaginary dragons; discovering lost relics and fighting the hordes of imaginary evil that would besiege my world on occasion. The monks were very kind and generous as they taught me to read and write and taught me of the natural world around me but it was always Brother Aldren who was there when I skinned a knee, fell out of a tree or was frightened by the monster that lurked under my cot.

Life for the first eight years of my life was filled with happiness and joy. It was on my eighth birthday that all of that began to change. It was a brutally hot summer in the area around Fort Doom, which is located on the western side of the Kingdom of Kalam, and my task that day was to weed the meditation garden. I toiled under the sun all day finally ridding the garden of the last of the pesky milk weed and hazel berry that had begun to infest it. Brother Reedan was satisfied with my toils and told me to go down to the stream and clean up for dinner enticing me to clean behind my ears with the promise of a piece of chocolate cake for desert.

I ran as fast as my feet would carry me to the wash station on the stream bank, quickly striped and jumped in. The cool water shocked my young body but felt so refreshing. The water was at my shoulders in the center and the bottom was soft and sandy. I began to scrub the days sweat and dirt away dreaming of the treat that awaited me when the first pain shot across my shoulders. I froze. The second pain shot down my spine and caused me to wince. I began to flail about with my arms and hands trying to discover the source when the burning began. My upper back felt as if it were on fire. I cried out in agony as the fire on my skin grew hotter and deeper. I wildly thrashed about trying desperately to put out the flames but they continued to grow in intensity and the pain was more than my young mind could bear.

It was three days later when I awoke to the sound of rolling thunder and the soft patter of rain on the roof. It was the smiling face of Brother Aldren that greeted my eyes as they began to focus. “I thought Forseti had called you home young one.” Aldren said, a tear streaming down his cheek.

“What happened?” I managed to squeak.

“It seems there is more to you than we had thought young one. You should rest now; there will be time for questions later.” The angelic voice of Brother Aldren launched into a quiet familiar lullaby and in minutes I was fast asleep.

My sleep was peaceful and my mind treated me with images of a fantastic land of white marble structures, rolling hills covered in the greenest grass I had ever seen, fields of golden wheat, groves of trees bearing oranges, lemons and olives and plains filled with sheep. I found myself riding on an ornate cart being pulled by a team of eight white horses, throngs of people cheering me as I passed. The team stopped at the bottom of a set of wide stairs covered in a red carpet that led up to a grand structure surrounded by columns. Both sides of the carpet were lined with powerful warriors holding spears and round shields which bore the image of a winged horse. As I started up the stairs the warriors knelt and bowed their heads as I passed. When I reached the top I was met with a pair of gigantic bronze doors and carved upon them was a symbol that I had never seen before and yet somehow was strangely familiar. The doors swung open and as I stepped through them into darkness I heard, what I can only describe as a thousand voices calling out me in a language I did not understand.

I awoke on the morrow feeling a little better but my back was sore and I could feel heat radiating from it as if it had been badly sunburned. I rose from my cot, took off my sleeping gown and walked over to the mirror with trepidation at what I might see. I mustered my courage, turned my back toward it and slowly turned my head so that I could see the reflection. What greeted my eyes was not what I was expecting. I had convinced myself that I had been attacked by some invisible fire breathing monster and my backside would be ravaged with burns and bite marks but what I viewed was rather anticlimactic.

Raised on my back between my shoulder blades and running from the base of my neck three quarters of the way down my spine was a triangle. It was comprised of several lines of blue, red, green and yellow swirling about one another in a seemingly endless knot. The edges were smooth and the scar was really no more than a clearly defined welt, a painful welt, but no more than that. I marveled at it for a long time. It was a simplistic design but the longer I stared at it, trying to follow the lines with my eyes, the more I realized how very complex it was in its intricacy. I wondered what it was and what it meant and most importantly why it was on me and why I was chosen to bear it. I climbed back onto my cot, put my arms behind my head and wondered at the mystery of it all.

I was summoned to Brother Reedan’s office that afternoon. He was the Arch Prelate of the order and as such had a well appointed room in which to conduct the monastery’s business. I knocked on the door and the Brother’s voice bade me to enter. I opened the large heavy door and, as usual, it got away from me as I was closing it and slammed shut knocking the painting of the last Arch Prelate askew. All eyes were on me as I stood there softly stammering out an apology.

There were four of us in the room Brother Reedan, Brother Aldren and another man who I did not recognize but he had my complete attention. He was tall, with an angular clean shaven face, blond hair, and one piercing gray eye. His left eye was covered with a patch of black leather and a wicked scar ran from the center of his forehead, across his eye and down his left cheek disappearing under his gorget. He wore blackened armor that showed the tell tale signs of recent combat and over it was a sur cote of white trimmed in gold with a set of scales set above crossed swords embroidered on it, a well used mace hung at his right hip.

Turn around and take off your shirt he demanded. I did as I was instructed and stood motionless as he examined my scar. I felt his eyes upon me and the cold steel of his armored hand caused me to shiver slightly as he traced the outline with his finger. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” The knight said in a flat voice. “I sense no evil in it and feel no presence of it within him. “Turn around.” I did as I was told. He placed his hand under my chin and tilted my head back. His eye locked with mine and he began to chant something in a language I did not recognize. I felt a surge of energy course through my body as the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood up. My body tingled and my mouth went dry. The sensation last a few moments then quickly faded. “He’s not been possessed by anything.” I have no explanation for what has happened.” He turned, walked over to a large overstuffed chair, and sat down.

Brother Reedan instructed me to put my shirt back on and return to my cell and not to discuss what happened in the stream or what Prelate Vyzan had done with anyone. I threw my shirt on and quickly left the room glad to be away from the stares. Not a word was ever spoken about it again and the next three years of my life passed in relative peace.

***
The monks had left the priory to travel to Permadon, the capital of Kalam, to attend a conclave, as they called it. Brother Aldren was left behind to watch over the grounds and to watch over me as well. I had changed a lot in the past three years, my body had grown a full foot taller and the sinew under my skin was developing into muscle. I was raking the gravel walk that led from the road to the front gate when the sun glinted off of something striking me in the eyes. I looked up to find the source of my discomfort and that was when I saw him.

He sat tall in his saddle, resplendent in highly polished armor, the rays of the sun causing it to glimmer and surrounded him in what I can only describe as a holy aura. His helmet was off and he wore no sur cote. A massive axe was in a baldric strapped to his back and a sword hung at his left hip. He was mounted on the largest hoarse I had ever seen in my life up to that point. It was as black as pitch and looked to be prancing as it trotted towards me.

“Hail the Monastery!” His voice was as loud as thunder. “Hail Milord!” My voice cracked as I called back causing the knight to laugh.

“Please tell Brother Aldren that Sir Æthelred wishes to see him.”

“At Once Milord!” I dropped the rake and bound off to find Brother Aldren.

I burst through the front door shouting his name as loud as I could unable to contain my excitement. Brother Aldren entered the sanctuary scowling.

“What is it young one? You’re making enough noise to raise the dead! How many times have I told you that you must be reverent when you are in the sanctuary?”

“Beg your pardon Brother Aldren but there is a knight riding up, he says he wants to speak with you.”

“A knight? What is this knights name young one?”

“Sir Æthelred”

A broad smile came to Aldren’s face. “Æthelred is here?”

“Yes sir, he’s ridding up on big black horse, biggest horse I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s him them.” His voice trailed off and he looked as if his mind had gone somewhere else. He looked at me with a look of pure joy on his face, “Well don’t just stand there go out and receive him and tend to his mount.”

I turned and scampered back outside and reached the front walk just as he was coming through the gate. He approached and as easy as you please dismounted from the black destrier without making a sound.

He handed me the reins and asked me to unsaddle Akilos down, bath him and brush him. A weak “Yes Milord” was all I could manage as I stared at the monster. He smiled at me, reached into a small belt pouch and produced a gold coin. “Take good care of Akilos and this will be yours.”

It took me the rest of the morning to complete my task but when I was done Akilos shined. The big roan seemed to enjoy the bath and brushing and would use his head or turn his body to draw my attention to any particular area he felt I was neglecting. As he dried in the sun I went to work cleaning the saddle and the rest of the leather tack, polishing the metal components as well. Æthelred came to look at my work just as I was putting the finishing touches on the bit and he seemed to be impressed with the job I had done.

He was wearing a white linen shirt with black cotton trousers tucked into a pair of soft leather boots. I stood to the side as he inspected his tack and saddle, his eyes darting over every inch not missing a thing. “This is very good.” He remarked not looking at me as he spoke. “Have you done this sort of work before?”

“No Milord.”

“You seem to have a natural talent for it. Akilos told me that you were very thorough with him as well and he wanted me to thank you for your efforts.”

“Oh go on a horse can’t talk!” I didn’t mean to actually speak them but the words came out of my mouth as fast as I was thinking them. He turned, raised an eye brow and gave me a curious stare. I slowly bent my head waiting for the punishment that I knew was coming. I had spoken out of turn and now I was going to pay for it.

“It’s considered rude in most civilized societies not to look a person in the eye when they are speaking to you.” He said in a formal tone. I raised my head and met his gaze.

“Never and I mean never feel embarrassed for speaking your mind. I know it seems hard to believe but Akilos and I can communicate with one another. He is a very special mount and has been a faithful friend and companion for many years.”

“I beg your pardon Milord, I meant no offense but you have to admit that a talking horse is a tale that’s hard to swallow.”

“I see you’re at the age of not believing.”

“Milord?” I said quizzically.

“You’re at the age when the fairy tales of youth are giving way to reason and understanding. It’s a good age to be at old enough to question but still young enough to believe in magic.” As he spoke he reached over and pulled a gold coin out of my ear and gave it to me.

I stared at the coin in disbelief. I had cleaned my ears only that morning and had found no coins nor seen any indication that there were ever any there. How can this be I wondered as I marveled at the sovereign in my hand. “If you clean my armor as well as you took care of my horse and tack I’ll see if we can find another one in your other ear.”

“It will be done Milord!” I said my eagerness dripping from my body.

He gave a hearty laugh and put his hand on my shoulder. “Brother Aldren was right about you young one. The armor can wait until after lunch.” He winked at me and said, “Come on I’ll race you to the kitchen.”

The sun was in its last throws of death before slipping into night to be reborn at dawn. I placed the spaulder on the table and picked up the back plate. I had saved it for last because it was the simplest piece and I thought I would have it cleaned and polished in no time. I began by wiping the loose dirt and grime off of it then washed it down in soapy water. As I began polishing it I noticed that this piece was different from the rest of the armor. This had a grayish-black mirror shine to it where as the rest polished into a duller silver hue. I also noticed that this piece was much lighter than the breast plate even though it was approximately the same size.

I was able to make out the faint outline of a design that looked vaguely familiar. I applied some polish to my rag and though my fingers and arms ached from my toils the discovery of this design filled me with curiosity. As I polished away the tarnish the design became clearer and the more of it I uncovered the more excited I became.

I lit a lantern and continued, my anticipation spilling over as the frogs and crickets cheered me on. As I wiped away the last traces of polish I held the metal before me, and I stared at it in disbelief. The design that I had uncovered, the thin lines of brass that were inlaid into this unknown metal, were identical to the raised mark on my back. How could this be? I thought. How is this possible?

I held the plate tight in my hands and ran as fast as I could to the priory. I found Brother Aldren and Sir Æthelred drinking tea in the library. I burst into the room unable to contain my excitement. “It’s the same!” I cried. “It’s identical!” The two of them looked at me as if I suddenly grown another head. “Young one! Have I taught you no manners at all?” Aldren berated me.

“I’m sorry Brother Aldren but the design is the same as my mark.” My eyes were wide and my speech came rapidly.

“What mark do you speak of Young One?” Æthelred asked curiously.

I looked at Aldren and he nodded his head. I gently placed the back plate on a polished mahogany table, turned around and took off my shirt. Neither man spoke; the room was quiet for what seemed like an eternity when the silence was finally broken by Sir Æthelred.

“How long have you had this mark?” He asked as he stood and compared the image on my back with that which was on his back plate.

“About three years now Milord.”

“You weren’t born with this?”

“No Milord it sort of appeared.”

“Fascinating. Do you know what it represents or what it means?”

“No sir. Do you?” I asked eagerly.

“I do not…but I think I know someone who might.” He turned and returned to his chair. “Brother Aldren has given me his consent and if you agree I would like to take you on as my squire. What say you to this Young One?”

The statement came as I was putting my shirt back on and took me with such surprise that I ripped open the seam in the left shoulder. I stood there with a quizzical look on my face and my left sleeve hanging from my wrist. “Me sir?”
Was all I could manage to utter.

“If you feel you’re up to the task of learning the ways of a Knight. You would receive training in horsemanship, martial skills, etiquette, tactics and strategy and other things a warrior of Forseti should know. Unless of course you’d rather stay here and learn the fine art of hedge trimming ultimately becoming a cleric and living a life in relative obscurity?” I heard nothing after martial skills. My mind immediately began to conjure images of grand adventures and mythic beasts, damsels in distress and evil sorcerers. I looked at Sir Æthelred and tried to speak but no words came from my mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He said smiling. “Aldren I will return in a fortnight to collect him.”

I was never happier in my life up to that point than at that moment. It was unfortunate that that happiness was to be very short lived.

***
The next two weeks dragged on. It seemed as if the gods knew of my anticipation and intentionally slowed time to a crawl. At long last it was the day Sir Æthelred was to arrive. I had risen early, as I was unable to sleep any further, and had slipped off to the stream to bath and make myself presentable to my new Lord. As I stood in the stream lathering up and observing the first rays of dawn grace the eastern sky I noticed two alarming things. The first was a light dusting of hair where there had been no hair before and the second was that I had a new mark. The hair was exciting but having washed with the brothers before I understood it, the mark however, was intriguing.

It was located on my chest between my pectorals, was about as big as my hand and was circular in shape with what seemed to be cardinal points all around it. I looked in the mirror and with my finger slowly traced the lines over and over again. It was magnificent and pride washed over me as I gazed at it. Long I peered into the reflective glass wondering what all of this meant. Who was I and what was the meaning of these drawings that were magically appearing on my body? As my mind began to wander back to the dream I had, back to that land of cheering crowds and stoic warriors, I began to feel a slight burning sensation. It wasn’t painful more of a warming of my upper torso and when I looked down my new mark was glowing red and I had a sudden sense of danger.

I splashed out of the stream and on to the bank and quickly dressed myself all the while looking around to see what this danger was. The sun was above the horizon now and the air was filled with the singing of the birds and the chirping of the sengar beetles. I had learned that the faster the beetles chirped the hotter the day would be and from the clatter they were making it was going to be a scorcher. I made my way cautiously towards the monastery and as I came through the garden I noticed six horses tethered to a post. Maybe some pilgrims I thought, passing through on their way to Permadon, but if they’re pilgrims why do I still have this warmth in my chest and this feeling of danger? The sound of crockery breaking and the pleading voice of Brother Aldren emanating from inside answered my question.

***
I ran into the kitchen and saw the overturned bowl of berries and the broken pitcher of milk on the floor. The sense of danger I was feeling was supplemented with a sense of dread and I slowly made my way to the open door that lead to the dinning hall. The room had been ransacked. The silver candlesticks that I had spent many hours of my life polishing were gone as were the ivory vases that always held some of Brother Cernars flowers. The flowers had been dumped onto the table and the water the vases held dripped off its edge and pooled on the floor. The cupboard doors were opened and broken crockery was littering the floor.

I quietly made way through the room and down the hallway leading to the sanctuary. As I approached the door I heard Brother Aldren cry out, “This is a house of worship! Just tell me what you want, tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll give it to you!” I peered through the partially opened door and saw Brother Aldren on his knees talking to a large dirty man with one eye. The man was holding a sword to Brother Aldren’s chest as five other men ransacked the sanctuary. “Where are the others Fryer?”

“Gone. All gone to Permadon. There’s no one here but me.”

“Where’s the money!” The one eyed man spat.

“We have no money. This is a monastery we’re self sufficient. We grow our own food, raise our own livestock. We make all that we need. We have no need of money.”

“You’re lying! Churches always have money!” One of the other thieves, a short balding man screamed.

“I swear to you all on my soul we have no money. We make what we need and barter and trade for the rest. Please just leave in peace and I’ll tell no one of your visit!” Aldren pleaded. The bald man ran over to Aldren and kicked him in the chest. Aldren gasped for breath as he fell backwards to the floor.

I hated them. I had never felt hate before, not in this place, not in this house of love. As the feeling coursed through my body it replaced the sense of dread and my sense of danger turned to strength. I had to stop this. I had to make these men pay for what they were doing, but how?

Aldren caught his breath and slowly pulled himself back to his knees. “I am not a man of violence, please, I beg of you. You have all that we have of value. Leave this place or face the wrath of the Gods!”

“I’ve had enough of this one!” The one eyed man shouted and before Aldren knew what had happened the rogues blade pierced his heart. “Noooo!” I shrieked as my feet carried me to Aldren’s lifeless body. I buried my head in his bloodstained robe and broke down in a fit of sobbing.

***
“If you want to live you’ll stay quiet. You understand?” The Bald one sneered at me as he held a knife to my throat. What else could I do? I did as he commanded and sat quietly terrified as they ransacked the little monastery that had been the only home I had ever known. Nothing was sacred to them as they tore through the priory looking for anything of value.

“You should have listened to Brother Aldren and left when you could. When Sir Æthelred shows up you’ll witness first hand what he meant when he said you’ll suffer the wrath of the Gods!”

“No one said nothin about fightin no knights Baden.” A tall, thin scraggly looking bandit said.

“Shut up Dimlet! This kids talking out his arse.” yelled Baden, the short bald one and apparent leader of the gang. “This kids here for one reason only and that’s to serve at the pleasure of the monks or is that to be the pleasure of the monks?” He flashed a toothless grin at me and winked. I recoiled at the sight of him and as I did my anger returned and I spat in his face. The other brigands roared with laughter.

“He’s got spunk, I’ll give him that!” Spoke a dwarf with a red matted beard.

“You gonna take that from the little twerp Baden?” said another.

Baden’s face turned red and he raised his sword to strike at me. I closed my eyes and waited for death. I felt a heavy blow to my head and then everything went black.

As I lay unconscious I felt as if I were floating in a black pool. A light appeared before me and a very soothing, grandfatherly voice called out to me. “Young One, hear my voice and be not afraid for I am Forseti, Peacemaker to the Gods. I see in you strength and courage, and that is what will define you as a man. The fates have determined for you to undergo this hardship in order to test the resolve of another. Know that I have chosen you as one of my own and that until this test is completed I may not speak with you again. Brother Aldren is at peace and wishes me to convey to you the happiness and joy that you have brought to him and that he loves you as if you were of his own seed. You have a great destiny before you and the tattoos on your body are proof of that. All will be revealed in time Young One. Now accept my blessing and know that I am with you.

***

The next three years were excruciating. True to his word Forseti did not speak to me at all during that time but when ever I felt fear creeping in on me I felt his presence and I was no longer afraid. Dimlet took a liking to me and always seemed to be there whenever Baden tried to unleash his anger on me. I realized early on that if I just did what they told me to do and kept out of sight and out of the way my life with them was much less painful. I tried to run away several times but I was always caught and Baden would beat me to within an inch of my life then Dimlet would nurse me back to health. I actually began to grow rather fond of him and he seemed to be growing fond of me as he attempted to continue my education as well as he could. He soon realized that at the age of thirteen I was much smarter than he and it was I who began to educate him. I won’t say that I enjoyed my life during those three years but I made the best of what I had and kept hope alive that Sir Æthelred would find me at any time.

From time to time I would I would overhear Baden talking with the gang, Dimlet, Rathgar the Dwarf, Eloane a dark elf who would kill a man rather than look at him, Grath a half orc with a fondness for poetry and Tralem a gnome who fancied himself a ladies man, about a knight searching for his squire. Whenever I would hear this I would smile to myself and pray in the hopes that maybe Æthelred could somehow sense it and follow it to me.

The gang, The Black Hands, as they called themselves had garnered quiet a reputation and had always managed to stay one step ahead of the law. They were wanted for robbery, theft, murder, rape, kidnapping and a host of other crimes too vile to mention and they were branded as outlaws within the Kingdom of Kalam, The Five Shires and The Republic of Darok. Every time a new charge was added to their list it actually brought great pleasure to them and filled me with renewed disgust. It was on a very cold winter’s day when, at long last, Sir Æthelred heard my prayers.

I had changed a lot in my three years with them. I was now six feet tall and weighed just over 175 pounds. To help pass the time I had taken to exercising and quickly the flab of my youth had been turned into hard muscle. The hair on my head had darkened from brown to black and my eyes had turned from brown to green with a noticeable gold fleck in them which some said caused them to sparkle in the sunlight like a jewel. I was lean and fit and ready to lash out at my captors.

The gang returned to the shack that they had been using as their winter quarters which was located, deep in the Forest of Hyrum. They had decided not to take me with them n this particular outing and to keep me safe from harm Baden had chained me to a wall like a dog. The sound of drunken revelry alerted me to their return which meant that they had apparently met with great success. Baden staggered over to m, kicked me in the stomach then unchained me so that I might bring in their ill gotten treasure. The sacks were filled with the spoils of their plunder and I felt nauseous just to touch it. It didn’t take them long to renew their drinking and tell me the tales of their bravery against defenseless women and unarmed merchants. The bile grew in my throat as I was forced to listen. I couldn’t stand it any longer and in the middle of one disgusting tale of debauchery as Baden extolled how he had his way with a young noble woman I struck.

I threw myself across the room at him, knocking him to the floor and began to pummel him and with every punch my anger welled and gave me strength. He was quite the bloody mess by the time the rest of the group was able to pull me off of him and it took all of them to hold me back. Baden moaned on the floor as blood flowed from his nose, mouth and ears. They drug me kicking and cursing out of the shack and tied me to a tree.

I struggled against the ropes but quickly realized that escape was not possible. As my anger subsided so did my extra strength and I slumped against the tree and waited for my fate. Several hours passed before Baden emerged. He was a sight and I smiled as looked at what I had done to him. His nose was broken and bent to the right, his left eye was swollen shut, part of his right ear was missing and his face was puffy and turning shades of purple, black, blue and yellow. In his right hand he held a club. He said nothing as he stood before me but I saw murder in his eye and I knew my death would be slow and agonizing. Dimlet was no longer there to protect me as only a few days before he had met his end. He had snuck into Brendensburg to gather some supplies and was recognized by a bounty hunter who put a cross bow bolt through his head. I actually wept for him and prayed to Balor, God of the Underworld, to have mercy on his soul for deep down he was good and kind man.

Baden raised his club and it crashed against my chest knocking the wind out of me. He spat on me and began cursing. He struck me again on my right knee and then my left. I cried out in pain. The club landed against my head, I felt something warm running down my neck and I could no longer hear out of my right ear. Another blow across my shoulder caused my collarbone to snap and then another across my chest made a loud pop and I found it difficult to breath. My head fell forward and foamy blood began to drip from my mouth. I gasped for breath as I watched the club arc through the air and collide with my head once again. My head snapped to the right, my vision blurred and darkness began to take me. As I slipped into unconsciousness I heard the same grandfatherly voice that had spoken to me a lifetime ago. “Sleep well Young One for the time of your deliverance is at hand…and your test is about to begin.”

***
I awoke to find my self in a warm bed under clean sheets. A kindly old man was peering at me as my eyes fluttered open and he gave me a large grin. I tried to speak but my voice was weak and all I could manage was a very faint, “Hello.” He pressed his finger to my lips and told me to lie still. I did as he asked and he told me the tale of how Sir Æthelred and twenty five men-at-arms had arrived just in time and captured the Black Hand and of how Sir Æthelred tended to my wounds and watched over me for ten days as they road west back to Fort Doom. He relayed to me that I was in a hospital located in the chapter house of The Brotherhood of the Scarlet Rose and that I had been asleep for almost three weeks. He told me to rest and that he would inform Sir Æthelred of my awakening.

It was three days later that Sir Æthelred came to call on me and I was feeling much better. My wounds had been completely healed and my strength was quickly returning. I was sitting up in the narrow cot wolfing down a mutton sandwich, as my hunger had also returned, when he arrived. “It pleases me to no end to see you awake. There were a few times during our travels that I thought I had lost you.” I thanked him for rescuing me and tending to me and told him that I never gave up on him, that I knew he would keep his promise and teach me to be a knight. He smiled broadly and sat down in a chair next to me. We talked for hours about what each of us had done during the course of the past three years and it was well into the evening when he left and I fell blissfully asleep. I stayed in the hospital another week and after much pleading with the surgeons I was finally released.

During the course of the next two years Sir Æthelred taught me all he could about the martial arts, horsemanship, combat and tactics. The days were long, exhausting and painful and though I was two years behind my peers I learned quickly and soon I was every bit as knowledgeable as they were.

It was during that time that two wondrous things happened two me.

It was a crisp afternoon in late fall and Sir Æthelred, myself, Sir Dillon, his squire Thomas, Lord Marshbury, Earl of Warren and his son Cedric were on a hunt. We had been tracking a great stag all morning and at last had managed to circle him. Thomas and I were dispatched to flank him and drive him toward the hunting party. Thomas was two years my junior but every bit as capable as I, he was a full head shorter than I but made up for his lack of stature with incredible strength and speed. The monks had never given me a name and the names the Black Hand called me I shall not mention. When I arrived I was a bit of an oddity as none of the other squires had ever met anyone with out a name and it was Thomas who decided that since I looked like a bull I should be called Bull and much to my dismay the name stuck.

I spotted movement under some brush and as I investigated I found a young eagle with a broken wing. It was identical to the bald eagles that I had seen nesting in the giant Barchwood Trees of the Hyrum Forest except this one was pure white. I knew his claws would shred my hands if I reached for him so I gently placed my gear on the ground and removed my shirt to throw over him. He seemed to sense what I was doing and began to back away. I began talking to him in a soothing voice as he stared at me. I guess he had a sudden realization that I was trying to help him because after a short time he bowed his head and walked toward me. I put my shirt back on and wrapped one of my belts around my right forearm to give him a perch and he quickly scrambled on to it.

As I made my way back to the hunting camp I learned three interesting facts about the eagle, he was able to communicate simple thoughts to me, his name was Ava and he was a she.