Bahamut ZERO
03-21-2004, 09:19 PM
Yeah, wrote a prologue. Posted it in a few places. Just interested in what people have to say (if anything) to it.
PROLOGUE.</center>
The horse underneath Hereth was beginning to stumble from exhaustion as the young General continued to force it to run, grimly determined to reach his destination as quickly as possible. Turf was strewn up from the ground as the horse�s hooves dug into the sodden soil, each gallop forward threatening to throw both horse and rider to their doom. Rain hit Hereth�s face, as he felt his body shiver from a day�s hard ride in appalling weather.
The house was growing closer. A solitary hut some twenty miles from the nearest settlement, which in itself was only a village with a population no more than two hundred. Getting directions out of the locals had been like drawing blood from a stone, but when Hereth had mentioned the name of King Jelar, the patron of the inn had finally relented and given directions cross country for him to follow. Hereth only hoped that he had not been misled.
The horse stumbled to a halt, lame from its journey. It barely stood as Hereth dismounted, cursing as he felt time slip through his fingers like the reins in his ice cold hands. He pulled himself forward, leading the horse and congratulating it for reaching this far.
�Please be in,� Hereth said to himself, �we need you now more than ever.�
The house was surrounded by a small fence more to mark its boundary than for its need. Both sides were dedicated to various plants, vegetables and herbs. Hereth spied a few goat and deer grazing on the outskirts of the house, and he could hear horses and other animals within the stable across from the house. The stable looked old, but sturdy, reliable in the harsh weather that Erikim was experiencing.
The house itself was built out of solid stone. It looked like it had been joined seamlessly, as if formed from one piece. The roof of the house was slate, and the chimney was pumping out smoke from the fire to warm the occupant within. Hereth resisted the urge to run in and stand in front of that fire. He still had to get his horse secure somehow.
�You really ran her hard,� A voice said from behind him, making Hereth jump out of his skin.
The General turned around and found himself looking up into the eyes of a legend. He felt his legs weaken in awe as the man strode over to the horse and put a hand on her neck. The horse looked at him and finally nickered gratefully as the man smiled and patted her fondly.
�She�s a tough old girl though. She may look exhausted, but she�ll pull through with a little help,� He said, before he turned to examine Hereth, �I don�t think you�d ride out here in this storm unless you had something important to tell me. Go and get warm. I�ll be in once I�ve settled your steed.�
Hereth still couldn�t find his tongue to speak, and the man took that as assent. He took the reins of the horse and clucked his cheeks to lead her away from the General. Hereth watched him walk away, before the wind picked up, blowing spray into his face. Hereth shuddered and walked into the house. The relief of being out of the rain was enough as he stood there, enjoying the sudden infusion of warmth. After a minute, he realised he was dripping a puddle in the entrance. Moving fast, Hereth took off his sodden cloak and hung it at the entrance. He unbuckled his sword belt and leant it against the wall, before walking into the main sitting place.
The house wasn�t built as traditional homes in Erikim were. It seemed to have more partitions than Hereth thought necessary. The entrance split into two directions, the left into the kitchen and eating area, and the right into a reading room of sorts. The fire burned on the far wall of the reading room, and there were a circle of chairs gathered around the fire. A chandelier hung in the middle, illuminating that central area whilst curtains were drawn across windows both towards the door and at the other end of the house. Hereth moved himself to the fire and held his hands out, feeling the flickering flame lick against the cold and melt it away.
�I�ve put her in with some grain,� The voice said again, startling Hereth almost into the fire, �Nuan�den seems quite keen on her. It�s been a while since he�s had company of his own species.�
The mystical white steed. Hereth had heard the tales from his grandfather about the first appearance of that steed and its owner. How his great-grandfather had fought alongside the warrior, and how they had eventually secured Erikim�s freedom.
Those grey-green eyes regarded Hereth critically, as if measuring the man. Hereth tried to hold that gaze, the stories he had been told bringing a larger than life image of the man to his head.
�I have some old clothes upstairs,� The man mused, running his hand through his iron grey hair, �while they�ll still be a bit big for you, it�ll do until your own garments dry a bit.�
�Thank you,� Hereth replied.
The warrior was only gone for a minute, allowing Hereth a quick glance around the room. Books lined a bookcase against the far wall, a fair collection of tomes collected from the far edges of the country. In one corner, there was a study table with a weird sort of light shining upon the contents. Curious, Hereth moved over and looked down. There were pages upon pages of text, written in a strangely foreign shape of writing that he could barely understand. Maps of Erikim and the overseas country Tyrinia were hand drawn with great clarity, along with dotted routes across land.
�Please don�t drip water on them,� The man said. Hereth was used to being surprised now.
�Sorry. I was just�� Hereth begun to apologise.
�They�re memoirs,� The man said, his voice distant, �details of the journey I undertook as best as I remember them. I put off putting it all down to paper for such a long time. Some of the events aren�t as clear as what they once were.�
Hereth gratefully accepted the clothes as the man left the room again to give him opportunity to change. Hereth finished just as he returned, carrying a tray that contained a mug of hot spiced wine and a bowl of broth. Hereth greedily accepted both and quickly drained both the wine and the broth as the man watched him with those powerful eyes. Once Hereth was finished, the man took the bowl and mug away, before returning again and sitting in the chair.
The silence was awkward to begin with as the man appeared indifferent to beginning conversation. Hereth was still tongue tied. His host had been very courteous, offering him everything he needed in order to get warm and comfortable after the strenuous ride. Even his horse was safe in the stable, resting up for the return journey. Hereth just could not think of where to start. What could he say to a man who had saved the world by himself?
�You�re Karim�s grandson, aren�t you?� The man asked finally, his eyes regarding Hereth again.
�That is correct,� Hereth replied with a curt nod, �Hereth, son of Beldar, son of Karim, son of Eldrik.�
�I was there the day you were born. Must�ve been twenty two years ago now,� The man said, his eyes narrowing as he studied Hereth�s features, �there�s a bit of your great-grandfather about your nose and your eyes, but you look a lot more like your mother.�
Hereth swallowed, unable to take his own gaze away from those eyes. Images of a warrior wearing shining silver armour and a white cloak fluttering in the wind whilst bearing down on an army of rabid orcs, two burning swords aflame as he carved a path to victory for the Erikimian people. Hereth�s grandfather had told the story of the battle of the Citadel in which Nexadam�s timely appearance had saved the Citadel from falling.
Here he was now. Nexadam. The name sent chills down Hereth�s spine. Nexadam. Leader of the Knights of the Covenant and Warriors of Langstone. Shaman of the Sorcerers� Circle. Slayer of the evil Gods, Ramadril of Creation and Mortrex of Destruction. The Dimension Walker, able to see the strands of fate for each and every decision that people made and able to walk the correct path to victory. The Damned Soul. Here Hereth was, with the man whom his grandfather had idolised and who he had grown up trying to mimic.
He had grown older. Whereas his hair had once been as black as the night, Nexadam�s hair was now iron grey. His skin was a bit more taut in places, weather-worn and scarred from countless battles. His hands were calloused from many years of hard work both with sword and with tools to build his own place of solitude. There was still the aura of invincibility about him. Even though Nexadam was only slightly younger than Hereth�s grandfather�s 70 years of age, he looked as if he had only reached 40.
�What can I do for you son?� Nexadam asked, rocking back in his chair, �I take it you didn�t ride flat out for close to a day just to pay me a social call.�
�My Lord Nexadam,� Hereth began.
�First of all, enough of that,� Nexadam cut in, �I gave up my knighthood to your kingdom a long time ago. Just after your grandfather retired from active service. I didn�t agree with the new King�s ideas.�
�What should I call you then? Nexadam?� Hereth enquired politely.
A half smile spread across the old man�s face, but it was one that was marked with years of pain and anguish. The warrior sighed and the smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
�Nexadam isn�t even the name I was given at birth,� He sighed finally, �but it�ll suffice.�
Karim waited for the warrior to look back to him before he continued. He did not want to interrupt the thoughts of this man.
�Nexadam� I was sent here by King Jelar. We are in dire need of your aid. News has reached us that Tyrinia has landed a large force of troops on the north coast of the country. We are unable to match their sheer numbers. His Majesty has begun to gather the populace together to form an army, but he is worried that it isn�t going to be enough. He wishes that you stand alongside us once again to fight the enemy as you did fifty years ago. We need you Nexadam, otherwise Erikim will fall,� Hereth said.
The fire continued to crackle in the background as Nexadam leant back, his head resting on the back of his chair. His fingers drummed against the arms of the chair, before he sighed and leant forward.
�Hereth. It�s been five and thirty years since I lifted my sword. I can barely remember where it is. These hands are built now only to sustain this land and keep me in relative peace. I won�t be any help to you as a warrior in this conflict. That stage of my life passed a long time ago,� Nexadam said.
�Even so, just your name amongst the army would encourage everyone to fight so much harder. The General of old has returned. The man who met the Holy Knights of Mortrex in battle at Casis and who survived the siege! The man who rode into Tyrinia and eliminated the God Mortrex! The man who defied fate and eliminated Ramadril of Creation. The man who for seven years rode the length and breadth of the country, fighting Demonspawn and creatures of myth to hold us together. The man who drew all the Erikimians together and fought off the Soulless. The man who rode into the mouth of the Forbidden World and bought us peace with a new God! If you were to just be there for us Nexadam, it would mean so much,� Hereth said.
Nexadam moved to his feet and paced across the room to look out of the window. He was in great shape. If Hereth reached seventy plus still able to move and look like Nexadam, he would be thankful.
�You forced the Tyrinians back overseas didn�t you? Ten years after the world had been restored?� Nexadam asked, not turning to look back at Hereth.
�That�s what grandfather told me,� Hereth replied, �apparently once you had sent your friends back home, the two sides were at loggerheads with one another. The Tyrinians still believed deep down in Mortrex, despite the true teachings of Nerrexia. In the end it was either send them overseas or bloodshed. The King chose the lesser of two evils.�
The hands of the warrior opened and closed as his back stiffened.
�Why is it that humanity always searches for some reason to kill?� He asked bitterly, �religion, race, creed. None of this matters once you pass into the Void for judgement by the Higher World.�
�We know that Mortrex is a false God. We cannot allow the Tyrinian Empire to force them upon us,� Hereth replied, leaping to take the initiative.
Nexadam spun around, and his eyes were burning in fury. Hereth froze in his seat, too petrified to move, his whole body paralysed. Nexadam made no move to approach, but Hereth knew that if the other man wished it, he would be dead on the spot. He begun to say a silent prayer to Nerrexia that the anger in those eyes would not boil over uncontrollably.
�You fool,� Nexadam hissed, his voice even more terrible in its calmness with the anger in his eyes, �you truly believe that zeal? Just because Mortrex is dead does not make him a false God. To the Tyrinians, he was God. You cannot alter that fact, especially after fifty years. If you seek battle to eliminate them because of religion, then you will meet my wrath in the battlefield.�
Hereth quaked in his chair as Nexadam�s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he closed his eyes. A large hand passed over his face and the kindly face returned.
�I am sick of killing,� Nexadam whispered, �I do not want to kill another person for the rest of my existence. I do not want to make innocents suffer. Women and children who will live without husbands and fathers because their leader wishes to stamp his beliefs on others.�
Hereth chose his next words very carefully, knowing that on them would hinge Nexadam�s support.
�This isn�t merely an army bred to reclaim the land that we took away from them,� He said, �it�s an army bred for destruction. Every single man, woman and child of Tyrinia is here. Their Emperor claims to be the Divine chosen of the resurrected God of Destruction. He is calling us all heathens,� Hereth said, �Nexadam� They are the ones starting the holy war.�
Nexadam said nothing, did not move. The crackling of the fire drove Hereth to distraction and he wanted to howl, to leap up and pound this man on the chest. Time was of the essence, and this man was dawdling. Maybe age was affecting him, making his thought addled.
�You trouble me,� Nexadam said finally, �and you give me much to think about.�
The warrior sat back in the chair and cupped his hands together, with the index fingers pointing up. He placed his hands to his mouth so that the tips of his fingers touched the edge of his nose. Cold grey eyes locked upon Hereth�s own.
�You must be tired,� He said neutrally, �I understand you want an answer quickly, but there is no need for you to leave tonight. Rest here, and be at peace.�
The warrior stood and led Hereth to a spare bed up the stairs. He provided a single lantern and a flint to light it. Hereth waited for Nexadam to leave the room before his head hit the pillow. Sleep claimed him within seconds�
� For Nexadam, the night held no sleep. While he did try to keep a normal sleep pattern, his body itself did not require it. He could regenerate his life-force in other ways. Sleeping allowed him to dream, and he missed some things in his life. To dream was a welcome release.
Tonight he had to think about what Hereth had told him. Once again he was faced with only one side of a tale. The good of the followers of the true Goddess Nerrexia against the evil followers of the �false� God Mortrex. Try as hard as he could to ignore this problem, and to let people sort out their differences by themselves, Nexadam knew he could not just let blood to be shed unnecessarily.
He left the house silently and walked to the stable where Nuan�den and Hereth�s mare were safely tucked up. The white horse was as old as Nexadam, but also had an extended life that he could not explain. Nuan�den felt his master�s approach and nickered, moving around his stall to face Nexadam�s approach. The warrior placed a hand on the horses snout and smiled again.
�It appears we need to ride once more my friend. I hope you�re up to it,� He said.
The horse snorted and pawed the floor once. Were it not for the gate in front of him, he would already be halfway to Casis. Nexadam nodded approvingly before he continued on to the back of the stable. There was a small room with a sturdy lock on the door, a lock that had no key. Nexadam placed his hand over the chain and murmured a quick word of command. With a click the padlock unbolted itself and the chain, made out of a compound the sorcerer Mamejo had created that was harder than steel, snaked down onto the floor.
Nexadam opened the door and light flooded into the room for the first time in almost four decades. Despite its abandonment, the room was in the same condition as Nexadam had left it. He walked in slowly and looked at the standing cloth in front of him, covering something that was man height. With a quick tug, Nexadam pulled the cloth free to expose his old suit of armour. The shining silver that had lit up the hopes of the Erikimian people all those years ago. The golden dragon stood on the front of the breastplate, striking fear into those who saw it ride their way.
Nexadam turned around to the wall to his right and opened up the chest that lay on the floor. He pulled out his shield, a two foot diameter plate of steel, again marked with a golden dragon. Though it had been struck many times, not one dent was left on its face, an enchantment of the Gods of old. Nexadam placed it with the rest of the armour and lowered his hands in one more time, lifting out the last item of worth.
Nirandor. Nexadam�s hands trembled as he held the sheathed blade in clutched fists. The sword was four feet in length, but as light as a feather in Nexadam�s hands. Despite that seeming weightlessness, the blade was hearty enough to cut through any flesh, any bone, any material. Nexadam moved his right hand to the hilt and slowly drew it from the sheath with a snaky hiss. The Sword of Swords. Created from the spirits of the blades of Creation and Destruction, Excalibur and Xirator. It had been used only twice. Once to defeat the King of the Forbidden World when Nerrexia rose to her position as Goddess, and once more to permanently seal the breach between dimensions when the Soulless threatened existence as mortals knew it. Nexadam had told the sword to sleep after that battle, thinking that he would never need to use it again.
�Awaken,� Nexadam whispered, holding the blade in both hands.
There was a brief moment of complete stillness before the sword in his hands suddenly burst into flame. A pure white light glowed around the edges, bringing no warmth but a deadly force of the energy of the user who wielded it. Nexadam could feel the awareness of the blade arise from the slumber he had asked upon it.
�Nexadam,� The voice of Nirandor rumbled, �why do you awaken me?�
�I am sorry my old friend,� Nexadam replied with a sigh, �it appears that I do need your services once again, as you said I would.�
�You have grown old,� Nirandor said critically, �you are in no fit shape to wield me.�
�Old I may be,� Nexadam said crisply, �but I still have an obligation that the Universe, and its Goddess Nerrexia laid down to me to defend life, and I am needed to do so in her apparent absence.�
The sword fell silent, before it burst out into a joyful laughter.
�You may have aged, but I see that you have not lost any of your old spirit! Good!� If Nirandor had been a person, Nexadam could imagine it to be grinning, �I look forward to fighting alongside you once again Nexadam.�
�I hope that it does not come to that,� Nexadam replied�
� When Hereth awoke at dawn, it was not to the cry of a cockerel, or to the baying of a cow in need of milking. It was the smell of fresh food being cooked drifting up through the floor panel. Although the room was warm, Hereth�s stomach won out over his need for rest and he was quickly dressed to walk downstairs.
Nexadam was moving around already. He wore the same plain clothes that he had worn the previous day, apparently still disinterested in the proposal that Hereth had laid down. Disappointed, Hereth collapsed in the chair as Nexadam served up two plates of bacon, sausage, eggs and beans, with a fresh loaf of warm bread already ready to be buttered. Hereth greedily consumed the breakfast whilst Nexadam brewed a strange drink involving some herbs within a gauze like bag.
�Tea,� He explained as he sat next to Hereth, �I cannot get myself going in the morning without a cup.�
�I�ve never heard of it,� Hereth admitted.
�None of you Erikimians have,� Nexadam grumbled, �I have to grow my own.�
Those were the only words he said. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence and Hereth waited politely for his host to finish. When he made no move to broach last night�s subject, Hereth once again took the initiative.
�About last night Nexadam,� He begun to say.
�You probably want to be on your way as soon as possible, right?� Nexadam replied.
Hereth�s hopes were crushed. He hadn�t been too hopeful on an affirmative decision from Nexadam, but the sudden and callous way in which he had thrown away his request hurt more than he thought it would. Hereth quickly masked that disappointment and straightened his back.
�You�re right. It�s a long ride back to Casis, and His Majesty needs to be told your decision as soon as possible so he can start planning,� Hereth said.
Nexadam nodded and finished the cup of tea, before cleaning the dishes and cutlery that he and Hereth had eaten with. The General shuffled uncomfortably on his seat, just wanting to be away now.
�I�ve put some supplies on your mare,� Nexadam said indifferently, �there should be enough food and water to get you to Casis. More than plenty. I�ve also made a change of clothing for you in case the storms return.�
Hereth nodded as he stood up and collected his sword and cloak from the entrance. Nexadam watched him impassively, opening the door for Hereth the moment he had finished putting on his equipment. Hereth stepped out slowly, the dawn sun lighting up the morning dew on the fields around the farmstead that Nexadam lived on. Hereth located his mare and saw that she looked a lot more refreshed than possible for only a night�s rest. She bore a couple of bags on her side and seemed serene in the dawn of the new day.
It didn�t escape Hereth�s eyes that Nexadam�s own stallion stood there saddled and stocked up with supplies. He felt his jaw begin to drop as the door behind him slammed with a sudden finality.
�It�s been a long time since I�ve left the house,� Nexadam mused, wearing a long grey traveller�s cloak, but bearing no arms, �it�ll do me good to get some exercise.�
�You mean you�re coming along too?� Hereth�s heart nearly burst with joy.
The warrior rolled his eyes.
�Don�t state the bleeding obvious man,� Nexadam said in a tone of voice Hereth had heard on his own grandfather so many times, �but I�m coming only to observe, not to act. I�ve only had one side of the story. Things may be different between what you say and what the truth is.�
�I understand,� Hereth didn�t care for his reasons, he only cared that he was coming. The legend Nexadam was riding alongside him. Nothing, not even the mouth of the Forbidden World itself could defeat Erikim now.
Nexadam swiftly mounted Nuan�den, who appeared full of boundless energy. The old warrior steadied him with soothing words and then looked to Hereth.
�Are you going to stand there all day, or shall we go?� He asked.
Not needing to be admonished twice, Hereth mounted his own horse and stepped alongside Nexadam. He looked up to the man who had been his idol and role model when he had grown up, and suddenly the journey home seemed less of a chore and more of a privilege.
�Let�s go,� Nexadam said softly, looking behind at his house as he nudged Nuan�den into a canter�
The horse underneath Hereth was beginning to stumble from exhaustion as the young General continued to force it to run, grimly determined to reach his destination as quickly as possible. Turf was strewn up from the ground as the horse�s hooves dug into the sodden soil, each gallop forward threatening to throw both horse and rider to their doom. Rain hit Hereth�s face, as he felt his body shiver from a day�s hard ride in appalling weather.
The house was growing closer. A solitary hut some twenty miles from the nearest settlement, which in itself was only a village with a population no more than two hundred. Getting directions out of the locals had been like drawing blood from a stone, but when Hereth had mentioned the name of King Jelar, the patron of the inn had finally relented and given directions cross country for him to follow. Hereth only hoped that he had not been misled.
The horse stumbled to a halt, lame from its journey. It barely stood as Hereth dismounted, cursing as he felt time slip through his fingers like the reins in his ice cold hands. He pulled himself forward, leading the horse and congratulating it for reaching this far.
�Please be in,� Hereth said to himself, �we need you now more than ever.�
The house was surrounded by a small fence more to mark its boundary than for its need. Both sides were dedicated to various plants, vegetables and herbs. Hereth spied a few goat and deer grazing on the outskirts of the house, and he could hear horses and other animals within the stable across from the house. The stable looked old, but sturdy, reliable in the harsh weather that Erikim was experiencing.
The house itself was built out of solid stone. It looked like it had been joined seamlessly, as if formed from one piece. The roof of the house was slate, and the chimney was pumping out smoke from the fire to warm the occupant within. Hereth resisted the urge to run in and stand in front of that fire. He still had to get his horse secure somehow.
�You really ran her hard,� A voice said from behind him, making Hereth jump out of his skin.
The General turned around and found himself looking up into the eyes of a legend. He felt his legs weaken in awe as the man strode over to the horse and put a hand on her neck. The horse looked at him and finally nickered gratefully as the man smiled and patted her fondly.
�She�s a tough old girl though. She may look exhausted, but she�ll pull through with a little help,� He said, before he turned to examine Hereth, �I don�t think you�d ride out here in this storm unless you had something important to tell me. Go and get warm. I�ll be in once I�ve settled your steed.�
Hereth still couldn�t find his tongue to speak, and the man took that as assent. He took the reins of the horse and clucked his cheeks to lead her away from the General. Hereth watched him walk away, before the wind picked up, blowing spray into his face. Hereth shuddered and walked into the house. The relief of being out of the rain was enough as he stood there, enjoying the sudden infusion of warmth. After a minute, he realised he was dripping a puddle in the entrance. Moving fast, Hereth took off his sodden cloak and hung it at the entrance. He unbuckled his sword belt and leant it against the wall, before walking into the main sitting place.
The house wasn�t built as traditional homes in Erikim were. It seemed to have more partitions than Hereth thought necessary. The entrance split into two directions, the left into the kitchen and eating area, and the right into a reading room of sorts. The fire burned on the far wall of the reading room, and there were a circle of chairs gathered around the fire. A chandelier hung in the middle, illuminating that central area whilst curtains were drawn across windows both towards the door and at the other end of the house. Hereth moved himself to the fire and held his hands out, feeling the flickering flame lick against the cold and melt it away.
�I�ve put her in with some grain,� The voice said again, startling Hereth almost into the fire, �Nuan�den seems quite keen on her. It�s been a while since he�s had company of his own species.�
The mystical white steed. Hereth had heard the tales from his grandfather about the first appearance of that steed and its owner. How his great-grandfather had fought alongside the warrior, and how they had eventually secured Erikim�s freedom.
Those grey-green eyes regarded Hereth critically, as if measuring the man. Hereth tried to hold that gaze, the stories he had been told bringing a larger than life image of the man to his head.
�I have some old clothes upstairs,� The man mused, running his hand through his iron grey hair, �while they�ll still be a bit big for you, it�ll do until your own garments dry a bit.�
�Thank you,� Hereth replied.
The warrior was only gone for a minute, allowing Hereth a quick glance around the room. Books lined a bookcase against the far wall, a fair collection of tomes collected from the far edges of the country. In one corner, there was a study table with a weird sort of light shining upon the contents. Curious, Hereth moved over and looked down. There were pages upon pages of text, written in a strangely foreign shape of writing that he could barely understand. Maps of Erikim and the overseas country Tyrinia were hand drawn with great clarity, along with dotted routes across land.
�Please don�t drip water on them,� The man said. Hereth was used to being surprised now.
�Sorry. I was just�� Hereth begun to apologise.
�They�re memoirs,� The man said, his voice distant, �details of the journey I undertook as best as I remember them. I put off putting it all down to paper for such a long time. Some of the events aren�t as clear as what they once were.�
Hereth gratefully accepted the clothes as the man left the room again to give him opportunity to change. Hereth finished just as he returned, carrying a tray that contained a mug of hot spiced wine and a bowl of broth. Hereth greedily accepted both and quickly drained both the wine and the broth as the man watched him with those powerful eyes. Once Hereth was finished, the man took the bowl and mug away, before returning again and sitting in the chair.
The silence was awkward to begin with as the man appeared indifferent to beginning conversation. Hereth was still tongue tied. His host had been very courteous, offering him everything he needed in order to get warm and comfortable after the strenuous ride. Even his horse was safe in the stable, resting up for the return journey. Hereth just could not think of where to start. What could he say to a man who had saved the world by himself?
�You�re Karim�s grandson, aren�t you?� The man asked finally, his eyes regarding Hereth again.
�That is correct,� Hereth replied with a curt nod, �Hereth, son of Beldar, son of Karim, son of Eldrik.�
�I was there the day you were born. Must�ve been twenty two years ago now,� The man said, his eyes narrowing as he studied Hereth�s features, �there�s a bit of your great-grandfather about your nose and your eyes, but you look a lot more like your mother.�
Hereth swallowed, unable to take his own gaze away from those eyes. Images of a warrior wearing shining silver armour and a white cloak fluttering in the wind whilst bearing down on an army of rabid orcs, two burning swords aflame as he carved a path to victory for the Erikimian people. Hereth�s grandfather had told the story of the battle of the Citadel in which Nexadam�s timely appearance had saved the Citadel from falling.
Here he was now. Nexadam. The name sent chills down Hereth�s spine. Nexadam. Leader of the Knights of the Covenant and Warriors of Langstone. Shaman of the Sorcerers� Circle. Slayer of the evil Gods, Ramadril of Creation and Mortrex of Destruction. The Dimension Walker, able to see the strands of fate for each and every decision that people made and able to walk the correct path to victory. The Damned Soul. Here Hereth was, with the man whom his grandfather had idolised and who he had grown up trying to mimic.
He had grown older. Whereas his hair had once been as black as the night, Nexadam�s hair was now iron grey. His skin was a bit more taut in places, weather-worn and scarred from countless battles. His hands were calloused from many years of hard work both with sword and with tools to build his own place of solitude. There was still the aura of invincibility about him. Even though Nexadam was only slightly younger than Hereth�s grandfather�s 70 years of age, he looked as if he had only reached 40.
�What can I do for you son?� Nexadam asked, rocking back in his chair, �I take it you didn�t ride flat out for close to a day just to pay me a social call.�
�My Lord Nexadam,� Hereth began.
�First of all, enough of that,� Nexadam cut in, �I gave up my knighthood to your kingdom a long time ago. Just after your grandfather retired from active service. I didn�t agree with the new King�s ideas.�
�What should I call you then? Nexadam?� Hereth enquired politely.
A half smile spread across the old man�s face, but it was one that was marked with years of pain and anguish. The warrior sighed and the smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
�Nexadam isn�t even the name I was given at birth,� He sighed finally, �but it�ll suffice.�
Karim waited for the warrior to look back to him before he continued. He did not want to interrupt the thoughts of this man.
�Nexadam� I was sent here by King Jelar. We are in dire need of your aid. News has reached us that Tyrinia has landed a large force of troops on the north coast of the country. We are unable to match their sheer numbers. His Majesty has begun to gather the populace together to form an army, but he is worried that it isn�t going to be enough. He wishes that you stand alongside us once again to fight the enemy as you did fifty years ago. We need you Nexadam, otherwise Erikim will fall,� Hereth said.
The fire continued to crackle in the background as Nexadam leant back, his head resting on the back of his chair. His fingers drummed against the arms of the chair, before he sighed and leant forward.
�Hereth. It�s been five and thirty years since I lifted my sword. I can barely remember where it is. These hands are built now only to sustain this land and keep me in relative peace. I won�t be any help to you as a warrior in this conflict. That stage of my life passed a long time ago,� Nexadam said.
�Even so, just your name amongst the army would encourage everyone to fight so much harder. The General of old has returned. The man who met the Holy Knights of Mortrex in battle at Casis and who survived the siege! The man who rode into Tyrinia and eliminated the God Mortrex! The man who defied fate and eliminated Ramadril of Creation. The man who for seven years rode the length and breadth of the country, fighting Demonspawn and creatures of myth to hold us together. The man who drew all the Erikimians together and fought off the Soulless. The man who rode into the mouth of the Forbidden World and bought us peace with a new God! If you were to just be there for us Nexadam, it would mean so much,� Hereth said.
Nexadam moved to his feet and paced across the room to look out of the window. He was in great shape. If Hereth reached seventy plus still able to move and look like Nexadam, he would be thankful.
�You forced the Tyrinians back overseas didn�t you? Ten years after the world had been restored?� Nexadam asked, not turning to look back at Hereth.
�That�s what grandfather told me,� Hereth replied, �apparently once you had sent your friends back home, the two sides were at loggerheads with one another. The Tyrinians still believed deep down in Mortrex, despite the true teachings of Nerrexia. In the end it was either send them overseas or bloodshed. The King chose the lesser of two evils.�
The hands of the warrior opened and closed as his back stiffened.
�Why is it that humanity always searches for some reason to kill?� He asked bitterly, �religion, race, creed. None of this matters once you pass into the Void for judgement by the Higher World.�
�We know that Mortrex is a false God. We cannot allow the Tyrinian Empire to force them upon us,� Hereth replied, leaping to take the initiative.
Nexadam spun around, and his eyes were burning in fury. Hereth froze in his seat, too petrified to move, his whole body paralysed. Nexadam made no move to approach, but Hereth knew that if the other man wished it, he would be dead on the spot. He begun to say a silent prayer to Nerrexia that the anger in those eyes would not boil over uncontrollably.
�You fool,� Nexadam hissed, his voice even more terrible in its calmness with the anger in his eyes, �you truly believe that zeal? Just because Mortrex is dead does not make him a false God. To the Tyrinians, he was God. You cannot alter that fact, especially after fifty years. If you seek battle to eliminate them because of religion, then you will meet my wrath in the battlefield.�
Hereth quaked in his chair as Nexadam�s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he closed his eyes. A large hand passed over his face and the kindly face returned.
�I am sick of killing,� Nexadam whispered, �I do not want to kill another person for the rest of my existence. I do not want to make innocents suffer. Women and children who will live without husbands and fathers because their leader wishes to stamp his beliefs on others.�
Hereth chose his next words very carefully, knowing that on them would hinge Nexadam�s support.
�This isn�t merely an army bred to reclaim the land that we took away from them,� He said, �it�s an army bred for destruction. Every single man, woman and child of Tyrinia is here. Their Emperor claims to be the Divine chosen of the resurrected God of Destruction. He is calling us all heathens,� Hereth said, �Nexadam� They are the ones starting the holy war.�
Nexadam said nothing, did not move. The crackling of the fire drove Hereth to distraction and he wanted to howl, to leap up and pound this man on the chest. Time was of the essence, and this man was dawdling. Maybe age was affecting him, making his thought addled.
�You trouble me,� Nexadam said finally, �and you give me much to think about.�
The warrior sat back in the chair and cupped his hands together, with the index fingers pointing up. He placed his hands to his mouth so that the tips of his fingers touched the edge of his nose. Cold grey eyes locked upon Hereth�s own.
�You must be tired,� He said neutrally, �I understand you want an answer quickly, but there is no need for you to leave tonight. Rest here, and be at peace.�
The warrior stood and led Hereth to a spare bed up the stairs. He provided a single lantern and a flint to light it. Hereth waited for Nexadam to leave the room before his head hit the pillow. Sleep claimed him within seconds�
� For Nexadam, the night held no sleep. While he did try to keep a normal sleep pattern, his body itself did not require it. He could regenerate his life-force in other ways. Sleeping allowed him to dream, and he missed some things in his life. To dream was a welcome release.
Tonight he had to think about what Hereth had told him. Once again he was faced with only one side of a tale. The good of the followers of the true Goddess Nerrexia against the evil followers of the �false� God Mortrex. Try as hard as he could to ignore this problem, and to let people sort out their differences by themselves, Nexadam knew he could not just let blood to be shed unnecessarily.
He left the house silently and walked to the stable where Nuan�den and Hereth�s mare were safely tucked up. The white horse was as old as Nexadam, but also had an extended life that he could not explain. Nuan�den felt his master�s approach and nickered, moving around his stall to face Nexadam�s approach. The warrior placed a hand on the horses snout and smiled again.
�It appears we need to ride once more my friend. I hope you�re up to it,� He said.
The horse snorted and pawed the floor once. Were it not for the gate in front of him, he would already be halfway to Casis. Nexadam nodded approvingly before he continued on to the back of the stable. There was a small room with a sturdy lock on the door, a lock that had no key. Nexadam placed his hand over the chain and murmured a quick word of command. With a click the padlock unbolted itself and the chain, made out of a compound the sorcerer Mamejo had created that was harder than steel, snaked down onto the floor.
Nexadam opened the door and light flooded into the room for the first time in almost four decades. Despite its abandonment, the room was in the same condition as Nexadam had left it. He walked in slowly and looked at the standing cloth in front of him, covering something that was man height. With a quick tug, Nexadam pulled the cloth free to expose his old suit of armour. The shining silver that had lit up the hopes of the Erikimian people all those years ago. The golden dragon stood on the front of the breastplate, striking fear into those who saw it ride their way.
Nexadam turned around to the wall to his right and opened up the chest that lay on the floor. He pulled out his shield, a two foot diameter plate of steel, again marked with a golden dragon. Though it had been struck many times, not one dent was left on its face, an enchantment of the Gods of old. Nexadam placed it with the rest of the armour and lowered his hands in one more time, lifting out the last item of worth.
Nirandor. Nexadam�s hands trembled as he held the sheathed blade in clutched fists. The sword was four feet in length, but as light as a feather in Nexadam�s hands. Despite that seeming weightlessness, the blade was hearty enough to cut through any flesh, any bone, any material. Nexadam moved his right hand to the hilt and slowly drew it from the sheath with a snaky hiss. The Sword of Swords. Created from the spirits of the blades of Creation and Destruction, Excalibur and Xirator. It had been used only twice. Once to defeat the King of the Forbidden World when Nerrexia rose to her position as Goddess, and once more to permanently seal the breach between dimensions when the Soulless threatened existence as mortals knew it. Nexadam had told the sword to sleep after that battle, thinking that he would never need to use it again.
�Awaken,� Nexadam whispered, holding the blade in both hands.
There was a brief moment of complete stillness before the sword in his hands suddenly burst into flame. A pure white light glowed around the edges, bringing no warmth but a deadly force of the energy of the user who wielded it. Nexadam could feel the awareness of the blade arise from the slumber he had asked upon it.
�Nexadam,� The voice of Nirandor rumbled, �why do you awaken me?�
�I am sorry my old friend,� Nexadam replied with a sigh, �it appears that I do need your services once again, as you said I would.�
�You have grown old,� Nirandor said critically, �you are in no fit shape to wield me.�
�Old I may be,� Nexadam said crisply, �but I still have an obligation that the Universe, and its Goddess Nerrexia laid down to me to defend life, and I am needed to do so in her apparent absence.�
The sword fell silent, before it burst out into a joyful laughter.
�You may have aged, but I see that you have not lost any of your old spirit! Good!� If Nirandor had been a person, Nexadam could imagine it to be grinning, �I look forward to fighting alongside you once again Nexadam.�
�I hope that it does not come to that,� Nexadam replied�
� When Hereth awoke at dawn, it was not to the cry of a cockerel, or to the baying of a cow in need of milking. It was the smell of fresh food being cooked drifting up through the floor panel. Although the room was warm, Hereth�s stomach won out over his need for rest and he was quickly dressed to walk downstairs.
Nexadam was moving around already. He wore the same plain clothes that he had worn the previous day, apparently still disinterested in the proposal that Hereth had laid down. Disappointed, Hereth collapsed in the chair as Nexadam served up two plates of bacon, sausage, eggs and beans, with a fresh loaf of warm bread already ready to be buttered. Hereth greedily consumed the breakfast whilst Nexadam brewed a strange drink involving some herbs within a gauze like bag.
�Tea,� He explained as he sat next to Hereth, �I cannot get myself going in the morning without a cup.�
�I�ve never heard of it,� Hereth admitted.
�None of you Erikimians have,� Nexadam grumbled, �I have to grow my own.�
Those were the only words he said. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence and Hereth waited politely for his host to finish. When he made no move to broach last night�s subject, Hereth once again took the initiative.
�About last night Nexadam,� He begun to say.
�You probably want to be on your way as soon as possible, right?� Nexadam replied.
Hereth�s hopes were crushed. He hadn�t been too hopeful on an affirmative decision from Nexadam, but the sudden and callous way in which he had thrown away his request hurt more than he thought it would. Hereth quickly masked that disappointment and straightened his back.
�You�re right. It�s a long ride back to Casis, and His Majesty needs to be told your decision as soon as possible so he can start planning,� Hereth said.
Nexadam nodded and finished the cup of tea, before cleaning the dishes and cutlery that he and Hereth had eaten with. The General shuffled uncomfortably on his seat, just wanting to be away now.
�I�ve put some supplies on your mare,� Nexadam said indifferently, �there should be enough food and water to get you to Casis. More than plenty. I�ve also made a change of clothing for you in case the storms return.�
Hereth nodded as he stood up and collected his sword and cloak from the entrance. Nexadam watched him impassively, opening the door for Hereth the moment he had finished putting on his equipment. Hereth stepped out slowly, the dawn sun lighting up the morning dew on the fields around the farmstead that Nexadam lived on. Hereth located his mare and saw that she looked a lot more refreshed than possible for only a night�s rest. She bore a couple of bags on her side and seemed serene in the dawn of the new day.
It didn�t escape Hereth�s eyes that Nexadam�s own stallion stood there saddled and stocked up with supplies. He felt his jaw begin to drop as the door behind him slammed with a sudden finality.
�It�s been a long time since I�ve left the house,� Nexadam mused, wearing a long grey traveller�s cloak, but bearing no arms, �it�ll do me good to get some exercise.�
�You mean you�re coming along too?� Hereth�s heart nearly burst with joy.
The warrior rolled his eyes.
�Don�t state the bleeding obvious man,� Nexadam said in a tone of voice Hereth had heard on his own grandfather so many times, �but I�m coming only to observe, not to act. I�ve only had one side of the story. Things may be different between what you say and what the truth is.�
�I understand,� Hereth didn�t care for his reasons, he only cared that he was coming. The legend Nexadam was riding alongside him. Nothing, not even the mouth of the Forbidden World itself could defeat Erikim now.
Nexadam swiftly mounted Nuan�den, who appeared full of boundless energy. The old warrior steadied him with soothing words and then looked to Hereth.
�Are you going to stand there all day, or shall we go?� He asked.
Not needing to be admonished twice, Hereth mounted his own horse and stepped alongside Nexadam. He looked up to the man who had been his idol and role model when he had grown up, and suddenly the journey home seemed less of a chore and more of a privilege.
�Let�s go,� Nexadam said softly, looking behind at his house as he nudged Nuan�den into a canter�