The Lost Knight

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. There was a time when a knight saddled on a horse was the highest position a man could achieve without being a member of the nobility. Now there are rumours that dragons have been brought in from far across the seas. Every merchant has a different story to say, some say they are the size of a common house cat and others say small children can ride them as they do on sheep. Lords from across the realm have summoned retainers to seek out the truth behind these rumours.

It was late in the afternoon and the sun was beginning to set, when the man was leading his faithful companion along a mud trailed road. Even though the sun’s glowing descends displayed an array of cerulean, crimson, and velvet, in the sky. Their mood was dank and vexed, this was despite even the springtime’s fresh atmosphere and the flowers growing amidst the greenery of the passing meadows. All the man noticed was his leather boots that were soaked and sloshed about in last night’s rain as he walked along the path. Occasionally one of his boots would get stuck; he would express blasphemy as he lugged himself free. His companion pulled on the lead, swished its tail quickly from side to side, and flickered its ears. To comfort it the man stroked gently along its neck, but the muscles felt tense underneath.

“Not far to go now, boy.” He groaned

Their path followed through a small village, as they passed the traveller’s inn, he caught a whiff of the aromas streaming out. It was a roasting suckle pig, he took a deep breath through his nose and as his chest expanded so did his knowledge of herbs used. They brushed it with lemon zest and rosemary. His stomach grumbled and churned but could only sigh and moved on. As they passed the last house in the village he sighed again and rubbed his forehead.

“If a man is foolish enough to take a seat with unknown characters and drink more than his senses can endure, then loses his lord’s gifted coin for travel in a game of chance, was he robbed? The bar wench with blonde hair did offer him a free round of ale. The price she requested for a night of her company was more than he had, she did whisper to him about the dice game across the room, and she did say they were just rich fools playing.”

The thought brought a frown on his temple. He did manage to keep his gambeson on his back, the innkeeper stopped the game before he bet that. Curious, why would an innkeeper care about a game of dice that is of no concern to his trade? His first wave of frustration forced his figures to curl into a fist. He slowly raised his head and turned back in the direction from which he came. His right hand wrapped around the grip of his sword, but a neigh and a gentle head-butt from his horse returned his mind to sanity.

He peered at his horse, “You understand me?” with a moan, he gave a placid tug on his lead. “People can be wretched creatures! It is getting late and if we want to get to the castle by nightfall, we need to make haste.” He whispered to his horse.

It was now hours since he left the village, and the moonlight replaced the sun’s bright dyes in the sky with cobalt and dark shadows. The cold and crisp were now setting in and clouded breaths formed in front of him as he strode along determined not to make haste. Gusts of wind brought a cold shiver down his back and made the shadows cast by branches dance as he looked down on the road ahead. Without warning his reluctant companion neighed and relentlessly pulled on his lead, “hoo boy steady, what has gotten into you?” To be sure he peered to the left then right, but only noticed the forest gently swaying, but nothing more. So, he turned back ahead and gave the lead another tug. At that moment as though one of the branches just sprouted to life it slithered and disappeared into the undergrowth…