Chapter One: A Journey Ends

Sir Gawain finally reached the crest of the last hill that had obscured his view of the valley leading down to Ardougne. There below him, the lush wooded countryside of Kandarin was losing the last of the morning mist which clung to tree, meadow and hedgerow. In the distance were the houses and halls of Ardougne and to the south the tall masts of ships lying at anchor. A glint from the Paladin Tower caught his eye and drew a smile on his weathered face. At last, his quest was complete and on the promise of King Lathas, a well earned rest would be his to enjoy for many days.

He drew his weather stained white cape about him and nudged his steed onwards, down the gentle slope which would take him to his home.

Years of living with danger had honed his senses to danger plus there was something else that at times almost screamed in his head when he was about to face peril. He never knew exactly what it was that made him do this and he had no control over it. If anything, the less he thought about it, the more powerful and sensitive it became. This was such a time and within sight of safety and rest, his guard had almost dropped completely. The sudden raising of the hackles on his neck came a split second before he heard something snap behind him. Maybe it was a fallen branch or maybe it was the sound of a weapon being drawn, there was no time to mentally analyse it. It was an unnatural sound, out of place and therefore it was a threat.

Faster than the eye could see, his steed pivoted on the spot almost without being told, having undoubtedly picked up on the danger as well. Gawain had the short rune metalled sword in his fighting hand and drew the imposing flank of his horse round so he could parry and counter any blow that came. He just had time to hope he wasn’t in the sights of an archer but realised he would not have heard anything but the zing from an arrow and the thunk as it hit his armour. A headshot would have been the only real problem. Fatal, but lucky and sometimes even the enemy had luck on their side.

He scanned his field of view for the threat, the sword brought from parry to attack. There was little point in drawing out the dragon axe, heavy and slow, it was of little use on horseback surrounded by trees where the advantage lay in speed and manoeuvrability.

The horse snorted and reared up suddenly, almost throwing him off balance but they had faced too many battles together to catch the other by surprise and Gawain quickly adjusted for the rise in the horse’s head. It gave him a slightly better view of the terrain and would serve to wrong foot any attacker who would now have the flailing legs to deal with.

The horse came back down to earth and stood motionless. Gawain strained ears and eyes but saw and heard nothing. He quickly dug his heels into the flanks of the horse and they cantered in a circle, nothing to be seen anywhere but the horse remained uneasy. It continued moving, turning this way and that, unwilling to stay still and present an easy target.

They widened their path but despite their best efforts nothing but the birds in the trees made any noise. Gawain leaned forward and pulled slightly on the reins bringing his mighty warhorse to a slow trot and then stillness. The horse flicked his ears irritably, he never liked being still when spooked like this but Gawain refused to let him move. Around him, the sound of the woods and the gentle wind through the trees were all there was and barely on the edge of hearing, the distant voices of Ardougne, dulled by the wood & hills. ‘Well boy, if anyone is out there, they’ve managed to fool the woods as well’ Said Gawain and gently stroked the proud neck. The horse bucked his head which brought a smile to the Legend’s face. It was as if the horse was actually nodding in agreement. It had always been and probably always would be the biggest obstacle to ambush in the wooded lands that the first sign of danger was absence of any noise at all. If the animals around them were going about their unseen business it was fairly safe to assume there was no unnatural presence. Nevertheless it was always wise to assume nothing, that wasn’t how you grew old in this line of work.

So what had made them act that way? Thought Gawain. They had both reacted instantly to the same stimulus so he hadn’t imagined it, yet there was nothing there. This had only happened a handful of times in his life so he wasn’t prepared to readily accept it but had to admit just because it was a rarity, didn’t mean it would never happen again. Sometimes the world had a habit of being inexplicable. He gave one last look around, grunted and spurred the horse back in the direction of the city.

‘Come on boy, lets go home. I think we’ve both been away too long’ He said and pulled lightly on the mane. The horse didn’t need telling twice, he was just as keen to reach his old stable and a long brushing from the stable boys so they set off steadily but warily through the trees as Gawain sheathed his sword and started to hum an old coming home song of the Knights of the Legends Guild.

The familiar sounds and sights of the outlying lands of Ardougne raised his spirits and purged the fatigue from his body and soul. Roaring fires, good food and ale, stories and best of all, a fine woman all beckoned him onwards. It felt like an age before the walls of his home city arose out of the landscape and he caught the sound of daily life bustling through the busy streets that he knew so well.

The Eastern gate was guarded, as always, by the least alert of the Palace household. It was not considered vulnerable to attack, the barbarians to the north had long been pacified and it seemed a bit of a joke to call them barbarians anymore. The worst act they committed these days was killing chickens for sale at the markets. They still wore their traditional garb and warrior tokens but it was an old man in Ardougne who could actually recall there ever being a fight with them.

King Lathas had been a sensible ruler of Asgarnia, using his principal city’s position as a gateway to the mysterious lands of the south as a profitable means of financing the much needed changes in his kingdom. The chaos he had inherited had ravaged the land and mighty armies had threatened to annihilate his people. In his youth he had fought in the wars as a barely known Prince, but had proven his worth. In the end his father had been victorious. Some said he had just been lucky but history would only record the fact that he won, unconcerned with luck.

As soon as he had the opportunity, Lathas had made peace with the enemies that had halted the growth and prosperity of his land. Trade treaties and riches poured into the neighbouring kingdoms and had so far guaranteed the peace. That and the fact that Lathas had kept his word to lands bordering his on the terms which he had offered and they had accepted.

The benefits of that policy were plain to see. The buildings were in good repair, people were fed and clothed. Sickness and disease were kept to a minimum by the well maintained sanitation and vermin control.

Some people wondered why there was a need for a standing army and the spending of huge sums on weapons and training. No one was going to attack and break what was a beneficial way of life to all. Naturally there had been several crises and it had been up to knights such as Sir Gawain to use discretion and skill in resolving the potential flashpoints. The methods had often been unconventional but King Lathas was more interested in results than techniques. That was why he used men like Sir Gawain. They spoke little of their exploits, told few where they were and got on with the job. The King was no fool though, he knew a well trained standing army was always a good card to have in his hand when dealing with obstinate foreign kings.

You may not like what you hear O great visitor but I have an army of 7 thousand well trained and fully armed soldiers stood here telling you I’m right! Well Thought Sir Gawain, I have kept my side of the deal, now it is King Lathas’ turn to keep his.

Convention required him to present himself to the King and as he approached the grey walled city at the Eastern gate he smiled. The two guards leaned against the open gate and barely marked his approach until he was within earshot of them. As usual, they were arguing over gaming and money and had he been a hostile intruder, neither of them would have lived very long.

As if on cue, his horse snorted and the sound made the two guards look around, then look again with wide eyes. They snatched up their weapons, straightened their helms and stood to attention only in time to have the horse draw up to them and glare directly at eye level in a way neither found very comfortable. ‘Ah, Sir Gawain’ Said one, ‘ Welcome sir. We were told to expect you. Everything is in order. You may proceed’. It was a belated attempt at professionalism but not even slovenly guards were going to ruin this day for the knight.

Even so, he could not let the opportunity pass to make them sweat just a little, so he stared silently, joining his horse in an intense scrutiny that soon produced beads of sweat on the brows of his hapless victims. The punishments for being found in dereliction of duty were severe. The smile was never far from his face and after he considered they had suffered enough, he spoke pleasantly and amiably. ‘ Thank you. Good to be home again. Has it been quiet in my absence ? ‘ Neither guard really knew what to say. Knights never spoke to guards like this. Especially not after catching them wanting in their duties. ‘ Oh yes’ Stammered one, ‘ Everything has been well sir. Nothing to report’ They both awaited the onslaught that would never come. ‘ Excellent’ Exclaimed the knight, ‘ Then I shall ride to the Palace in the knowledge that Ardougne’s gate is well guarded’ Without awaiting the reply, he rode on through and was in another world, unaware of the incredulous looks of the guards at their good fortune.

People crowded the streets, market traders yelled their slogans. Hagglers argued noisily, guards broke up disputes and carted away vagabonds and beggars. Carts crowded the thoroughfares and owners cursed their mules, children ran and screamed in between the legs of the animals and jumped into the gaps of the stalls. Some of the braver ones helped themselves to fruit and cakes and disappeared into the throng before angry stallholders could curse or run after them.

It was good to be home, these were the streets he had grown up in. The market in Ardougne was the very centre of life in the east city; it never stopped, from sunrise to dusk. The surrounding areas all supplied it with goods and the stalls sold everything from wolf furs that hunters trapped in the mountains and wild lands to exotic spices and silks from the far away desert kingdom of Al Kharid.

He had learned to fend for himself here, stealing food and goods to sell, living off his wits. A skill he now put to good use. He never forgot his beginnings, or the lessons they had taught him. Instead he had used what he learned and risen through the ranks to become one of the most respected knights of the court.

The crowd parted for him as he made his way slowly through, shouting greetings to old friends, returning good wishes and jokes with many who had known him all his life. He reached inside his travel saddle and threw an intricately carved figurine to his cousin Haralad who ran a trinket stall. The piece had been made by the tribesmen of Karamja and depicted a demon head with pouting lips and forked tongue flicking out. In it’s claw it held a sable spear, the symbol of evil on that tangled and treacherous island. He had ‘relieved’ a robber of it who made the mistake of demanding a levy from Sir Gawain five nights earlier. Haralad caught the artefact expertly, this being the nth time he had greeted his cousin in this manner. It would be worth a small fortune to him and he smiled his gratitude to Gawain.

Finally he made his way to the Paladin Tower which rose above all other buildings within both sides of the City. On it’s tall spires banners fluttered in the light breeze and the white and gold symbols of the house of King Lathas shone for all to see.

He had little time for the Paladins. Most were retired knights of Equerry who had never left the confines of the Palace walls. They strutted around in their fine gold capes, pretending to be worthy opponents yet no one could recall a Paladin winning renown on the field of battle. It was merely rank they held, frightening peasants and unarmed thieves was no way to earn respect or honour. They knew Gawain well and gave him a wide berth, pretending not to notice his approach. He ignored them in a similair way, diplomacy was an art he had learned the hard way and not one he enjoyed.

Within the courtyard he sat on his horse and watched the household guard training. His expert eye studied the form of those involved, evaluating who was showing skill and who would be safer in the kitchens. The guards wore light armour for these sessions and their weapons, the exact weight and dimensions of the real article, were blunted to avoid serious injury as the pairs practiced cut, parry, thrust. Block, barge and strike. It came automatically after the thousandth repetition and they were lessons well learned if a young man wanted to survive.

‘No no no. What the hell are you doing?’ A loud voice roared from the sides. It was accompanied by an equally large frame which looked as if it had been stuffed into the suit of armour that only just contained it. A grey beard finished off the look as Yolander strode into the middle of a pair of hapless trainees. He grabbed them both in his mighty hands and banged their heads together. There was a loud clang as the bronze helms met, followed by a cry. The students staggered back to the roar of laughter from the watchers and other students.

‘Watch and learn you idiots’ Yolander shouted. He snatched a mace from one of his victims and took up position opposite the other who was still trying to clear his blurred vision. When he did regain it, he did not like what he saw.

Yolander towered over him and may have been nearer sixty five years old but his hands had dispatched more men than many there gathered could count to.

‘Like this’ He snapped and beckoned his opponent to come on to him.

The boy hesitated and held his short sword loosely, showing no desire to attack the giant before him.

‘Listen boy, either you come at me, or I will come at you. Believe me, you don’t want me to do that!’ Snarled Yolander.

It was then he espied Sir Gawain across the courtyard and stood up from his defensive posture. Even at this distance Sir Gawain could see the broad grin and smiled back his own greeting. Yolander had been his mentor and father figure for as long as he could remember.

As a boy he had come here to watch the guards and try to be noticed, as did many of the boys of the city. They would sit all day and await the opportunity to persuade a guard to duel. Some fought well enough that the trainers would look across and notice them. It was this very way he had come to the attention of Yolander.

He had been just a skinny snot nosed urchin who for his cheek was thrown a wooden battleaxe by one of the champion guards who had seen the boy day after day sit and try to give battle. There was no honour in humiliating a guppy so his challenges had been laughed at and ignored. The older boys had pushed him out of the courtyard, laughing and mocking him.

In his anger, seeing this as the only chance he had of avoiding starving to death, he had climbed the outside wall of the keep. From his high vantage point, he had dropped his trousers and urinated on the assembled boys.

Yolander had been amused and impressed by the boy’s action who had shown no fear of either the climb, nor the consequences of his actions. His barked command to leave off brought instant silence. The boy craned his neck to look at Yolander and believed he was about to die. The man could have stamped on him he was that tall. Instead Gawain found himself holding an axe he could barely keep level, facing a tower of metal. But the giant did not mock him, neither did he laugh. He looked the boy in the eye and said quietly, ‘Alright lad, show me what you can do apart from climb and piss’ Gawain knew there would never be another opportunity for him. If he failed this, the gathered boys would beat him senseless and never let him within fifty paces of the Tower again. It really was now or never. He gripped the axe, side stepped and lunged at Yolander who easily parried the blow to the side. Gawain had stumbled and fallen forwards to the derisory laughter of the boys who awaited their revenge. He shut out their taunts and insults which they threw at him with growing boldness, assuming Yolander was playing to the crowd.

The boy spun round faster than anyone thought him capable of and as Yolander turned to meet his attack, Gawain used his body inertia to swing the axe. It was assumed by everybody that he would aim a body blow but Gawain knew he had no chance of making that contact. Instead, he had dropped the axe as it swung, adding even more speed to it’s attack. The wooden edge struck Yolander midway up his shin with a dull thud. The armoured shin guard and padding meant he barely felt the blow but the boy had struck him and that was not something anyone saw more than once a year. To Gawain it felt as if he had hit a rock, the force of the impact nearly broke his wrist. The axe dropped from his hands and he yelped in surprise as much as in pain.

Yolander had stood motionless staring first at his shin and then at the boy. A collective gasp went up from the crowd and they expected to see the boy’s severed head go flying over the highest parapet. Surely Yolander was going to explode in a rage that would clear a space several hundred paces around him.

Instead he had just stood there, looking at the boy, then at his shin.

When they heard a low rumble of laughter people looked to one another. Was this right? Was he really amused?

Yolander leant back and let out a mighty bellow of a laugh.

‘Zammorak’s curse boy, you actually landed a blow on me! You caught me!’

‘Look lads, I’ve met my match’ He shouted and carried the still terrified youth towards the Guards’ Keep. Still laughing he had put the boy down at the doorway and called to his Lieutenant.

‘Get this boy something to eat, then some decent clothes and find him a bed. I have a new esquire and you will train him in the ways of the Guard’. It was not a request and was obeyed as a royal decree.

‘Yes sir’ The Lieutenant had replied and taken Gawain by the shoulder and led the still disbelieving boy into a new life.

That had been thirty years ago and since that day he had grown in stature and skill and always under the watchful and skilful eye of Yolander who now strode over to greet his adopted son. His arms wide open in welcome resembled a two sail windmill and Gawain dismounted to receive the crushing bear hug of the man he loved like a father.

‘Gawain! My boy, how the hell are you?’

Gawain disentangled himself and smiled warmly.

‘Tired and glad to be home sir. It is good to see you again’ He said as they stared long and knowingly, all the years of their friendship apparent for those who watched. There was little they needed to say to each other and so Gawain looked to the guards who had felt themselves reprieved.

‘Looks like someone didn’t listen .’ He said, ‘ Keep your eye on the bloody thing or it will take your bloody eye with it’ He added in mock Yolander voice. He was the only person who dared say such a thing. Everybody, except the errant students, laughed.

‘I’ll deal with you later you cheeky young whelp’ Growled Yolander and cuffed him around the side of the head with his vambrace but the glint in his eye betrayed the pride he was trying to suppress. ‘Now go and report to your King before he orders you beheaded’ Gawain laughed and led his horse through the portcullis entrance to the inner courtyard. He gently stroked the powerful neck of the horse who turned and nuzzled his head against his master’s, snorting gently in pleasure and affection.

‘Well my old friend, we are home. I will come and see you before I retire for the night. Go and rest, you have earned it’.

He was joined by a young page who took his steed to the stables. His own esquire was away on an errand, earning his right to bear a shield with the King’s coat of arms. Soon enough the boy would be ready to face the dragons and earn his plate armour. That was two years away but time just seemed to fly as Gawain got older.

With no esquire or page to greet him and lead him to court, he made his own way through the corridors draped in the banners, portraits and trophies of three centuries of history. Stained glass coloured the corridors with patterns of light and the dark wood furniture held ornaments and gifts that shone brightly. It was a corridor designed to impress visiting dignitaries but Gawain had walked it that many times, he barely even noticed it’s teasures.

As he approached the main hall of the palace he heard the distinct laugh of King Lathas which he only used when receiving foreign dignitaries. Gawain sighed and wondered how long he would be kept waiting, he was eager to rid himself of armour & weapons and sit in a steaming hot tub to wash away his long journey. He saw the King’s Steward awaiting him at the entrance to the ante chamber where visitors were received before being presented to the King. The old man stood proud and erect, many years of service with the King meant he was neither impressed nor over awed by anyone who came here. The approach of a knight, sworn to the service of the King was nothing more than routine and even the sight of an axe whose blade was hewn from the armour of a king black dragon hanging down inside the weather stained cape was nothing to him. Gawain was known and trusted but not that trusted. Even he was required to surrender his weapons to the Steward before he could approach the King. He had no problem with that, after all it made perfect sense. More than one monarch had met a messy end at the hands of trusted subjects.

‘Sir Gawain, welcome to court’ Said the Steward whose voice was grave and sonorous, almost as if he had trained it for the Palace he served. ‘ There will be a short delay. His majesty is receiving King Narnoed Shareen.’

Gawain nodded and almost without thought, handed over his axe, dagger and short sword which the Steward placed in a locked room. It was as well that he didn’t search the Knight, Gawain reasoned that he had no reason to trust the King either. More than one trusted subject had met a messy end on the orders of Kings and Queens. ‘ So, what do the gnomes want now ?’ He asked.

The Steward used a familiar look of contempt for the question which broke every protocol, it was generally understood that the King’s business was not for public discussion.

A thin smile managed to form on his lips and he shook his head.

‘Sir Gawain, after all these years, you should know better. Matters of State are just that. If the King wishes you to know, he will be happy to tell you ‘.

‘Thank you ‘ Said Gawain, smiling pleasantly, ‘ So you don’t know either’. The Steward ignored the comment and made a point of standing across the doorway. Gawain made a point of not noticing.

As if that corrupt old snob could stop me from entering the hall!

He sat in one of the chairs reserved for the delays that inevitbly came with matters of court, and stretched his legs out lazily. He was in no mood for small talk with the Steward who obviously felt the same way as the silence between them proved.

From the main hall came the strident sounds of King Shareen and it was obvious that things were not going well. Monarchs were notoriously hard to please and when faced with another monarch of the same rank, matters seldom ran smoothly.

To the surprise of both Gawain and the Steward, the large oak doors suddenly flew open and the small figure stood there and glared directly at the knight who was quick enough to get to his feet before the visiting King could take offence.

Within the main hall Gawain could see King Lathas walking quickly towards the doors in pursuit of the agitated gnome king. The attending flunkies and servants scattered in all directions, gathering up tables and chairs that had got in the way of the dispute.

‘Your highness’ King Lathas had started then stopped and corrected himself. Like all peoples of short stature, the gnomes were incredibly touchy about their height, ‘ Your excellency I mean…please. Return to the Hall, we will review and discus the matter. You have been a friend of our kingdom for so long we…..’

‘And ally ‘ Spat Shareen in his voice which became more strident. It really was difficult not to laugh at an angry gnome but this was neither the time nor the place. ‘And ally’ Agreed King Lathas who shot a quick glance at Gawain beckoning him into the hall.

O yes, lets not forget the difference the 80 gnome archers made in fending off the great dragon invasion. Still, the dragons enjoyed the snack!

It was a skillful move. King Shareen either had to move out of Gawain’s way or be trampled underfoot if he did not return to the hall. He wisely did so and with his feathers still ruffled but regaining his composure and dignity, he re joined his party at the great table.

The hall was well lit by tall thin windows cut into the stone through which sunlight streamed. The throne occupied the centre and was raised slightly upon a dias draped in gold cloth and embriodered with the royal coat of arms. Leading away from the throne was the table of counsel, long and highly polished mahogany with high backed seats either side for the King’s advisors and officials to sit in session. It was also used for feasts and banquets when visitors were considered important enough to warrant such expense. Sadly, the gnomes were denied this honour today and they were not best pleased.

That however was not the main problem and as the court hurriedly took up position once again, the truth was soon out.

Gawain took his normal place to the right of the throne, wondering where all of this was leading to. He had merely expected a short audience followed by his discharge. He had been in the business long enough to realise that things were not looking very promising for that hot tub.

Contrary to popular belief, the custom for such meetings dictated that monarchs said very little directly to each other. The affairs of State were usually handled by their Chancellors and senior Ambassadors. The reasons for this were practical as much as anything. Monarchs were not renowned for their diplomacy and getting their own way was a way of life they had come to expect. Problems had been known to occur when faced with a monarch who had similar expectations and by the look of it, the present situation was a prime example. As the gnomes took their places at the table, the King leaned slightly towards Gawain and muttered ;

‘Didn’t have anything planned for the next few weeks did you Gawain?’