Chapter 2
Fact and Legend
"So, It is true." The army was dangerous, and its next target was her town. Kathryn, despite the feeling of hopelessness and fear deep in her heart, issued orders to her captain.
"Every man on the ramparts is to have his bow strung, and his sword sharpened. The town is doomed, but those of us who remain shall not let the town fall without a struggle."
"Yes Princess, it shall be done." Captain Weaver bowed again and rushed of to prepare for a battle. Kathryn resumed her pacing. If only her parents were still alive. They had also been claimed by the plague that had descended on the town. Thirteen was too young to take on the burden of a kingdom. Three years had passed since then and she had learned much. With the help of Captain Weaver and Old Wizard Kemple, Kathryn had become an established leader. Yet after all the training, the meetings, the experiences, the prayers, she was not ready for this. She grasped at the gold chain about her neck. Attached to the end of the chain was an amulet in the shape of an eye with a large red pupil. For once the necklace was failing her.
A legend that has been told to starry-eyed children for ages still survives in the land of Lybrintha. Long ages ago, at the forming of the world there were four weapons. Powerful weapons filled with a deep magic that can not be surpassed by mortals. Magic placed in these weapons by the Creator himself. But this magic was not the trickery of the wizards, nor the evil black magic of the witches. This magic was the pure, undying traits of heroes.
The dragons of the Aero tribe guarded the Greaves of swift flight, the first of the weapons. Encased in these plates of armor was the will to bring justice as swiftly as possible. The second of the weapons was Auracrist, The necklace of wisdom. The ability to govern nations and the wisdom of the ages were caged inside it's detailed, metal amulet. The third of these remarkable weapons was guarded closely by the royalty of Lybrintha for ages, Kasmire, the staff of power. Create, destroy, strengthen, weaken, Kasmire could perform many tasks for good, and for evil. The final and most valuable of the four weapons was Miracle, the sword of courage. Without courage a hero is nothing, and never, was there anyone brave or strong enough to wield Miracle. It remained hidden, waiting; waiting for a hero to come and claim the power and responsibility that came with the title hero.
Cedric had listened to this story ever since he was a small child. He remembered siting at his uncle's feet as he told the story over and over again.
"Just one more time! Please!" he would beg, but his uncle would send him to bed and say that even heroes needed sleep. Cedric would run off to bed thinking about the stories until he fell asleep. He would then dream that he was a great, courageous swordsman killing monsters, saving villages, being looked upon as a hero. They had been wonderful dreams, but then the plague came and took his only family, The dreams stopped coming. His whole life he had believed in those stories. They had been real, but reality had hit him hard. "They were stories, that's all they were, just stories." he told himself.
Sleep would not bless him tonight Cedric decided. He strapped on his old leather boots, strung his bow and set off into the pouring rain. When he reached the gates of the town he started removing bricks from the side of the wall. There were a number of loose bricks in the side of the wall, which when removed made a space large enough to allow him through. He squeezed through the hole, placed the bricks back in the wall and began to walk.
The town of Volafar is built on top of a hill. To the east of the hill is a range of mountains, to the west and south lie vast plains, and to the north at the foot of the hill is a large forest. This was where Cedric was headed. " A walk through the forest will do me some good…maybe." It was quiet in the forest. The only sound disturbing the silence was that of the rain descending on the trees. Cedric sat down on an old rotten log.
"What am I doing?" he asked himself. "I should be in my bed sleeping. Why am I in the forest at this time of night?"
Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him. His hands leapt to his bow. With an arrow nocked on the bowstring, he stood up. "Who's there?" Silence was the only answer he received. He heard the footsteps again only they were closer. "Who's there!" he shouted. Something suddenly smashed against the side of his head. He fell to the ground, dazed.
" Take him back to the General. He will want to question the whelp." Were the last words he heard, before he slipped into the realms of unconsciousness.