Highlander: Call of the Warrior
From the pits of hell to the clouds of heaven, man has always walked amongst giants, they are few and hidden they hide amongst the populace, there are those who hide and cower behind others, there are those who hunt for the blood and then there is the one.
All life revolves around the one, we are called to each other and answer the call with steel and blood and in the dark corners of the world they fight for one title all men quest to earn, to be the one.
Scotland 1344
"Ian would you hurry up lad or we'll miss the battle," came the voice of his cousin Hamish.
Ian Baskin was a twenty two year old Scottish soldier, he stood at five foot eleven, he decided to pick himself up from the long grass of the plains and grabbed up his sword that had been stabbed into the ground by Ian before he had lain down.
He looked about to see where his cousin Hamish was, he saw him standing alone by the tree line less than twenty paces away, he was a tall and strong warrior, long blonde hair and a tangled brown beard, on his back lay his giant battle axe, in his right hand he held his sword, Hamish was ten years older than Ian and was Ian's hero.
All their lives Hamish had looked after Ian after his fathers death, finding a new family with his uncle and cousin since Ian was five years old his cousin had looked after him.
"Coming now Hamish, I'll let you catch your breath it must have been a long walk from the battle field." Ian replied jokingly.
"Oh very funny Ian, not like it is very far," Hamish replied then picked up his sword and walked back through the trees, "hurry up or I'll leave you behind and enjoy the spoils of my victory!"
Ian ran after his cousin, the battlefield was not far, all the two had to do was cut through the trees and they would be there, Ian and Hamish knew that the enemy would be attacking soon, Viking raiders had boarded onto their homeland a day ago and raided a village, Ian and Hamish had found the village in flames and told their leader, a day later all the men from the local villages were called to war, they learnt from scouts that the enemy were talking a path to another village, Ian's leader had explained they would attack by surprise.
It wasn't long till Ian had caught up with Hamish, for his young age Ian was a good soldier but he still had lots to learn, his sword had belonged to his father and he had treasured it since his passing.
"Do you think you are up to this little battle Ian?" Hamish asked with a smile.
"My blade can cut deeper than yours my cousin." Ian replied.
"My axe will se to that," Hamish replied pulling his axe from his back strap, Ian watched the veins in his massive arms convulse upon Hamish's grip, Ian was impressed by his strength, not much a sword could do that a axe couldn't.
"You may be stronger but I am faster." Ian laughed, flipping his sword in the air then catching it I mid air.
They walked upon their camp site, in the distance of the plains and their bordering tree lines they could see dust gathering in the sunlight, the scouts had counted thirty Vikings, the Scottish had mustered twenty soldiers, Ian knew it could not be enough, only their village and two others had arrived, their leader Michael, fifty year old warrior and Hamish's father had mustered his troops, he was a tall man standing at six foot seven, in his hand his long sword glinted in the sunlight, he was the image of his son, both had long blonde hair but his beard was longer and it held grey strands of age.
"Ah Hamish, and Ian we were planning on going ahead without you." He called, the smile on his face was disguised by a endless array of cuts and scratches from his fifty years of battling.
"Uncle you wouldn't have the legs to stand on." Ian replied, he gazed over the plains, the dust was close now, his grip tight on his blade hilt his mind else where.
How many countless battles his father had fought alongside Michael bravely, he wouldn't let down his family this day.
"Men, be ready!" Shouted his uncle, after Ian's fathers death he had taken up command of the village, he was determined to fight back intruders to the death, legend has it all Baskin family fore fathers had died in battle, Ian's father included, and his father, Scotland was their homeland, no one else's.
As soon as all the men were hidden and waiting, it didn't take long, the Viking erupted from the trees over the plains and heading towards their camp.
The plan was to wait for the Vikings to attack to abandoned camp, when they realised no one was there Michael Baskin would lead the charge.
Ian watched the intruders wash over Scotland's blessed field with their filthy feet, they all seemed obedient to one man, Ian watched him, he wasn't like the others, he was on horseback, on his chest he held armour with the symbol of a dragon upon it, his sword held aloft in his hand he surveyed the camp, then he charged towards it and his fellow Vikings followed.
They crashed upon the camp, they tore down tents and searched the area to find nothing.
Ian turned to Michael, his face had gone white as a ghosts, Ian turned to him curiously, his Uncle had never feared any man before.
"The Warlord…" His Uncle muttered under his breath, but then realising where he was he raised his sword to the air and with a roar of a lion and a figure of a god he spoke the words his men had waited for. "ATTACK SCOTLANDERS!"
And with that they charged, the three Baskin's leading the charge, Michael at the front, Ian right behind him at his heels and Hamish at the back with his axe drawn and his blood cry roared over the others.
The Vikings startled turned to the new threat but too late, the village had pushed through their front line and attacked before they drew their swords.
Ian with his sword slashed left and right, with Hamish at his back he had nothing to fear from behind and kept focus at front, a Viking jabbed at him with a spear, Ian side stepped out it's jagged steel tip and plunged his sword to the mans chest.
Ian turned to see the Viking on horse back riding through the Villagers and with his Long sword sliced any who opposed him, Ian not able to bear the sight of his fellow Villagers ran after leaving Hamish behind him.
The Viking commander had stopped to turn around, braised his horse and charged, Ian ran straight at him, the Viking turned his attention to Ian and his horse increased it's speed and charged.
Ian jumped up as high as he could and with his sword went to swipe not at the man but his reins, barely dodging the Vikings blade he returned to earth safely on his back, he heard a thud of metal on floor and stood to see the Viking picking himself up.
"Childish fool, do though know what hell you have unleashed!" The Viking roared and swiped his blade at Ian faster than lighting, unexpectedly it cut a deep cut into his chest, Ian stunned could feel blood convulsing from his body and down his legs, he fell to his knees in shock and lay on his back.
He tried to pick up his fathers sword but the Viking stamped on his hand, in pain he screamed and turned to the Viking hovering over him.
"Now die!" Cried the Viking raising his sword, but before he could deal the ending kill Ian's uncle Michael charged at the Viking and dragged him off of Ian.
The two warriors stood back up immediately, the Viking held eye contact for a moment then laughed, Michael stood still giving the man a thunderous look with his eyes.
"Is that you Michael, I thought the dark one killed you years ago." The Viking murmured with a voice like coiled thunder.
"Aye he could have, if he had done the deed and ended me as he should have." Michael replied showing him a scar on his neck.
"Ah but that was his first battle and you were younger then, stronger too, now though you look like a shadow of the man you once were." The Viking laughed crudely.
"Maybe Warlord, or should I call you by your original name Koran." Michael murmured back and swiped his blade at the man's neck.
"And you the God chief, killing your own blood for the prize!" The Viking roared with laughter as he easily parried the blade.
"How do you…"
"When one falls we all know, your father and your brother!"
With that Michael filled with a great rage charged at Koran and sent deadly combos of sword slashes at him, locked in combat Ian picked himself up, with new found strength he picked up his sword and stood on his feet.
Filled with anger he could not believe what the Viking had just said, his uncle had killed his father? Impossible, but both men had died in battle alongside Michael.
He stood up and charged at the two, relenting the pain of his wound he cut a deep wound in to the man named Koran's stomach then kicked to the floor.
"Son it's not what you thi…" Michael started but with the rage overwhelming Ian drew his sword and plunged it deep into his chest.
"AH!" His uncle cried. "Ian my nephew im sorry, yes it is true what he said, I killed your father but in time you will understand but please understand I loved you like a son, please forgive me the call was too much…"
Ian ignoring his uncles words pulled up his sword and beheaded his uncle.
Just then thunder cracked in the sky, lighting screamed across the plain, it hit Ian's sword and followed to the handle, to his arm then to his body and Ian could not withstand the force of the great power surging through his body, he screamed to the heaves, but his pain soon ended and his body convulsed and he laughed and let the pain surge through his body, the feeling alight and new found strength suffocated him.
The lightning ended and he fell to the floor, breathing heavily, his pain had ended, his wound had cleared and the battle had ended.
He stood up to see one man running away, he was startled to discover it was Hamish his cousin, he watched Hamish turn back and the two cousins held eye contact, Hamish then turned back and disappeared into the tree line.
"Son, you just felt the greatest feeling in the world, the Quickening is a ancient practice amongst our people." Came a deep voice from behind him, Ian turned to see the Viking Karon standing up, his wound had cleared.
"My people?" Ian asked curiously.
"Come with me boy, you are going to learn why your father had to be killed."