Graystorm's Tales

Here we go folks a noble and wonderful tale from our very own Graystorm, be sure to check back for more from our local bard. As the story continues I will add titles to allow easier reading

Desert Phoenix

The unforgiving sun rode its fiery path through the azure sky, while down below the scorching heat baked an already parched landscape. And as the day wore on to it's zenith all things ground to a halt. Across the desert there was no sound, no insect buzzing, no lizard scuttling across burning rock and soil, nothing. All the creatures that lived in this hostile environment knew better than to be out in the heat of midday, well almost all.

Graystorm peered out from under the canvas covering of the wagon. He was hoping to see some sign of the oasis that his family had been heading towards for the last three days, but all he could see was dry baked earth and a cloudless sky. He had heard his parents talking and he knew that things were not going well. Their water was running out and they had started rationing it. Graystorm's father had been giving most of the water to the horses but no one complained because if the horses died they all died.

The gentle rocking motion of the wagon made Graystorm nod off but the oppressive heat would not let him find sleep. Between dozing he noticed a heat mirage in the distance but this one was somehow different than the others he had seen. Suddenly his fascination turned to cold terror as he realized that this was no heat mirage. "Father" He blurted out "orcs."

His father turned at the shout, "Graystorm, get down and stay down" he answered as he cracked the reigns.

The wagon lurched forward but in this heat he knew the horses would not last long. Graystorm looked ahead and he could see a rock outcropping surrounding a large grove of palm trees, they were almost to the oasis. If they reached it they would be safe; there would be guards, possibly even a band of adventures. Not even orcs would be bold enough to attack an oasis. They would be okay, they would all be okay.

Without warning the wagon lurched to one side and tumbled over, the horses landed with a heavy thud and Graystorm's mother screamed. Something heavy smashed against him and his arm went numb. There was a terrible silence.

What followed was worse. The heavy canvass was flung off of the wagon and Graystorm was staring into the face of an orc raider. With a rough jarring tug the orc pulled the small child from the bed of the wagon and held him up by his hair. After a few guttural shouts to the other orcs, his captor drew a wickedly curved dagger and shoved Graystorm back against the wagon. What happened next he would never forget. The orc placed the dagger against Graystorm's throat but then stopped and looked down at his own chest. Graystorm followed the gaze and noticed two odd points sticking through the crude leather armor. Then the Orc released his grip on the child and both fell to the ground. The last thing Graystorm remembered seeing before he passed out was the sun glinting off the armor of an approaching rider.

Varese Stonetree shaded her eyes against the sun and peered out at the wagon headed towards the oasis. She turned with a disgusted glance towards Gerrad, her taciturn watch captain, "What person in their right mind would travel the desert at high sun?" she asked rhetorically.

Gerrad shrugged as he scanned the horizon. "Look my lady" he said pointing past the wagon.

A shiver ran down Varese's spine as she looking at the spot Gerrad was pointing to. "Ashes," She swore and leapt towards her waiting horse. "Gerrad, rally the riders and follow me out. We'll teach these orcs not to be so bold next time"

Verese didn't wait for a reply knowing her order would be obeyed. She spurred her horse and it leapt away like the wind. As she closed the distance towards the oncoming wagon the situation looked bad but not hopeless. The wagon driver had obviously seen the following Orc raiding party and was driving hard towards the safety of the oasis, with a little luck they would make it, she thought. And then the fates played a cruel card. The horses, already overheated by the scorching desert sun, could take no more. Verese could see them start to falter and finally one collapsed completely. The dead weight of the horse combined with the momentum of the wagon flung the entire rig to one side. The wagon shattered spilling its contents, people and all onto the sandy ground.

Verese had closed much of the distance but the orcs had reached the wagon first. She could see them pulling someone from the wreckage and knew she was out of time and options. Quickly Verese pulled her short riding bow from her shoulder and notched an arrow, she squeezed her knees into the side of her mount and drew the bowstring back to her cheek. Her first shot went wide thudding heavily into the side of what was left of the wagon. Quickly she drew another arrow and notched again. This time as she drew the bowstring back, an odd feeling washed over her. Before she knew what had happened two arrows were sticking out of the back of the Orc and he crumpled to the ground.

Now almost upon the wreckage, Verese dropped her bow and drew her scimitar, its fine steel flashing like a flame in the desert sun. With a scream of rage she charged in among the surprised creatures. Again and again her scimitar flashed in the sunlight and each time it did there was an answering howl of pain from the evil beasts. And then from behind her came the sound of thundering hoofs, the riders had come. The remaining orcs fled but the well-trained force rode them down dispatching every last one.

Verese slid from her horse and walked to the remains of the wagon. Winded and lightheaded she stood over the body of the orc she had slain with her bow, lying there next to the giant brute was a small child. Helpless and innocent the boy couldn't be more than 9 years old. Verese slumped to her knees and tested his carotid artery for a pulse. He was alive thank the gods but perhaps his would prove to be the cruller fate.

Hand of Fate

Verese looked over the moonlit dunes watching the caravan head out. On the lead wagon sat the trader Ackmed and next to him the boy that Verese had rescued. She though about the child, he seamed so small and helpless, so vulnerable, and yet there was something about him. Verese couldn't quite explain what it was she felt but somehow she knew that fate hung heavy around this child. And she knew, somehow she knew she would see him again.

So intent in her thoughts had Verese become that she never saw the man approaching from the tents. Walking quietly over the sand he paused a moment before he placed his hand upon her shoulder. Verese leapt back startled, instinctively drawing her scimitar. But as the man stepped into the open moonlight, Verese let the point of her weapon drop.

"My...My Prince" She mumbled even more startled now.

Toman smiled and looked at the drawn weapon in Verese's hand, "An interesting greeting. Wetlander custom?"

Verese quickly sheathed the scimitar, and fumbled for something to say,"No I was just.... What I meant to say is that you.... I'm sorry My Prince, I was watching the departing caravan to ensure that there were no more Orc raiders to cause any trouble."

Toman nodded, "I knew I would find you here. Today in council I saw much revealed in your eyes, and I know that you did not approve of my decision to send the boy off with the trader. But you would never question my decisions in front of others so I sought you out to ask what was in your heart."

Verese looked into the handsome face of the Prince. What was in her heart? Was he asking about the boy or something else?

"I believe My Prince" She began haltingly, "That someday this boy will do great things, things that will affect not only Wetlanders but everyone. I can not see the future or read minds but I feel a danger unlike any other I have felt before, and somehow this danger hangs over this silent child."

Toman had stood motionless, listening, his face revealing nothing. He held out his hand to Verese and she took it. "Is that all that is within your heart my fierce warrior?" He asked pulling her closer to him "Is there nothing else you would say to me?"

As the Oasis faded off into the distance Ackmed looked down at the silent boy sitting next to him.

"So you don't want to talk?" He began in a dark tone;

"Well boy let me tell you something. When the time comes you will talk. Oh yes believe me you will learn to do what your told. Talk, ha, when I'm done with you boy you will sing if I command it."

With a quick motion of his arm the trader brought the back of his hand across Graystorm's cheek, and the boy went flailing wildly into the back of the wagon, "Lesson number one" Ackmed said; "pieces of trash like you never set in the front of a wagon."

Graystorm struggled to set up and felt a trickle of blood run down his face. The blow had hurt, but it had done something more. At last something other than emptiness filled Graystorm's soul. For the first time ever he knew what it meant to hate, and the emotion gave him strength.

Ackmed looked at Graystorm and laughed "Good you have spirit and though you look small you are sturdy. On top of that you don't scream or cry. I think once you are broken of your bad habits you will fetch a good price at market"

The next few days were a blur of pain for Graystorm. Ackmed would command Graystorm to speak and when he refused to do so Ackned would beat him. Oh never to the point of doing any permanent physical harm. Damaged merchandise was hard to sell, and that is what Graystorm had become. Slowly the desert gave way to grasslands and then to wooded forest and after a fortnight, the caravan camped outside a large city.

As they camped that night Ackmed came to Graystorm like he did every night.

"Tell me your name" He demanded.

Graystorm sat silent waiting for the inevitable, but tonight there was an odd look on Ackmed's face.

"In all my years of slave trading I have yet to find someone whose sprit I could not break" He said sounding perplexed more than angry.

"I give you one last chance boy. Tell me your name and swear to me that you will not try and run away and it will go much easier on you."

Still Graystorm refused to talk.

Anger at the open defiance flashed across Ackmed's face.

"Have it your way then" He said gesturing to some of his men "Take him."

Two large guards grabbed Graystorm's arms and dragged the boy over near the large campfire. They placed heavy manacles around his ankles that were attached to one another by a short length of chain and secured with heavy locks.

Ackmed walked up and tested the chain.

"Remember boy I gave you a chance to avoid this." He said turning away "Mark him."

Graystorm's eyes went wide as he at last saw why they had built such a hot fire tonight. He turned to run but tripped on the short chain between his ankles. They were all laughing as they pinned him down on the ground and ripped the shirt off his back. But as the hot branding iron seared the mark of a slave into the flesh of Graystorm's shoulder an odd murmur went up from the men.

"That's just not natural.... He didn't even scream out.... Who is this boy?"

Were just a few of the things said, but Graystorm didn't hear any of it, having passed out completely.

Ride Into Darkness

The day dawned crisp and clear with the sun rising golden in a cloudless sky. There was a buzzing excitement in the air around the South Gate and town market that day. People hustled to buy the best of this and the freshest of that, laughing and enjoying the fruits of a good harvest season.But even here in this ideal setting there was a blemish, a black mark that had existed even longer than the town itself. In the far corner of the market there was a simple wooden platform and on it various sellers displayed the rarest and most expensive commodity of all, human slaves.

Oh some were common criminals or vagrants who had been sentenced into slavery for various minor crimes like thievery and failure to repay debts. Others had been the children of slaves and so they were themselves property of the slave owner. But like Graystorm himself, some had been forced into slavery against their will.

Graystorm stood shakily on the platform, his shoulder throbbing and his head clouded with pain. Ackmed had ordered that Graystorm be cleaned up and made presentable, at least as presentable as a slave should be, but seamed angry with how listless the boy was.

Graystorm was just happy to be able to stand at all and was actually trying his best to look presentable. He didn't even want to imagine what Ackmed would do if he couldn't sell him. And if he were sold perhaps it would be to a kind-hearted person that would take care of him, someone that might someday set him free. But as he scanned the harsh faces around the platform his heart sank. Anyone that would buy a slave in the first place, probably would not be the most understanding person in the world. But still there was the chance of escaping from whoever bought him. But escaping to where was the question.

Ackmed stepped up next to Graystorm and whispered in his ear, "No funny business now boy. If you do anything to hinder your sale you will think the last fortnight was a romp in the park, compared to what I will do to you."

Ackmed turned to the crowd, his face shifting to one of smiles and easy friendship; he was once again a salesman without equal.

"Now my neighbors, I bring before you a young, but spirited lad. He will be good for anything you have in mind, from household tasks to field plowing. Who will start the bidding? Come on what am I bid?"

"Five silver" shouted a man from the back row.

Ackmed looked as if he had been hit as he answered "You wound me sir. Five silver for a boy with such spirit? Come now he is worth a hundred times that price. Now who will give me a real bid?"

"I don't see any sign of sprit in that puny child" Called out the same man that had bid five silver pieces.

"No spirit?" Ackmed mocked "No spirit you say? Well he may not show it now but believe me its there, you may have my word on that. Now lets start the bidding again at a reasonable thirty gold pieces."

"Ha that boy would crumble to dust the first time I had to take a switch to him. I bid fifteen silver and not another penny more" The man in the back shot back.

Ackmed looked at the crowd and saw that they were tending to agree with the weak assessment of the boy.

"Very well a demonstration of his spirit!" He boomed.

Ackmed turned to regard the boy with a wicked smile "What is your name boy?"

Graystorm stiffened the hate flaring up in his soul and giving him strength.

"I asked you a question boy, what is your name" Ackmed asked louder still. "No answer? Well here is payment for your stubbornness." Ackmed reached back and punched Graystorm heavily in the stomach, causing the boy to double over in pain.

Graystorm straightened up again, silent and still defiant. With a smile of satisfaction Ackmed turned back to the people around the platform.

"There you see, spirit and strength. Did I not tell you this boy was worth more than a mere 15 silver pieces?" Ackmed crowed.

The bidding came alive "Thirty gold....I bid Thirty-five gold.... Forty gold pieces....." then suddenly from the opposite side of the bidders came commanding voice that carried above the frenzied din, " I bid five hundred golden talon."

The crowd, Graystorm included, turned to see who had made such and obviously outrageous bid. To Graystorm the man appeared a hero of legends past somehow magically come to life. Tall and of commanding presence, the man was dressed from head to foot in armor that shimmered like a falling star. At his side hung a sword made from metal of the highest order, from his shoulders a cape of crimson hue. And emblazoned upon his breastplate and shield were the lion rampant on verdant field, the symbol of the royal knight protectors.

As the man approached a hush fell over everything. The air felt charged as if some looming thunderstorm had broke upon the town, and a tingle ran down Graystorm's spine. Making his way to the platform the knight pulled a pouch from his belt and dropped it heavily to the table

"Five hundred gold, but first I wish to speak to the boy" He said.

Ackmed stammered "But My lord the boy refuses to speak. He is a willful and stubborn slave, truly you would do better with another one... Perhaps a woman?" he added with a sly wink.

The knight's face was set and stern "No I have made my bid and I will speak to this boy." He turned and knelt down next to Graystorm, "Tell me now, what is your name and where are your parents? Come let me help you."

Graystorm straightened and looked defiantly at Ackmed while he answered the knight's question "My name is Graystorm Dralion. My parents are both dead. and I am not a slave."

The knight nodded in appreciation and turned Graystorm to face him "There you see, you just need to know how to ask someone politely." The knight said while inspecting Graystorm "I don't think your much of a people person Ackmed, no not at all." His added comment bringing a chorus of laughter from the assembled crowd.

"Now master Graystorm, though I have paid the price, I knew when I first set eyes upon you that you were no slave. So I must ask, are you willing to come with me? I offer only hard work and if you prove worthy training as an apprentice. Either way you will not be a slave, this I swear." The Knight paused, "Well what say you?"

Graystorm looked into the eyes of the knight and saw only strength and goodness. There was no deceit or avarice, only a purity of purpose and a giving heart. But what choice was there? His parents were dead... he had been avoiding thinking about it but now it all came rushing in upon him. Suddenly words came to him unbidden and he heard himself say.

"I will come if you will have me. I swear to be faithful and obedient. May the light turn from me if ever I fail you"

The knight looked a bit shocked at the oath but then smiled "Well said Master Graystorm. An oath of the knights of my order, and spoken like a true knight. Ackmed unchain this boy now, he is coming with me!" The knight said in a commanding tone.

Ackmed reached into his pouch and shrugged "A thousand pardons Nobel Lord but I have left the key to the locks with my caravan. I will send someone to fetch them"

"No" The knight interrupted "I am short of time and there is no need" He looked at Graystorm "Do you trust me Lad?" He asked. Graystorm Nodded, having nothing to loose making it easier to be brave.

"Good then do as I say and stand still" with those words barely out of his mouth The knight drew his broad sword and with two quick smashing blows shattered the locks that held the manacles on Graystorm's ankles. As the chains fell to the ground the Knight turned to regard Ackmed

"Oh I am so sorry Ackmed I have destroyed your manacles. I doubt that you will be able to use them again. I guess you should have remembered the key."

Ackmed looked angry but kept silent. The gold that the knight had paid for Graystorm was ten times what he would have gotten from any of the other bidders, so the loss of the manacles was incidental.

The knight put his hand on Graystorm's shoulder and saw him wince in pain, "Can you ride?"

"Yes my lord" Graystorm answered trying to sound more confident than he truly was.

The knight smiled knowingly, his gaze seeing right through the young boy. "Very well young Graystorm, let us be on our way." The Knight scanned the assembled people "I don't much like the smell in this section of the market today."

Though grumbling and obviously insulted, the rabble parted to let the two through. But the insult obviously had little effect, the shouted bids already filling the air. Making their way through back alleys and small streets they finally arrived at a small but well kept stable.

Inside stable hands, no older than Graystorm himself were saddling horses and packing saddlebags. The Knight said a few words to one boy who turned and ran towards a nearby Inn.

The Knight regarded Graystorm with a concerned look " I know you have been through some very hard times of late. Soon you will be able to rest, but I am afraid not today. We travel to my keep in the north where certain matters require my immediate attention." The Knight sighed and then continued "I am Lord Starblaze Du Soleil, guardian of the king's northern marches, Paladin of the order of light, and Knight protector. And you young Graystorm will be my new apprentice. As such you will address me as Lord Starblaze, or simply, My Lord."

Before Graystorm could respond a clear melodic voice came from the stable doorway, "You summoned me my Lord Starblaze?"

Graystorm turned to look, She was young, perhaps his age. Her hair, the color of a golden sunset touched with red fire, flowed loosely over her shoulders. Her face, fair like the mountain snow, highlighted a confident smile. But in years hence the only thing Graystorm would ever remember of that moment were her eyes. Her eyes the color of emeralds and deeper than the sea caught and held him as if by magic.

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