LAST KINGDOM FALLS

Chapter 1

A crisp breeze drifted down the steep cliffside of the mountain, the air had cooled in the thin atmosphere and began its decent. From the towering and jagged, snowcapped peaks of layered grey slate, down to the trees below. It felt as brisk and satisfying as a drink of water on one's skin, pouring over, sending shivers down to the toes. A blazing late summer sun was high and bright in the sky. The days were long and hot as the season began to draw to an end. It was one of those last days of summer clinging to the heat before giving way to the cooler harvest-time season. Billowing clouds slowly drifted, passing over the suns rays creating great creeping shadows on the valley below. The clouds turned the noonday to twilight in their presence. The dale was flourishing with lush green vegetation. The field spread wide, a few rolling hills dotted by a few dozen brown goats and black faced sheep, tall grass waved like rippling water, their tops swaying gently in the wind. The valley bordered by those steep and rugged mountains on either side.

For two ages the dwellers of the valleys strived to survive under the rule of the opressive imperium that stole from and enslaved its subjects. They lived in fear of losing their homes, crops and land at the whim of a Royal Soldier looking for a new place to live. They took what they wanted, whenever they wanted. Local defenders were able to fend them off at times, or at least make it too much trouble for them to bother with. There were also domains that faired better with small standing armies, and it helped that the lands they defended were not desirable by the Empire. Such a land was the valleys and dales that surrounded the village of High Mound.

Edwane knelt down and dipped his waterskin into the clear blue river that ran alongside the field. A healthy looking chestnut mustang stood drinking just downstream from him. His back and knees ached as he stood and righted himself. "Oh, m'life is a right hard 'en," he quietly said to himself. He took a long swig of water from the pouch. Standing there with water running down his long graying beard, his gaze rested on the vast shadow the mountains cast across the bottom. As he wiped his mouth the ground started trembling with the growing thundering of hooves followed by a whooping cry and joyous yelling. Two enormous stallions burst over the hill behind him and almost over him as they raced through the water, sending the mustang running. The riders yelling at each other and laughing. The old man threw his, mostly still full, waterskin at one of the riders.

"WIL'EM," Edwane roared," watch at where ye goin'!" The rider looked back in alarm as he stood up, jerking the reigns to his chest.

"Whoa now," he called to the horse. "Sorry father, I didn't see you there," he yelled as he came galloping back.

"Son, I can't abide ye," he laughed," Now go on b'fore ye be the death o' me." He waved him away.

"I would have won, father. Tennin was trailing by two lengths!"

"I don' doubt ye boy, ye be the best rider to ever set on a horse."

The other boy returned, his silver-gray steed breathing hard. He had the reigns of the mustang in hand.

"I've bested you, Wil!"

"But you haven't, my friend, and you know it!" With that Wilhelm leapt from his horse tackling the burly boy off his stallion, sending them both splashing into the water below. They struggled, pulling each other under the water, laughing and yelling insults. Though Tennin outweighed him by at least 5 stone Wilhelm easily handled him as they wrestled and splashed about.

"Had enough?" Wilhelm asked, pulling his long brown hair out of his face.

"Never!" Tennin answered, laughing as he crawled to the riverbank and collapsed. After lying there catching his breath, he pulled off his tall boots and poured the water out. "You can't ever take a loss, can you now?"