Knightingale [THE FIRST DRAFT.]

CHAPTER FIVE

"White and yellow kill a fellow, but purple and blue are good for you."

[ THIS BOOK is available illustrated on my KOFI @/2ndstarart ]

Back through the southern forest, our young hero walked a well-trodden path, of which traders, travellers and even knights on horseback had taken before him – Adric swore he could actually see the hoof-prints of the royal guard. The boy had been walking for around an hour at this point, not having travelled an immense distance from Eyocahn's palace yet his journey had taken a toll on him already.

Under the blazing hot sun, which was surprising for so late in the day, Adric fought back the urge to slump, to sit or to downright stop in his tracks. His feet ached, his back hurt and his sword dug into the ground leaving a trail in its wake. The boy's dark eyes pointed forward, he could still see the great palace through the trees in the distance, he wanted to get as far away before he properly began his quest – he thought it the 'knightly' thing to do, for whatever reason he could conjure in his mind.

If he were to look back right this second, he would see streams of light slipping through the cracks as tall pinewood and lush oakwood trees swayed in the wind, rustling their leaves in encouragement. This blissful light fell on the mighty sword he dragged behind him, highlighting every mark, every imperfection, and every rune worn down from years of sharpening and polish. Although the warm light shone down, a blue hue danced on the metal surface, filling in the etchings to make them prominent, to make them seen; but Adric was far too concerned with the rumbling of his stomach.

It wouldn't matter whether Adric was to see the magnificent language that graced the sword, for he couldn't read, not his own language and certainly not that of old tongue. The light dissipated waiting to emerge once again when the time was right.

A rumble came from Adric once again, a groan coming soon after. "I definitely should've planned this better..." He started to look around him, "Knights get to plan. They get to bring supplies." He cursed to himself, seemingly forgetting that it was he who pushed himself to venture out so suddenly. It was he, who hadn't planned.

He evaluated the world around him; beautiful trees of different shades of green with great big brown trunks and grooves running from their roots to the tips of each branch. Every one of them was different, some had a sort of pattern to them, swirling around itself like magic whilst others seemed wholly natural, not a human touch to them.

When they were younger before Mallory had opened her bakery, Adric used to beg and beg to come with her to forage berries and fruits, something she did every morning to make scrumptious gifts for Perdita and Philomena.

'They're like us, they need to protect themselves.' She had replied, following with a rather useful piece of information: 'White and yellow, kill a fellow. but purple and blue are good for you.'

'and red?' Adric asked in innocence, eyeing up a certain push of small but shiny red berries.

Mallory hesitated. 'Red could be good...' she paused a moment, taking Adric's wrist before continuing. 'could be dead.' She smiled down at the boy, asking him to stick with the purple and blue for now.

'Adric! Did you listen to a word I just said!' She shouted, seeing a squashed lump of yellow and white fruits in his grasp as they started on their way back home through the thicket.

That wasn't the last straw, however, that came when they arrived back to their small shack and the once full basket in Adric's hands was now empty. Not a berry in sight.

***

The sun's intensity died down as Adric continued further into the forest, scraping past bushes as the path soon disappeared and wildflowers started to appear in abundance. Underneath the canopy of tightly knit trees, he finally found shade (a little too late for his liking) and a small patch of grass otherwise untouched. With the palace of Eyocahn no longer in sight, he took the crumpled map from his belt, having squashed it between the leather and trousers shortly after he stole it. He laid the old map on the crisp grass shoots, disrupting what had been as he knelt in front of it, hands splayed as he unrolled the parchment, holding one corner down with his sword.