Hail To The King

Chapter One: Shepherd of Fire

He was darkness.

In the city of corruption, the city of thieves, of robbers, of bandits. He rode through like a wraith on a demon horse, salvation and destruction, sinner and saint.

He was terror.

The villagers fled from his presence, mothers locked children behind closed doors, bartenders closed their taverns, shops' shutters were drawn.

He was power.

Flames pulled toward him, shadows longed for his touch. He murmured to them and they obeyed his command. Villagers found themselves drawn to this man, this beacon of darkness in their city of despair.

He brought his steed to a halt in the square, hooves pounding as the horse snorted and pawed at the packed dirt. He dismounted the beast, fingers running through its midnight mane, low voice in the animal's ear.

His cape billowed around him, accenting his ominous figure, as piercing eyes scanned the crowd that had begun to gather.

"Where might a traveler find the leader of this wretched city?"His voice was authority, ringing out among the townsfolk. "Where might one be taken to have an audience with your king?"

No one replied. The wind howled through the square, and his steed let out a low whinny.

"Am I speaking to fools?" he asked out, "To babes who know not how to use their tongues?"

"S-Sir," a young voice ventured, and a small boy stepped out from the protection of his mother's side. "Our king is in the castle. He resides there and never leaves. All of our messages are relayed through the heralds."

The man listened, and then approached the small lad. He crouched to the boy's level. "May you take me there, lad?"

"He most certainly may not!" the mother began harshly, but her expression melted into submission as he looked up at her.

"He may. He shall. Lead the way, boy."

He took the small child's hand in his gloved one, the reins for his horse with the other, and followed the boy through the streets of the city. Twice filthy men crept forward, trying to snatch something from his saddlebags, but one harsh look from the man had them cowering away.

Wounded lay in the roads, collecting infection and disease. A fire was beginning to consume a house, flames licking at the roof of the building. Vile men with evil eyes and treacherous thoughts peered at the pair from alleys. A whore stood on the side of the street, begging for men's attention. Dogs fought menacingly, aiming to tear each other to nothing but shreds.

Such a vile place.

"Spare a pence," a brittle voice called out from the wretched lame beggar in front of the castle gates, and he started in surprise as the clank of a few coins sounded out in his tin cup. "Bless you." He muttered, grimy hands greedily fingering the change.

"Who goes there?" Two guards were visible behind the castle gates, sneering at the two with looks of contempt.

"I have come to speak to your king." The man replied, staring back at them with rightful pride.

"And just who are you, to make this request?" one guard spat.

"Tell your king," the man said, "that the Shepherd of Fire demands an audience."

Snickering, one of the guards left to deliver the message.

The boy watched the man. His face was set in seriousness, jaw set in determination, brows fixed downwards in anger. But there was something in his eyes, a sadness, a pain. He wondered what could have hurt this ferocious warrior, what could have harmed this solid man.

"What are you called, boy?" his deep voice startled the boy from his thoughts, and he cleared his throat.

"I am called James." He tried to fear the man, but he could not now, especially now that he was aware that he was human, that he had gone through troubled times.

"James." The man repeated, the syllable a breath on chapped lips.

The guard returned, a snide expression gracing his features. "His Majesty will not see you now. Not only that, but he has requested that you leave his domain at once, Shepherd." The last word dripped with sarcasm and hate.

The Shepherd's eyes flashed, anger dwelling behind them. "So be it." He stated. The man swung onto his steed one smooth motion, reaching down for the child. "Come." He commanded, "I will return you to your mother."

At the square, the crowd had been accumulating. The whole city was present as the beast flew in on silent hooves, like a spirit, like a shadow. The Shepherd did not dismount from his steed, but set James on the ground, pressing a loaf of bread in his small hands. "My thanks." He murmured, before straightening. His gaze swept over the crowd, and they hushed, waiting for him to speak. And speak he did.

"I feel as though I must remind you of who I am," he began, "so my intentions are known. See, I have pity in watching you suffer. I know the feeling of being damned alone. I have a story of my own that you may find is like yours. I can promise you paradise. There is no need to serve on your knees. And when you're lost in the darkest of hours, take a moment and tell me who you see. For you see, I am your pride, agent of wealth, bearer of needs. I am your war, arming the strong, aiding the weak."

The crowd listened to this, confused, speechless, dumbfounded. Thieves were not even tempted to pickpocket, boys did not pull on the tail of a stray dog that passed by. The prostitute looked up from her lowly gaze of submission.

"Is this true?" James asked, small voice ringing out clear and true, clinging to his mother's side. "Will you save us?"

"Yes, will you save us?" "Will you restore peace to our land?" "Will you overthrow the king?" "Who are you, with the audacity to come here and say these things?" the sea of people erupted into questions, all curious as to who this man was and what his business was here.

The man held up a hand, instantly quieting the townsfolk. He answered none of their questions. Instead, he shouted, in a voice thick with glory, dripping with victory, "Know me by name! Shepherd of Fire!"

He was majesty.

The crowd was baffled as he rode off into the night, blended into the darkness. They asked each other excitedly, looked to the dark castle looming above the city.

They asked questions, but James knew the answer.

Their savior was the Shepherd of Fire. And he would return.