Prophecy

III Kredow

All I could hear for hours was the steady rhythm of Saragon's heavy hooves hitting earth.Archiba rode in front of me without a word. His horse's black rump flexing each time they surged forward. My fingers entwined in Saragon's mane and my thoughts in his. I had grown used to his rolling canter. The feel of his barrel between my legs. He would erupt with excitement, leaping and bounding through the fields with me on his back. He never seemed to tire. King of horses.

Archiba had avoided all the towns and farm settlements, and apparently all conversation too. He rode without a word, hood over his face. He was cold and distant, aloof. All I knew of him was the posture of his back. Slightly slouched and withered. But I couldn't feel him like I could anyone else. It was like he didn't exist at all and I began to forget of his presence too, getting lost within my own world of thought and wonder.

The world grew ever darker and the blue mountains on the horizon closer. We didn't stop and I was fighting to keep my eyes open. Focus. The crickets singng their lullabies, the owls joining in the harmonies. The world resting under a blue-black blanket beneath the grey clouds.

Reaching the foot of the mountain it was midnight. The black cape twisted around, it's hooded face turning to me. Reaching out his swarthy clothed arm towards me he gently pulled my hood over my crimson hair and above my obsidian eyes. My heart in my throat I sat still as he cautiously drew his arm back to his side. His movements always hesitant, unsure yet nimble and ever graceful.

"Stay close," he mumbled hoarsely, "Kredow is foul by day and worse yet at this hour."

Our horses walked on abreast and in unison. As black and white, as hooded riders we entered through the gates of the mountain pass. The only pass for hundreds of miles. The watchman saluted as we rode past, his torch's light glimmering off the groomed, ebony coat of Archiba's charger. The horses' hooves clamouring against the cobblestone road. I peered at the dark windows as we passed. The tattered, overused curtains closed tight, fighting off the cold ever leaking through the cracked glass panels and concealing the life from the darkness and ruin of the night hours. Dark alleys divided the houses, silhouettes of trash and other unwanted beings protruded from its corners. Archiba rode past without halting for a moment. On the main street many of the two storied buildings held both the orange lights and the foolish, ludicrous laughter and shouting that echoed through the entire city. Finally Archiba stopped before a tavern with a wooden sign saying, 'the Guzzle Home,' chipped and creaking on it's rusted hinges.

"I would have preferred not bringing hither a lady but it seems I haven't any choice. Stay by my side and let not your eyes wander."

And with that he slid off his mount stepping through the doors. Within the walls of the tavern swarmed an ocean of men, more men than should statistically fit within. Women in showy dresses and great hairdos ran about laughing some carrying great mugs of spilling ale others wrapping themselves to some big oaf or another. Archiba stalked straight to the back, ignoring the bustle and cries of acknowelegment, pushing the drunkards away he stood at a table where some ten were crowded. I found myself ducking beneath arms and flying beakers. Dodging muddy boots and laughing faces. Many of the men were twice my size and had mountains for muscles. I pulled my cloak tighter around myself. A firm hand grabbed my shoulder,

"What do ye think of the mayor sunny boy?"

My captor questioned. Faces stared at me. Eyes pierced me. Their emotions terrified me. 

"I... uh... I..."

They burst out in harsh laughter. The man who's hand now rested heavily on my shoulder's expression faltered, his eyes huge.

"You're intimidating him the lot of you that's what'sa happening!"

They were roaring but suddenly they all fell quiet, an awkward silence, and they fumbled their thumbs. Three men from the table at the back stared straight at them in disapproval and diverted their gaze to me, among them, the hooded figure, was Archiba. I swallowed hard and in a moment broke free from the man's grip and fled. I fled from the people, from the tavern, from the light. I ran out, a little shadow between the big people. I vaulted Saragon's back and we flew from there. The hood swept off my head. I had no idea where I was going. People watched as I raced down the dark, stone roads. Tears streaming down my cheeks. Too much. Too much weighing upon my soul. Then Saragon reared. Lifting high onto his back legs. 

A group of black figures suddenly surrounded me. They were filled with ill intent and I shuddered as their thoughts merged with mine. Saragon whinnied nervously prancing as his nostrils flared. I sat frozen unsure of what to do as the men inched closer and closer to me. I could feel my throat constrict. Saragon swung his back legs at an approaching shadow, I clung onto him as he bucked viciously, the circle closing around us. I pinched my eyes shut when I heard the thunder of hooves on stone, and the singing of swords drawn from their scabbards. 

Before me stood a company of mounted soldiers. Most of them carried red and gold flags or steel lances. They were all armed with long silver swords and keen wooden bows. Their armour glinting fierce and courageous. As Saragon nickered much relieved, the soldiers raised their lances wearily in his direction but the man in the centre upon the gray horse waved them away unfazed.

"Halt!" he cried raising his one hand, "ease yourselves men, the fight is over!"

They put away their lances as their lord brought his horse. The man on the gray horse halted in front of me. He was of tall stature and great strength, a renowned warrior. His clear blue eyes young and observant. But he was friendly and in want of company. I rode along beside him guided by his entourage.

He was ever curious, seeking only adventure in a life of skirmishes and politics. He was gentlemanly and well mannered, good humoured and outgoing, fast to anger as well  as to laughter. He spoke what he thought and was not in the least ashamed. He spoke to me as if he knew me well, and put me at ease. We were fast friends, Talin and I.

"But tell me, what do I call you?" 

I looked at him intently, unsure of what to say,

"At birth no name was given unto me, but a name was given to me only recently by a man of great character and heart. He called me Neorah."

"Meaning 'light'... This man of which you speak of must have known of which he speaks. I fear the road before you is very dark but you are destined for great things, Neorah,"

His words puzzled me but Talin was hopeful and for some reason believed in me so I bothered him not with my uneasiness and smiled at him taking comfort in his zest for life and relishing his fondness and conversation. Talin possessed a powerful aura that  captured audiences' attention and inspired them into action. He had a questioning, lively soul that drew people to him and a confidence that uplifted and roused their hearts. 

So deep in conversation were we that we noted not the galloping horse on the cobbled road. Swiftly a horse as black as the night sped between us. It's shadowy rider taking up a protective stance over me.

"Again, Talin son of Talnor, you take what is mine."

Talin smiled warmly,

"Hail Abtul, the Hero, ever so nice of you to take time out of your busy schedule and join us, I assume you've met Neorah?"

Archiba scoffed, "aye, if that is the name she has chosen for herself. She is under my protection, son of Talnor."

"Indeed, indeed, I should have thought. Well my lady," he said turning to me, "it was ever so lovely to meet you and I hope our paths cross again, but now I fear we must be parted as your friend requires your company elsewhere."

He tilted his head cordially and with a cluck moved on with his escort trailing him. Archiba didn't say anything as he watched their lights travel up towards the stronghold high on the mountainside. He sighed,

"Little is the love between the son of Talnor and myself."