War of the Knights - Chapter One

Intro:

Long ago in a time of great need, the world was in darkness. Nothing was right, everything and everyone was askew in their minds. Then a man appears, bringing the only thing that can save them, hope and freedom. He believes in everything that has been forgotten, and starts off his life in a remarkable way. Meeting close advisors and friends along the way till then he becomes what he is destined to be. King Arthur and his Knights of the round table.

Chapter 1:

"Fetch the water son! Your mother is coughing up again!" Sir Climsy called from the backroom.

Being only 10 years of age Arthur was still man enough to take care of his family. For the last 3 months his household had been beset by a plague, which killed his 3 year-old sister, and is now killing his mother. Arthur hurried outside. It was drizzling, and the wind held a harsh whisper of death. Arthur shivered, knowing that something was not right. He grabbed the worn waterbucket that had been filled so many times and ran towards the old well. He had made many trips like this in the last 3 months but this one was different. If he did not hurry it would be the last time he would see his mother alive.

A single tear fell into the well as he drew water up. If things kept going this way he would lose his father too. Arthur tripped into the room, not worrying about his bloody toe that had scraped on a long worn rock. His father snatched it away from his hands, slowly tilting it over his mother's mouth. But to Arthur's disapointment, the water just ran down her cheeks, onto the pillows, making a huge stain.

Slowly her lifeless hand slipped over the covers, and dangled by the bedside. She was gone, was the hard realization that Arthur now faced. His father fell to his knees, begging for mercy that the plague would not take him and his son too. Arthur's eyes welled up with new-made tears, he wished so badly to hold his mother's body close. But just as his sister, he could not dare touch it, or he too would be overcome by the sickness.

"Get out of here!" his father called him back to the present. "You can't be in here, I'm not going to lose you too! Get out!" he screamed, frustrated and angry."Out!"

Arthur was pushed toward the doorway, and with the last line from his father's mouth the door was slammed shut in his face. Arthur felt just as bad as his father, but he was more rational. He carried himself in a slow like motion towards the old barn, that held the last horse in the valley. He climbed over the gate and stared at it. It was a vision to see. It had black as its prime color, but on its stomach was a white that shown brighter than evening lights. On its forhead was also a white spot making it more beautiful.

Just 3 weeks ago, this horse came galloping up to the house pleading to be let in from a storm that was accuring. Arthur's father could have cared less, but Arthur himself went out in the storm and lead the horse to the barn, and there Arthur stayed for the rest of the night.

Now he sat, trying to find a way to occupy himself while keeping his dead mother out of his mind. A name for the horse. What would he call it. He had never had an animal to name, because his family was to poor to care for any creature, hardly themselves. He thought for awhile, wanting it to be unique, for that was what the horse was, unique, not only in color but in spirit. When a human would stare at a horse most of the time it would either do 2 things. It would get nervous and plung or just stand there and be admired. But this horse stared back. As if it too were choosing a name.

Arthur then thought of name that fit the horse just right. "Merlin," he said,"I will call you Merlin." The horse smiled the best way a horse could, and seemed to whinny in agreement.