On the Road to Greater Things

T'was a misty morn, from what I can recall, that fateful day that I left the simple life of a peasant to take up the steel of a warrior. I had been out chopping wood as the sun began to color the sky gold instead of gray. The cows were in their pasture, just starting to wake, and the roosters were just starting to sound.

Perhaps it was something about the smell of the wind or the stillness that fell just after the sun peeked past the trees, but it was then that I felt a weight placed on my shoulders. I had no idea why that was, at the time. And looking back, I would not have chosen to act any different.

As the mists began to part, I heard the first beats of the drum echo from the forests just beyond where I worked. Goblin cackles were carried on a passing zephyr. I had never fought one before, but the stories I'd always heard spoke nothing good of them. For all the good it did me, I kept the ax and ran back to the town.

"Goblins, goblins on the march," I shouted as I ran through the streets. The townsfolk stopped their morning preparations, and got set for a fight. None of us had a real weapon, but we couldn't have been expected to have. We had never been part of a war nor seen a battle front. Very quickly that changed.

No sooner had most of the others grabbed up what would serve us for weapons than the goblins were upon us. Cackling green little demons, they carried torches and wore armor that seemed to be ill-forged pieces of metal thrown into a suit. I tried to swallow, but fear had driven my throat shut. I stood a good foot taller than the monsters, but they had a look for blood in their eyes.

I did my best to swing that ax. I landed a few clean blows. Then one caught me with stick sharpened to a spear. It hurt like a red-hot poker shoved into my side. I thought I was done for, I fell onto my arse as the goblin readied for another hit. But then it stopped, frozen in a stance that would have broken to kill me.

It made an odd sound as it fell to the side. An arrow tipped with steel had pierced it's back. I stared up at a figure stepping from the mists. A knight in silver armor, shining keenly as the sunbeams hit it. The knight offered me his hand, "Come now, lad. There are more to slay."

I didn't think I had it in me, but I took his hand and he yanked me to my feet. He nodded and drew another arrow back in its notch. I watched it fly true, striking down another foe. "Tis not your day to die, boy. Now swing that metal or run like the fairer folk." And the man drew his sword.

I swallowed what moisture was left in my mouth and hefted my ax to the air. With the warrior at my side, we charged forth upon the line of those green cackling demon-spawn. Back to the woods we drove them and further past the neighboring field. Until the last of them had fallen by his bow.

I stood, covered in dirt and the mixed red and yellow of my own forgotten wound and the splash of the goblins, and watched the sky start to turn orange then red. The knight clasped me by my shoulders, staring at the horizon of the open field. "You have a warrior within, boy. I can teach you many things."


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I had packed my things and set off with my idol, the knight named Doyle. We traveled for two days, through the forests and across the countryside until we came across a small encampment of other warriors which he called home. I felt so small and insignificant in comparison to the masters teaching their crafts to much more skilled apprentices than I.

Ignoring the panic gnawing at my gut, I set up my tent next to Doyle's. I was anxious, to say the least, to learn all Doyle could teach me. I wished to not be a burden upon the rest.

Once all of my things were set, Doyle had me follow him a ways away from the camp. He carried with him two round shields of wood and two sticks shaped to be swords. When we arrived at a small clearing, he tossed one each to me. I had fumbled in my catch and dropped both. While I retrieved the items, he spoke. "Now, lad, I saw you could swing an ax. But let us see if you can swing a sword."

I swallowed stale spit, but I drew in a breath for confidence anyways. The shield was heavier than he had made it seem, but I hoisted it up on my arm nonetheless. Doyle had a small smile playing on his lips, adding to my flustered attempt to figure out a good form.

"No no, boy. Like this." Doyle laughed and poised for a fight. I did my best to copy him and grew a little more hopeful with his approving nod. "Good, good. Now attack!"

I took another deep breath and moved forward. I swung and missed and swung and hit his shield. And he hadn't even moved. I tried again and he side stepped, causing me to stumble. He was smiling to himself and I was becoming discouraged.

"Take you pose again. We shall try something else. I see you first need to learn how to hold that shield." He backed away a few paces and we both took the same pose. "Now, you just stand there and avoid my sword. Block and duck and such as much you need."

I nodded and he was upon me. He swung slowly at first and I was quite capable of blocking each blow. Then the blows began to come faster and faster and I found myself unable to keep blocking, but I weaved and parried each coming attack. And I slowly gained confidence in my ability.

The sun had moved past the treeline by the time I ached too much to continue for the day. My arms burned from all the work; it was so much more difficult to wield a shield and sword than to cut wood. Doyle was still smiling a wide smile, seeming rather pleased with something.

He clamped a hand on my shoulder as we walked back to the campsite. "Arial, you did good. Admirably, in fact. I've never seen a lad move like you have with so little training. Are you quite sure you have never held a shield before?"

"Aye," I said, rather warily. I looked to him and he was still smiling wide. "So, you believe I have what it takes to be a knight?"

He laughed quite hardily. "Lad, we all consider our apprentices knights. We would never take on someone that might not live up to what we hold to be what it takes to be a knight."

I smiled lightly; for I was already thought a knight. Though young, I would warrior like Doyle. And though not many would consider me so outside this gathering, Doyle knew I would make it and the other lads I saw training also would think that.

Around the campfire we sat and ate a hearty stew. The others told tales to gallant tales in which they had slain mythical beasts or rescued many a hapless innocent. And the lads shared their fair share of their own adventures so far.

Then it came to me and Doyle nodded his head with a smile. The others sat in amazement as I retold how I had helped save my home from goblin-folk. A lad next to me clamped his hand upon my shoulder and others hooted. The dubbed knights nodded to each other. The stories continued as I watched the fire, smiling to myself and thinking of my new family.