The Mist of Albion – Prologue

An eerie mist hovered low across the valley, the lake surrounded by the hills itself was tumbling with a white ghost…high in the sky the mythical and mystical beasts circled, riding the thermals, that came off the hills, high, watching….waiting for the kill that never came.

Slowly from the grey-green water the glint of an object arose, followed by a second as the clouds parted and allowed a shaft of glorious white light to fall from the heavens to the water below.

The pommel of a sword rose, followed by a handle lifted high by two fair hands, then the tang and blade. As the long sword got higher the hands took hold of the blade and tilted it towards the light…the mist and the beasts disappeared, save the rolling white ghost on the surface.

The shore was awash with white before the green of the Albion grass began to poke its way through into the light. Small tufts and mounds appeared as if marking strange…

Ye1402613730605ars later and far away in a broken clearing, the triple usual settled him down, he didn’t want to visit that place again but it was over and hopefully the last time anything like that would happen…his mind wandered back and forth as he sat there sharpening the long sword that had been at his side from his investiture all those years before.

It had been blooded on more than one occasion but this was different, this was about love and honour…his love for his lady, the one who brought him happiness whom he would protect even if it meant laying down his own life…

He patched up his wounds like so many times before only with age the healing process took longer and age withered him. It would soon be time to pass the blade back to the maiden of the lake for safe-keeping until another one, another loremaster befitting the status was able to draw the sword and re-unite the lands and he could pass over.

The lands that lay bleeding.

© ordulf@outlook.com April 2014

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