The Legend of Nicadiema (part one)

This is a story I wrote a while back, and I've been revising it. I didn't write a poem this week, so I thought I could put part of this story on here. This isn't all of it, by no means! I'll be posting the rest, all in good time.

A messenger galloped up the road that led to Hillsfare Castle. He had ridden long and hard, and his horse’s sides were heaving, its neck flecked with foam. At the gate, the watchman called “Who goes there?”

“A messenger of the people, sent to the king,” the weary man managed to call out. The drawbridge fell with a clang, and the horse, his head hanging from exhaustion, walked across it into the courtyard. Stable boys hurried to help the man dismount, but he was so weak one of the boys had to support him while the others led his horse to the stables. The boy looked with curiosity into the careworn face, but did not question him. He gently led him across the courtyard, to the Great Hall.

The floor of the Hall was of stone, and high above arched the massive ceiling. It was so high the top was shrouded in shadows. The Hall was empty, except for a long table stretching from the doorway to the end of the hall. At the far end of the room, sitting at the head of the table, was the king. He sat erect, his white beard flowing over his chest, his hands folded on his lap.

Upon their entering, the king looked inquiringly at the messenger. “What tidings do you bring, man of the people?”

The messenger raised his head, and took a deep breath. “I come to tell you the Lantor has struck. He is like a huge wildcat with wings sprouting from his shoulders, his jaws dripping with saliva and blood, his claws sharp and terrible. This beast is killing many of the people, destroying their crops, and wiping out their villages. A man from the village near to my own told of his little girl, around the age of twelve, a shepherdess of her own flock. That day she was out in the field with her flock, playing her flute. It was drawing near evening, and she was preparing to return home, when she realized something was frightening the sheep. They bleated loudly, and rolled their eyes in terror. Then to her horror, the Lantor came crashing out of the forest. He scattered her sheep, killing all those he could catch. The girl, despite her fear, attacked the Lantor with the only weapon she had: her shepherd’s staff she used in herding her animals. She stabbed him in the eye, and he howled in pain and in rage. Beating his massive wings in anger, he swiped at her with one of his huge, clawed feet, knocking her senseless, and with another, ended her life.” The messenger stopped to catch his breath. A tear ran down the king’s wrinkled cheek. “What was the girl’s name?”

“Her family called her Janua,” the messenger answered.

“We shall always remember her for her courage.”

The messenger looked up again. “My lord, if there are no people left, there will be no one to remember her. What we need is a brave knight that will fight the Lantor for us, and destroy it.” The messenger lifted his gaze from the king’s face, and fixed it on the young man by his side. He was Prince Anori, and he had been silently listening to the messenger’s tale, and now he looked to the king. “Father, I will go fight this beast.”

The king shook his head. “No, my son, you are my only heir; if you were to die in the attempt, who would rule after me?”

“Roana can rule in my stead. You know my sister could govern all of Nicadiema.” The king muttered something about a woman being on the throne, and then turned to the messenger. “You are hungry, and in need of rest. My servants will lead you to a room where you can rest and recover.”

As the messenger was led out of the Hall, Prince Anori came to stand in front of his father. “If I do not go, then who can you send that would succeed in this endeavor?” The king rose from his throne, his eyes never leaving the prince’s face.

“My son, I cannot send you on this perilous journey. Your sister could indeed rule exceedingly well, but what would the people think? The men could not bring themselves to be subject to a woman. It just does not work that way.”

“But the people are dying. If someone does not slay this beast, there will not be anyone left in the kingdom to rule over.”

The king sighed, and looked away. “I will give you my answer by tomorrow.”

With this the Prince bowed to his father, turned, and left the hall.