Never-Ending Saga: The Tale of Lord Fred: Part One
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 72651
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Fred awoke with a start, gasping for breath. He was drenched in a cold
sweat and was shivering uncontrollably. It had all been a horrible
dream. All was quiet in the camp, save for the incessant chirping of the crickets and the sporadic cackling of the campfire, which was now no more than a few dying embers. He turned his gaze toward the sky where an ensorcled full moon loomed low over the horizon, wreathed in blue clouds and framed by the gnarled branches of the forest. A wolf howled in sorrow, off in the distance, sending a shiver through his mind. “Milord,” intoned an old, familiar voice. The very sound of it warmed his blighted soul. “Are you alright?” Lord Frederigo composed himself, and turned to his trusted ally. Tyndale had always been there, as far back he could remember. The old mage’s eyes sparkled with fatherly affection in the fading light of luna. “The Shrekken has undone you,” he went on, his words laden with the wisdom of age. “Terra Incognita, as we in my Order have always called that evil range. You have fallen under it’s spell.”“O! Tyndale!” Fred gushed, his eyes brimming with tears. “I am a wretch! Look at me! I am a quivering mass of...of...” “Shhh,” the wizard cut him short. “You are a brave and honorable man. Your valor could fill many a song, your strength knows no bounds. Did I not ever warn you? The Shrekken is the darkest of all places. It’s power is subtle, but potent as an adder’s venom. Especially for those with strong mind...and strong heart. You have but been subjected to a mere taste of what lies before you. Did I not ever warn you? This is a Quest that will take more than brawn and courage...”But Fred, for his part, was whimpering like a pathetic dog. “I should have never taken on this Quest, Tyndale! I was a naive fool!” “NONSENSE!” the old mage snarled, rising to his feet. He spread his arms apart, staff in hand, and the moonlight seemed to bathe him in an otherworldly aura of power. “You are not a weakling...YOU ARE A D’HONAIRE! Your fathers have long been the protectors of the Realm, and indeed, of all humankind. You will not back away now, like some kind of sniveling Rat! You will march onward and muster every stubborn fiber of wit that you have been endowed with by the gods or so help me! I will strike you down!”The words, though harsh, enkindled something within the young warrior’s weary heart. Something primordial. “You are right,” he said, proclaiming to all the night's ears; “I am a warrior. I am a man. I never took your words seriously, Tyndale. You did warn me!” He turned his eyes toward the Shrekken and trembled. He had underestimated them. It was said in the Great Kingdom that the old legends were but fools fables! Why then did no mortal man live in the shadow of those jagged, razor edged peaks? A few brave men still lingered in the downland ridges of the range; swarthy men stout of body and mind. But even they did not dare go into the high country. The Shrekken was full of riches, yet no one dare in these dark years claim them for their own. Yes, he had been a fool, and he gritted his teeth. But he was NOT afraid... Morning came; the song of birds and bees filling one’s ears, the invigorating scent of growing things filling one’s nostrils, and the sight of flower filled meadows filling one’s eyes. A cool mountain breeze sent the spindly evergreens creaking beneath the young, smiling sun. It was springtime in the Shrekken. Tyndale and Fred were riding along a trail that had not been trod in decades, at least not by human feet. Though it seemed the deer and elk had maintained the route in their absence. Fred drew in a lung full of the pristine mountain air and exhaled. “Of course you know, Tyndale, this is an utterly hopeless endeavor...” Tyndale smiled back, stroking the luxurious mane of his proud, white Geldan steed. “Of course. But we will die a good death. Together.”“To the death!” Fred cheered. Tyndale narrowed his eyes and spurred his horse onward. “To the death.” And his mount seemed to snort in agreement.Words. Names, still lingered in Fred's mind. Princess Astra of Aqualaria. Was she real? The named seemed familiar. He'd never been up to date with Court affairs. Velus. The Shoggoth. Tarin-Gazin. New York. Minestus. By mid-afternoon, they had reach the great, yawning mouth of the Southern Caves. There was but ONE entrance...
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12/17/2007 6:11:03 PM
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