Knight's Call Part 1

                At first glance, the man at the desk appeared to in the very sunset of life.  His hair and beard were both white as starlight, and even seemed to give off the same shimmer in the limited candle light.  His robes were of obvious good quality, but showed definite signs of wear, particularly at wrist and hemline.

                The room the man occupied was telling by itself, with leather bound books and spare bits of parchment stacked on practically every available surface.  At first glance, one might assume the man to be a scholar, which he certainly was, but a closer look would reveal there was more to this man than just scholarly pursuits, for covering a fair number of the papers were arcane symbols and complex, almost mathematical equations.  More than that were the numerous crystals of varying sizes and colors, as well as jars filled with numerous dubious materials, scattered in and amongst written paraphernalia.  The man himself was bent over his desk, writing away with almost a frantic energy in a book on the desk.

                Taking a peek over the man’s shoulder as he wrote would reveal he had a good reason for his intensity, for this was not simple journal the man was scribing, but something of far greater import.

The Kingdom will fall.  Already the foundation begins to weaken and crumble.  Betrayal.  Pain.  Death.  The bonds of brotherhood torn asunder.  The visions cannot be denied, and, for once, their meaning is clear.  One by one, they each will fall; ultimately, all our peoples will fall into the mists of time, consigned to myth and legend.

                Almost as if drawn up by his words, images seem to flash across the page.  A once gleaming castle brought to ruin by fire and lack of care.  Secret glances and faithless indiscretion leading to betrayal and treachery.  Sword against sword and brother against brother in a battle no one really wins.

I cannot find it in myself to tell my liege his cause is lost. So many of our people, our kin, feel that the time for our release is at hand; after all, it would seem we have all the pieces of the puzzle at hand.  Yet the same destructive powers that doomed our ancestors beset us still.  For all that we have created here in our marvelous kingdom, we still have yet to stamp out the pride and jealousy that ruined us to begin with.  And as it did our first parents, it will lead us down the path of destruction as well.

Still, all is not lost, for just as I have seen the end of our time, I have also foreseen a time when we shall once more be granted a chance at redemption.  I cannot say for certain when this time will come, other than knowing it is in a time far from now.  From the descendents of our people will raise a champion, not just an echo but a true reflection, of our noble king.  If he and those he allies himself with can overcome the weaknesses that overset our kingdom now, they might yet be found worthy to obtain the key that will at last free our people.

Yet they must be wary, for the forces of darkness seek to obtain the key as well.  And herein lays the danger, for whosoever gains mastery of the key determines the nature of what is released upon the world.  Should the forces of light win the day, the curse shall be lifted and redemption once more placed within our grasp.  However, should the powers of darkness win the day, we shall be forever cursed, with our destruction, and that of many others dragged down with us, guaranteed.

For this reason have I spent so much of my time and energy upon creating this book.  Contained herein are those things our champion and his guardians will need to know to provide them the best chance of success.  To prevent this from falling into the wrong hands, I will hide it away, using what gifts I possess, to keep it secreted from those who would it for their own selfish gain.

                Yet another image seemingly flashed across the page, this time of a wall.  Enough detail was given that one might, should he happen upon this very wall, know exactly where to look to find that place wherein the book was hidden away.

When the time is right, the first guardian will be summoned to fetch this book.  The Knight’s Call will go out, and those it touches will either succeed or fail by their own virtues or faults.

*             *             *

            Michael Drake sat straight up in bed, desperately trying to catch his breath, the final images of his dream still lingering in his mind.  Over the years he’d grown accustomed to the occasional dream about the enigmatic old man, but he’d never experienced anything like the dream he had been subjected to tonight.  Again, the images surrounding that tantalizing book came back full force.  That, too, was new.

            With effort, Michael pushed the last, persistent images from his mind.  A quick glance at the clock revealed it wasn’t even five yet, a good hour before his normal wake up time.  Still, Michael knew he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep this morning.  Rolling out of bed, he pulled on a pair of loose work out pants left lying over the back of chair before heading out of his bedroom.  This early in the morning not even his early bird of an oldest brother would be up yet, so he should have the dojo to himself for at least an hour.  That would give him just enough time to work off the last edge of tension clinging to him like insipid socialites usually clung to Gavin, his pretty-boy older brother.  Not bothering with any lights, Michael made his way down to the basement dojo/workout room.  Foregoing the lights, Michael instead lit the candles kept stocked specifically for his use.  Still unsettled by the dream, Michael drew more comfort from the dim, flickering candle light than he would have been able to from the harsh florescent overhead lights.

            After a few minutes to warm up, Michael moved the far wall of the room, where the family’s eclectic collection of weapons and equipment was displayed.  Pulling his familiar katanas from their places on the wall, Michael couldn’t help recalling the first time he’d ever held a sword at the tender age of six.  He and his mother had been living with the Drakes for all of three weeks when the curious, and overly energetic, youngster had found his way down to the basement where his big brothers were in the middle of their martial arts lesson.  Michael hadn’t much cared for the exercises Hunter and Gavin were doing, but his eyes had fastened on the practice sword sitting on the bench against the wall.  Michael hadn’t been aware of it at the time, too absorbed by his newest discovery, but his every motion had been carefully watched by the vigilant teacher working with his brothers.  When Michael didn’t start immediately start swinging the blunt, but still potentially dangerous, weapon around, the wise man had remained quiet to see what the young boy would do with his new “toy.”  After a few minutes of intense study of the unexpected find, Michael had looked up at the older man and simply said, “I want to learn this.”

            Sensing the boy’s seriousness, but not one to give in to a child’s fleeting whimsy, the instructor had honestly replied, “Learning the katana is no light thing.  It will take a long time and much dedication.”

            Michael had regarded him for moment before restating, “I want to learn this.”

            Motioning to where the two other boys were working out, the older man simply said, “Then let us begin.”

            Coming back to the present, Michael smiled softly to himself.  It hadn’t been that easy.  His mother had been horrified to learn of her baby’s newest fascination, and had initially refused to let him continue his lessons.  It had taken a lot of begging by Michael, as well as numerous discussions with his father and the instructor, before Lilly had been willing to even consider the possibility.  She finally gave in, however, after observing her first lesson, and discovering that her always-in-motion, too-curious-for-his-own-good mercurial son had at last found something that could keep his attention for longer than five minutes.  Eventually, they had to place limits on just how much time Michael was allowed to practice, else they never would have gotten him out of the dojo.  Since then, Michael had found other outlets for his restless energy, swimming and horseback riding just to name a couple, but nothing soothed him quite like deadly dance he could perform with his beloved blades in hand.  And right now, that mental relief was exactly what he needed.

            Focusing on nothing but the blade and movement of his body, Michael was finally able to block out the disturbing dream from his thoughts, barricading it behind a wall of sheer mental will.  With no other thoughts to distract him, Michael allowed himself to be carried away in the rhythmic dance, his sharply honed dance partners his only company.  He was not certain how long he’d been lost in his own world when the room suddenly fell completely dark, bringing him back to reality.  Feeling the sweat drip down his face, Michael smiled to himself.  The extinguishing of the candlelight was his signal to call his practice to an end.  It was a system he had worked out with Hunter when his oldest brother had taken over the running of the family. 

            Unlike their father, Hunter understood Michael needed the solace and solitude of his time in the dojo, so he’d presented his youngest brother with a compromise.  Michael could have the dojo to himself, twice a day, for the amount of time it took for two of the candles to burn themselves out.  The only stipulation was Michael couldn’t do two sessions back-to-back.  If, after finishing his allotted time, Michael still needed an outlet, then he would have to find other means.  Only once had Michael ignored the limits set by his oldest brother.  Following the death of his mother, a fifteen-year-old Michael had locked himself in the dojo for two days straight.  Hunter never called him on it; he simply made sure sufficient water and sustenance were kept supplied for his grieving sibling.  At the end of those two days, when Michael was completely spent, Hunter simply bundled him off to his room to clean up and rest.  When Michael was finally rested enough to be coherent again, the only mention that was made of the incident was a short note from Hunter reminding him of their agreed upon strictures.  Beyond that, neither brought it up again.

            Michael was brought from his thoughts by the sound of quiet footsteps entering the dojo.  He looked up expectantly to see Hunter standing just inside the doorway.  Michael watched his brother’s eyes flick to the candles.  He saw the concern flash across Hunter’s face as he calculated how early Michael had crawled from bed to have already used up one set of candles.

            “Trouble sleeping,” Hunter asked neutrally.

            “Just some odd dreams,” Michael told him.  “Couldn’t go back to sleep, so I decided to get an early start on the day.”

            Hunter gave him another searching look, and Michael did his best to bury the remaining disquiet not even his intense work out had managed to dispel completely.  As his brother scanned him from head to foot, Michael couldn’t help but wonder just what his brother saw as he looked at him.  At ten inches over five feet tall, Michael was the shortest of his brothers.  His constant work with his swords, as well as the swimming and horseback riding his participated in as his other physical outlets had graced him with an excellent physique, if the female half of the population could be believed.  Top that off with jet black hair that was just short of being shaggy, brown eyes one overly effusive admirer had described as the color of melted dark chocolate and a baby face that would have him looking half his age for years to come and, well, Michael would never be short of female companionship; that is, if he wasn’t so blasted shy in social settings.  Still, Michael was aware at this moment that his sweat-damp hair was obviously still bed-tossed, and there were probably shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep. Whatever he saw must have satisfied his brother, however, for Hunter just gave Michael a small nod before moving to the far end of the room to begin his own work out.

            As Michael left the dojo, he passed a pretty red-haired woman, her hair braided tightly back from her face, grey eyes alert despite the early hour.  Michael smiled, recognizing his brother’s personal bodyguard.

            “Good morning Maeghen,” Michael said.  “Glad to have you back. How was the visit with your father?”

            There was a slight relaxing in the lines of Maeghen’s body as she acknowledged that Michael was not a threat.   Nodding to Michael, Maeghen gave him a slight smile.

            “Glad to be back,” she replied.  “My father was about how he always is; less than pleased with my choice of vocation and employer.  How have things been in my absence?  From what I hear your brother about drove young Malcolm crazy. Poor kid can keep up with the ditziest, most self-absorbed debutant for a month in Morocco, and a week with your brother had him nearly in tears.  It would seem he wasn’t as prepared for this task as I thought he was.”

            “You know Hunter,” Michael said.  “He will push as far and as hard as he can.  He’s just learned you push back.  You just might have your hands full for a few days until he’s reminded of that fact.”

            Maeghen gave an evil little smile.  “We’ll just see about that,” she said.

            Chuckling, Michael headed on toward his room.  If anyone could keep his oldest brother in line, it was Maegs.  She had been the star talent at D&D Security, the security company owned and operated by his next older brother Gavin and their adopted brother Gabriel, making her the obvious choice to take over Hunter’s personal security.  During the five years she had been working with Hunter, Maeghen had also become their premier trainer for up-and-coming talent.  She often used Hunter as a final exam of sorts for her better “graduates.”  The aforementioned Malcolm had been Maeghen’s leading student; looked like the unfortunate young man was in for some remedial work.

            Still smiling over the fireworks certain to erupt between Maegs and his stubborn brother, Michael headed back toward his room.  As he made his way through the empty halls, the smile left the young man’s face as his thoughts returned to the changes in his relationship with his oldest brother; the relationship among all the brothers, really.  Some of those changes had their genesis in Hunter’s assumption of the role as head of both the family and Drake Enterprises.  Hunter took his responsibilities seriously; sometimes too seriously if you asked his brothers.  And then there was the debacle that had been the termination of Hunter’s engagement.  Ultimately Hunter had forgiven everyone involved in that mess, but his continual reserve with his brothers told Michael that he hadn’t forgotten any of it.  Not for the first time, Michael wondered what Hunter would do if the whole truth were revealed to him.  No matter what, it would not be pretty, not to mention the truth would hurt Hunter more than he’d already been, which is why Michael, Gavin, and Gabriel had all agreed to keep it among the three of them; four if you counted Maeghen.  As for the other party involved in the ugly affair, she certainly wasn’t going to reveal what really happened that night.

            Pushing his own unpleasant memories back, Michael headed straight for his in-suite bathroom, wishing the hot shower could wash the lingering memories from his mind as easily as the sweat from his body.