The mighty Warrior was dressed in blue.
All his armor was adorned with such hue.
The first who fought to free the shadow,
In the land where the waters were shallow.
His helm was strong, his cloak was soft,
his silver sword could be seen far off;
And upon his shield
Armies crashed and had to die or yield.
But the rain did fall even in the south they say,
And that was his dying day;
He laid his sword and shield to rest
His cloak the king laid upon his breast.
“Just gotta go a little longer,” he said under his breath. His soft, white shirt had become wet with sweat. He lowered his arms onto his lightweight brown pants to get a breather.
To Ing’s amazement, he seemed to have stumbled upon the greatest thing he could imagine at that moment. It was a spring filled with water to rejuvenate his dry throat. Something about it didn’t feel quite right, but he moved towards it, nevertheless; he supposed things couldn’t get any worse. As he came right up to it and lowered his hands to cup the water, the spring disappeared and he fell onto the ground in utter disappointment.
“Hey, what gives?” said Ing.
Laughing, coming from an old man, entered his ears. Ing got up and turned around to face the man, in fighting stance.
“I do not wish to fight you,” the man proclaimed.
Ing lowered his defense.
“Who are you?” Ing said in a confused tone.
“You are from the town of Ganwin if I’m not mistaken,” the old man proposed. “What brings you this way?” The stranger was elderly, possibly in his fifties, wearing tattered, ripped clothing and his hair was showing traces of grey as the years started to wear down upon him. Brown sandals lay at his feet. He looked like some sort of beggar, or possibly wanderer, to Ing. Yet, there was wisdom and valor in his demeanor.
“How do you know all that?” Ing said. Who could this person possibly be? Were people like him common outside of Ganwin? Ing was starting to think for the first time that he didn’t really know much besides what he was told. Who knew what could exist outside his hometown? Could he really trust what people had told him? What the books had told him?
“I’m a wanderer and I hear many things in my travels. People’s lips can be very loose and I go from here and there listening to their stories gathering what I can. Already tidings of your departure from Ganwin are spreading, though you may not know it.”
“What is your name?” Ing asked.
“My name?” the old man said.
“Yes,” Ing replied, growing impatient.
“My name is Roan.” Ing’s last name was Roan and he wondered if it was some sort of coincidence. The man had only given one name and it was unclear whether it was first or last. Ing looked him over and wondered if this wandering man could possibly be his uncle, Erste.
“That was not a mirage you saw,” Roan said.
“What?”
“It was an illusion employed by the servants of the dark one, Slithzalien. His Illusionists are wandering all over the land right now. His hope is to spread his influence across this fair land. He is a descendant of the Dark Lord, Bolsee, who ruled over the whole of Eclestia and Condeth Rahal many centuries ago. It was not until Erdwick struck him down with his mighty sword, forged by Elwin, ancestor to Horwin, that his tyrannical reign came to an end. Oh yes, make no mistake, I can feel his dark influence on the rise once again. This does not bode well for the race of men.”
“Why create a mirage?” Ing asked. “And I don’t know who Slithzalien is. I’ve never heard such a name. Nor have I ever heard of Bolsee or Erdwick.” Ing had read many books for a child of his age, and never once had he come across any of these people in his readings. “I would love to hear more about them, but I’m trying to find someone.”
“Not a mirage, an illusion,” Roan replied. “As for why, the Illusionists have been tracking you for a short period of time. They are trying to lead you into folly. I can help you escape from them, but you must trust me. I can take you to the Lake of Promises where the witch dwells. She is the one known as the Lady of the Lake and she can help us.”
“Who is the Lady of the Lake?” Ing asked. There was a growing feeling of irritation and uneasiness inside due to Roan’s knowledge, which made him frustrated, as if he, himself, lacked experience.
“You have a lot of questions, Ing,” Roan said. “That is good. But for now you must listen. The Lady of the Lake is a former queen who dwells in a cave in the center of the Lake on the border of Akram. It is a treacherous place. But the Lady knows many things for she is very old. Snow lions stalk the surrounding mountains. But I do not wish to tell you more and lead you into worry. The path there is a hard one, but two are better than one, or so I judge.”
“I am looking for the province of Lableck,” Ing said. “Can you tell me where it is?”
“Yes, I can. But first do something for me. I have devised a riddle. I wish to see if you can answer it. It’s a simple test, that’s all.”
Ing was
