Kingdom's Dawn

The occasional cool mist of the sea quietly reminds me of the unyielding truth of my journey. I am too far from battle to feel the rush within my muscles and yet too close to sleep.

The ship I am on is a grand ship and is only one of many. The night breeze chills my moist face as I gaze across the rhythmic mass and see the outline of hundreds of other gallant ships. Gallant ships carrying gallant knights. As I lean upon the mast, the creak of the timber and the melodic swish of each wave breaking against the bow tug upon my memories.

I am Cedric … Cedric of Chessington. You and I are alike in that we are on a journey. I am not referring to my trek upon this ship, although it is the final leg of my journey. No, my journey began a long time ago, when I was just a boy.

At ten years old, my heart was full of dreams and adventure. An old man by the name of Leinad enticed my appetite
for adventure with his stories. His impact on my life was powerful, though I did not realize it at the time. I believed him as a boy, humored him as a young man, and honor him now, for the stories he told of his life were true. They were of a truth that lost its believability as I grew into the reality of life and dared not believe. And yet, here I am on an adventure every bit as unbelievable as Leinad's.

As I close my eyes, the moist air reminds me of the damp smell of spring nearly twenty-five years ago. There was a small stream east of Chessington that meandered south until it emptied into the vast sea. I loved to play upon its banks with my friend William. Our swords of willow clicked in the morning sunlight as we rescued the fair lady from the clutches of the Dark Knight.

William had been warned by his parents to stay away from the “crazy old man” who lived in a hut near the river, but I could not. He was odd for sure, but he was not dangerous at all. His tales of valor drew me to him. He was a mentor and a friend, and the memory of his voice has been a companion to me often, especially now that I know how his life fits so perfectly into the King's plan for the kingdom. He had the voice of a seasoned knight …

“Sit down, lad, and share a slice of apple,” Leinad said as my mouth became wet in anticipation of the tart fruit. His worn hands worked the knife firmly and delicately to produce eight perfect slices.

“Sir Leinad, please tell me again about the mighty sword,” I pleaded as he slid a cracked wooden bowl across the table with the green apple slices. I thanked him and took a small nibble of my first slice to allow my mouth a
chance to recover from the blast of sweetness that flooded my tongue and cheeks.

His silver hair seemed to betray the heart of a mighty warrior within. Though he was old, his shoulders were broad and his arms were strong. The firewood he chopped was an easy challenge for him, and the blade of the ax landed on its target every time. His gentle brown eyes were framed by tan wrinkles that ran toward his temples. They were eyes that I could gaze into and not turn away from. At times during his orations they became a living canvas that revealed love, pain, courage, and fear. The years of age only slightly masked what I knew was once a very handsome young man.

“Ah, Cedric, my dear boy,” he said and lowered himself into an adjacent chair on my right. It faced him toward a window that looked south to the sea, which was just beyond one's vision. “That is a story worth its telling.”

A veteran hand landed on my shoulder, and his smile accompanied a wink. “It was a new beginning for the people, the dawn of a new kingdom …”

Leinad's story is one of knights, swords, treachery, and love. There is no story like it, and though it is my beginning, it is his story—a story that must not be forgotten.