1999-04-14: The Spring Of The Heaven’s Knight
Face bloodied, robe tattered and torn, I weep as Britain burns. Cries can be heard through the night air carried upon the billows of smoke, which rise to the heavens. The streets are empty, save for a body lying here and there amongst the rubble. The guards have abandoned their post and all hope is lost. Kelras stands atop of Castle Britannia basking in the fires light and the raw power of total victory.
“Master Jerrith…Master Jerrith!” I start from my bed as I look into the eyes of my fearful apprentice Lady Shawna. Sweat runs down my face as she holds me in an upright position. “ I thought ye be possessed or worse, should I fetch a healer” the Lady Shawna asks in a cracked and shaking voice. “Leave me, twas just a dream, the fever makes my mind play tricks with my thoughts” I say as I wipe the sweat from my brow.
Still tying my robe belt around my waist I run down the cobble stone street toward Castle Britannia. I breathe a sigh of relief as I pass the guards at their posts. “Good Eve to thee sage” one guards says as I rush past him. Having no time for cordial banter I say not a word. I barrel head long through the doors as I collapse in the stone chair by the reading table. I rest my head on the cold hard marble surface of the table trying to quiet the cries of anguish that ring through my mind. “Damn this illness, tis making me quite mad” I say. as I push aside several tomes I have already read. I grab a small book barely seen amidst the piles of parchment and I begin my research once more….
“There art only four of us left. Four, how can four stand against and army? Who was I to think I could stop Kelras and his accursed KnightMage? I risk all their lives, for what I do not know. Tis only a feeling of right and correctness, a feeling I cannot explain. We are hold up at the spring, tis truly the only safe place left to rest our battle torn bodies. This will be the last time we shall come to this tranquil place. Who would have thought a place like this could exist so high upon the rocky cliffs. Sylia, Day six hundred and forty two of the battle of with the Dark Knight Kelras.”
As I flip the pages I come to realize that I read one of the journals of the leader of the Heaven’s Knights. I hold the book ever so gentle so not to disturb the honor of this great hero. Several of the pages are burnt and the text is not legible. “Dammit” I curse, for those pages surely contained the whereabouts of the magical spring. Light flashes before my eyes and my skin feels as though it is being poked with thousands of tiny daggers. The illness takes over my body as I fall to the floor.
Still clutching the journal, I am carried to the infirmary by the guards. I have pushed myself too hard and now I am being made to rest.
The spring lies somewhere high atop cliffs. The mountains are so barren and so widespread and we don’t even know if the spring still exists. All we have is hope.
