The Rider

Lighting struck hot in the black night, followed by a thunderous crack. Heavy rain dripped down the window as Ollie peered his beaked nose over the windowsill to watch outside. The short old man looked into the night and saw a young man galloping on a horse through the thunderstorm towards his inn. The lightning flashed again and Ollie could see he had a sword and a shield on his back. As the rider neared the inn, an arrow shot from the dark and zipped past the rider’s head. He quickly looked back over his left shoulder and jumped off the horse; the horse neighed loudly. The rider dashed into the dark. Ollie tried to see what the rider was attacking but he couldn’t make out the figure; he only saw the gleam of silver bounce off his sword when lightning would strike. The rider sunk deeper into the thick blackness of the night, and all Ollie could see was the heavy downpour.

Suddenly, an elven pig monster flew out of the darkness and slid on the ground, squealing. The rider rushed to the fallen monster and stabbed his sword into the beast. The monster let out a final squeal, then died.

The rider climbed back on his horse and galloped forward towards the inn. He reached the front door and quickly hoped off his horse and ran to knock. Ollie quickly swung the door wide open before the rider could knock. “Come inside.” The rider stepped in without hesitation as Ollie scurried outside in the rain. He took the horse by the reins and brought it in a small stable to the right of his inn; he threw clumps of hay on the floor and left.

Ollie shut the front door and saw that now both he and the rider were drenched. Ollie scampered to the left of the wet rider and walked inside a room. The rider stood patiently in the middle of the inn while raindrops dripped from his tunic. He looked around the inn and saw it was very small, with only one table and two chairs near the front door and a small desk beside a counter with a big book that had a feather stuck in it for records, and a few lanterns were lit. There was a wooden staircase that lead upstairs beside the desk. The inn was quaint, made of stone, and sheltered him from the rainy dark most importantly. The innkeeper returned to the rider with a large stack of towels. He held them all out for the rider, who took two, and then Ollie took the last towel for himself and wiped his face aggressively. As Ollie dried the back of his hair he hobbled to the large book in the back of the room and lifted it up, grunting as he did so. He lifted it on the counter and stood behind it. Only the top of his head could be seen. Ollie took two steps up on a stepstool and then flipped the book open to the feather, like a bookmark. He leaned far to his left and grabbed an inkwell. He pulled out the feather and dipped it in the ink.

The rider approached the counter while he cloaked one of the towels over himself and watched the old man. Ollie leaned his head back to look up at the rider. “One night in the inn?” The rider nodded. Ollie looked all the way back down and wrote in the book. He looked all the way back up at the rider. “What is your name?” The rider said nothing. Ollie waited. The rider remained silent. Ollie looked back down and simply wrote the word “Guest” as his name.

Once Ollie had finished he shut his large book and stepped off the stool and held his hand forward for the rider to follow. Ollie led him to the first door on the left; the rider stood inside and looked around. He saw a small bed in the corner with one pillow on it and a small rug that barely covered any of the floor. As the rider familiarized himself with the room, Ollie examined the rider’s sword and shield on his back. The sword was

tinted blue, like glass, but solid as iron; and the handle was golden with a ribbed grip. The shield was silver mostly with a royal blue center, shaped just as the shield was. Inside the blue were red wings that stuck out beyond the royal blue. Above the red wings was a golden cross that started from the top and went down the middle of the wings all the way to the bottom. The rider turned back around and looked at the innkeeper. Ollie reached in and slowly shut the door.

Ollie walked one step at a time up the creaky wooden staircase, holding a lantern,

and made his way into the attic, which was converted into a bedroom. There was a wooden bedframe with a large quilt draped over it, a dresser beside it, and a bookcase beside that. Ollie set the lantern on the dresser and sat on his bed. He removed his shoes and slid them under his bed. He unbuttoned his shirt, removed his pants, and took out pajamas from his dresser. He changed into them and sat on his bed. He lifted the corner of the quilt and was just about to get under when he stopped. Ollie thought about the shield on the rider’s back and the sword. He thought about the monster he slew outside in the night.

Ollie got up and hobbled to the bookcase. He took his square hand and pointed his boxy finger and dragged it across the book bindings, mumbling each title to himself until his finger stopped on a book. Ancient Tales of Lyree: Vol. I. The old man drew out the book and brought it to his bed. He sat down and placed the book upon his knees and opened it. While he flipped he recalled the present war happening outside. The evil Kalador had invaded the great kingdom and killed their king, locking the princess in his dungeon. His army of monsters – ghouls, massive spiders, three-headed bats, ogres, bipedal elephant goliaths, and elven pig warriors – Kalador unleashed upon the land of Lyree. Ollie turned to a page that foretold the current events. “The Demon King will reign over the land…” Ollie flipped the page once more, studying the drawings and sketches of what the ancient prophets depicted these monsters to be. He flipped the page again and read further: “The seat will be lost to evil for a score in time…” Ollie recalled that Kalador killed the great king, Callahan, perhaps twenty years ago; it had been so long as so terrible that it was hard to remember. He flipped the pages again, perusing the stories of the destruction the Demon King would cause, all seeming familiar to Ollie. He stopped on a page. He saw a drawing of a boy holding a great sword and shield. The sword was colored blue and glowed as he stood face to face with a swirled horror of smoke; a ghastly black cloud with hot pink eyes and vicious teeth. This depiction of the Demon King was completely unknown to Ollie, but as he looked at the drawing of the boy he saw that something reminded him of the rider he brought in. Perhaps he had brought in the boy told in prophecy. Perhaps he was housing the Hero of Lyree. Ollie shut the book, pondering the likelihood he would have been fortunate enough to have welcomed this boy foretold. Perhaps it was just coincidence. Ollie rested the book on his dresser and tucked his feet under the quilt. He blew out the lantern.

In the morning Ollie carefully walked one step at a time down the creaky staircase. He saw the rider was already waiting by the counter. Ollie walked around the rider and behind the counter, pulling out the stepstool. He stepped on it and leaned to his left to grab the inkwell. He pulled it close and then opened the large book to the bookmarked feather. He dipped the feather in the ink and scribbled gently on the pages while the rider watched patiently. Ollie looked all the way up at the rider. “Ten gold.” The rider reach on his belt and pulled out a small satchel of coin. He dropped ten coins on the counter and then tied his satchel back to his waist. Ollie counted quickly and saw that it was ten. Ollie nodded to thank him.

The ground suddenly shook violently as a roar erupted from the sky. The rider quickly ran to the door and opened it, rushing outside. Ollie saw from out the door the sky was turning a dim pink, as if the sun was being blocked. Ollie hurried as fast as he could outside and stood beside the rider. They looked up and saw the clouds were swirling in the sky, forming out of nothing and being pulled towards the east as the air became hot. As they followed the clouds across the sky they saw far in the distance, where the kingdom was, a horrible swirl of black clouds surrounding the castle, with flashes of hot pink igniting inside the cloud. The rider sprinted to the right of the inn and brought out his horse. He climbed on top and trotted beside the man. The rider looked down at Ollie and nodded. Ollie saw then that the rider looked exactly like the boy in the ancient tome – he was the Hero of Lyree. The rider cracked the reins and charged towards the Demon King Kalador to save them all.