The Dark Knight Of Rheged
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These are the first scribbles for my book The Shadow of the Sword which will hopefully form part of 'the Tale of Rheged'. I've been planning this book for ages now and just haven't had enough time to write much but this is just an idea I've jotted down...please remember this is just an idea and I don't know if I'll use this but I'd appreciate any feedback please 
!
The Dream of Edryd
He was standing high up on the mountaintop. Stretched out before him, for as far his now dim eyes could see, lay the ancient kingdom of Rheged; the land which he had known and loved ever since the long forgotten days when he had learned to crawl upon its red-brown earth and taken his first small steps in its green grass. But now he was much older and much wiser and as he gazed out across the landscape, it seemed to him that the land was as old as time itself. He could almost feel it sigh with sorrow and weariness. No longer was it the peaceful land of his childhood. The very land on which the old man stood seemed to cry out to be delivered from a pending doom which threatened to overcome it.
And as he watched, the scene before him began to change. The cloudless, blue sky swiftly turned dark and the sun that only a moment earlier had been gently warming his back was swallowed up behind a thick shroud of grey. He shivered and drew his cloak closer round his shoulders. In the distance, he could hear the rumbling of thunder among the hills and see great flashes of lightning tearing at the horizon. Then from beneath his feet there arose a deep moaning noise, like someone awaking out of a deep sleep. The sound of it sent a chill coursing down his spine and made the hairs on his neck stand on end. It grew louder and more intense until it became a deafening roar that shook him to the heart. A mighty wind began to howl all around him and with it came the noise of huge wings beating the air.
As he watched in horror, a huge shadow crept over the whole land from the great mountains of Sorestan in the west to the desolate Wastelands in the east. Awestruck, he could only stand and gaze heavenward as a great, blood-red dragon soared across the darkened skies of Rheged. As the air rent with the roar of the dragon, he sensed that the great shadow above him had begun to move and gazing up at the sky he saw an immense sword raised high above the land Rheged, and poised ready to strike as if held aloft by some almighty, unseen hand. As it began to fall over the kingdom, he could bear it no longer. He fell to his knees in the dust, covering his face with shaking hands and weeping like a broken child. ‘ Oh God in Heaven, spare our land!’ he cried. ‘Spare us! Spare us from the sword!’
He awoke with a cry and peering around him through the gloom, he could make out the familiar whitewashed walls of his own cottage. He sat up, eyes wide with fear and shuddered at the memory of his awful vision. ‘It was a dream.’ He muttered to himself. ‘Thank God, it was only a dream.’ Then grasping the bedclothes to him, he lay back exhausted on his bed and trying to put the horror of what he had seen from his mind, wished for the light of morning.
The sun was just creeping up over the hills when the boy began to stir. He turned over on his bed and pulled his well-worn blanket tightly around him in an effort to keep out the early morning chill. But the draft from the open cottage door made him open his eyes and peer drowsily over to where a man leant against the doorpost, silhouetted against the sky by the early light. ‘Grandfather!’ the boy cried, sitting up. ‘What is it that has woken you so early?’ The old man turned, his reverie broken. Something about the way he moved made the boy realize that something was wrong. He stood stooped in the doorway of the cottage, with a faraway look in his deep grey eyes. It was as though he had suddenly aged a hundred years. Everything about him spoke of a great weariness and as he looked down at the boy, his eyes were clouded with sorrow. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thing that was eating away at him. ‘Just a dream.’ The old man shuffled slowly back into the cottage and sank down on a seat by the fire. The boy waited for him to continue. After what seemed like an age, he lifted his eyes and rested his gaze on the boy. Again the sage shook his head. ‘A terrible dream. One, I fear, that tells of times of great peril that will come upon our land.’ He closed his eyes and shuddered again, as if he could still see the awful sight before him. The boy went to him. Kneeling down by the chair he took the gnarled hands in his own young ones. And lifting his clear, innocent eyes to the dark, care-worn ones of the old man, he waited for him to go on. ‘I saw the shadow of a great sword. And the sword was ready to fall upon the Kingdom of Rheged.’ He sighed. ‘Maybe it was just a dream after all. But.........
‘My boy,’ he began ‘I feel my time is short.’ ‘No, grandfather!’ the boy breathed. But the old man laid a finger to his lips. ‘Hush, Kynon. And listen well to what I have to say to you. You are fifteen now and nearly a man. You are old enough to hear.’ Then looking out across the valley below them to the distant mountains as if to draw strength for what he was about to say, he took a deep breath and went on. ‘You have known for a long time now that the old man before you is not your true grandfather.’ The boy nodded. Well he remembered the day Edryd had told him. It had nearly broken his ten year old heart. ‘Well, now I will tell you of your father, but first you must swear not to repeat a word of what I tell you to anyone...’
!The Dream of Edryd
He was standing high up on the mountaintop. Stretched out before him, for as far his now dim eyes could see, lay the ancient kingdom of Rheged; the land which he had known and loved ever since the long forgotten days when he had learned to crawl upon its red-brown earth and taken his first small steps in its green grass. But now he was much older and much wiser and as he gazed out across the landscape, it seemed to him that the land was as old as time itself. He could almost feel it sigh with sorrow and weariness. No longer was it the peaceful land of his childhood. The very land on which the old man stood seemed to cry out to be delivered from a pending doom which threatened to overcome it.
And as he watched, the scene before him began to change. The cloudless, blue sky swiftly turned dark and the sun that only a moment earlier had been gently warming his back was swallowed up behind a thick shroud of grey. He shivered and drew his cloak closer round his shoulders. In the distance, he could hear the rumbling of thunder among the hills and see great flashes of lightning tearing at the horizon. Then from beneath his feet there arose a deep moaning noise, like someone awaking out of a deep sleep. The sound of it sent a chill coursing down his spine and made the hairs on his neck stand on end. It grew louder and more intense until it became a deafening roar that shook him to the heart. A mighty wind began to howl all around him and with it came the noise of huge wings beating the air.
As he watched in horror, a huge shadow crept over the whole land from the great mountains of Sorestan in the west to the desolate Wastelands in the east. Awestruck, he could only stand and gaze heavenward as a great, blood-red dragon soared across the darkened skies of Rheged. As the air rent with the roar of the dragon, he sensed that the great shadow above him had begun to move and gazing up at the sky he saw an immense sword raised high above the land Rheged, and poised ready to strike as if held aloft by some almighty, unseen hand. As it began to fall over the kingdom, he could bear it no longer. He fell to his knees in the dust, covering his face with shaking hands and weeping like a broken child. ‘ Oh God in Heaven, spare our land!’ he cried. ‘Spare us! Spare us from the sword!’
He awoke with a cry and peering around him through the gloom, he could make out the familiar whitewashed walls of his own cottage. He sat up, eyes wide with fear and shuddered at the memory of his awful vision. ‘It was a dream.’ He muttered to himself. ‘Thank God, it was only a dream.’ Then grasping the bedclothes to him, he lay back exhausted on his bed and trying to put the horror of what he had seen from his mind, wished for the light of morning.
The sun was just creeping up over the hills when the boy began to stir. He turned over on his bed and pulled his well-worn blanket tightly around him in an effort to keep out the early morning chill. But the draft from the open cottage door made him open his eyes and peer drowsily over to where a man leant against the doorpost, silhouetted against the sky by the early light. ‘Grandfather!’ the boy cried, sitting up. ‘What is it that has woken you so early?’ The old man turned, his reverie broken. Something about the way he moved made the boy realize that something was wrong. He stood stooped in the doorway of the cottage, with a faraway look in his deep grey eyes. It was as though he had suddenly aged a hundred years. Everything about him spoke of a great weariness and as he looked down at the boy, his eyes were clouded with sorrow. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thing that was eating away at him. ‘Just a dream.’ The old man shuffled slowly back into the cottage and sank down on a seat by the fire. The boy waited for him to continue. After what seemed like an age, he lifted his eyes and rested his gaze on the boy. Again the sage shook his head. ‘A terrible dream. One, I fear, that tells of times of great peril that will come upon our land.’ He closed his eyes and shuddered again, as if he could still see the awful sight before him. The boy went to him. Kneeling down by the chair he took the gnarled hands in his own young ones. And lifting his clear, innocent eyes to the dark, care-worn ones of the old man, he waited for him to go on. ‘I saw the shadow of a great sword. And the sword was ready to fall upon the Kingdom of Rheged.’ He sighed. ‘Maybe it was just a dream after all. But.........
‘My boy,’ he began ‘I feel my time is short.’ ‘No, grandfather!’ the boy breathed. But the old man laid a finger to his lips. ‘Hush, Kynon. And listen well to what I have to say to you. You are fifteen now and nearly a man. You are old enough to hear.’ Then looking out across the valley below them to the distant mountains as if to draw strength for what he was about to say, he took a deep breath and went on. ‘You have known for a long time now that the old man before you is not your true grandfather.’ The boy nodded. Well he remembered the day Edryd had told him. It had nearly broken his ten year old heart. ‘Well, now I will tell you of your father, but first you must swear not to repeat a word of what I tell you to anyone...’
