A story by: Saor



  - Chapter I: Incipit

        Anno Domini M∑CC∑XVII

        In nomine Patriis, et Filiis, et Spiritus Sanctus, ego, Iacobus, born
far years ago in the kingdom known as Aragon Crown, wanderer, pilgrim,
former soldier in the name of my queens, and now last brother on earth
of the Sacred Order of The Light, Iím gonna tell thee a story of life,
death, and combat. Lots of amazing things happened in that far time, but
noone lives now to remember it. Most of them are dead. And a few of
them... well, some nights, I still dream of them, eternally young, fiercely
fighting in distant plains covered of blood and victory. I beg your pardon
for my poor knowledge of this ancient english language: may God enlighten
those dark passages this useless warrior hand translate wrongly upon the
parchment thou are reading. Here it begins the legend of the Children of
the Light.

         I was a kid when a viking raid near the city of Barcino happened.
They made me prisoner when I was fishing in the river: never saw them
coming. For long weeks I was jailed inside their smelly boat, until they
reached british coast. I was sold as a slave in the city of London, and for
two years I crossed along the country serving my lord, a merchant from
Dun Edin. In that time I heard lots of histories, but one of them caught
my attention. They told about some misterious islands, far in the west,
where the best warriors of all the nations lived and died in a perpetual
search for glory. They told those warriors venerated the sacred tomb of
Arcturus Rex, and they said that land was a land of miracles, magic and
unnamed dangers. No need to tell how these stories filled my head: in such
a way, I finally escaped from my lord and master, and crossed the
country on my own feet. I arrived the Welsh Coast from York, exhausted,
almost dead, and when I reached the sand of the shore I cried cause
there were no more land to the west. But suddenly, the fog of the early
morning sorrounded me, and inside the mist I could see a little boat
approaching the shore. It was governed by a fair lady, who looked at me.
And then she said: Good morning, my dear Iacobus. Will you meet the
legendary warriors of the Lost Islands? And I fell down on my knees and
cried: yes, my fair lady, I will meet them.

         This way, after three days of sailing in the dark and never see the
sunshine, we finally reached a green and dark shore. The lady looked at
me and said: may your life here be plenty of good stories to tell... maybe
some day, will kids of your age come along the sea because of your songs
and poems.

         I kissed my fair ladyís hand, and then kissed the ground. This is how
I first reached the legendary land of the Sherwood Islands.

         I got lost inside that dark forest, and amazing creatures lured
behind the trees and under the swamps: giant spiders your eyes have
never seen; powerful dragons, crossing the skies as fire arrows; evil
skeletons of ancient restless warriors... I crossed the Forest as
fast as my weak legs could, and I saw a light at the end, a grey wall of enormous
stones, and when I though I was finally saved, seven men jumped from the
trees, surrounding me. ďGave us all your money, you little kid, in the name
of the Blue AngelsĒ they said, and as I had no money to gave them, I saw
myself dead. But, may our Lord be blessed, when I seized my little knife
to confront them and sell expensive my life, four raiders appeared on the
road. They were four women-at-arms, with determined expressions at

their faces, like the legendary amazons of the sailorsí tales. They fought
those seven thieves, and before I could be conscious of what was
happening, four of them were dead, and the other three ran for their
lives, loosing themselves into the forest. Amazed as I was, I took the
bridle of one of their horses and asked my savioursí names. Thatís how I
met the four leaders of The Order of The Light, as they were Jess, the
Powerful, whose hits pierced through armour, flesh and bone; and Fly, the
Calm, who always waited with serenity till the best moment to hit with her
swords; and Emma, the Mighty, who could crush three men with the same
swing of her weapon; and Errin, the Fast, whose movements you never saw
till you were more than dead. They told me their names, and I told them
mine, and they offered me a glass of wine and a bed where to sleep in my
first night at the Sherwood Islands.

         So I met the Light Castle, upon itís green low hill, besides the
Myrdinn River. So I met then clan known as the Children of the Light, and
the powerful warriors they rest there, waiting for their next combat. But
I will talk of them, all of them, another day. Cause my hands are old and
were trained to hold a sword, not a pen. And that kid of the story Iím
telling is now an auld and crippled man who feels, in this cold and peaceful
nights, alone and sad.

         Sic luceat lux.

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