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Description
The Lion's Talon
Prologue

10 years ago. Dusk was dawning upon the still forest of Greenwood, in the small kingdom of Seccya. Two men looked towards the amber sky as the long day came to a close. They had finally come to the end of a day's fruitful hunt, turning their eyes to building a camp.
"I'll set up the tent and you set about building a fire" spoke the older of the two, removing the saddle of his horse.
"Ok" spoke the younger, running to gather firewood.
He set himself to arranging the wood, and then began trying to light the tinder. He'd seen the older one do it a thousand times, but he still had trouble getting the tinder to burn. After a short time, the tinder quickly began to crackle and burn, followed quickly by the surrounding branches. He fed the flames until a fire, shaped almost like a cube was born.
"Good work Mikha" laughed the older of the two.
"Thanks father" spoke the boy, Mikha, to the older man. He was Joha, and the two came hunting here often.
Mikha began the cold, messy job of preparing a pair of rabbits, caught in traps they'd set that very day. No one enjoyed such a task, yet it was vital for any hunter to know how to prepare their catch. He prepared them quickly and placed them over the fire on a makeshift spit, watching as the suculent meat began to colour, before washing for dinner.
The two sat by the fire, waiting eagerly for their meal.
"It is a shame that we could catch naught but rabbits for our dinner today, but no doubt we shall have better luck in the morning." spoke the father, looking through a gap in the leaves to the night sky above
"I hope so Father, or let it be said that the King's and Prince's of Seccya can catch only rabbits to feed their hunger, whilst our people feed heartily on Spring Bucks." replied the son smiling. He always enjoyed hunting with his father, Joha.
"If that were the case, then I would have to outlaw hunting altogether in Seccya" laughed Joha "But, my son, I think it is more our cooking that we have to worry about. Any longer and those rabbits will be fuel for the fire rather than for ourselves" he said, retrieving he slowly blackening rabbits from the crackling tongues.
They let the rabbits cool a little before tearing into the warm meat. Finished, and satisfied, they listened to the almost pure silence that surrounded them.
Crack!
A branch broke, shattering the silence, and within an instant, arrow met string and Joha was ready, waiting. From the tree line came two 'men'. One was handsome, wearing royal blue robes, and a thin band of gold on his brow. The other was old, withered, wearing the light blue robes of a mage and a wide brimmed hat. He carried a long wooden staff, with a large fire like ruby attached to the end. His hair shone like platinum as did the short beard upon his chin. His eyes were also the colour of rubies, but within could be seen the blackness of a thousand lifetimes spent within the pains of hell itself.
"Who goes there?" spoke Joha, still aiming at the two.
"Just a humble prince and his loyal sage guardian." spoke the younger of the two. "I am Jald, prince of Mennotai, and this is Roha. Now, may I ask who you two are?" he spoke with a short bow.
"What are you doing in this domain?" spoke Joha again
"We are merely lost my lord. Now may I ask, who are you?" replied the prince.
The sage muttered something under his breath, looking with disdain at the prince.
"I am Jald, King of Seccya. Now, my prince of no direction, you may stay here for the night, with us, and I shall ensure that you are escorted from our lands in the morning. Are we clear on this?" spoke Jald with a cold, commanding voice.
"Of course, my liege" spoke the prince. "However, I find sitting, staring at the heavens is rather dull. May I suggest a little sport?"
"What do you have in mind?" spoke Jald
"A duel, purely broadsword fencing, perhaps?"
"As you wish, Jald. But I will set the rules. First to disarm the other will emerge victorious." spoke the king, drawing his sword.
Joha held a mysterious single edged blade with a lion's head hilt. Upon the bottom of the handle was a large clear gem, held in lion’s claw. It was the royal sword of Seccya, the Lion’s Talon, a sword that had been passed down through the ages, razor sharp, even though it has never been sharpened, seemingly indestructible, not having a single scratch after thousands of years of use.
“Very well, first to disarm the other wins.” Replied the prince with a smile.
He drew a broadsword, simple in design, looking more like that of a simple soldier, rather than that of a prince’s. Jald paid it no heed as they drew together and began to duel. Joha rushed in quickly, driving Jald back with blow after blow. Jald simply yawned as he felt the rough touch of oak to his back, before smiling and beginning his assault. He laid in blow after blow, laughing at the surprise on Joha’s face. He began to play with the king, slashing first at the legs, and then at the head, making him continuously leap into the air and then crouch low. The king began to tire, and so aimed to finish quickly. He increased the fury of his assault, laughing then at the prince’s surprise.
“Surprised that this old man still has some fight in him?” he yelled
“No I’m merely surprised that your back hasn’t given in.” he replied
Roha was dripping with a cold sweat, his nerves beginning to show, but the child couldn’t understand why.
“After all,” he said to himself “This is just a friendly duel, is it not?”
Jald, too, began to tire, and so he too aimed to finish quickly. He aimed yet another slash at the king’s legs, forcing him to leap. He took hold of the king’s ankle as he leapt and with inhuman strength, he pulled the man towards him, running him through at the same time.
Joha let out a yell as the sword penetrated flesh and bone.
“What are you?” he gasped, blood running from between his lips
Jald pulled the dying man towards him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He whispered with a sinister smile.
He through the now pale man over the fire, next to Mikha.
“Father!” he cried, moving to him.
“Mikha, you must…run” he spoke, coughing up more blood “Know this, I love you my son, and I will always be with you.”
He passed him the Lion’s Talon weakly, before falling limp, all life having left him.
The boy took the sword in hand, his other fist clenched tightly. The Prince turned to walk away, laughing at the so called ‘easy kill’. His sage followed close behind, obviously sickened by the events of that night.
The boy screamed with rage, and sprung forwards, holding the sword up high. Jald turned, and the blade clove through flesh and bone with ease, taking an eye with it. Jald let out an inhuman scream, revealing for a moment his true form as bat like wings erupted from his back, his skin darkening as spires of bone grew forth from his head, black blood spewing from the wound. That moment seemed like hours, but in reality only lasted mere seconds. Mikha rushed in, readying the killing blow, but Roha stood in between them, casting two spells. The first sent the boy through the air, hurling him into a tree, where he fell, unconscious into the small bushes surrounding the camp, out of sight. The second was a spell of fire, powerful, but brief, aimed at nothing in particular.
“Kill him!” screamed the fiend.
“It is already done, my lord” replied the sage, quickly placing a hand over the wound. A light green glow came from beneath the hand and when he pulled it away, a large scar remained.
“I can do nothing for the eye I’m afraid, my lord” he spoke, with no regret.
“Pay it no heed, as long as the boy is dead.” Spoke an enraged Jald
“I disintegrated him where he stood, my lord, with intense flames and heat” spoke the sage
“You did well” replied the fiend “Now let us leave this place. Our fun for tonight is over”
“As you wish, sire” spoke the sage, opening a portal as they began to leave.

An hour later, the boy awoke. He walked into the camp, drowsily, looking for those that killed his father, holding the sword close. He looked upon his father, pale and cold, and began to cry. He lifted his father onto his horse, tying him to the saddle, leaving a message saying that he would not be returning to the palace, and sent the horse on its way. He knew the horse would head for the palace, instinctively heading for the stables. He saddled his own horse, taking what he could salvage from the camp and began to ride.
Stopping, looking back at the camp he spoke. “Father, I vow to avenge you. I will not rest until I destroy Jald with my own hand. That fiend shall not be safe, in this life, or the next. Jald shall pay for his sins”
He drew the Lion’s Talon and held it high, staring at the strange runes upon it’s blade, before sheathing it again on his back, riding into the depths of the forest, to search for his father’s killer.