The Blackhawks Impossible Quest

by Michael Siddall

  ‘Where did you get those,’ she asked.

  Rogan smiled and winked. ‘They're a wedding gift from the man-gods. Don’t you remember the Quest?'

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t remember anything, other than I love you. I only have flickering memories.'

  He shrugged. He didn’t know what else to say or even where to begin. ‘Mmm, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you one day very soon.’

  She smiled and they both walked off towards a bright future together.

  Chapter 20

  Five years later...

  At last the day ended. It was the middle of winter and close to midnight, a moonless night and beginning to snow. Rogan sat in darkness by the light of his fire. He was sharpening his grey goose-shafts. It seemed a lifetime ago since he had competed in the extreme quest known as The Challenge, and although he was content with his life, he missed the excitement and adventure of his past life. All the magic had disappeared from his world, so it seemed. He sucked in the cold night air and sighed heavily, exhaling frosted breath. He shivered suddenly, despite the heavy cloak about his shoulders.

  He loved Kira with all of his heart, and she him, but things had changed so much in their lives that they were drifting apart, and he knew he must do something to regain what they once had.

  He felt more peaceful than he had for a long time, but the fire that had once raged within him as a warrior had been extinguished. Staring into the firelight thoughtfully he sighed again. They wanted a child and had tried on two separate occasions, but both attempts had failed, leaving the children stillborn, which devastated them both.

  They longed for the patter of tiny feet and the sound of tiny voices, the gentle touch of a baby’s hand and the innocent gaze of large mischievous eyes. It would make their lives together complete. And a child would probably bring them closer together again.

  He sat staring into the flames and imagined them playing with their child – him fishing with his bow and arrows in the summer months at the waters edge of the nearby river, flowing gently past their hut, and Kira teaching the child to read and write, but making lessons fun. And he imagined their first born as a strong, solid, good-humoured little soul – even if a little impish.

  Kira suddenly appeared from out of the darkness, walking towards him from their thatched hut. ‘Are you coming? It's time to sleep,’ she said with a gentle smile.

  ‘Soon,’ he shrugged smiling back at her, picturing her being pregnant again.

  ‘You’ve been out here alone all evening,’ she said kneeling beside him, wrapping her arms about his shoulders. She kissed his neck. ‘And I miss your warmth,’ she admitted. A thick woollen blanket cloaked her slim frame and her eyes sparkled in the firelight.

  ‘I just need a little time alone,’ he said squeezing her hand gently.

  ‘It’s been hard of late, I know. Even I miss the excitement of our past lives,’ she admitted kissing him again.

  'I've been sat here wondering why any of us are here. Do we serve a purpose? Do any of us make a real difference in this world? Should I be happy because I have you? Should I be sad because we have no child? I can't answer any of it,' he said sullenly.

  She hugged him. ‘So many questions, so few answers.'

  ‘There must be a reason why we can’t have a child,’ he said feeling miserable and restless. ‘Maybe I didn’t please the man-gods five years ago?’

  She hugged him again and slipped around him, sitting on his lap.

  ‘I love you Rogan. I always have, ever since the very first day we met,’ she said kissing his lips tenderly, ‘and if we never have a child it won’t spoil my life. You are my life.’

  ‘I love you too. More than you will ever know,’ he admitted pulling her closer, holding her so tight that she could hardly breathe. ‘Come on, time to sleep. Maybe tomorrow will surprise us both.’ She slid from his lap and he climbed to his feet, sweeping her up in his arms, cradling her like a child and off they went to bed. Not that either of them slept a wink the whole night long.

  *

  At sunrise the next morning a golden light bathed and warmed their hut. Rogan awoke to the sound of footsteps and horses neighing and snorting outside, which he found strange as nobody ever visited them. Muffled voices muttering to each other were heard close-by, and the sound of someone pulling a bucket of water up their well. He leapt out of bed and dressed quickly, leaving Kira fast asleep. He peered out through a small crack in the hut door. To his surprise there were four hooded figures outside.

  Two were mightily built and were tying their horses to the hitching post. One was exceptionally tall and taking a drink from the bucket of water at the well. The smallest approached the hut door. Rogan couldn’t see any of their faces. He darted to the door with his sword in his hand. Then there came a loud knock. And a faint memory stirred somewhere in his mind, but faded just beyond the edge of conscious recall.

  He opened the door. ‘What... what can I do for you?’ he stammered, his heart racing.

  ‘What we can do for you is more to the point!’ said the newcomer at the well.

  Rogan’s eyes darted over to him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s rather a long tale to tell and we have ridden far. Does your hospitality not run to a bowl of hot broth and a flagon of warm ale?’ replied the newcomer.

  ‘Aye that would be a kindness to be appreciated on this freezing morning. The damp air has chilled my old bones,’ said one of the giant males, his hood shadowing his face.

  ‘I’m sorry but my woman is still asleep, and we don’t make it a practice to entertain strangers at the door on any occasion,’ said Rogan amiably but firmly.

  ‘Wake your woman. She’ll make an exception in our case,’ said the small male lowering his hood

  Rogan’s eyes widened. ‘By my soul.'

  Dopiaza held out his hand and Rogan wrung it cordially. The others lowered their hoods.

  ‘Baltar? Ofash? Vinn?’ gasped Rogan, unable to believe his eyes.

  ‘No,’ said Dopiaza solemnly. ‘Our friends were killed five years ago.

  ‘But... but... they are the spitting images of…’ Rogan stammered.

  ‘...This is Baltar’s son, Bulganis. And Ofash’s twin brother, Olin,’ interrupted Dopiaza.

  Rogan stared in astonishment at their likenesses. The dark skinned warrior touched his forelock, saluting Rogan. Olin did the same, poking himself in the eye. Dopiaza smiled. ‘He's a hulky oaf too, just like his dearly departed twin.'

  Rogan’s gaze moved to the tall male by the well. ‘Then who's this individual?’ he asked. ‘Vinn's mother... father... or his brother?'

  Dopiaza appreciated the witticism and laughed. ‘No. His cousin actually. And his name is Farris.'

  He too was the spitting image of Vinn, except that his hair was dark instead of iron grey.

  ‘It’s been five years since I’ve seen you, but it seems more like fifty. What are you doing here?’ asked Rogan.

  ‘Kira sent for us,’ replied Dopiaza. ‘She said you were in need of another Quest.’

  Olin nodded. ‘The both of you that is. And we have just the thing.’

  Rogan stepped outside brushing past Dopiaza, heading for the well. Taking the bronze cup from Farris he filled it from the bucket and began to drink. Thirstily he finished the whole cupful and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. ‘And what does this new quest involve?'

  ‘A wizard, far to the north,’ said Olin, taking the cup from Rogan. He refilled it and drained the cup in a single swallow.

  ‘In an impregnable castle, high up on a mountain slope, surrounded by a moat of molten lava, and guarded by fearsome fire breathing dragons and giant two headed dogs from the Netherworld, I suppose,’ said Rogan sarcastically.

  ‘Funnily enough…’ said Dopiaza.

  ‘…That’s quite an accurate description,’ interrupted a silky voice from behind Rogan.

  He swung round to see Kira yawning and stretching in the doorway.

  ‘Mornin
g sleepyhead,’ he said smiling. ‘I thought you were going to sleep all day.’

  ‘You’ve just described my dream,’ she said. ‘Or should I say premonition.’

  ‘You’ve dreamt of this wizard?’ said Rogan looking shocked.

  ‘Aye, and of his demons on the mountain,’ admitted Kira. ‘We’re all mercenaries and we’ve been summoned by the women and children of a village at the foot of the mountain, because one by one, their people are dying under the most gruesome circumstances – or disappearing without a trace. Not one male remains in the village to protect them. I’ve been having this same dream, or premonition, call it what you will, for over a month. And it gets clearer and more frighteningly real each time. That’s why I sent for the four of you.’

  Farris looked decidedly worried. ‘Can this wizard and his demons be defeated?’ he asked, the hairs on the back of his neck standing proud of the skin.

  Everyone has a weakness,’ said Rogan scratching his chin. ‘It’s just a case of finding it.

  ‘And how are we supposed to do that?’ asked Bulganis.

  ‘By studying our enemy. Fools rush in, but warriors don't,' said Rogan feeling the quickening of his pulse at the prospect of this new adventure. 'We'll make plans and leave at midnight.'

  The warriors spent the next few hours eating and drinking and making plans for their long journey, and once again, Rogan was voted team leader, but he had no idea what strategy to use to disarm or kill the wizard. The best tactics would be offensive, using the element of surprise, but they would be fighting the wizard on his home ground, so extreme caution would be advised at all times. Even a simple mistake could cost them their lives.

  Midnight came. They saddled their horses and packed food and supplies. Then they sharpened their weapons. ‘It’s time,’ said Rogan placing forty new arrows into his quiver, one by one, so as not to damage the all-important cock feathers. ‘If any of you have the slightest qualm about this mission, now is the time to voice them.’ His voice was sharp, his mind clear. Again he felt the quickening of his pulse. All remained silent.

  It was a quiet night except for a soft whispering wind. He stood for a moment watching his friends, studying them. Superstitiously they all kissed or rubbed their own personal lucky charms before climbing up into their saddles. He hauled himself up into his also. The man-gods work in mysterious and marvellous ways, he thought, and for all the trials and tribulations they bring to our lives, they look to me to save our world. How strange is that?

  Yet this new mission seemed to be his saving grace. Now he felt like the warrior he once was – vibrant and alive for the first time in a long time. However, he quailed at the thought of their task, for it was monumental, and the coming slaughter might be a dreadful and terrible thing to behold. But the Blackhawks were willing to brave the unknown again, uncertain of the outcome as before, and for village people they had never met and didn’t even know.

  Wordlessly they looked at each other with uncomfortable glances, but were still confident in the belief that no matter what happens this day or any other, they could trust each other with their lives, and that good would conquer evil, which was a more than comforting notion. Each was about to leave their old life behind and ride towards a new beginning. This was what they were born for. The adventure. The thrill of the chase.

  Rogan stared long and hard at the small thatched hut that had been his home for five long years. It stood alone on the chalk hillside in the darkness, overlooking a deserted village, which was now damp, derelict and unoccupied. A year ago, it had been a beehive of activity with camp-fires burning brightly throughout the night, but the hard, arid, unworkable ground had driven them all away to greener pastures. He took a final look and remembered. He would never look back again.

  He raised an arm into the air, digging his heels into his stallion’s loins. It jerked forward and he quickly disappeared into the freezing fog. His eyes were fever bright and filled with passion for their new quest. ‘Onward!’ he shouted with gusto.

  ‘Yee, ha!’ hollered Farris heeling his stallion forward, galloping off into the night.

  ‘Giddeup!’ shouted Bulganis as he took off after of the others.

  Olin whipped his stallion's flanks and disappeared into the fog laughing madly.

  ‘The wizard is a monster and that’s no word of a lie, and he who kills with magic spells, by the sword shall surely die,’ rhymed Dopiaza. He took flight after the others.

  Kira was the last to spring into action. ‘This is the way of the warrior,’ she whispered to the man-gods. ‘The Blackhawks way...’

  EPILOGUE

  Not all of the warriors survived their ordeal against the wizard, and it's a fantastic tale to tell, even though it never has been told. But I shall tell it to you one day very soon. For even though the wizard’s schemes were far greater and more lethal than anyone could have imagined, good must always triumph over evil and the man-gods are happy to say so.

  Rogan and Kira have lived for a further one hundred years, had the most amazing life together, raised six children and eighteen grandchildren. But blue-blood's should not live forever, not even those blessed by the man-gods. Unless they live happily ever after. Rogan and Kira still do... even if only in our hearts and minds! ‘So say you all'.

  The end… but only for now!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 17