Beginning of a Hero (Legends of Windemere)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Luke happily replies. He shakes hands with Kevin and quietly leaves the main building.

  He can see that the wooden stables are near the entrance to the complex nestled behind two of the dormitories. As Luke crosses the courtyard, he passes the gurgling fountain made out of white marble. He stops to stare at the marble figure of an angelic woman pointing a longsword to the sky. Some fish are in the pool and Luke takes a quick look around before dipping his hand in to pet one of them. He lets out a small laugh when a few of the fish start nibbling at his fingertips. Stiletto begins barking at a distant raven, reminding Luke that he has to bring the noble shepherd to the stables.

  “Sorry about that. I got a little distracted, buddy,” Luke says, patting the dog on the head. “I haven’t seen a marble statue of this quality since I was shown the one of my grandfather in Hero’s Gate. You remember that one. I found you abandoned at its feet when I snuck away to get another look after breakfast,” Stiletto snorts and begins growling at the half-elf. “Fine. I will stop reminiscing. You can stop with the growling. We have work to do and a you-know-what to find.”

  *****

  The second Luke passes through the large wooden doors of the stables, he is struck by the scent of hay and animals. He can see that the long, back wall of the stables is the defensive wall with several windows and doors opened to the killing field. Luke is sure that he didn’t see them as he approached, but he guesses that it is some protective illusion. Knowing nothing about magic, he shrugs and looks around at the long row of neatly kept pens.

  A young girl with dull, red hair is the only worker in the stables and she is busy tending to a gorgeous, royal blue war-horse at the far end of the stables. The mighty horse is obviously enjoying the grooming, but it still takes the time to look in Luke’s direction for a few seconds. He glances to his right to find a pack of slender greyhounds in a large pen. Stiletto turns toward the smaller dogs, causing them to back away. A defiant yelp breaks the silence, but Stiletto continues to quietly stare at the terrified pack. Luke reaches over the pen’s gate to scratch one of the greyhounds on the head. The other dogs cautiously come up to sniff at his hand until he gently pulls it away.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” Luke says, getting within a few feet of the girl. “I was told that I could keep Stiletto here while I was attending the academy. Are you in charge of the stables?”

  Another horse nuzzles his arm when he leans against its stall. Smiling at the horse, he pulls out a piece of dried fruit for the brown mare. The mare is about to snatch the food, but the girl suddenly hits Luke’s hand with an expertly thrown brush. The horse steps away from Luke, nervously watching the girl glare at them.

  “My father keeps the horses on a strict diet,” the girl declares as she continues to brush the war-horse. “If you want to help me, grab that bucket of water over there and bring it to me.” Luke grabs the heavy bucket and drops it next to her with more force than he intended. The cool water splashes on her leg, causing her to glare at him again.

  “Sorry about that. It was heavier than I expected and my hand slipped,” Luke says, getting her a horse blanket to dry off with. “My name is Luke. I just arrived here and I was told that Stiletto could stay here. Do you have a name? Not that I’m trying to demand anything. By the way, beautiful horse you’re working with.”

  “I’m Jamie. This here is Bolt. We got her for Selenia when her last horse was too old to go into battle,” the girl explains with a gentle touch to the horse’s cheek. “She’s a western Yagervan who was raised by halflings for strength and endurance. A more beautiful horse, I have never seen. Though I’m just a youngling, so what do I know?”

  Luke is about to say something else, but Jamie waves a hand as if she already knows the question. “I know the usual questions when people first meet Bolt, so I answered you and saved you the time. New recruits tend to talk too much and miss their first meal. If you don’t waste your time here then you will fall asleep in the dorm or zone out on the wall. You guys always think you have too much free time on your first day.”

  “I’m pretty hungry, so I just wanted to drop off Stiletto and get some food,” Luke says with a charming smile.

  “You can put Stiletto in the pen over there. It was made for a pony, but he’s big enough for it to be just the right size for him,” Jamie casually states, taking a closer look at the noble shepherd. “I am impressed with the shape and health your pet is in since I’m assuming he is always on the road with you. You have the look of a traveler, so I assume his diet is rather varied. Rest assured that all of us here will take good care of your pet.”

  Jamie opens the door to a small pen for Stiletto. The dog’s ears stand up and he backs away from the girl. She tries to give the dog a warm smile in order to calm him down as she approaches, but Stiletto dodges her hands at the last second. The girl reaches into her pocket, pulling out a piece of jerky that she gingerly holds out for the dog. A look of triumph crosses her face when the dog begins to drool. Her victory is wiped away when he barrels into her, snatches the jerky from her hand, and promptly returns to Luke’s side. Jamie scrambles to her feet, wiping the hay from her clothes. She ignores the hay sticking out of her wild hair.

  “Stiletto isn’t my pet. He’s my best friend. Let me talk to him,” Luke politely requests. He gives the dog a kiss on the top of his head. “I know, boy. I wouldn’t like to be penned up either. Though, I guess I am being penned up in this academy if you think about it. Unfortunately, I can’t let you wander around this place without both of us getting into trouble. I promise to visit you every chance I get and take you out for some runs in the forest. Besides, you’re going to be pampered in here while I get worked to death. So, enjoy yourself and be nice to the young lady.”

  Luke smiles at Jamie as Stiletto walks up to her and lets her lead him into the pen. After she closes the door, Jamie waves to Luke and goes back to grooming Bolt. The muscular horse keeps its eyes on the half-elf who makes his way out the door. Luke is so busy thinking about how to find the heir that he bumps into a heavily armored dwarf. Luke is thankful that he didn’t walk into one of the foot-long shoulder spikes sticking out of the foggy platemail. One look at the old dwarf’s face tells the young warrior that he isn’t very happy about the jostle. His gray beard is practically bristling with a sudden surge of rage.

  “I’m very sorry about that. I should pay more attention to where I’m going,” Luke apologizes as he backs up.

  “Watch where you’re going, crazy kid. Goddamn toddlers think that they own the place,” the dwarf growls, his voice deep and tinged with annoyance. “I don’t believe I know you, kid. I’m Duggan Ironcaster, your taskmaster if you take any blacksmithing courses. So, who in the Holy One’s name are you? You better make it a real good answer. I hate long, drawn out names or moronic nicknames that you young folk seem to have nowadays. I remember when all you needed was your first name and a sturdy fist to make a memorable introduction.”

  “My name is Luke Callindor. I just arrived and I haven’t quite gotten over the excitement of being here,” the half-elf humbly replies. The dwarf looks him over and spits on Luke’s boots. With a glimmer in his sapphire-like eyes, Duggan slaps Luke on the back hard enough to knock the youth off-balance.

  The dwarf is walking away before Luke can ask about the spitting. The few dwarves he has met would slap each other on the back for any reason, but it was always positive and brotherly. The spitting was a new and confusing gesture. Luke is sure that the spitting will gnaw at him until he asks Duggan about it. The worst that could happen is that he gets a reputation for being an idiot. Luke smiles at the idea because if people think he’s an idiot then it might be easier for him to find to the heir. He easily catches up to the dwarf, which seems to irritate the short man.

  Duggan refuses to pay attention to Luke until the half-elf asks, “Is spitting on someone’s boots a dwarven custom?”

  The armored dwarf whirls around on Luke faster than the ha
lf-elf ever imagined a dwarf could move. The expression of seething anger on Duggan’s face causes a lump to get stuck in the Luke’s throat. Without warning, the dwarf breaks out into gut-shaking laughter. His orange tears fall to the grass causing a small fire that he effortlessly stomps out. Still laughing, the dwarf gives Luke a solid punch to the stomach, forcing Luke to gasp for air and fall to one knee. It takes a lot of effort for Luke to stand after the unexpected blow. Duggan is already walking away before Luke regains his composure.

  “Is there anyone who works here and is in a good mood? I’ll be going insane if everyone has an attitude like Kevin, Duggan, and Jamie,” Luke mutters, rubbing his sore and growling stomach. “I better get some food before the students get back. That should give me some time to think unless the cook is some easily angered ex-warrior who thinks everyone below the age of twenty-five is nothing more than an arrogant punk. I’m going to have to pray a lot to Uli if I want to get out of here alive.”

  “Enjoy your stay here, kid! Let’s hope you make it through the week!” the dwarf shouts as Luke walks away.

  *****

  “Remember to eat everything on your plate, dear. Old Betty has to keep all of you growing warriors fed, so there shouldn’t be any reason to waste food,” the elderly woman advises Luke from behind the serving counter after handing Luke a plate of food. “Now, have a seat over there and watch the stampede begin. Try not to get your feet stepped on, dear.”

  Luke smiles at the pleasant woman and takes the plate. On the plate is a thick, yellow mush, a slice of wheat bread, a bowl of vegetables, and an apple. He can see a long table of water pitchers and glasses at the end of the serving counter. The smell of the fresh food pulls at Luke’s stomach, which is rumbling at the scent of a real meal instead of stale trail food.

  “Thanks. Would you mind telling me what this is, Betty?” Luke politely asks. She smiles at him as she heaves a large, red clay cauldron onto the counter. Luke can hear the sloshing of mush every time the cauldron teeters on the counter. Four stubby legs magically grow out of the wide bottom to balance the magical cookware.

  “I honestly do not know,” Betty admits, tenderly stroking the rim of the cauldron. “This magic cauldron can turn any combination of three foods into a highly nutritious mush that is perfect for maintaining energy and health. On the weekends, I cook full meals for the academy, but those meals depend on what meats and vegetables Selenia purchases.” She reaches out to pat Luke on the cheek. “You don't have to fret about what I feed you, dear. I know what I am doing. Just be thankful Selenia isn’t allowed to cook anymore. Last time she tried, we had to use one of the dormitories for an extra medical station.”

  “I will keep that in mind if I ever see Selenia in the kitchen,” Luke says. He gets a glass of water and takes a seat at a table near the wall.

  Luke’s eyes water with joy as he eats his first forkful of the delicious mush. He realizes how long it has been since he had a real meal and even longer since he had something that was home-cooked. It takes a few more savory bites for him to identify the mixing tastes. His best guess is pork sausage, honey-soaked corn cakes, and a tart syrup that minimizes the sweetness of the honey. He can see Betty grinning from behind the counter before she turns to prepare more plates for the breakfast rush.

  It is not long before Luke hears a small army jogging toward the cafeteria. A wave of voices hits him as the door opens, leaving his ear ringing. He nervously watches as close to seven hundred sweaty students and instructors swarm into the long building. The students are loudly talking amongst themselves, but there are so many conversations that Luke can only catch a few words here and there. He stops trying to eavesdrop and concentrates on getting a good look at his classmates. He can see members of several races including a towering female half-orc whose flawless blonde locks run down to her knees. She notices Luke staring and growls at him, which reveals her sharp incisors. Luke looks away, hiding his amused smirk. He notices that many of the faces in the crowd are fatigued and most of the students are moving with stiff, jerky legs. Another half-elf sits at the table next to him and begins quietly sipping at a cup of tea. The black-haired half-elf is dressed in dull yellow, priestly robes with a spiraling sun symbol on the front.

  “You must be new here. What’s your name?” asks a high-pitched voice, causing Luke to turn away from the priest. Luke looks down at a curly haired halfling who is taking the seat next to him. The smell of sawdust hits Luke’s nose as the halfling rubs an apple on the only clean spot on his shirt. It takes Luke a few seconds to realize that the apple in the halfling’s hand used to be on his own tray.

  “My name is Luke. Excuse me, but I believe you took my apple,” Luke replies, snatching the fruit back. The halfling gives him a charming smile and starts whittling a block of wood.

  “I’m Nimby. I teach woodworking and sling fighting here,” the halfling cheerfully announces. “So, what brings you to this place? Where did you come from? Where did you get those weapons? Have you been given a schedule yet?” The halfling’s questions are almost too quick for Luke to keep up.

  “That’s a lot of questions in one breath,” Luke says once his ears catch up to Nimby’s voice. “I won a tournament and the prize was a reward of my choice, so I requested to be sent here for a semester. I need more combat training and I’ve heard so much about this place that it made perfect sense to enroll. I’m pretty sure I missed the rest of your questions. You talk pretty fast.”

  Luke takes a sip of his water and manages to grab his apple before Nimby can get it again. The halfling grins up at him and silently shows Luke the wooden horse that he carved. Luke is about to ignore it when he notices the detail on the saddle and the wind-blown mane. The small statue is amazingly intricate considering Nimby made it within a few minutes.

  “The only way to learn about people is to ask questions. You have good reflexes for a newcomer, so I assume you’ll be put in the advanced combat classes,” Nimby claims, his eyes fall to Luke’s weapons. “Those are some fancy and expensive looking weapons. To be completely honest, you don’t usually see sabers of any kind around this place. Duggan sticks to forging basic guard weapons, so none of them are as flashy as your weapons. It looks like the tips of the sabers are weighted without making them unbalanced. Oh, I like the matching stiletto hidden in your right boot too. I prefer knives to swords, but that’s only because of my size. Did you win them or steal them?”

  Luke decides to entertain the halfling’s questions. “They were a coming of age present. I left home to go on adventures soon after I was given these weapons. Honestly, I don’t use the stiletto that much. It’s more of an emergency weapon than a main weapon since my instincts work off the sabers. You see, I’ve been training with swords since I was a kid and I know I’m good, but I’m not arrogant. At least, I don’t think I am.”

  “No shame in having some pride,” Nimby declares, taking a few quick bites of his breakfast. “We’re all talented around here and Selenia is great at fitting the right person into the right job. Take me for example. My talents are in the area of carpentry, but I was a very good structural designer in my hometown. Selenia acknowledges these other talents, which is why she asks for me to help in repairing the academy buildings if they get damaged. So, which group are you in and what kind of schedule did Kevin give you? If you got him on a bad day and made it worse then you better hope you get kicked out in a few days because the schedule won’t be pretty.”

  Someone else takes a seat at Luke’s table as the last of the students make their way to the remaining seats. The newcomer is a very large human with an entire roasted chicken on his plate. The green armband and military haircut make him stand out from most of the other students in the room. A tattoo of an elven face with a star background is on the back of his left hand and a tattoo of a fearsome Sword Dragon covers his entire right shoulder. Scanning the room, Luke notices two other men and a woman who share his new companion’s haircut. They also have armbands, but each band is a different
color.

  “Leave the kid alone, Nimby. You don’t want to chew his ear off during his first day. Try to give him until tomorrow before you get under his skin,” the large man teases. He slowly rips meat off the chicken, piling it on a thick slice of bread. “My name is Thomas Strogan and I’m in charge of Elfstar group. Kevin took me aside before I got to the cafeteria and told me that you’re one of mine, Luke. Honestly, you don’t look like much from where I stand. You better be able to carry your own weight around here. Elfstar has a long-standing reputation for having the best swordsmen in the academy. Selenia herself admires our blade skills, so you better not mess up too often. We’ll give you some leeway for the first week. Everyone gets in trouble during their first week.”

  “Trust me, sir. I can do whatever you want me to do,” Luke assures Thomas, flashing a proud grin. “I don’t carry these swords around for picking my teeth. I’ve already been trained as a forest tracker.”

  “You're a forest tracker, huh? I had a few dealings with your kind before I settled in as an instructor. You guys sure are some dangerous folk,” Thomas says with a wicked smile. He takes a large bite from his open-faced sandwich and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “Not much in close quarter combat though. Many of you fail terribly when you can’t leap around like a monkey. Once, I met a forest tracker in Gaia and we decided to have some . . . words in a tavern. He was nothing close to a challenge because I stopped him from getting to his weapons and kept him inside the building.”

  Luke smiles as he takes a bite from his apple. “He must have been an amateur. A lot of people train as a forest tracker for a few weeks in order to get a feel for two-weapon fighting and ignore the rest of the lessons. Those aren’t real forest trackers. Personally, I could have taken you on indoors without my weapons. Now, I have a very important question for you.” Luke pauses to look around, his face shifting from deadly serious to a friendly grin. “Where did you get that roasted chicken, Thomas? Betty told me that everyone was served the same thing except on weekends.”