Once they were on the road, it took them three days to reach the borders of Leck’s land (It will be mine someday, Leck reasoned). It would take them twice as long, had they not met up with a farmer that recognized Leck and gave them all a lift in his wooden cart. The farmer was from one of the numerous villages that were owned by Leck’s County. Fortunately he had plenty of food with him which he shared. To the farmer’s many questions, Leck answered vaguely that he was kidnapped by the ‘Foresters’, and was forced to live with them for these past months. These were his friends, yes, they had helped him to escape. He didn’t say a word about Torin or the gremlins. That was one of the first things Leck learned in slavery; Trust no one fully, and never say anymore than you have to. Now, after five months of practicing Leck followed those rules automatically.  

  At the end of the third day, only fifteen or so miles away from the castle Leck was about to drift off to sleep in the back of the cart – when he felt something was wrong. He didn’t know how he knew – it was one those things he felt without knowing why – or how. Quietly and swiftly he sat up in the cart, and carefully regarded their host – the farmer, who at this point was driving the cart. Within seconds Leck understood what the problem was. There was a subtle change in the farmer’s behavior. Until this moment, the man was relaxed, driving the horses with a sure hand. Now, he seemed tense, and nervous. His head swerved back and forth scouting the road, as if he was looking for something. Or somebody. Leck prodded his friends and motioned for them not to make any noise. Then, he made a fist with his right hand, and soundlessly punched his left palm. The two former slaves motioned that they understood, and Leck felt them tensing. And then the farmer turned his head in their direction.

  The sun had already set, but there was enough light for Leck to see tears in the farmer’s eyes. “Listen,” he said swallowing loudly, “If I don’t do this, they’ll kill my kids and…” his voice trembling, he raised his hand. Rage overtook Leck’s thinking capabilities. He sprung toward the farmer club in hand, and whacked the man on the head and the poor farmer crumbled to the ground. The horse kept pulling the cart, and the three of them felt the thick wooden wheels ride over the unconscious body. Leck turned back to face his friends. “Now,” he said – and didn’t recognize his own voice, “We fight. I’m tired of running.”

 It wasn’t much of a fight. Four men rushed out from a nearby barn, each brandishing some kind of short swords and ran towards the cart. Leck grabbed the reins, and made the startled horse go into a gallop. Nevertheless, two of the attackers caught up with the cart, and managed to grab on to it and climb in. Right into the hands of Fighil and the giant. With some satisfaction, Leck heard a thumping sound of two heads colliding, and stopped the cart. “Now the odds are even” he heard Fighil remark. All three rose up and jumped off the cart, clubs in hand. Their pursuers  came to an abrupt stop ten yards away, and eyed the three with uncertainty. Now, when Leck had a better look he saw that they were dressed in brown leather armor, brown pant, the kind that farmers wear, and black boots. Their swords were a bit rusty, and weren’t very high quality. “I Don’t suppose you would like to tell us what this offensive action is concerning?” Leck asked mildly. The men stared at him, baffled. ‘Oh Gods!’ Leck groaned inwardly. Out-loud he said, “What I meant was…”

            “Why did you attack us you half-wits!” – Fighil barked out in a rough voice.

One of the men was eyeing Leck up and down like he was some rare bird, spoke up looking directly at Leck. “We lookin’ for Baron Vidol’s son. We think you’re him.”

-“And what do you want with Baron Vido’s son?” Again, Fighil spoke up before Leck could get out a word.

The man now a little more than uncomfortable finally turned his attention to Fighil. “He’s… uh… er, under arrest.”

“Oh yeah? For what?” Leck asked with interest. “And who gave the order?”

“I can’t tell you that!”

“Don’t be so hasty to decide what you can and can’t do,” – Leck advised. Fighil and the giant spread out and circled to opposite sides of the men, while Leck simply walked towards them.

“Hey. Hey! What are you doing!” We can kill you with these you know!” – the other man called out in a trembling voice and raised his sword.

“And we can kill you with these,” Leck whirled his club in his hand. “What’s your point?”

 Judging from the looks on their faces, the two fellows were terrified. It didn’t occur to them to go back-to-back, and their heads swerved this way, and that way, trying to keep their eyes on all of their foes at the same time. When Leck stood no more than five feet away, one of the men lunged at him, sword leading the way. A year ago Leck be too terrified to respond, and would be dead within seconds. ‘Whoever sent these goons must think I’m still a helpless boy,’ Leck thought to himself, as he deftly sidestepped, deflected the sword with his club and kneed the chap in the stomach. As the man doubled over, Leck’s elbow came down hard on his back, making the victim fall flat on the ground with great force. Quickly picking up the sword, Leck looked up, and saw that the giant was holding the other man by both arms, and his sword lying in the dirt three feet away.

“I’ll go check on the other two sleeping kittens.” Fighil said, walking over to the cart. Leck nodded, and turned his attention to their prisoner. “Who sent you to arrest me?”

“The same man who arrested your father, you little fool!”

 Leck froze. His father… arrested? Impossible – was the first thought. Throughout his life, Leck always believed that nothing could happen to his father. The man was a Baron – one of the highest ranks in nobility. Only the king himself could…

The man was still struggling, but he saw the anguish on Leck’s face clearly. “Yes, and soon my master will take over the land, you and your father are as good as dead! Actually,” – he said sneering, “Might well be that your father already is…”

“Let me ask you a simple, yes or no question my friend,” Leck said in a very calm voice. The man regarded him, face wrinkled up in curiosity. Leck smiled. “I was wondering if you have ever been thoroughly beaten with a heavy stick…”

 The man’s eyes widened. “What…”

“I’m not finished; …beaten with a heavy stick by a boy half your age?”

 The man’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. His eyes seemed ready to pop out of his head. After a few moments, the giant grew bored and knocked the fellow out with his huge fist.

 By the time they gathered the limp bodies and tied them to a tree using the farmer’s whip, it was past midnight. Leck wanted to leave them on the road, but Fighil knew better.  They threw the bodies in the cart, and drove five hundred yards into the forest. The Giant searched the bodies, and produced two leather purses. After making sure the whip was tied properly, the three headed back.

“Listen lad,” Fighil said once they were on the road, “If that thug didn’t lie,” – he put a great emphasis on ’if’, “Then maybe it’s not a good idea to go to that castle right now.”

“We are not going to the castle,” Leck said coldly. He was still trying to face the fact that his father might be arrested, or worse. It was not real… “We are going to a village where I have a few friends. Well,” he amended himself, “where I had a few friends anyway.” After that they rode in silence.

Leck kept trying to grapple with reality. His home was always his ultimate shelter, but without his father there was no home. He had no place to go. He was miserable when he left the castle, he was miserable while he was in slavery, but those miseries were nothing compared to how he felt now. For the past eight months, oh, how he dreamed of coming home, his father greeting him with a hug, saying how proud he was the servants welcoming him… Those dreams were often the only thing that kept him going – especially while in slavery. Now, there was nothing.

 As they passed the first village, the Giant made a questioning gesture pointing to the village. “No!” Leck snapped. Suddenly he realized that everyone turned against him. Were there more enemies hiding in that village? Maybe behind that bush by the road… His two companions seemed to be very quiet, wasn’t it possible that they were bought, and were waiting for the right time to strike him down? “No,” some rational part of him decided. “If they wanted to betray me, they could have done so long ago.”

But one man was definitely bought. Bovin, the butcher’s son. He hated Leck, and would jump at the chance to betray him – Leck was sure of it. Well, Bovin would have to be dealt with before anyone else.

The sun was peaking over the trees when they finally arrived to Dosvan. To Leck it seemed that everything was the same. The wooden houses, the gardens, even the roosters sitting  on the fences. A few villagers were working in their yards, and stared at him and his friends curiously. So they don’t recognize me. They’ll know soon enough.” – Leck turned the cart toward to butcher’s house.

As luck had it, Bovin was chopping wood in front of his house with a huge axe. The big, blonde-haired lad looked up at that point, hearing the rumbling of the cart, and curiously stared at the driver with his pig-like little eyes. Leck stared back. After a few moments his eyes widened in recognition, and he dropped his axe. Leck smiled with satisfaction. It was time to pay back for the insults. He jumped down from the cart.

“Hi Bovin. Is there anything you’d like to say to me before we start, like ‘Leck , you little baby, hurry, run back to your castle before you soil yourself!’?”

Bovin paled. “Leck, I…” But Leck pressed on – his voice growing louder with every word;

“…Or was it; ‘Run back home and hide behind your daddy, you ninny!’ – I seem to forget.” Now he stood only a few feet away Bovin. The years of name-calling, scorn and insults came back clearly into his memory, and anger raged in every part of his body like a huge tornado. Without thinking, he doubled his fist and punched Bovin in the face. The butcher’s son stumbled back, yelled out in pain and covered his nose with both hands. That felt good, although in some small part of his mind he realized this was wrong. But the need for revenge blotted out all reason. He drew his foot back and kicked Bovin in the stomach. Doubling over, Bovin fell to the ground – trying to curl himself into a ball. Leck heard some movement in the cart’s direction, but didn’t pay any attention to it.  His eyes fell on the axe that Bovin was chopping wood with and he bent over to pick it up. At that moment the door opened, and he heard a gasp. Looking up he saw a young woman holding a baby. After a moment, he realized that the woman was his first, although long forgotten love, Lafina.

For one long moment, there was silence, only interrupted by Bovin heavy and obviously painful breathing. Then Lafina screamed in anguish, and ran towards Bovin. Her breath coming in short gasps, she kneeled near the fallen man, and shifting the baby to one hand she anxiously touched Bovin’s bloody face. Seeing that he would live, she turned to Leck, still on her knees.

“Please, please don’t hurt him anymore. We’ll give you all we have…” – she broke off her speech, her beautiful dark eyes widened and recognition flashed on her face. Recognition mixed with fear. “My Lord…” she swallowed. “Please my lord… whatever he has done, we’ll work it of, every copper. My husband is truly a good man. Please…” – she went on, but Leck didn’t hear her. He was looking at the baby in her arms. “Is it a boy or a girl?” He asked softly. Oddly, he felt calmness settling in his head.

Lafina blinked in surprise. “Ah… it’s a boy my Lord.” She stammered. “He was born only a month ago.” She looked at him expectedly. Leck turned away and saw Fighil standing directly behind him.

“I think we should leave, lad.” – his friend said quietly. Leck bit his lip and nodded once. His rage dissipated completely, and was replaced by utter guilt. “I’m sorry Fighil. I – I don’t know what came over me.” – Leck couldn’t recognize his own voice. He turned to Bovin, who was still lying on the ground; “I’m sorry Bovin. I don’t know what to say.”

“It is I who should be begging forgiveness, my lord.” With his wife’s help, Bovin slowly rose to the ground. His eyes were on Lafina. “I was afraid that Lafina would fall in love with you.” He smiled ruefully. “Every time you came to our village, I was terrified. I knew that you could throw me in the dungeon, even hang me, but I couldn’t imagine my life without her back then. And I still can’t.” The last words were spoken so tenderly, and held such love, that Leck couldn’t help smiling. “Don’t worry Bovin,” he said experiencing happiness and contentment for the first time in many months. “I assure you that I was more terrified of you than you were of me.” – he laughed. It felt strange to laugh, knowing that his father was in prison or dead, that there were people looking for him, trying to kill him… and yet he laughed. Soon, Bovin and Lafina joined in.

*  *   *  

        “And that’s the whole story,” Leck finished. After breakfasting with Bovin and Lafina, Leck and his friends walked over to the smithy. Lerjad, the best of the few blacksmiths in the whole county, greeted Leck warmly. His father was very fond of Lerjad, and always stopped by his house whenever he was in the area. Open and honest, Lerjad was widely respected not only in Dosvan, but in most of the other villages. To Leck, Lerjad was like an uncle he never had. He felt closer to Lerjad and his family than any other family in the county. Now, sitting in Lerjad’s kitchen with a cup of hot tea in his hand, Leck and Fighil related their story, while the Giant nodded his assent whenever the story touched him.  As Leck described their escape from the gremlins, the blacksmith’s eyes shone with pride for his dear friend’s son. As he recounted the farmer’s betrayal and the attack that followed, Lerjad frowned. “Are you sure it was one of our farmers?” he interrupted.

“Yes, I’ve seen him before many times.” Leck answered, and kept going with the story.

“Well,” the blacksmith said after he took it all in, “This is what happened here while you were gone.”

        “Summer went by fine. The harvest was good, and we were expecting an easy winter. Then, sometime in the middle of the fall, a dozen Red Guards showed up at the castle gates. I was inside the castle at that time, doing some work for your father, and I saw it all. Your father, dressed in armor I made for him myself, walked to the door, and spoke to one of the Red Guards – probably their leader. They talked quietly for a while, but then I saw the Baron turn red in the face, and heard him shout, “If the Duke wants to talk to me, he can come and visit my humble home himself!” Then, he turned around and walked away. After that, your father’s soldiers surrounded the Red Guard troops, and showed them the door.

        Then, about two weeks ago, The Baron disappeared. He simply vanished. We haven’t heard a word from the castle, and the gates remain shut – no one answers them. The servants haven’t been seen since your father’s disappearance.”

        “And your daughter?” Leck asked. Lerjad’s daughter, Rethana, worked in the castle’s kitchen, and was the head cook’s most valuable assistant. She was one of the few servants that treated Leck with respect, and never groveled the way most other servants did. She was 1year year younger than he was, but always acted like his older sister.

         The smith nodded sadly, and signed. “She is in the castle. I went there several times, but there is never anyone at the gate. I…” He looked out the window, frowning. “For once, I don’t know what to do.” – a strenuous silence filled the room.

        “I do.” – Leck startled everyone, including himself. He looked at each man in the room. “The castle is mine.” He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, facing his three friends. “And I have a full right to take back what is mine, but I can’t do it without your help.” Fighil and the giant simply nodded, as though they expected this. Lerjad on the other hand, openly gaped at him in profound astonishment. He knew that Leck had changed and learned from his adventures. But this… this was a different person altogether. This was Leck’s father all over again. Thinking of Leck’s father, he remembered something. “Leck,” the smith said rising from his seat, “Come with me.”

        A little surprised, Leck followed his friend out of the kitchen, and into the basement. On the way, Lerjad grabbed a lantern, and lit it. The basement was just like Leck remembered it; metal junk lying in one corner, some shelves with dried meat, a few bag of grain, a huge barrel with a tap on the side…

        “Here  we are,” Lerjad said, stopping in front of the barrel and placing the lantern on it. “Let me just…” he reached with his right hand searched for something behind the barrel. “Ah! There it is.” And he fished a four foot-long something – that was wrapped up in some kind of an old blanket. “Here,” he said, handing Leck the bundle, “This belongs to you.”

        Leck accepted it, and questioningly looked at the blacksmith – who was busy trying to brush the dust off his clothing. Leck quickly unwrapped the bundle, and whistled admiringly. Inside was a sword in a scabbard. He was about to thank the smith, but the latter spoke first: “Your father gave me this weapon last summer. He said to give it to you if… when you come back.” Lerjad smiled, as he continued; “He also said that he left a present in your room,” – his smile turned into a puzzled frown; “I think he said: ‘Tell him I hid it inside his bed.’”

        “Don’t worry my friend,” Leck said still admiring the pommel of the weapon. “Let’s go upstairs. I want to see this sword in normal light. Did you make it?” he asked – as they climbed out of the basement.

“No, this is not my work, although the sword is made exceptionally well” – Lerjad smiled and winked.

“Yes, so I see.”

        Once they were back in the kitchen, Leck slowly drew the sword out of the scabbard. He heard Fighil gasp, and saw the Giant purse his lips in appreciation. For a second, it appeared to Leck that the perfect steel blade emanated an aura of light, which seemed to brighten the whole room.

“The Great Horned One take me,” he heard Lerjad mutter. “If this weapon is not magical!”

“It feels lighter than it should in my hand,” Leck remarked. Then he grinned, “Or maybe it’s me who has grown stronger.” He did a few flourishes, and tossed the sword up into the air. After it rotated three times, he caught it by the handle and slid it back into the scabbard in one fluid motion. He would make Torin proud, whether his mentor was alive or… Grimly, Leck forced the thought out of his mind. He looked at Lerjad. “I’ll need some armor, and some decent clothing. And my friends will need weapons and armor as well. Also I’ll need a stout long rope with a hook on the end. Oh, and cotton gloves. We almost froze our hands off.”

        The blacksmith’s honest face wrinkled in thought; “I can provide you with decent armor and weapons. As for garments…”

“We have money,” Leck quickly interrupted. We’ll pay for whatever we can.”

Lerjad signed in relief. “It’s just that I didn’t get much work since your father…”

“I understand” Leck cut in, hoping he didn’t sound too cold. He finally faced the fact that his father was in great trouble, but he didn’t want to be reminded of it. “OK,” he spoke quickly, in a business-like manner, “You three take care of the equipment. Try to get horses if possible. I need to talk to some of the villagers.” They seemed taken back by his determination, but nodded their consent.

        It was late evening when Leck was able to return to Lerjad’s house. He was tired, but pleased at his results. He visited with nine families in the village – the nine families that had one or more family members trapped in the castle. Some of them readily agreed to help rescue their son daughter or relative, some were wary and required persuasion. At the end however, he had them all.

        As he walked, he thought over his plan. It was dangerous, and he would never go with it by himself, but with the help of his trusted friends, he was sure of success. The three of them made a very formidable team, he thought proudly, and even Torin would be hard pressed… he quickly dropped that line of thought.

        No, he realized, he would breach the castle even without his friends It was his calling. He owned it to his father and to the villagers. He could not afford to back out, not when people counted on him.

        As Leck neared the blacksmith’s house, he heard a familiar, comforting sound of a hammer striking the anvil – coming from the smithy. Looking though the window, he saw two  men, probably Lerjad and Fighil hard at work; Lerjad was pounding away on the huge anvil, and the ex-soldier/slave was keeping the forge going. Leck waved a greeting, and went inside the house.

        He was met with an awesome sight; seven and a half feet of steel was walking around the common room, shaking the foundations of the house with every step. As the Giant turned towards Leck and opened the visor, Leck quickly shut his mouth and blinked, in an attempt to fight the surprise off his face. This was what Leck imagined the knights out of Legends to be like. Now he was positive that he could take the castle back, no matter the odds.

        All in all it took two days for Lerjad to fully load them with armor, weapons and necessary miscellaneous items. Leck found the chain mail to be the most comfortable; it wasn’t too heavy, and it didn’t impede his movements as much as a scale mail or a plate mail. Fighil put on a plate mail and armed a shield and a long sword. The Giant searched for a while through Lerjad’s inventory, and found himself a double-edged battle-axe on a five-foot pole that was outfitted with steel. Out of curiosity, Leck lifted the weapon – and estimated its weight to be over seventy pounds. Lerjad quickly made a leather belt with a loop in which the axe could be placed when not used – the belt went around the user’s shoulder and the loop was located on the back.

        Finally they were ready. It was one of those cold mornings when there were no clouds in the sky, and the sun reflected in the perfectly white snow blinding everyone around.

“You know what to do?” Leck asked Lerjad, as he mounted his horse.  The three ex-slaves were able to purchase three decent horses thanks to the little incident on the road three days ago.

“Aye Leck. Or should I call you my Lord?” – the blacksmith asked teasingly.

“You call me whatever you want, Master Smith. As long as you stick to the plan.” – and they were off.

        Lerjad’s gaze followed the three until they disappeared behind the next turn. Then, resolutely he turned around and briskly walked towards the tavern, where sixty and more villagers waited for him. He was to set up an ambush on the road, in three hours.

        The castle was only three hours away from Dosvan by walking, and the small party reached it under two hours on their horses. It would take them even shorter, if not for the snow. As the castle came into their view, Leck felt his resolve weaken as he was overcome by a great longing to be home. Nothing seemed to change around the castle, except for the gates that were now shut, giving the castle a grim, war-like appearance. No, this was not his home – not anymore. Tears formed in his eyes, and he couldn’t help it.

Leck felt Fighil grab his arm. “Steady lad,” – his friend spoke softly.

“I’m alright,” Leck said, straightening his back. “Yes,” he said more firmly, “I’m fine. Let’s keep moving.”

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