A Knight's Purpose (Book 1) ✔️

Prologue

Year: AD 520

Ansley slipped off the boat under the cover of darkness. He'd journeyed from Angles over the ocean to Mercia by stowing away on a small merchant vessel, cloaking himself in shadows. Half way through the journey he'd run out of magic and been forced to use the oiled cloth that covered their wares - salted fish - to hide whenever the men came down to inspect the hull. His ragged clothes still wafted the smell of salt, brine, and dead fish if he breathed hard enough.

He'd managed to save his strength enough that by the time they landed he could once again write runes along his legs and arms in blood to make his movements silent and outline blurred. He was fairly certain no one had seen him leave the boat, but even if they had there was nothing they could do to him now. Magic pulsed brightly under this ground, stronger than he'd ever felt in his homeland.

From under his shirt, Ansley produced a large tome and, moving as close to the small town where they'd docked as he dared, used the low flickering torchlight to read. The letters were indistinct but he'd read the passage enough to make out the instructions and the next rune he had to draw.

Without hesitation, he carved a long line across the back of his left arm with his side knife and dipped his index finger in the blood. He traced the rune onto his left palm and spoke the incantation.

The blood burned him as it erupted into blazing fire. Barely managing to suppress his screams, Ansely fell to his knees gripping his left arm as tightly as he dared until the pain subsided. A deep brand in the shape of the sigil remained on his palm. He consulted the book and frowned.

This sigil will guide you to your desire.

Hmmmmm. He stared intently at the brand but nothing happened.

He shook his hand up and down, still nothing.

But, as he began moving it side to side he felt a small prickle. Freezing, he waited for the prickle in his palm to disappear. It didn't. He moved it further to his right and noted when the prickle began to weaken instead of strengthen.

Peering more closely at the burn mark, he vaguely recognized the individual runes for direction and compass woven into the single mark. There were still parts that he didn't know but that didn't bother him. It had worked.

Ansely cautiously moved in the direction where the prickle was strongest and it intensified ever so slightly. The mark was like a lode stone, drawing him to the desire he had in his mind when he created it - Immortality.

It took him five days of walking and dodging armed patrols to finally reach the spot where his palm glowed and burned as if it were on fire once more. He had become so in tune to the mark that he could tell that any direction he moved in, the pain diminished.

He stood on a small hill not far from the ocean on the other side of Mercia from where he'd landed. There was nothing there, no stream, no trees, only rolling expanses of grass. Where was his Immortality?

He set his pack down - he'd stolen it and the food it contained along the way - and as he went to dig through it for the spell book he froze. The tingling had gotten ever so slightly stronger as he knelt down. His Immortality was beneath his feet.

By the time he'd dug down almost his entire body height his palm was sending flames licking up his left arm but he ignored it. Nails ripped and torn from frantically digging in the dying light, he finally reached a small wooden box. He hauled it up, noting how light it was and slammed it on the ground until it broke - too tired and focused on his prize to even worry if what was inside was breakable.

A book, much like the one he carried with him, remained inside the rubble of the box and when he grabbed it greedily the flames on his palm ceased. He had his answer, this book contained Immortality.

He inspected it carefully; made of leather and vellum the cover had no words. All that decorated it was a large iron circle reminiscent of a Q with three slash marks running through the bottom right corner.

He carefully opened the cover, trying to sense if he'd set off any magical traps. Nothing happened. The first page had only five words written on it - Book of the Iron Claw.

~~~

Note: This was added after I wrote the first few chapters to try to give more stakes to the beginning of the story. What do you think of it? Should I keep it or just leave this part out and start with chapter 1?