Brian Pratt - Shades of the past

About twenty five years ago, the Empire made a push into Madoc in an attempt to swallow up a section of fertile farmland to feed its growing populace. The army was sent to expel them back to the Empire but the fighting raged for many years until a sort of stalemate was achieved.

Unfortunately for Madoc, that stalemate happened to be where the Empire had decided to stop anyway. A portion of the lands now held by the Empire was known as Barrowman’s Field and thus the name for the war.

Some believe that the Ruling Council in Madoc decided to create a band of men whose job was to destroy as much of the Empire as they could to force them to draw off some of their forces defending the area known as Barrowman’s Field.

The Black Hawk was in charge of that band. Black Hawk and his raiders somehow got through their lines and then it began. The destruction of town after town, some say they slaughtered every last man, woman, and child. They’re also rumored to have salted the fields so nothing would grow.

Whatever the real truth is, it worked. The cry from its citizens forced the Empire to pull forces from the border to deal with the Black Hawk which allowed Madoc’s army to push them out.

Black Hawk’s band supposedly destroyed over twenty villages and small towns, all the while staying one step ahead of their forces. They even managed to avoid direct confrontation with their mages, how no one’s ever been able to find out.

Sometime after the end of the War of Barrowman’s Field, Black Hawk disbanded his men and was never heard from again.

“Many thought he had died,” Uther says, winding the tale to a close.

“But now he’s back,” James says.

“That’s right,” agrees Jorry. “But what that’s going to mean is anyone’s guess.”

“Thanks,” James tells them as he moves to rejoin Illan at the fore.

“Sure,” replies Uther.

Coming abreast of Illan, he glances over to his friend aghast at the things they just told him. He knows Illan must have heard all that was said, he definitely was close enough to have overheard the conversation.

“Did you do all those things?” James asks him.

He rides in silence for a minute before replying. “Yes, to a point,” he finally says. “We did destroy towns and villages, sow fields with salt and other acts of destruction. But the wanton deaths of innocents? No, we never did that. Unfortunately, in the fog of war, innocents were killed and for that I shall always feel remorse. But we did what we had to do.”

James digests that for a moment then asks, “Why didn’t you resume your role as Black Hawk when the Empire first attacked last summer?”

Illan glances to him and then says, “I’m getting old. Sure, I thought about it but my Alaina counseled me against it. Said it would bring back too many bad things. But I couldn’t simply stand by and do nothing so I went south to see what I could do.”

“I left home before the fall of the City of Light. I hated to leave my Alaina, we both knew it was unlikely we would ever see each other again. She understood and sent me with her best wishes. My son offered to accompany me but I told him to stay and take care of his family.” He pauses and then says with a catch in his voice, “It seems that’s all I have left now.”

They ride in silence for awhile before he gets his emotions under control and is able to continue. “By the time I reached the City, the Empire had already encircled it and I thought it would take months before it fell. Then the following morning to my disbelief, it was over. I worked my way to Lythylla and joined with Miller and his band, seemed like the logical thing to do at the time. The rest you know.”

He always knew there was something about Illan. Always an air of command about him and in a crisis always knew what to do and took charge. Now it all makes sense. “After we rescue your son, what do you plan to do? Now that Black Hawk has returned.”

“Nothing has changed,” he says. “I’m still your man and will stand by you till the end.”

“Thank you for that,” James tells him.

Illan simply nods in reply.

By this time, Seastar appears ahead in the road. The sun now just dropping below the horizon, the lights of town begin to wink into life. “Where do you think we’ll find him?”

“My son will be in the jail,” he says. Then adds, “I hope.”

“No, I mean Lord Faetherton,” clarifies James.

“Who knows?” he says. “Though I don’t plan to leave until I deal with him.” He glances to James and is relieved to see him nod agreement.

Entering the outskirts, they make their way between the buildings, finally coming into an area lit by an oil streetlamp. When Illan rides into the light, his armor blazes forth and gasps are heard from those nearby on the street.

“Black Hawk!” “He’s returned!” and other exclamations are heard in an increasing number as more and more people gather round.

“Sir!” a middle aged man exclaims as he comes from a nearby tavern.

Illan pauses in the street and turns toward the man. “We ride,” he says. “Brook’s Hollow at dawn. Spread the word.”

With a whoop, the man turns and races down the street.

As they progress through town, that scene replays three more times. Each time all Illan says is, “We ride, Brook’s Hollow at dawn, spread the word.” The crowd gathering around them grows as they progress further into town.

When the press of people becomes too great, Illan brings them to a halt. At that, the street grows quiet. “Please return to your homes,” he tells them and then takes off his helm, revealing his features to all.

“Illan?” some people ask in shock. Still others stand in dumbstruck amazement. Never before had anyone known who Black Hawk had been. But once they knew, it didn’t take them long to realize where he’s going. All knew of what Lord Faetherton had done and where his family lies.

“They’re in the jail Illan,” one man cries out.

Illan nods and says, “Thank you. Now you should all return to your homes.” He glances around at the faces he’s known all his life. Some he’s watched grow to adulthood.

Still shaking their heads in wonder, they begin to disperse.

Sighing, Illan replaces his helm and glances to James. Then he resumes riding toward the jail. Before they reach it, they see lined up before the front door, thirty or more men, ten of whom have crossbows. Standing before them is a man dressed regally and can only be Lord Faetherton. Illan approaches and stops a good twenty feet from him.

“I’ve come for my son,” he announces.

“Your time is past, Black Hawk,” Lord Faetherton says derisively. “You and those with you are under arrest for the illegal release of a prisoner.”

“I don’t think so,” Jiron says.

“If you don’t remove your weapons, we will be forced to fire,” he says.

“If you don’t drop your weapons and stand aside, I will kill each and everyone who stands against me!” Illan says with utter conviction.

From his vantage point behind Illan, James watches Faetherton’s men begin to shift in their ranks. Each has grown up with the tales of Black Hawk and the viciousness with which he pursues his enemies. Several crossbows actually dip to the ground as the men holding them begin to reconsider supporting Lord Faetherton in the face of Black Hawk’s rage.

Lord Faetherton raises his hand and all can see it is not entirely steady as it shakes with the nervousness he’s feeling. “When I lower my hand,” he says loudly, “my men will fire. Remove your weapons and prepare to be taken into custody.

“When your hand falls,” Illan says as he begins edging his horse forward, “everyone dies.”

Suddenly from out of the dark to the right of the jail, a dozen horsemen appear. One is carrying a battle torn flag bearing the Black Hawk insignia. The rider in the fore says, “Thought you might be here.”