An Ancient Warrior

By Graeme Bourke

While in the highlands of Tasmania, Danae Miller, a beautiful young woman of seventeen steps through a portal, not realising that she herself opened it. Finding herself on a devastated battlefield she rescues a wounded warrior, but in doing so, the portal, her means of escape closes.
The warrior she rescues, Darby, the Earl of Camdon, is a minor wizard in a land of wizards who are striving to control Kratia. Darby was the last hope of the people. Datha, a Master Wizard seeking revenge for the hideous facial injuries he received from Darby cannot believe Darby has escaped him again. He is mystified as to how this can happen as he should have been able to follow the aura, the latent image of Darby from the battlefield.
With the aid of a friend, Jacob the fisherman, Darby and Danae begin a trek to the mountains to safety among the
Legons. An ancient independent race of people. While on this trek Darby tutors Danae on how to use the bow and the throwing knives that she seems to adapt to very quickly. To Danae it all seemed strangely familiar.
Joined by a woman warrior, Martha, they are pursued by Kato, one of the Master Wizards vying for power. Datha, another Master Wizard and no friend of Katos has sent Brutus, his general to set a trap for Darby on the edge of Legon territory.
On the way Martha is slain by Kato and Danae wounds a wizard which is unheard of, mortals cannot pierce a wizard’s cloaking, his shield. Danae and Darby become closer, both realise that they are falling in love and eventually submit to their feelings.
On reaching the mountains, Darby, Danae and Jacob find themselves trapped between the two forces. Using the night and the rain they steal through Datha’s lines but with the approaching dawn they are spotted and a fight develops whereby Jacob is slain and Danae receives and arrow in the back from Kato.
Appearing from out of nowhere a Legon Wizard confronts Darby and the woman cradled in his arms. Darby appeals for help, but the wizard says he cannot save her. She pleads with them to take her back to the battlefield. The Legon wizard transports them back to the battlefield with his magic where Danae resurrects the portal and with failing strength she disappears through it. Seventeen years later Danae is ready to go back to Kratia. This time she goes back as a warrior bent on revenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Graeme Bourke
• Release date: Oct 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370874200

Graeme Bourke

In 1985 Graeme took up fly fishing in Tasmania and during this journey he kept a diary which was used to produce his first non-fiction book "Come Fly Fish With Me," which has now been published as an ebook. This book received wide acclaim from the fly fishing fraternity. He then completed a correspondence course on writing and began writing articles for sporting and travel magazines. In 2008 he published his second book on fishing "If Only The World Would Go Fishing." This book is no longer available having been sold out. His main ambition was to write fiction, so in 2010 he published "Hawkins' Grove" which has also been converted to an ebook. "Come fly fish with Me" and "Hawkin's Grove" are available in hard copy from "Window on the World" bookshop in Ulverstone, Tasmania. Mountain Pride, The Ghost Ship,The Gates of Hell and The House of Dreams are only available as ebooks. In June of 2014 Graeme uploaded the first book in his trilogy "The Orphan and the Shadow Walker: The feedback has been very positive. Sales from the second and third book have been encouraging. "An Ancient Warrior" is his most recent fiction novel. Graeme writes book reviews for a local newsletter and from the these he has compiled the best of these reviews so If you are looking for a book to read he guarantees you will find something here. He has just published a new book called "A Fortunate Destiny," a love story set in the early seventies around the trauma of the Vietnam War. "Tears in Thailand" has now been published. This is a true story telling of Graeme's journey in Thailand, his experiences and emotions as he enjoys the land of smiles. Read his excerpt on the blog, of his separation from his partner in Thailand because of the Corona virus. Copies also available at Window on the World book store in Ulverstone, Tasmania. Critics have praised his work and even compared it to be the equal to anything that is out there.

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AN ANCIENT WARRIOR

By

Graeme Bourke

* * *

Published By

Graeme Bourke on Smashwords

AN ANCIENT WARRIOR

Copyright 2017 Graeme Bourke

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AN ANCIENT WARRIOR

Prologue

2016

Old Jack Dyson pushed his way past the people in the hotel, he seemed flustered, alarmed and his skinny face was pale. Nudging old Bill, the bushman and Ned the plumber aside at the bar he waved to Judy, the buxom red-haired barmaid.

Quick, give me a whisky.

Something bothering you, Jack? asked Judy as she poured him out a measure of whisky.

Jack’s wrinkled fingers beckoned for more. Judy gave him a double measure. His hands were shaking as he lifted the glass to his lips and drank it down as if it was water. Another one, Judy, and don’t spare the horses.

Bill and Ned looked at each other; they recognised the panic in their friend’s eyes. They knew he had something to say.

I saw the bastard, Judy, I saw him.

Who did you see? asked Judy, pouring out the whisky.

Jack gulped the second drink down and put the glass back on the bar, at the same time urging Judy for a third, the shaking of his hand had eased.

For Christ’s sake, Jack, slow down or you’ll be on the carpet in no time, said Judy.

This time Jack took a sip and put the glass back down on the bar. I saw the warrior. The bar suddenly went quiet…. The mysterious figure of a man carrying a sword, a bow and a quiver of arrows had been seen in the highlands of Tasmania off and on for the past hundred years. I was driving past the Liawenee turnoff. It was getting dark so I turned the lights on as I came around the corner, and there he was as large as life on the side of the road. Jack took another sip of whisky.

He was wearing a long black coat, open at the front. I saw the bloody sword. It was a huge thing. A long bow was strung over his shoulder and a quiver of arrows, just like the other sightings. He had a black wide-brimmed hat. He was staring at me as I drove past, shaking in my boots. I stopped further down the road and looked back, but he was gone, he had disappeared.

PART ONE

1995

It was a strange feeling; much like swimming in water as Danae Miller stepped through the shimmering haze. The first thing she encountered was the odour of smoke. Then, as her eyes refocused in the bronze twilight, she saw the flames of several fires. They were carts, old wooden carts scattered across a large grassy paddock that were now mostly flickering black skeletons. Amid the waving stalks of remaining grass on the burnt-out field she recognised bodies dressed in armour of metal and leather. Broken spears, swords and the debris of war were scattered about. A horse whinnied somewhere in agony. It was then she heard the cry.

Help me someone!

Danae peered back at the oval-shaped fiery ring, it was still there. She should go back...this place scared her. She heard the cry again.

Is anybody there?

She began to walk toward the pleading voice, wending her way through the carnage of bodies, burnt out carts and flaming grass. She was mindful of keeping the ring in sight, in range of flight. She coughed as smoke drifted across her face.

I’m over here.

Danae saw a man in his mid twenties with a beard and long dark hair leaning up against a tree. He was dressed in iron and leather armour like the rest who were dead. It was his vivid blue eyes that struck her as they stared at her.

You must help me, for once its light the Scavengers will come. Help me get away from here.

Danae, looked down at his right leg. There was a broken sword stuck in his thigh. I can’t help you. I shouldn’t even be here.

None of us should be here, sweetheart, he said with some agony.

You don’t understand; I don’t belong here.

Listen, just help me over the ridge, there’s a small cave where I can hide, where you can hide, for if they find you, they’ll take you as a slave and ravish you.

Can you walk?

No, you will have to take this damn sword out of my leg.

She looked back at the ring. It was still there. With haste she found a discarded knife and cut some rope from one of the dead horses nearby. She found some torn blue cloth and returned to the warrior. She tied the rope around his leg and twitched it up tight.

What are you doing? he gasped.

Putting a tourniquet on, with luck it might stop you bleeding to death.

Are you a Shaman?

No, she replied, recognising the old description for one who served with medicine or magic. She cut the cloth in half and wrapped it around the broken sword. This is going to hurt.

As if it doesn’t hurt now, he replied. Do it.

Danae moved into a half standing position. She pulled sharply on the sword. The man screamed in agony. The sword came out. She threw it away. Then she wrapped the remaining cloth over his wound and tied it off. The warrior had now slipped unconscious onto the ground.

It was getting lighter. She saw some bottles lying on the ground nearby and what looked like some wrapped food, cheese perhaps. Finding a canvas sack she threw some of the bottles and food into it. Returning to the warrior she shook him by the shoulder.

Wake up. His eyes opened slowly. I’ve found you some food and drink. Danae glanced back at the ring, it was pulsing and fading. I have to go.

His hand grabbed her arm in a vice like grip. For Danae it was an automatic reaction, with her free hand she hit his wounded leg, he screamed in agony and let go of her. Quickly, she rose to her feet and began running towards the fading ring. She was reaching out, about to enter the ring when it disappeared altogether.

No, she yelled. This can’t be happening. She turned left and then right, hoping that the ring had just moved, but it was nowhere to be seen. She was trapped in this foreign land, a place of obvious danger. The sound of voices reached her ears. Figures could be seen on the hill silhouetted in the rising dawn.

Quickly, she ran back to where the warrior lay, he peered up at her with those startling blue eyes. You came back.

I had no bloody choice, she said angrily. There are people coming over the hill.

Scavengers no doubt, we have to get out of here. Help me up, he said as he tried to sit.

Danae eased him into a sitting position and then with some difficulty, to stand. The pain was obvious in his eyes, in his face and from his cursing. His strong arm was around her shoulders, his weight bearing down on her until he gained some footing. The voices grew louder. A scream rented the air.

They’ve found someone alive, we must move quickly. Over toward those trees.

Fear drove them as Danae and the warrior made it into the cover of the trees in quick time. Moving on they climbed up the hill, over the top and out of sight. They stopped for a rest.

Are you all right? asked Danae. She could smell the stale sweat of him as he leant against her.

No, but we must keep moving, he said, grimacing.

Where to? she asked, peering down into the small stony valley interspersed with short green grass where there was a sparkling stream.

We have to follow the creek upstream a bit, where the trees and undergrowth become thicker, there we’ll find the cave.

They fell over several times, Danae bruising her knees and her right thigh on a protruding boulder. Finally, they pushed aside the foliage and found the tiny cave. It was just big enough for the two of them to climb into.

We’ll be safe here for a while, gasped the warrior as he lay back and closed his eyes.

I’ll have to release the tourniquet and check the wound.

Do whatever you have to do, he whispered, closing his eyes.

She released the tourniquet and took the bandage from the warrior’s leg. The wound wasn’t bleeding, which was a good sign. Rummaging around in the sack she found one of the green bottles and uncorked it. Sniffing it first to make sure it was not anything too unpleasant, she took a sip. As she suspected it was alcohol of some sort, and bloody strong as it burnt her throat. It warmed her insides. Pouring some of the alcohol over the wound she saw the warrior stiffen. He said nothing. His eyes were still closed. After rebinding the wound, she curled up beside the warrior who now seemed to be asleep.

Danae tried to think, tried to come up with some explanation for what had just happened. Had she inadvertently been transported back in time, or worse, entered a world not of her knowing. She thought of her grandmother, her parents and family, would she ever see them again? She had to find the ring again and return through it to Breona, to that little cluster of shacks on the edge of Great Lake. All of a sudden, she felt afraid. She moved a little closer to the warrior until she could feel the warmth of his body. Then she too fell asleep.

When she woke, she found her head on the warrior’s chest, her right leg resting over his thigh. Tilting her head, she saw that the warrior was awake and staring at her. Quickly, she moved away and sat up. She retrieved her felt hat and put it on over her long, dark, wavy hair.

You’re a lovely young woman.

Your wound needs stitching, sewing up, it will heal quicker, said Danae, ignoring his comment.

"Then you are a Shaman?"

Danae removed the cloth from the warrior’s leg. She poured some more alcohol over the wound. His contorted face reflected the pain.

That’s a waste of perfectly good drink.

It could just save your life, she said, taking a small sip out of the bottle as she was thirsty. She passed the bottle to him. He took a long swig.

It was quick thinking of you to grab some food and drink, he said, casting his eyes over the spilt contents of the sack.

Danae lamented the thought, if she hadn’t collected the food and drink, if she had just returned to the circle of light she would be home now and not trapped here in this eerie world.

You dress strangely.

Danae ignored him again, for what could she say. She wore blue sneakers, jeans, a beige woollen jumper and a brown leather jacket with zips on the two front pockets.

How is it that you were on the battlefield? he asked.

I became lost.

What’s your name?

Danae.

I’m Darby, I was the earl, the owner of these lands around us.

You are not anymore?

No, the wizards have seen to that.

Wizards? queried Danae.

You do know what a wizard is? he asked, peering at her.

Yes of course, said Danae, thinking back to the story books she had read, but those were imaginary wizards, this man Darby talked as if they were real. What are we going to do?

We’ll wait until dark then we’ll make our way south, to the river Skye, there is someone there who will help us.

Danae broke off some of the cheese and gave him a piece. These wizards, what do they want with your land?

Darby looked at Danae; he couldn’t quite make out what this young woman was about. She dressed strangely, her speech was different and she didn’t seem to know what was going on here. Everyone knew what the wizards were doing. Was she from somewhere far away where the wizards were not known? Impossible, he thought, everyone knew of the wizards, of their intent to dominate all the lands of Kratia. Each year their power grew, not only in worldly possessions but in their magic as well.

They will use my lands to gain more wealth and power, their greed is beyond understanding.

You fight them?

Yes, but I fear there are too many who follow them now, too many who join in the spoils of war.

Is there no way you can defeat them?

Yes, but it will take years to raise and teach the next generation how to be a good wizard, how to use the powers.

Did you speak out against them, is that why they took your lands?

Yes, that was one of the reasons. They also allow no other than those they control to be wizards.

You’re a wizard?

Yes, for what little good it has done me. I was never trained as a wizard, my parents wanted me to be a ruler, to safeguard our people and make our lands rich, and that’s what I tried to do.

Your parents, what happened to them?

They were slain along with all my family to make sure there were no wizards left in the line.

And so they came for you on the battlefield?

Yes, they will be searching for my body and when they don’t find it they’ll try to find my trail. They can follow with their magic.

What will happen if they find you?

They’ll kill me.

* * *

A single black-robed, hooded figure stood in the middle of the battlefield as soldiers dressed in leather armour, bronzed helmets and black clothing scurried about the battlefield. They had lined up all the bodies in several rows making sure they missed no one. Finally, one of the soldiers came forward and bowed to the robed figure.

Sire, the Earl of Camdon is not among the dead, said the soldier, not raising his head, not wanting to look into the scarred face of Datha, one of the few Master Wizards.

Datha’s one eye twitched at the memory of the sweeping sword that had almost caused his death. It had sliced open his scalp, his cheek and rendered his left eye useless. His jaw had never functioned properly since. He found it difficult to eat and talk. He cursed the day he had met Darby, the Earl of Camdon.

He let his mind wander over the battlefield. How was it that he could not sense the presence of Darby? If he was here, as he was assured by the soldiers he had been, he should be able see his latent image and be able to follow that image. But it wasn’t here. Even though Darby was a wizard he did not have the power to cover his tracks. Either he was never here or someone was covering for him, but that was impossible. He could not understand this.

Ignoring the soldier, he turned and walked back through the chaos of debris. Scavengers had picked over the battlefield already. Had one of them removed Darby’s body? Hardly, he thought. Scavengers were only interested in booty. This was a major setback. Those people who still defied them looked up to Darby, relied on him to give them hope. His death would have quelled that hope.

Brutus, a squat bullnecked warrior with a round visage, a bald head and two swords strapped to his sides, held onto the horses on the tiny knoll overlooking the carnage. His master was walking toward him. He saw the anger in him as he kicked a severed hand aside. It was obvious that Darby had escaped.

Datha snatched the reins from Brutus and climbed up onto his horse. He cast his mind over the area again, reaching out as far as he could, but there was no sign of Darby. He shook his head in disbelief. Pulling at the reins he turned and rode back to the main road followed closely by Brutus.

This would not sit well with the Three Master Wizards. They were all of the opinion that his desire for revenge was clouding his judgment. They were fools. The problem with the Three Wizards was that they were too old, their time was almost up, but still they clung to their power. One day soon he would challenge them for the right to rule Kratia.

They rode at a trot along the dusty road passing peasants who kept their heads bowed; no one wanted anything to do with a wizard. To do so usually meant death. Brutus knew his master was deep in thought, he also knew his master had a plan to rule Kratia.

It was hot, being the height of summer as they broached the rise and pulled up to rest and take in the view. Before them lay a wide-open valley scattered with farms and green fields. In the middle of the valley was a spire of black-slaked stone reaching so high into the sky that the clouds covered its peak. This was the home of the Three Wizards.

We are going back to the fortress, Master?

Yes, Brutus, we will have to make our report.

They’ll not be happy that we have failed to slay the earl.

No, the Three Wizards would not be happy that the earl had escaped. He was the last barrier to their control over Kratia. Datha knew that while ever the earl lived, there would always be those who would rally to his side. He raised his hand to his scarred face, felt the deformity and remembered the agony he had suffered.

He’ll not escape his destiny, Brutus. I will see to his death, said Datha, kicking the side of his horse’s flanks.

* * *

It was getting dark when Darby roused himself and beckoned Danae to follow. She was somewhat reluctant to leave the area where the ring had disappeared. Could she find it again she wondered? She had to find it as it was her only means of getting back home, she couldn’t stay here it wasn’t safe.

I’ll have to come back, Darby, she said, using his name for the first time.

He half turned to her in the fading light as they stood outside the cave. Why, what is it that draws you back here?

Danae wanted to tell him, wanted to confide in him, but she held back as she wanted to know more of what was happening here. What was the connection between her, the fiery ring, this world and her world?

My future, she replied.

You are a strange one, he said, pushing away the branches so they could make their way to the creek bed.

Danae followed. He was walking better now, but with a decided limp. She said nothing as they made their way up the hills, through the trees and forded the tiny rivulets. Each step, each mile was taking her away from the ring and into an uncertain and dangerous future. At first Darby had been strong and pushed himself, but gradually he slowed and began to labour, favouring his leg more and more. Danae could see that the wound was bleeding through the rough bandage.

You need to rest.

They’ll be looking for us. We need to get as far away as we can.

You said us, why would they be looking for me?

Guilt by association, he said, stopping for a moment. He leant up against a huge tree trunk and took the weight off his leg.

I suppose that would be true, I have aided you in your escape.

We haven’t escaped yet, he replied, pushing off the tree.

How Darby managed to walk she did not know, but he did. They came over a rise and below Danae could see a road.

We can take the road, it will save us time, said Darby, sitting down.

Won’t it be patrolled?

Yes, but only in the daytime.

Then maybe it’s time for us to have a spell. Danae sat down beside him. I’d better have a look at that leg.

Where are you from, Danae? asked Darby as she re-bound his wound with some more of the clean cloth she had in the bag.

From a place where there is peace.

Is there such a place?

Danae ignored his question as she stood up to stretch her legs, in doing so she could see the road. There were armed men riding along the road. Darby joined her.

It’s a patrol. They will ride to the next town, have something to eat and then ride back. They’ll be looking for any survivors of the battle, though I doubt they’ll find anyone. We should be safe after that.

As the patrol returned and disappeared down the road, they continued their journey.

Do you have family, Danae? asked Darby, limping down the road in the setting sun. She was by his side now, steadying him.

Yes, but they are lost to me for the moment.

You talk in riddles, he said, pausing and leaning up against a huge boulder to rest his leg.

I need to understand what’s going on here, what’s happening.

It’s quite simple, he said pushing off the rock and walking ahead of her on the twin-rutted dirt road. The wizards are gradually taking over. Once they were happy to live in their own domain, to live in harmony with the rest of the land, but they quarreled amongst themselves on how they should best serve the land and the people. Basically, the bad guys won and they are now trying to conquer all the lands of Kratia.

These wizards, they use magic?

Yes, they have been schooled, taught how to use their magic. The old ones are very strong. Their leaders now control most of the land, the Three Wizards we call them. They cling to their power jealously. They have even culled the other wizards, slain them to make sure they stay strong. As I told you before, I’m a wizard, but I was never schooled, never learnt the art, for my father saw no benefit in being a wizard.

What can they do?

Summon rain, lightning and sunshine. They move objects, for example, a spear through mid air to strike you in the heart, all sorts of nasty things. They can even follow a fresh trail, sense where you have been, but their main weapon is the fireballs that they send from their fingertips. It will fry you into a charred heap in an instant.

Can you do that?

No, only small things, like moving a tiny stone or causing a ripple on the water.

How long does it take to become a wizard?

It takes twenty years or more, if you can find someone to train you.

They came to a