Part Three: How Legends grow.



Chapter One: New Born

The weather was clouded, thundery and unnaturally warm. They say lightning never strikes the same place twice. Well this night
they would have been proven wrong. Not once, not twice, but countless
times. Every lightning strike that night seemed to concentrate on one
hill, more specifically in the centre of an old stone temple, now long
overgrown.
the lightning was building what seemed to be a sphere of energy, if any
witnessed this unnatural scene, they would have believed an old god had come back, and in a sense they were right. As the sphere was slowly completed, the lightning increased, almost raining down now, the night sky was illuminated for miles around, the ancient temple once again bearing witness to supernatural activity.
The sphere was complete now,, but lightning still struck it, giving energy
to what ever was within. The sphere crackled with energy, the odd stones of the temple also seemed to shimmer, the sphere was drawing power from the stones ad the temple willingly gave it.
The stones and lightning created not only power, but life. The energy
inside the sphere was taking on a new form, it was becoming human like in its shape.
As the energy shape gained more power, it got closer to its true form.
The figure is squatting one knee, its head touching the top of the
sphere, its arms resting on its legs. Slowly the raw energy turns into
flesh, skin and bone. Still squatting, the figure opens his new eyes, for
the first time in over 100 years. Its view is of the inside of the quickly
disappearing sphere, now its purpose is complete, it fades away, becoming a hard and solid, slowly forming a sword and armour for the naked figure now sanding in the middle of the stones temple, Long hair flows down a scared back, the wind occasionally lifting it up and down.
The figure eyed up the old stone temple, then slid on the chain mail and
buckled the sword its waist. Taking in a deep breath, the figure walked
down the ancient entrance to the temple, its bare feet treading lightly on
the over grown ground.
Christians would have seen this as the 'Second Coming' of Jesus Christ,
pagans as a return of an old god, but only the clan of the Black Dragon
would recognise this as the 300th anniversary of George's death.
For 300 years there had been no Dragon Slayer, but now on midsummer's day 1322 a Dragon Slayer walked the earth. The figure walked away from the temple, away from its new birth place,
away from Stonehenge.


Chapter Two: Descendant

He walked on, the wind pushing his hair into his eyes, creating the impression a face covered in a hood. The moon light continued to guide him as he walked. He walked all night, each step he took, his body relaxed, grew used to moving. Again.
The first light of the new dawn made his mail armour shine and silhouetted him against the horizon. He smiled at the site of farmers going about their business tending to their cattle in the early hours. He strode down the hill, towards the village from where the farmers came from fully aware that they would soon watch him intently, leaning on their tools. Or ignore him completely.

The metal shiny thing on the hill was of little interest to the village, so when it started getting closer towards them they were content to let it do the travelling. After all, eventually it would be breakfast, and on a Sunday morning, breakfast was always something to look forward to.
By seven in the morning, the breakfast fires were roaring, and the hams nearly ready to eat.
By the time the man reached the village, he could feel his hunger in every part of his body, he could smell the hams being roasted on the spits, and almost taste them such was his hunger. It made him realise that he hadn't eaten since, well for a very long time.
Walking up to the nearest fire, the man smiled, and spoke in a croaked voice, to the nearest person. ?Would you mind if I joined you, I haven't eaten for quite awhile??
A gruff farmer looked up at him. ?Yeah, we got enough. Fresh killed pig that.? Catching a glimpse of the sword, the farmer looked at his daughters. ?Look mister, we don't want no trouble. Take the ham, and leave.?
The man laughs, and smiles ?I have no wish to harm you, I'm to hungry to hurt you.?
Finally the man had found some people. And found food.


After a brief talk, the farmer is assured that the man means no harm and is content to let him sit and eat with him. Gradually, the farmer's daughters come over, and sit behind their father. When one asks the man who he is, he smiles, but says nothing. When they ask him where he came from, he again says nothing. When they ask him what he does, his reply is simple, and straight to the point. ?I kill dragons?
The girls gasp and the farmer looks puzzled, then a flicker of a smile appears on his face.
?My great grandfather told stories. He had them passed on from his father, so passed them on to his son, my grandfather, who in turn passed them on to my father, who passed them on to me.? The farmer took a bite out of some pig ? He told of a man called George and a dragon. The story goes that my ancestor, I forget how many greats there are infront of his name, met George just before he went to kill the dragon. He was only a kid mind, but still, must have been something, eh??
The man smiles, and nods ?Yes, yes it must have been something?
?And another thing? The farmer continues ?He says he saw him again, years later, and you know what? George even recognised him. Even called him by his name!? Sighing, the farmer looks up ?What I'd give to meet a guy like that.?
The man smiled.


Chapter Three: Secrets revealed

It was two months after the man had met the farmer. The man had been helping the farmer around his farm and fields. Even though he was paid very poorly, the man was always working with a smile.
The farmer thought that he had been blessed. A mysterious man had come for seemingly no reason, was happy being paid hardly anything and worked as hard as he could. Still, the farmer did not know his name.

It was Sunday, the middle of October when the farmer found out something he wasn't meant to.
The farmer and his son saw the mysterious man walk into the barn and after an hour or two as he hadn't come out, they wandered in.
They saw him kneeling in a corner of the barn, as they got closer, they saw him kneeling in front of something wrapped in a blanket. He was uttering something they couldn't here, and they thought he was unaware of their presence.
As he picked up the blanket and stood up, they farmer and his son hid behind a wagon full of hay.
The man walked right past them, holding the wrapped object, over to the door of the barn. He climbed the inner side of the barn, his naked back showing his muscles at work. The two hiding in the hay cart were astonished at his physical strength and daring. The man had reached the top, and hid the thing in the rafters of the barn. He smiled as he climbed down and walked out the barn. He shouted out that he was going to the town to get some supplies and that he'd be a few hours.
The farmer smiled, that was easily enough time to get up to where the man hid whatever he hid, bring it down, look and take it back up.
The farmer took his tallest ladder, and placed it against the side of the barn. He scaled the ladder, with his son holding the bottom, making sure it didn't fall. At the top, the farmer looked for the blanketed object and found it resting on a rafter. He picked it up and was surprised to find it as heavy as it was. He held it under one arm as he climbed down the ladder.

The mysterious man had just walked past a clothes shop, and was greeted by a drunkard. ?Y'know shir, I'm a bit outta pocket, an' I were wondering if you could spare shome change?? The man smiled and gave the drunkard a copper coin. ?Fank you shir, have a good day shir? the drunkard slurred as he tried to walk off.
The man carried on through the village, stopping to chat with some people, toward the inn.

Back at the farm, the farmer and his son were astonished at the object the blanket covered up. It was a sword like no other. The metal was harder than the strongest of steels, and it looked like it was over 300 years old.
The engravings on the blade looked to be some kind of unrecognisable image, and the guard was bearing an uncanny resemblance to hawk wings. The pommel had a tiny throwing knife in it, and balanced the sword out perfectly. The farmers mind was racing as to who could be rich enough to own such a sword, how much was it worth and why he was happy working for a farmer.
?I wondered how long it would take you to find Repentance.?
The farmer jumped and started to wrap it back up. The man was standing silhouetted in the barn doors. ?We didn't mean no harm mister, we was just curious is all? The farmer looked up at the figure and noticed that he didn't look at all angry.
?Do not worry, I could hear you in here earlier. If I really didn't want you to find it I would have hid it better.?
The farmer stands and holds the sword out. The man takes it and slices the air. ?I think you have noticed this sword is old, haven't you??
The farmer nods and looks at the blade. ?Uh, may I ask how you came by it??
?I made it.?
The farmer looks startled, then slowly scratches his head. ?Mister, who are you??
The man smiled. ?Your ancestor knew me as George.?
The farmer stared in shock. He couldn't believe it.
?How? Its not possible. Why didn't you say your name before??
?You dint ask. And believe me sir, it is possible. You never mentioned where I first met your ancestor, did you??
The farmer shook his head.
George smiled ?It was in Hookton, wasn't it??
The farmer nodded dumbly.


Chapter Four: Something's Never Last??.

George's life on the farm was happy, one of the few times in his life he had been happy since he left his family when he was nineteen. He enjoyed milking the cows, feeding the pigs even harvesting the crops. It didn't take him long to realise that soon he had to leave, he needed to finish what he was brought back to do, but he kept putting it from his mind. He thought that if the gods brought him back, then they must surely not mind if he had a little happiness?
George ignored the thoughts for what seemed like years, but what were in reality mere months. He didn't want to leave, Mark, the farmer, was good to him, he treated him well. His son James was a nice enough young lad, he still got into trouble but he was a child, that is almost what is expected of him.

It was in mid-December when they came demanding money. The four horsemen rode up to the farm, looking for Mark. They shouted for the owner of the farm as they neared the main house. Mark walked out, his friendly smile quickly fading. ?What do you want??
?We think you know what we want farmer.?
?I?I don't have any this time. Its hard been hard to earn enough to barely keep the us alive, let alone getting it for you.?
James hearing voices outside ran out, expecting to see the delivery man. He ran out next to his father, who instantly put his arm around him to shield him.
?Nice boy you got there, farmer.? The lead horseman lowered his head.
?Leave him alone, he's done nothing to you.? Mark looked around at the horsemen all wearing black. The horses snorted and moved their feet around. The lead horseman spoke again.
?If you'll not give us what we want, we'll take something else.?
He nodded and James was swept up by the closest horseman, kicking and screaming. Mark shouted out a protest, but to no avail. He ran at the horsemen, but was swatted back with the flat of the sword.
The horsemen started to ride of when one spotted George running through the knee high corn on an attempt to save James. He laughed and spurred toward him, drawing his sword as if it where a lance. George kept running, his determination to save James would stop at nothing.
When the horseman was just a few feet away, George pulled out his knife from his belt and threw it at the riders unprotected face. The hilt of the knife hit between the eyes, send both the horse and rider to the ground. George grabbed the dropped sword and rode of after the other riders intent on saving James.
George kicked back his heals, sending the horse forward at an alarming pace. The stallion followed the other three through some woods, jumping a fallen branch that nearly cost the head rider his prize. George rode hard, his hair flying behind him, the stolen sword in his right hand. As the horses were starting to lose ground to him, a large castle came into site. It was a place that he remembered quite well. He stopped on the brow of a hill, watching hopelessly as the remaining three horse men rode into the castle. George swore and turned back. He would need more than just a sword to get James back.
He would need Repentance to breech the castle of the Black Dragon.


Chapter Five: Preparing For Battle.

Mark was sitting on his doorstep, his daughters huddled round him. They hear George long before they see him, the horses hooves pounding away at the ground. He pulls up beside them, his face shadowed and grim. He looks down at Mark who has obviously been crying. ?I'm never going to see my son again, am I?? his words betrayed his sobs as the tears trickled down his cheeks.
George's eyes gleamed from beneath the shadow. He launched himself of the horse, landing on his feet a few paces away from Mark. He walked toward the barn, emerging a few seconds later with black leather covering his legs and arms. His chest was covered by a suit of ancient mail armour. Repentance hung by his side. A shield bearing a cross spearing a dragons heart was slung on his back over a long black cloak. He pulled a helmet over his head, flattening his hair to his head. His eyes blinked from behind metallic cheek pieces and he mounted the horse again.
Mark looked up, tears still in his eyes. ?Where are you going??
George looked down at Mark, meeting his gaze with his own eyes. ?I'm going to get your son back.?
Mark opened his mouth to say something, but the words never came. Instead he nodded and George pulled the reigns back and he rode of as quick as he had come, his cloak spreading out in the wind.
His only thought on the way to the castle was How do I get myself into these things? No, that's not what matters. Its how I get us out again that's what truly matters. He pulled the horse to a stand still near a stream he had found riding back. He dismounted ad stroked its nose, his gloved hands seemed to calm the beast down. He tied it to a tree near the stream ad sat next to it leaning against the same tree. He shut his eyes and listened to the horse drinking at the streams edge. A soft smile crossed his lips as he sighed. He had to get moving, he couldn't rest for long for fear of what they'd do to James.

?The boy wont stop screaming. Can we kill him now??
?No, we have to wait until the farmer gives us the money. Then we'll kill them both.?
?It wont make any difference if he's dead or alive when the farmer comes?.?
?No, orders are orders.?
?I hate orders.?
?Yeah, me too, but we gotta keep to them else it'll be our necks hanging from the gallows if we break them.?
James could hear their conversation from his dank cell in the tower of the castle. He hugged his knees on the damp mattress he had for a bed, tears streaming down his cheeks.
A shadowed figure appears at the doorway, speaking quietly to someone who must be standing to the left of him. The figure speaks up.
?You had better hope your daddy gets the money soon boy, or he'll be burying you piece by piece.?
He doesn't know why, but James shouts back, the innocence of child hood showing through. ?George'll rescue me, and he'll kill you all, he'll kill you all!?
?Oh I think not child. You would need an army to breech this castle.?
James cries again as the figure seems to smile.

George stops the horse on the brow of the hill, the setting sun behind him now. As it rears up on two legs and lets out a loud neigh George draws his sword. The horses feet land and he speeds toward the castle, his face set as cold as his swords blade. The horses hooves sound like thunder on the dry ground as George drives the beast forward, his right arm held back, the sword pointing toward the sun. He stands in the stirrups as he nears the castle.

From inside, James hears the sound of the thunderous hooves ands looks hopefully out the small iron barred window, and a smile crosses his face. His newest friend is here to save him from the clutches of the Black Dragon. George was here to deliver him from evil and back to the safety of his fathers arms.



Chapter Six: Confrontations.

George rode his horse slowly into the shadow of the dark castle, somehow even though the sun was behind him, the castle still caused a shadow. George's eyes shone brightly in the dark of his helmet, underneath he could feel his hair was lank with sweat, his body was tensed, ready for the coming conflict.

James looked on it wonder at the horseman approaching the castle he was being held prisoner in. He could not believe that someone would dare come to get him out. He wasn't even certain that was the horseman's purpose in being here, but his child like innocence had him believe that this lone figure was here to save him. He wasn't sure how he would save him, but he hoped he would.

George was thinking the same thing as he neared the massive gates. He looked up to see gargoyles adorning the sides, he was expecting an arrow to pierce his armour any second. The gates opened and he rode on into a courtyard that had no light in, just shadow. George suppressed a shudder at the coldness of it all. He rode toward the main gate of the castle. He hated being here and he hated the occupants even more.
Looking up, he saw a cage containing a human body slowly rotting away. As he turned his helmeted head, he saw more of these cages, each body in a different state of rot. A low moan escaped from one cage, a body that was more skeleton than flesh lifted its head. It had long ago chewed of its tongue such was its hunger. It motioned toward George, in all likely hood asking for food or water. He looked up, sympathy no-where in his blue eyes. He nudged his horse forward and slowly rode away from the moaning body. He looked to his left and he saw two men dressed in black with long cloaks following them out of the doorway in which they emerged. Curbing his horse, George waited for them to approach, his right hand slowly edging toward Repentance.
The first man to reach George looked up, smiling. ?Tell me friend, what brings you here??
?You took a boy earlier, a farmers boy. I have come to take him back.?
The mans smile faded quickly as he brushed his cloak over his shoulder, showing a sword. ?I don't know what your talking about.?
George sighed. ?Its simple. You took a boy. I've come to take him back.?
The man laughed. ?I seem to remember the boy your talking about now.? The smile from his face disappeared as he looked up at George. ?Forget about the boy. He is ours now. Go before we have to kill you.?
George narrowed his eyes slightly. ?You have made your decision. Now lets see you enforce it.? He slid down from the horse pulling Repentance free as he did so. He slapped the horses rump with his sword and it rode off. He turned toward them as they looked on in astonishment. George's eyes seemed to be unnaturally bright in the shadows of his helmet.
The other two shrugged and reached for their swords. As one pulled his sword free, George spun round in a 360 degree spin with his sword arm outstretched. The other man just watched as his friends head hit the ground. He turned to run, but found he was stuck. He looked down to see a blade protruding from his stomach.
?Where's the boy?? George whispered in the dying mans ear.
The man told him and George pulled the sword free.
?Well done, you just earned the right to bleed to death.?

George walked on, ignoring the dying mans moans and gurgles as he kicked open the closed door the two men came from. He swears as the door opens to around twenty men, all looking at him. George looks around the room, his eyes finding the men's weapons. He smells the alcohol in the air as someone bursts man bursts in the door.
?Some one just killed Tom and Daniel.? He stopped and looked at George. ?He just killed Tom and Daniel!? The man died with a dagger in his throat before he could say any more. George turned back to the roomful of men, all now had their swords out.
?Who wants to die first?? He looked about, his hand tightly gripping his shields straps.

They start to circle him, they want to avenge the death of their comrades. The first one runs at George, lunging at George's head. George ducked and raised his shield, sending the sword over the top. The men behind saw George's blade appear out of their friends back and growled in anger.
George stood up and ripped his sword free, sending blood in an arc as he walked toward the others. One by one they ran at him, and one by one they died. He slid his sword into open necks, faces and even stomachs.
George felt no remorse as they died, after all they were murderers, thieves and rapists.

James heard the screams from his room and wondered what was going on. He hugged his knees as the screams echoed then faded away. James sobbed quietly to himself, wondering if he would ever see his father again. He also wanted to know exactly who the horseman was and what he was doing here.
After all, for all he knew the horseman could be a slave trader, come to take him to God knows what place. He started to sob harder at the thought and prayed to what ever god would listen to take him home. Unbeknownst to James, there was no God on his way to rescue him, but a man. A man named George.

His blood stained boots echoed on the stairs of the tower as he left the room of carnage behind. His sword left a trail of blood drops on the stairs as they wound around to the right.
He climbed the stairs slowly, careful of an ambush. He stopped on a landing, several rooms stretched along a corridor on each side. George opened each door, but he didn't see James. Instead he found an open fire and a big bundle of curtains. He smiled as he threw the curtains into the fire, they caught alight almost instantly. George turned back and ran up to the next level, this time he heard a soft crying in the only room. He guessed it must be the room in which James was.

James whimpered slightly as he heard footsteps out side, then a splintering as the door caved in. A man stood in the doorway, sword and shield in each hand.
?Its okay, I'm here to take you home.? James instantly recognised George's voice and stood up then ran over to him, smiling through a blurred vision, blurred with tears of joy now. George scooped James up into his shield arm and turned back to the stairs. ?Now, you see the smoke coming up? We have to go through that, so I hope you can hold your breath. Can you hold your breath for me??
James nodded and took a deep breath as George descended the stair well, sword arm leading.

By the time he reached the door to the room in which he had fought and killed the twenty men earlier, smoke was filling the air. The castle was catching fire faster than George had expected.
He kicked the door open and his spirit fell as he saw the room was lined with men, all holding weapons obviously waiting for him.
He put James down and told him to go and stand on the other side of the door. James looked up and George assured him it would be okay.
?You shouldn't have to see this, its not for your eyes.? George's voice was soft and slightly persuasive as James shut the door behind him, George turned to the roomful of men.
He met eyes with the man at the back, obviously the leader. As he did so, the man shouted out to take George down. By what ever means necessary.

James heard screams that day, screams that would stay with him his entire life. He dreaded what was going on in that room, but he somehow knew it wasn't going to be a nice site.

George looked up, his shield already having saved his life today was imbedded in the wall, holding someone's body up by the neck. He held his sword in both hands, the remaining members of the Black Dragon stayed back, they had seen the anger and passion that George fights with. He was unkillable, he was to fast for them. George growled softly and a fool hardy warrior ran at him, only to be dead on the floor, his head landing a few feet from his shoulders.
Another few men ran at him, thinking to do better than the others. They didn't, George showed them Repentance as he sliced their necks and bellies open.

By the time he had finished it was just him and the man at the back. The man looked at the blood soaked George, he was astonished at how much fight the man had in him.
?Why did you come here??
?You took away a boy from his father. I came to get the boy back.?
?You did all this for the boy? Who are you??
?Yes, I did. My name is George.?
The man looked on in shock? could this really be the Dragon Slayer himself? Could he really have come back from the dead?
Where the legends really true?
The man shuddered and drew his sword. George sighed, annoyed that another would get in his way. He slowly edged toward the man, sword help low. As the man lunged at him, George ducked slightly, blocking the lunge and sending the sword of his opponent above his head. He held the blades there for what seemed like ages, but what in fact was seconds as he swung his sword into the mans side, dodging the downward stroke that would have cleaved his skull. George Put his foot on the dying mans chest and pulled out his sword from the gaping cut it made in his side.
With that, George turned and opened the door. He told James to shut his eyes as he carried him through the room, the man was now finally dead, his blood and intestines spreading out on the floor. George closed the door behind him and put James down.

George walked out of the castle, now fully in flames, with James in his arms, the poor boy was tired with everything that had happened to him over the time he was in the castle. The flames of the fire silhouetting him against the door way his helmet on his arm now, his hair blowing lightly about his face as he walked through the huge gates of the castle, back toward Marks farm, back toward James home.

Chapter Seven: Reunions.

It took George nearly a full day to reach Marks farm again, all the time James was getting more and more excited, It seems he had forgotten what had happened back in the castle, what George had done.
He had hoped to never raise his sword again, to never kill again, but even dreams of peace must be replaced with the harshness of reality. He was now aware that his life would never be what he wanted. George the Dragon Slayer was forever doomed to a life of fighting. Fighting a battle that can never be won; the battle of good and evil. He looked down at the boy by his side, the smiling young son of a farmer who was good to him. George smiled to himself and thought that it had taken him just a few hours to destroy a castle and kill the majority of the Black Dragon. At least he had survived this time; he had survived to bring a son back to a father.

Mark was still sitting on the step of his home, his daughters now inside. He waited for news that his son had been sold to the slave traders, killed or worse still, until his sons head had been brought back with his genitals stuffed in his mouth. He also waited for George's body to be brung back, for he could not feasibly see how he could survive. The horse George had taken returned earlier that day, but no sign of either George or James was with it.
Mark looked down to the floor through his arms that were folded on his knees, then he as he heard some laughter from over the hill slightly distant. He hoped it was his son, but nothing else came, then when he was about to lose all hope he saw his little boy running over the hill a smile on his face. Mark instantly jumped up and ran toward his son, picking him up and hugging him tightly. He looked over James' shoulder and saw George walking behind him, his armour and clothes tinted red in the sun. Or was it blood? Mark put James down and told him to go back to the house.
He walked up to George and smiled.
"How do I thank you for what you have done?"
George looked at him through tired eyes. "You don't. Just carry on with your lives and forget you ever saw me. The Black Dragon will not bother you again."
"Why, what have you done?"
"This isn't my blood."
Mark paled at the thought of what must have happened back there "How many?"
"Only a few got away. The rest died."
Mark shook his head. All this death for one boy?
George pushed his sweat soaked hair out of his eyes and they both walked back to the farm in silence.
"George?"
"Mark?"
"Why did you rescue my son?"
"When you first met me, all I wanted to do was live on your farm, and help you farm. When they took James away, I felt powerless to help you then. I wanted to thank you for making my short time here so peaceful." George paused for a second and looked up to the gods. "Besides, I had a score to settle."

The next morning George left early, he bought a horse of Mark the night before and said goodbye to him then. He had just mounted up, his armour in a blanket and tied it on the back of his saddle. As he slid his feet into the stirrups, James ran after him, his face showing confusion "Why are you going? Why can't you stay?"
"Because if I do, they will come after me. If anyone comes looking for me then tell them I went to Scotland. Goodbye James, I may see you again one day."
George didn't wait for James to answer and he spurred off on his horse, riding into the early evening, the sun behind him. He stopped at the brow of the small hill leading up to the farm and turned around. He waved, not only to James, but Mark and his daughters too. Then, the horse reared up and sped away over the hill. George would disappear again for how long, remained to be seen.


" This is another small part in the life story of the man born as George. The Dragon Slayer has halted the rise of the Black Dragon, allowing the peoples of England to live in peace. For a while at least. But like any virus, the Black Dragon would be back, and the Dragon Slayer would be there, to stop them by any means possible."

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