�Watch for the White Knight.� She�d said.
I queried this pronouncement of course, but she was as stubborn as usual, her smile still worries me.
�You�ll find out in good time Absalom never fear, be about your business now.�
That�s all she�d said as she smiled and walked away. Anyone would have thought I was a child rather than the fifteen summers I actually was.
So here I find myself on this beautiful day, riding through the forest of Kiar, astride my horse, a pack of provisions at my saddlebow, free from mother�s constraints and her endless orders, her mind-bending
sorcerous tuition, yet my thoughts are disjointed. As I pass the wonders about me, the ancient trees are merely columns of lumber, the golden sky a roof above my head.
Two words continue to flit through my head, endlessly pushing out all other thoughts - White Knight
Who in damnation is the White Knight?
It was how she�d said it, with that amused self-satisfied expression.
Gods, but I was annoyed when she ignore my questions. I still am if it comes to that. I must do something to take my mind from the situation, yes. I shall stop and eat, rest my body that I may think more clearly, and then continue.
A suitable site lies just ahead, a clearing beside the path, a fallen tree sitting in the shade. I dismount and take my provisions from their resting place, mundane thoughts of bread and cheese warring with speculation in my head. I find the fallen tree and sit, just as I hear the hoof-beats. Not wanting to appear an ill-prepared oaf I stand and pose myself suitably, hand atop my sword hilt, head held high.
I stand thus for perhaps a minute before the horse and its rider come into view, and what manner of beast is this, a huge barrel-chested charger, bearing a warrior clad in white scale armour, he comes abreast of me and stops. The mount stamps his feet and shifts slightly as if wishing to run. The knight looks at me and I feel fear, I have no idea why for the knight makes no move. I speak and to my shame my voice quavers.
�Good day to you, may I be of service.�
The knight makes no response, he sits statue-like for several heartbeats, then with a single smooth motion he dismounts. He walks toward me and places his hand upon his sword.
�Today you die!� he says, his voice deep and threatening.
I stumble back and fumble like an untrained peasant as I draw my blade.
Too late, for the knight has moved and struck the weapon from my weakened grasp. I stand before him, powerless, fear gnaws at me terror making my limbs feel like water not blood runs through my veins.
Suddenly fear turns to anger, who is this man, why do I stand thus, humbled humiliated. Without knowing why I stand erect and search for the knight�s eye within his visor. With all the dignity that I can muster I ask him, no I command him.
�If you would slay me be about it sir, if not then be so good as to explain yourself.�
I feel the blades point upon my throat, it moves forward a scant fraction of an inch no doubt drawing blood, and then is withdrawn. I feel faint, yet my face remains calm, or at least I hope it does. The knight stands back, his weapon arm falls, he sheathes his blade, unspeaking he removes his helm.
I stand gawping like a half-wit, my momentary act of defiance forgotten. He shakes his head and his long dark hair falls loose, cold blue eyes in a hard face watch me, unsmiling he nods his head.
�You�ll do, you need training, but there is spirit there.�
The knight turns away and remounts his horse, a moment before returning his helm to his he looks at me and declares, �I am Julian of Amber, your father.�
I stand in shock and amazement as this man who claims to be my father rides away.