A Purpose

"IN SPRING ... THE WORLD SINGS... "

Ian leaned against the paddock fence and decided the old Sithryn song was right. The days were turning warmer, and the forest was a wild riot of several shades of green. For one with elven heritage, the sights and sounds and scents of the season made the blood flow like fire within the hearts. Normally, Ian would have been exploring that heat with Skye, but an army of children made that near impossible. Night maneuvers would help later. So, with a last embrace he'd left the suite and walked over to the stables, led Horse out into the paddock, and continued the process of completing the horse's training.

It was an old Sithryn method, combined with some human. Ian's last horse, Storm, had responded to a series of commands spoken in Common. This time, he changed to a combination of verbal and Mindspeak commands, most in his native Sithryn tongue. Only he and Yarrowvathallion spoke the language and Yarrow would never stoop to horse stealing. So, throughout the morning, he'd put the big bay through his paces, using no reins or halter, relying on mental command and leg pressure and the occasional tap of foot to the side. The beast had responded far beyond Ian's hopes, and now was the time to reward it with some freedom. With a gentle mindtouch he called the bay over to stand quietly by the paddock gate as he opened it, then grabbing a fistful of mane he swung up and sat bareback. He hissed in Sithryn, the bay turned, and they rode out of Camelot into the fields gleaming in the May morning sun.

He rode about in a great circle for a bit, using this chance to practice with both his old blade and the new one Lord Blackhawke had gifted to him. A half hour of wielding two swords to behead several yards of overgrown weed (and one wild rosebush) from horseback was all Blackthorn needed to size up Horse as a worthy war-horse. He sheathed Deathkiss on his back, slid the new blade into its scabbard at his left side, and turned the horse in the direction of the hills. The thought of Blackhawke made him frown. So much conflict of late, so much falling away from the old code. He let the bay have his head as he mulled over and over in his mind the chaos that lately had befallen Camelot. How could anyone seriously believe he and the Hawke were conspiring to create a monarchy? How had they all come to be at each others throats? Taralon insane, Jolieve gone, all the rest of it... it made no sense.

Why should he care so much?

They reached the top of the ridge and turned, Ian leaning forward to rest his arm on the bay's neck. And there, shining in the sun like like a newly forged blade, lay the castle of Camelot. He sat in silence nearly ten minutes, just looking at the walls that held so many people he loved, that stood for all he had come to believe in. He thought also of all the frustration, all the anger he had been the target for since he had taken the Guard Captaincy, and then that of the Watch. The old Ian, the mercenary he'd been before he came here, would have done the expedient thing and left long ago. And yet he stayed.

Why?

And then a voice echoed in his head, a nameless squire he'd heard reciting the Code in the library to a tutor: "The ideal knight is sworn by oath to defend his liege lord and those who depend on him. Seek always to defend your nation, your family, and those you whom you believe worthy of loyalty."

The sound of his own voice reciting those words brought him back to the present. He reached over and patted the bay. "Well... I'm hardly the ideal knight, am I?" But as he looked down at the castle, he knew why he endured. There were those in Camelot whom he believed deserved his loyalty: Skye... their family... Corwin, Alodar, Erland, Morningmyst, MacKinsey, believers in the old code all, and other friends. There was his liege, Blackhawke, his Lady Susan, and the Lady Wenndolyne. Above all there was the ideal of Camelot, a place of justice and truth, of loyalty and chivalry. He owed his loyalty and more to all of them.

"I may never be that ideal knight, Horse. But this place... it has shaped my life in ways I never dreamed of going. It gave me a goal, a purpose. Perhaps we can help others find theirs."

He whispered once more in Sithryn, and then turned the horse back the way he had come.