The sun was hot that day, blazing on the ground in all it’s glory.  Reid brushed the crop of reddish brown hair out of his eyes and took a drink from his water skin.  The fields were scorching and he leaned on his hoe in hopes of bringing back some of his sun sapped strength.  His shirt was soaked through with sweat and he could feel drops sliding down his back.  Children were laughing behind him as they played in the backyard.  He turned his head to watch their tow and red headed selves chasing butterflies, a small smile forming on his lips.  Although they were not his children, he cared for them as if they were.  His parents were not long gone from the last wave of sickness, a sickness that was a reminder of hardships of the past and those yet to come.  He could only wish these little ones wouldn’t have to deal with much of that for years.

Reid returned to his crops, taking a breath of the heavy air.  He lifted his head sharply when ash filled smoke wafted through his mouth.  Turning this way and that brought the source of the fire to his eyes.  Bright licks of orange flickered across the roof of his neighbor’s home, and he dropped his hoe, rushing towards the building.  The heat of the past few days had been very dry, and the fire would spread quickly if it did not get under control.

Reid’s home was just outside of the town, a farmer as he was, his crops spread from his home to the area near to his neighbor.  Getting closer to the burning house, Reid noticed horses galloping around town, riders in armor swinging swords at all below them.  Both women and men were screaming as they ran from the violence decending upon them.  He looked around frantically, judging their distance to himself.  Too quickly would they be on him and he was defenseless.  Without a second thought he dashed into his neighbor’s barn, letting horses gone wild with fear out of their stalls, and grabbed a pitchfork.  It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it would have to do.

He ran out of the barn, finding himself staring at a man astride a beautiful white horse, his face split into a wide grin of glee.  “What have we here?  A would be fighter?” the man said, his voice raspy and low.

Reid narrowed his eyes.  “You will not take me alive,” he growled. 

The man laughed and swung his sword around his head.  “I wasn’t planning on it.”  He urged his horse forward and swept the sword down, trying to cut Reid.  Reid brought up the pitchfork, catching the blade in the tines and he twisted the handle.  The sword fell from the man’s grasp and the horse turned around once it was past Reid.  “Clever I suppose, but not good enough.”  He came in for another sweep, and this time Reid thrust the pitchfork up with all his strength behind it.

The man was knocked off the horse, which took the opportunity to leave it’s rider and run off.  Reid took a gasping breath as the pitchfork vibrated in his hands from the blow.  It hadn’t even made a dent in the man’s armor, but he was standing up with a grimace.  “I hope you don’t think I’m done yet,” the man said as he narrowed his eyes.  Reid shook his head, flinging sweat off his brow.

“Of course not,” Reid said, voice low.  He crouched as the man rushed forward and when he was almost on top of Reid, Reid stabbed with all his might at the man’s face.  The man blocked the blow, raising his armored hands, then pushed outwards so that the pitchfork knocked Reid to the ground, then flew from his hands.

“See, you’re done for.  As an honor to your farming status, I will use your own weapon to kill you.”  He grabbed the pitchfork and turned it around, raising it above his head.  Reid grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it at his face, causing the man to stumble back and drop the pitchfork.  Reid sat up quickly, grabbed the weapon and started thrusting it at the man, stabbing again and again for all he was worth.  His helmet was knocked off as the man tried to block the continued blows that Reid thrust at him, and now Reid had more skin to attack.  The man took a step back, then another, and his next had him tripping on a large rock, sending him flying backwards and to the ground.  Reid took the opportunity to renew his efforts, stabbing until the man stopped screaming and the blood was flowing freely.

He breathed again and again, hoping to stop his heart from beating out of his chest.  One was down but there would be others.  He straightened and turned around, seeing that someone was, indeed, watching him.  Reid held up the bloody pitchfork in a threatening manner, narrowing his eyes.  The man sat on top of a pure black horse, his entire armor the same shade of black, gleaming in the firelight.  He took off his helmet and long lengths of black hair spilled around his shoulders.  He was pale skinned, and sat in complete stillness, dark eyes staring at all that was around him as though weighing his approval.  He caught and held Reid’s gaze.

“You fight as though your life depended on it,” the man said, his deep velvet voice sending chills through Reid.

Reid nodded, “Of course it does, does it not?” 

The man smiled slowly, no warmth reaching his eyes.  “Yes, it does,” he said as he inclined his head and put the helmet back on.  In a moment he pulled out his sword and saluted Reid, beginning his charge.  His horse galloped to Reid, and Reid set his pitchfork against the ground, holding it steady against a rut in the ground.  The force of the sword hitting the pitchfork flung Reid to the side and he twisted as he fell, rolling away from the hooves.  He heard a crack as his side hit a rock and he gasped in pain, trying to catch his breath.

“You would like to kill me no doubt,” the voice said from above Reid and he tried to turn towards him.  Pain lanced through his body again and he took another breath.  “It is too bad we couldn’t be on the same side, you seem to have quite a bit of fire in your body.  Would you like to work for me?”  Reid shook his head, his dismayed eyes suryeving the damage already done to the town he had grown up in.  A foot nudged him onto his back and Reid could see the black armor, the black helmet, could almost believe he could even see black eyes.  “I need a messenger, so do be a dear and stay alive.”  Reid blinked tears out of his eyes and tried to stand up.  “No, no, we can’t have any of that,” the boot came across his side in an instant, almost causing Reid to black out.  He cried out, feeling tears begin to rush down his cheeks.  “That’s better, no more fire, not just yet.”  A chuckle and another kick and Reid was on the edge of awareness.

“Next kick, will put you out.  Be a good boy and lie there silently to regain your strength.  When you come to, you are going to let everyone know that The Dead Knight was here.  Tell them that Clossen won’t stay silent any longer.  The treaty is null and void, it ended this year.  Tell your people, Clossen is coming.”  He kicked Reid again, this time in the face, and Reid saw nothing more but blackness.