Meet Heath

Meet Heath, I had a dream the other night, and this guy was in it, and yes his name is most assuradly and unchangably 'Heath'. So, anyhow, I've been trying to figure out who he is for a while, and I think I finally got some of it, so, my new piece:

Chapter 1

 The wind swept across the desert sand dunes with an incessant fury. Inexplicably, the wind bent itself full force on a large temple, wrought of stone, laying forgotten in the vast waste of Garaning.
 Inexplicably, that is, to anyone who may have stumbled upon the lonely place, but to the 2 men within, the fury of the wind was easily explained. One, a towering dark, lordly, man, whose face was adorned with tribal markings from the far north, bore a red leather bound book under his right arm, and a long black sword in the other. The other man was tightly hooded and cloaked, his eyes alone visible in the narrow opening of his hood, blocked the way of the tall one, sword held ready in his gloved right hand.
 “You fool!” shouted the tall man, “This temple is coming down on us, we’ll be buried alive by the desert!”
 “That’s the price to be paid for taking the book.” The cloaked man calmly replied.
 “Move!” the tall one screamed, “Or you’ll perish with me!”
 “You may have found, Legionarior, I’m difficult to kill.”
 “I dare say you are, like a swarm of gnats, I cannot fully crush you. So, if you won’t move…” Legionarior sprung forward, shielding the book from possible damage.
 The sound of steel filled the hall, drowning out the roaring wind outside, but not the buckling temple. On a level field Legionarior could have overcome his adversary, albeit with great effort, but here, fear was visible in his eyes, as they darted around the crumbling hall. Visible in the hooded eyes was but determination, to rid Legionarior of the book. 
 Dexterous hands wielded the blades, and negated each other, and neither point met it’s mark. Legionarior made an attempt to circle around the cloaked man, to make an attempt at escape. It seemed as though he succeeded, coming at last between the hooded man and the door, but, as he turned to take flight, the book was dislodged from his hold. The Hooded man laughed, spitted on his sword was the book, “Take flight, it’s your life, or the secrets in the book, Lord Legionarior.”
 Legionarior paused for a moment, as if in thought of going back for the book, but as the ceiling buckled yet again, he fled into the sandstorm, “**** you, Heath!”
 Heath watched him go, before turning to the book. He drew his nondescript blade from it, and slid it into the jeweled scabbard beneath his thick, dark cloak. He held the book in front of his grey eyes for a moment, studying the gilded text on the cover. He could make no sense of it, except one word, ‘Farsight’ that’s what the Gorgons called him, he thought.
 But the book itself, He had stopped Legionarior, and to finish the job, Heath removed his left glove, allowing flames to leap suddenly from his fingertips, licking at the pages, and at length, devouring the book. He threw it on the floor, pulled his glove back on, and walked away as the desert wind razed the temple to the ground.
 Outside there was not a trace of Legionarior, which was to be expected, he was far from here by now, and Heath was glad of it. He reached down to his belt, and caught up a small horn from it. Giving a blast on it summoned a great Dragunhawk, leathery and feathered, to the sands beside him.
 “Where to, my lord?” it asked in a language unintelligible, as Heath climbed up on its back.
 “Dar Nord, my friend, take me to Dar Nord.”

Copyright © 2009 Robert W. A. Nance
All rights reserved