Sandstorm

Chapter 1

An old man walked out into his field. He was a farmer. Well, he was a farmer now. He used to be a member of the Royal Guard, back in the good times. Before the Hammerfell Wars. Farming in Hammerfell was hard, the frequent dust storms could bury one's crops in a flash. But he was a stubborn man.

His small house sat in the sand a short distance away. It was indeed small, a one story thing. It had only three rooms. His bedroom, his son's bedroom and the kitchen. But still, it had all the comforts he needed. It was better than living in his old house in Dragonstar, where he would be shunned for having been a guard of King Amito. The thought of King Amito drew a long sigh from him. The old King had been removed from the throne and executed for laying with other men. The farmer was simply glad that he had never been discovered to be the one the King was laying with.

A small boy with brown hair came running through the sand towards the farmer.
"Papa!" He cried. "Papa!"
The farmer looked up to see the boy stumble. He jogged over and helped him to his feet.
"What is it, Jarn?" He asked, concern growing in him. He had never seen Jarn so worried about anything before.
"Papa, they're here!" He exclaimed. The farmer knew that Jarn didn't have to explain anything more. He looked up at the ridge that the child was pointing at. A group of five men, armed and armoured, one riding a pahmer khajiit, were advancing downhill towards the farm.

The farmer ran back inside and emerged with a large pack in one hand and a sword in the other. The curved blade shone in the glaring midday sun, and the emerald in the hilt glistened.
"Papa?" Jarn asked. He gave no response, and handed the pack to Jarn.
"Go." He replied with his thick, deep, gritty voice. "Go. Sandsnap Cave. Quickly, go." He said, still calm. Jarn nodded. He pulled a cloak from the top of the pack and wrapped it around his shoulders, covering his back. He pulled up the hood and hugged the farmer.
"I don't want to go, papa." He said quietly. The farmer hugged him back. Jarn was only ten, but he was now about to send him away forever. He pulled out a small carving. It was a piece of ebony that he had carved into a sword shape as a boy.
"You have to go, for your sake." He replied. "Here, take this." He handed Jarn the small piece of ebony. "Take it. Think only of me and, when you need it, I shall protect you." He said. The boy's small hand closed around the ebony and it slid into his pocket.
"Thank you, papa."He replied, before turning and running as fast as he could to the southeast. The farmer could hardly tell that Jarn was there and, as he got further, the cloak made him invisible against the desert sand. Satisfied, he turned to face the five men.

He held the sword out and readied himself. The four foot soldiers reached him first and pointed their swords at his face. Their skull-like helmets hid their faces, but he could feel their cold stares through their eye slits.
The four men stepped aside and the man on the pahmer rode up the middle. He was a tall Redguard with a large beard and a crown rested on his sleek, black hair.

"King Anaku." The farmer said, his voice dripping with resentment.

"Come now, Arvis, why so hostile? I can assure you that we've simply got off on the wrong foot." Anaku replied. He frowned. When you came to power, you threw me and every other member of the Royal Guard out. You took everything I had, and now you're hunting me down and greeting me with armed warriors. I'm glad to see you haven't let becoming king change you." He replied.
"I simply needed people I can trust in my personal guard. It was nothing personal. As for why I'm here, well, I confess... I need you back." He said. Arvis snorted with laughter.
"You think I'd come back to Dragonstar to help you? A Dominion sympathizer? Ha! I'd sooner hang myself right here." He replied.
"It can be arranged. Well, I see I can't convince you. Take him." He said.

Jarn ran. He ran and ran and ran. He wasn't going to let Papa down. Jr could see Sandsnap Cave in the distance when he heard a distant yell and swords clashing. He turned to see the bulky figure of his father battling with four armed men, sleeker and faster than him. But he was doing a remarkable job for someone his age.