The Lost Champion

Prologue

It took a few moments before the great hero Bernardo Carpio noticed the loss of pressure against his palms.

Slowly, carefully, he lowered his arms and stared at his hands. He clenched them, once twice, then thrice. The movement, which he had not indulged in for at least a millenia, drew out an ache that almost made him cry out.

"Much better," said a clarion voice from the darkness behind him. "Come along, then. We haven't got much time."

He recognized that voice, and let out and exhausted laugh.

"So," he croaked out, closing his eyes and sliding down to his knees in utter weariness. "Death has finally come for me."

"You wish," the voice snapped, suddenly in front of him. "The world ain't done with you, Bernardo Carpio. And you ain't done with it either." A gnarled hand snagged his wrist, pulling him upward and forward.

He followed, too tired to resist.

"If you'd just used that head of yours, you'd have realized that you could have escaped this damned death trap six hundred years ago," the voice continued.

"But the earthquakes..." he protested weakly.

"You've gotten strong enough to stop them WITHOUT having to be an idiot stuck between a rock and a hard place," the voice retorted. "It's not as if those things were the ONLY source of earthquakes."

Suddenly,there was a light, sudden and blinding.

He blinked for a full minute, reacclimating to the light and catching glimpses of earth and sky. Tears began to stream down his face as he leaned against the mouth of a cave.

"You...you really haven't come for me?" he asked between sobs.

In front of him, the aged form of Hukluban, agent of death, shook with impatience. "Don't make me say it again, lost champion. The mortals need your protection."

As he looked up, he saw the flash of her sharp, white teeth. "The Marias are at war."