by Joseph Lallo
Always, though, she returned home to the tower and to Halfax. Her budding skill as a healer had restored his health to beyond what it had been prior to his clash with the wizard, but some injuries lingered that neither time nor traditional medicine could cure. The slash left by the lightning was now a narrow white scar running from his snout to his tail, crossing both eye and wing on the right side. Both wings were still utterly ruined, tattered shreds on a framework of crooked bones. The eye had healed to a milky white, sightless orb.
It was this latter injury that had proven most difficult for Halfax to overcome, and it was this one Jade was most dedicated to curing. Alas, she could only work with what was available. Jade simply didn't have the resources to restore her friend. All that she could do was keep learning, keep searching, hope that in time the pieces would com together.
#
“Hal! This way!” she called out.
The pair were making their way through a patch of forest near the mountains. A handful of the more useful herbs she used in her potions grew best in the thinner air and rockier soil, so she kept a small garden near the tree line. As they made their way back, something caught Jade's eye.
“What?” Halfax asked making his way to her side.
“Do you know what this is!?” she cried eagerly.
“No.”
“Aiur,” she said, “It is supposed to grow only on South Crescent!”
South Crescent was a continent half of a world away, and its residents kept very much to themselves. Jade had long ago abandoned any hope of attaining resources native to that land, yet here she found a plant more precious to her than gold. She crouched and carefully took a cutting.
“Come on! Back to the tower!” she urged, fairly leaping to his back.
“Is it important?” Halfax asked.
“Right now there is nothing that matters more to me! Quickly, quickly!”
Halfax sprinted to the east. In no time at all, they reached the tower. Jade dove from the dragon's back and scrambled inside. As Halfax heaved great breaths, recovering slowly from the run, she rummaged through mounds of books. It had been more than a year since she'd last read it, but still she remembered the very page she needed. How could she forget? It was precisely what she needed, yet just out of reach for so long.
She pulled the proper book from the pile and flipped it open. It was in a different tongue, one Halfax had taught her. He hadn't known the name of the language, only that it was from South Crescent. The words at the top of the page brought tears to her eyes. “Sight from darkness . . .”
She gathered the necessary materials, cut a tiny sliver of the aiur leaf, and planted the rest in a small pot. A potent and foul-smelling brew was prepared, the precious leaf as the final ingredient. Decanting the finished concoction, she hurried outside.
“What was that all about?” Halfax muttered.
“Show me your eye,” she said, excitement spilling from her voice.
He angled his massive amber-gold eye closer to her.
“No, the bad one!”
Hesitantly, and with more than a little suspicion, he turned his head to reveal the useless white eye.
“Lay your head on the ground,” she said.
“Another remedy? This is foolish,” he said, turning his good eye to her again.
“What? Are you afraid it will hurt? A big strong dragon like you?”
“Don't try to manipulate me,” he said sternly.
“Fine. No tricks. Don't do it to prove you aren't afraid, do it because I asked you to.”
With the customary sigh, Halfax lowered his head to the ground. Jade quickly straddled his neck.
“Now try to hold still. This will probably hurt . . . a lot,” she said, lifting the eyelid gently and pouring in the mixture.
She could feel the beast's neck tense under her, but ever stoic, Halfax released only the merest grunt in response to what must have been a terribly painful experience.
“Now keep the eye closed,” she said, reaching into her cloak as quietly as possible to retrieve an item she knew would not be well-received.
She pulled an amulet from her pocket. It was brass, heavily tarnished, and bore a pale blue gem at its center. Attached to it was a fine chain of the same metal. When the final links of the chain tugged free, they made the tiniest clink.
“What is that sound?” Halfax rumbled, his good eye shooting open.
Jade placed the amulet over the treated eye and spoke three words in a very deliberate and carefully practiced manner. A sharp growl shook Halfax and his head shot up, taking Jade with it.
“Magic?” he barked. “What are you doing speaking words of magic!?”
“I've practiced, Hal. I know precisely what I am doing,” she assured, holding tight to her perch upon his neck and quietly repeating the words.
Halfax curled his neck and coiled his tail about Jade's middle, gently tugging her free.
“The treatment comes from the mixture. The magic words just make it permanent,” she defended, dangling from his tail.
“I don't care. You have not been trained, you have never heard those words spoken, and you do not know if you've said them correctly. What if--”
His voice trailed off as the offending eye slid open.
“Well?” she asked hopefully.
Halfax's tail loosened, dropping Jade to the ground. He swept his head around, sampling the sights of the tower as if for the first time. The brightness at the edge of the clearing, the drifting of bees among the garden . . . For the first time in years, he was seeing them as he was meant to.
“It worked didn't it? It worked!” she exclaimed.
She ran to him, tears streaming down her face, and wrapped her arms tight around his neck. Halfax placed a paw behind her back and pulled her closer.
“I've been waiting so long to make it up to you. And I swear, if it is in my power, I'll give you your wings back, too,” she said, releasing her embrace and wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Now, the eye isn't going to be exactly how it was. According to the spell book, this was created by dwarfs to help them navigate caves. The eye shouldn't need any light at all to see, but it won't be able to see quite as far even in daylight.”
A sound in the bushes drew Halfax's attention. He released her and bolted toward it. Jade didn't need to be told why. The loss of an eye had been an enormous handicap to his hunting, one that it had taken him months to overcome. Now that he had some measure of his full vision back, no one could blame him if he was eager to put it to use. Tonight there would be a feast.
#
Far to the north, in an exquisite and well-kept room, a well-dressed man waited. His eyes turned to the door as it opened, a stately servant stepping through.
“You may have your audience with the prince now,” declared the steward.
“Thank you,” said the tall, all-too-familiar elf.
He stood and was led into a large, lavishly furnished parlor. Inside was an unimpressive figure in very impressive garb. His build was lean, trending toward lanky, and his expression was a pale imitation of authority. He was a man, perhaps twenty years old, who might be considered handsome if his features or posture could muster even an ounce of confidence. Instead, his bearing and presence spoke quietly of meekness, weakness, and insignificance.
“Oh, yes, and you are?” asked the prince.
“A concerned party,” said the stranger.
“Er. Is that all? Generally, the steward presents my visitors with their full title and point of business,” he said, brow furrowed slightly.
“Yes, well, I rather doubt your servant knew my name or my business. Were you to call him in here, in fact, I suspect he would be quite confused to find me in the room.”
“I . . . I don't understand.”
“That is hardly a surprise, Your Highness. You are Terrilius Croyden Lumineblade, latest in the impressively long, and astoundingly unbroken, Lumineblade dynasty. That should make you a towering figure in the hearts and minds of you
r people. Instead, you are known, you should be aware, as the frail whelp that might someday rule Vulcrest.”
“Now that simply isn't true, my people love--”
“Your people are ashamed of you. Your skill with a sword is barely average, your riding skill is virtually nonexistent, and you have the force and presence of a damp washing cloth. Your people dread the day your father will die to leave the kingdom in your hands, and there are no less than seven assorted lords and knights actively contesting your claim to the crown.”
“I don't have to take that from you!”
“No, you don't, and yet you are. The very fact my head is still on my shoulders says all that needs to be said about you. A stranger in the castle unannounced? Someone in your position should have called in the guards in a heartbeat. You lack any of the distinguishing qualities of a king, save birthright. In short, Your Highness, unless you are able to illustrate that you have the wisdom, the strength, and the will to lead, then this kingdom will never be yours.”
“I . . . I cannot . . .”
“Not to worry. Wisdom can be provided by advisers, and strength by armies. You need only prove that you have the will, and that is simple enough. Take swift, decisive action in the protection of your land and your people will see in you a leader.”
“What would you suggest?”
“Do you recall, some years ago, when a dark sorceress emerged from Tressor and rode a dragon creature into the heart of Ravenwood?”
“Of course. It was the day of that terrible storm. My father forbade any to venture far into Ravenwood because of it.”
“Well, Ravenwood is the finest hunting ground on the continent. Losing it is a tremendous hardship. And to react to a threat within your own borders by simply ignoring it? Is that truly the act of a leader?”
The prince's eyes drifted, seeming to focus on a point beyond the walls of the room.
“The wizard and her beast must be destroyed . . .” he said vaguely.
“Very wise idea, Your Highness. I happen to know that they have taken refuge in a wizard's tower deep within the forest.”
“I am quite aware of Ravenwood's tower.”
“Splendid. So you know where they are, and you know that she must be killed. Now, if you were to order me to, I believe I could be coerced into performing this deed personally.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I am the prince, and, as you say, I am the one with something to prove. I shall gather the best of our soldiers, I shall lead them into Ravenwood, and I shall defeat the sorceress myself.”
“Will you, now? Then perhaps you would consider including me in your party. I--”
“No. I do not know who you are, sir, and though you may think me a fool, I am not so blind as to mistake a wolf for a sheep. You are after something. I thank you for stepping forward to inform me of my shortcomings. There are few willing to speak to royalty so frankly. And I thank you for inspiring me to take action for the benefit of my kingdom, but whatever plan you mean to hatch, you shall not. So leave me. I've much to prepare.”
“As you wish, Your Highness,” replied the stranger.
He excused himself, walking out of the prince's chambers amid various looks of confusion and concern. Indeed, no one remembered allowing him in, but the fact that he was inside and seemed to fit so comfortably into the castle atmosphere led each to assume that he had been invited by another.
“Not the ideal outcome,” the stranger mused aloud to no one, “but it will do. The boy knows nothing of battle, and yet acts as though he is invincible, as though making the decision was the only challenge. One way or another, that will ensure at least one of the targets will be destroyed.”
#
Some days later, Halfax was stalking through the forest on his daily patrol. Years without being disturbed had not dulled the edge of his dedication. For a dragon, a few years was barely the blink of an eye. He looked and listened, but for the most part, he replied upon his nose. The forest was dense with scent. The crisp smell of fresh snow, the distant aroma of ripe vegetables in Jade's clearing, and the enticing scent of a deer all wafted on the same breeze from the west. The dragon had taken a few stealthy steps toward his would-be prey when a northern gust of wind carried with it a mixture of smells that set off alarms in his mind. Horses and men. Many of each. Halfax burst into a sprint, heading directly for the source of the wind.
As he drew nearer, the sound of hooves and the clink and jingle of armor confirmed his fears. Soldiers. More than a dozen of them. Before long, they were in sight. Halfax could determine their intentions with little more than a glance. Each was armed with heavy, cruel weapons. Oversized axes, spiked clubs, two-handed swords, and longbows. Things capable of piercing armor . . . or scales. They were dragonslayers, or hoped to be. The undeniable looks of anxiety on their faces suggested they had little experience in the area, and no confidence. Only the man in the center of the group stood as an exception. In place of anxiety was a look of determination. He alone was armed with a light sword, and the higher quality of his ornate armor labeled him as their superior, in title if not in skill.
The horses, more mindful of hidden threats than their riders, became uneasy. Most of the men were able to quickly set their steeds straight again. The well-dressed leader had more difficulty. When he finally succeeded, he felt the gaze of his men. It was the prince, and alone among his men for the first time in ages, it was only now becoming clear to him the contempt they felt. Drawing himself with as much regal bearing as he could muster, he spoke.
“Right, Commander,” he said, “the horses seem restless. How much further until we reach the tower?”
Halfax's expression sharpened.
“Not long. Within the hour, Your Highness,” replied the soldier.
He hissed the prince's title like a profanity, a subtlety the noble failed to notice.
“Good, excellent. And we are all prepared to put this woman and her pet to a swift and certain end?” he asked.
“Yes, Your Highness. As prepared as any men can be.”
That was all that Halfax needed to hear. If they were planning to attack Jade, then they would go no further. The dragon readied himself. He'd dealt with dragonslayers before. Perhaps they claimed to do what they did for the good of their country or for the vast rewards, but there was always a deeper desire: glory. These men wanted a reputation. They wanted to prove to themselves that they were strong enough to stand against this mighty beast. The way to deal with them was not to kill them. That would only bring more men to replace them, better armed and more determined. No, one must fulfill their expectations. Give them what they wanted. Terrify them, clash with them. Give them scars to show off and stories to tell around the campfire. Give them a fight they would never forget, and one that they would never want to repeat.
With a slow, purposeful step, Halfax snapped a branch on the ground. The men turned toward the sound in perfect unison. He plodded slowly toward them, crushing brush and stomping the earth. Were he trying to kill these men, he would never be so clumsy in his approach, but in the mind of a man, a dragon was a mindless monster thrashing through the forest. It was best not to disappoint. His approach ratcheted the tension tighter than the bow strings that the archers shakily held ready. He let out a low growl that shook the trees and seemed to come from everywhere at once.
At the sound, the horses panicked, forcing the soldiers to struggle to keep them under control. Some had more success than others. The well-dressed and poorly-equipped prince failed completely, his horse breaking formation and galloping madly away amid his angry protests. Halfax chose that moment to reveal himself, broken wings spread and thrashing, teeth bared and gleaming, and a bloodcurdling roar splitting the air. The bowmen released their arrows, not a single one even close to hitting its target. The sight of the charging monster was too much for half of the men, sending them galloping back from whence they came. The more steadfast of the men abandoned their horses and raised their weapons,
ready to do battle.
The battle that followed was as well-choreographed as a dance. Halfax darted in and lashed with claw and tail, separating the warriors into manageable groups. Most of the archers were gone, but those who remained each got a skillfully aimed burst of flame, just strong enough to snap the bowstring and singe some skin. That left only the heavy weapons, which were little threat at all. The well-earned reputation of invincibility that dragons enjoyed was thanks in no small part to the fact that most weapons powerful enough to do any damage were far too slow to be any good. By the time a suitably large ax was raised and ready, Halfax had easily put the wielder on his back with a firm butt of his head or a careful rake of his claws. The broadswords were a bit faster, but exhausting to use. One or two soldiers hacked a shallow notch into his scales--one even drew blood--but by the third swing, no man among them had the strength to manage anything more than a glancing blow.
In no time at all, each of the men had taken more than he could stand. One by one, they retreated. The final warrior to go was the commander. He was tired and bloodied, but he refused to back away until his sword, a weapon even more battle-scarred than he, broke upon the dragon's back. Finally, he'd had enough. He moved as quickly as his tired body could manage in the direction the others had gone, hand still clutching the broken sword. Halfax gave chase for a few steps, and heaved a blast of flame for good measure. As quickly as it had begun, it was over.
The beast allowed himself a brief moment of pride, but it flickered away as the sound of frantic hoofbeats began to approach again. From among the trees came the prince. He had managed to get some degree of control over his steed again and was urging it back into the battleground. Halfax planted his feet, drew in a breath, and unleashed rush of flame. He'd intended it to startle the horse beyond any hope of regaining control and he was, if anything, too successful. The terrified animal thrashed about, turning abruptly enough to hurl the prince from its back. In a hapless tumble of flailing limbs and gleaming armor, he careened toward a tree. A dull thud and a rush of pained breath marked his impact. He fairly wrapped around the trunk before recoiling and tumbling to the ground. Halfax continued on his way, leaving the man wheezing and attempting to reclaim the wind that had been knocked from him.
