by Rick Shelley
I must have been burning with fever on top of all the injuries, with delirium hovering nearby. There can hardly be any other rational explanation for the fact that I got on my horse and rode at the enemy again despite the extent of my pain. I didn't even have it in me to wonder, What the hell am I doing here? It just wasn't important any longer. As far as I could tell, I was already so far gone that it didn't matter whether I lay down and waited or kept going until the congregation of Heroes yanked me off. But at least it made the pain fade a little.
You have your duty and I have mine.
The sight of me advancing at the head of the Varayan army sent a few more detachments of Dorthinis running. I was too dragged out to get much of a boost from that. I wouldn't have had the energy to cheer if their whole army had turned tail. I was barely aware of Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? lilting past my brain.
The two armies had been more than a half mile apart by the time I finished off the dragon… and the dragon nearly finished off me. The Dorthinis still weren't doing much to close the gap. They were just waiting-maybe even drawing back a little, postponing the second clash. I was out in front of our force, my continuing "right" as Hero, but Lesh and the rest of my companions were so close that you'd need a photo-finish camera to see that I was in the lead. The survivors of the troop I had led out of the castle were just a little behind my companions, fanned out so they had fighting room. Dieth and Resler brought their cavalry right up behind that group, and the infantry-the bulk of our army-advanced in two ranks behind them. At the rear, a few dozen archers and maybe sixty riders completed the tally.
On the Dorthini side, the cavalry was split between the center and both ends of the line. In the center, just behind the infantry, the Etevar and his wizard had a hundred mounted soldiers right around them.
That's where I aimed.
My danger sense was a futile throbbing at the back of my head, barely able to make itself felt over the other pains. I knew where the danger was, and I was heading for it intentionally. I kept my eyes on the black-clad figures of the Etevar and his wizard, looking for some kind of signal from them, some way to escape more fighting. I hoped that the fact that I had just killed the wizard's dragon and walked away-more or less-might make them eager for peace 4erms. With more than a third of their army running east and most of the remainder wishing that they were, it seemed a smart idea for the Etevar to try for a truce.
That's what I thought anyway.
As we closed to about eighty yards, I pulled Dragon's Death and looked back for an instant. Our cavalry was a tight wedge with me at the apex now. Any second, I figured, the Dorthini wizard would come up with some new trick to try to stop me. I was mildly surprised that he hadn't hit me with everything he had while I was still groggy from my fight with his dragon. It wouldn't have taken much at all to finish me then.
I raised my sword and made a feeble pumping motion with my arm, then moved Gold into a modest canter. Behind me, our cavalry kept pace. Out in front, the center of the Dorthini line held firm… although people were still fading from the flanks.
"Let's get them," I said. It wasn't nearly a shout. I started whistling the sword's battle tune. I drew strength from that, maybe even from the sword and from whatever Parthet was doing to help prop me up. My brain went into combat mode. That's how I thought of it at the time.
"One last battle," I whispered through the sword's song.
I aimed directly for the standard of the Etevar, slamming us right into the center of the Etevar's best troops. I didn't get much chance to fight there, though. With my companions shielding me so tightly, only a couple of Dorthinis got close enough for me to even feint at them.
That was enough at the start. And when the crowding got closer and more Dorthinis came within reach, Dragon's Death bit into soldiers and horses, falling as if it had the weight of a dragon on top of it. The Dorthini elite started to break around us, and then the Etevar and his wizard were right in front of me.
This time it was no illusion. The wizard was staring straight at me, not ten feet away, but his eyes were blank white. There was no color in them at all.
"His eyes were with the dragon," Parthet's voice whispered in my ear. "Ignore him. He can no longer harm you."
I needed a moment to absorb that. The Dorthini wizard had been directing the dragon with his eyes, seeing for it, seeing through it. Annick had blinded one eye of the dragon with an arrow. I had finished the other eye with my elf sword.
A blind wizard! He couldn't see to do anything.
The Etevar wasn't blind, though-except with rage. He charged me, screaming. His horse's reins were draped around the pommel of his saddle. The Etevar had a sword in one hand and a mace in the other. He led with the sword, and when I parried that, he tried to dent my head with the mace. I ducked and pushed, since I couldn't get my sword back fast enough to use it. When the Etevar swayed back, off balance, I leaned over to the side to try to finish the fight quickly. I lost my balance too, though, and the best I could do was push off Gold with my one good leg and jump the Etevar. We went to the ground and rolled.
There was plenty of room around me now, too much. The fight with the Etevar's elite had opened up the formation.
I hung on to the Etevar as if he were a life preserver. I knew that if I let go, he'd be able to get to me before I could get up. So we got to our feet together. I don't think the Etevar realized that he was doing most of the work for both of us. With my bum leg extended a bit behind us, I pushed the Etevar away and got Dragon's Death between us. Facing sword and mace together didn't worry me particularly. It may have helped me more than it helped the Etevar. He couldn't use both weapons to full advantage simultaneously.
He charged, swinging the mace first this time. The handle was metal, not wood, so I couldn't slice head from handle. His follow-up was an underhand lunge with the sword, toward my groin, below the mail shirt. Dragon's Death rebounded from mace to sword, moving both away from me. My blade came back up, reached for the Etevar's face. He leaned back, sidestepped, and came in again.
All I could so was shuffle along or pivot, and that handicapped me. For a time it was sword against sword, with the Etevar holding his mace back-a balance and a threat. His broadsword was longer and heavier than most, but it still wasn't in the same league with Dragon's Death. If I had had two good legs under me, and even an ounce of strength, I could have ended the duel quickly, without trouble.
The Etevar gritted his teeth and fought without speaking. I didn't have the air or the energy to talk. Chat during a duel may sound good on the movie screen, but it has no place in real life-not unless you're completely tired of living.
The Etevar had to realize that I was gimpy by then. He started moving in a slow circle around me, forcing me to turn and drag my bum leg as he tried to get me off balance so he could get past Dragon's Death. The circling wasn't comfortable, but it did let me keep track of what was going on around us. I had to know if any of the Etevar's people came close enough to help him. I was beyond relying exclusively on my danger sense.
I made the first mistake. The routine lulled me. The Etevar crossed his weapons and caught the blade of Dragon's Death coming down, using the head of his mace to pin my sword against his. Then he pushed in toward me, lowering his head as if he planned to butt me to the ground. I stepped back, and my bad leg forced me to pivot. The Etevar brought his weapons through and the sword scored a long cut along my left arm. I pivoted back toward him and brought both arms down, slamming my fists and the hilt of Dragon's Death into the back of his neck as he tried to step past. He went down, though not for a long enough count to let me take advantage. But in his rush to get back to his feet, he left the mace behind.
He charged again right away, though-apparently maddened with rage. He came at me as if he planned to bowl me over with just his anger. When Dragon's Death came straight down, his sword wasn't enough to keep it off. The elf sword bit into his shoulder. I dragged it off to the side and made a home-run swing, ai
ming for the most vulnerable target, his neck.
The Etevar's blade dug into my side, but his head was off before I got out, "For my father."
And then the darkness claimed me.
Raucous music. Old Teutonic drinking songs seemed to alternate with modern pieces like "Another One Bites the Dust" and "Bohemian Rhapsody." I fancied that I could smell blooming lilacs and wondered if I had somehow found my way home to Louisville. The pain was gone, so I assumed that Dad and Vara had finally come to collect me. It didn't seem to matter. I had finished the job I started out to do. I told myself that I didn't really want to be King of Varay anyway.
What comes next? seemed to be more important at the moment. I was curious, but mostly in a distracted, intellectual sort of way. What is death? Who runs things here? And Where the hell is "here"?
"Comeback, lad."
At first, I didn't notice the voice. I was lost in the void of eternity, trying to deal with that.
"Come back, lad."
It was Parthet's voice. It's over now, Uncle Parker, I thought. But my peace was becoming more and more disturbed. The emptiness suddenly had borders. I felt pressure on my head. A tingling nibbled at my skin. This wasn't an electric tingle, more like the nibble of a fish on your toe while you're swimming.
"Hang on to my voice, lad." Parthet again. Then I heard one of his mumbo-jumbo chants. It started as a whisper that I had to concentrate on to hear, and it built until it forced my attention.
I'm not dead, I realized, and I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. The pain returned-not so great as before, but still more than I really wanted to endure.
"His eyes are open!" That was Lesh's voice. I assumed that he was talking about me, but I didn't know that my eyes were open. I tried blinking. There was some light, not much. Dusk, I thought. The rest of the afternoon had gone, and the early evening. There were forms in the hazy twilight around me, forms that took shape as the light seemed to strengthen. Parthet and Lesh were both leaning over me.
"You're going to be all right, lad," Parthet said. I thought that I heard relief in his voice, but everything was still hazy. "We'll get you inside now. I couldn't let them move you before."
I didn't answer, but Parthet didn't seem to expect me to. He stood and spoke to other people. The words were simply too slippery for me to hold on to them, whatever they were. After a moment, I felt myself being lifted-on a stretcher or something.
"Into the castle," Parthet said, his voice farther off but stronger. I managed what felt like a deep breath and let myself be carried. Lesh stayed at my side, talking, telling me about the rest of the day's events. The battle was over. The Etevar was dead. His soldiers were either dead, fled, or under guard. His blind wizard had been bound and hooded.
It is over. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. When I opened them again, my vision had improved. I saw Annick standing up on the snout of the dragon, retrieving her arrows. She stared down at me from that vantage, then climbed down the other side and got on her horse. The last I saw of her, she was riding west-into the sunset-alone.
When my bearers carried me through the gate of Castle Thyme, King Pregel was waiting to greet me.
"It's over here," I told the king, or tried to tell him. I'm not sure if any words actually came out. I closed my eyes again.
I must have slept. When I opened my eyes the next time, there was bright light around me. Sanlight. From the look of it, I guessed that it had to be around midday, which meant that I had slept fifteen hours or more… maybe days more. Pregel was sitting on a chair next to my bed.
"I've been here since the start of your battle," he said. "You certainly are my proper heir."
From the strength and joy in his voice, he wouldn't be needing an heir anytime soon, which was great with me. Even assuming that I would someday be physically up to anything again, I wasn't ready to commit to a century or more of his job. I had serious reservations about keeping the job I had. Silicon Valley was looking better and better. I'd rather face my dragons on a game screen any day.
"How badly am I torn up?" I asked, surprised that my voice was understandable.
"You're mending nicely," Pregel said, avoiding the question. "Parthet said that you'd be able to get up and try walking for a few minutes after your breakfast."
"How long have I been out?" I asked.
"A few hours short of two days." Parthet. I looked back-off behind me. He was standing there, looking quite pleased with himself.
"I was almost dead," I told him.
His grin got a little sheepish. "Well, I can see what I'm doing now." He touched the frames of his glasses. Then his face turned serious again. "I'm really not sure that I can take much credit. It was close the first night. You were babbling, talking to your father and Vara."
I didn't remember that.
"Enough talk," Pregel said. "Let the boy have his meal."
I tried scooting myself up in the bed, found that it wasn't nearly as painful as I had feared, and then had plenty of hands helping me. Mother came in with three pages who were loaded down with food and pitchers.
Wonder of wonders, I even had an appetite. Pregel and the others gave me a long time to eat without interruption. No one spoke until the pace of my eating slowed down.
"Well, boy," Pregel said. "It's seems you have your first crown."
I still wasn't thinking one hundred percent clearly. At first, Pregel's statement drifted right past me, and then when it did register, it derailed what thinking processes I did have working.
"What do you mean?" My danger sense started to prickle.
"Dorthin is yours now, boy," Pregel said. "You've slain the last Etevar. He has no heirs."
"Wait! Time out. I don't want Dorthin."
"It's yours, by right of conquest if nothing else," Pregel said. "Something must be done to keep the surviving warlords from warring among themselves for it. The winner would turn against Varay as soon as he could."
"Give it to someone else!" I said.
"You don't understand. It's not mine to give or take," Pregel said. "It's yours-do with it what you will." He sounded a little miffed by my attitude.
I looked around the unfamiliar room-somewhere in the keep of Castle Thyme-more panicked by the thought of getting stuck with Dorthin than I had been by facing the dragon. I kept looking around. No one offered any suggestions.
"I can give it away?" I asked, turning back to Pregel and Parthet.
"You can give it to someone to hold for you," Parthet said.
I let out a noisy sigh of relief, not catching the subtleties of Parthet's phrasing. An idea popped into my head. I knew just where to look this time. Baron Dieth was standing over by the door. I turned and got my legs out of bed. Pregel had said that I was supposed to be up to walking. I had help standing, but when I got to my feet, I didn't have any trouble staying up. While I took a moment to wonder at that miracle, Harkane put a robe on me. His face looked gaunt, worried.
I could walk. I limped quite noticeably, and walking was slow going, as much because I was afraid of falling as anything else, I think. And there was still pain-all over-but nothing compared to what I had experienced before. One cautious step at a time, I walked over to Baron Dieth.
"You were my father's first squire," I said. "Will you hold Dorthin for me?"
He went down on one knee. "To the death, Highness," he said.
"Then it's yours." I figured that it would take something more formal to make it firm, but I would let Baron Kardeen worry about that.
"Such a post calls for a dukedom at least," Pregel said. "It is your honor to bestow."
And Kardeen was there to coach me on what to say and do.
"While we're at this," I said when I finished with that, "Lesh, you've been with me from the start. I couldn't have made it without you. It's time we made you Sir Lesh." But I still looked to Pregel and Kardeen to see if I was doing the right thing. Neither of them objected. Finally, at my recommendation, King Pregel raised Sir Hambert
to the barony and gave him Coriander in place of Dieth.
"You might want to take a few steps out to the balcony," Parthet said then, "as long as you feel up to it."
There was something in Parthet's voice that made me think that he had a specific reason for his suggestion. I started to ask, then changed my mind and just nodded. It wasn't a long walk, only a dozen steps, and there were people at either side of me, ready to catch me if I started to fall. I didn't. I made it all the way to the small balcony that looked down on the courtyard of Castle Thyme. The open space wasn't all that large, but there were several hundred people down there, looking up at the keep. There was a cheer when they saw me.
Tears ran down my face. I waved and tried to smile. All those people waiting to make sure that I was really recovering. I started to understand at least part of what had bound my father to Varay for all those years.
Then the sky darkened. There were no clouds. It was as if someone had put a polarizing filter over the sun. I looked up. So did Parthet. I guess that none of the people down in the courtyard saw the magic. The image of the Elflord of Xayber appeared in the sky, scowling fiercely enough to turn Medusa to stone. There were no audible words to his message, but the gist was something like Sooner or later, upstart, your ass is mine.
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