Maiden's Saber

by Marion Faith St. James

  Trusting the Maiden, everyone lowers bow and blade.

  Amari sings a soft soothing song to the dragon as she approaches even closer to its massive head.

  Natsha fears one quick snap of its jaws and Amari would be cut in half. Still, she holds fast; bow ready to shoot a bolt into that hideous red eye.

  The ancient beast stops its thrashing and lies still watching the woman approach. The scaled head is cocked to one side as the arrows now deep into the flesh cause it to wince if it tries to straighten its neck. The labored breathing of the dragon sounds like drums in the distance. The leathery skin on its sides going taut, then slack with every breath.

  The once fiery red eyes turn to blue as the Maiden continues her singing. The scaled death allows her to touch its head. It pulls away a brief moment, but comes back and seems to welcome her caress.

  The others watch and stand ready to bring sword and arrow to bear if the monster threatens Amari.

  The Maiden closes her eyes and puts her other hand on the beast’s head. It is several minutes before she breaks contact. Moving her hands through the air over the dragon, it lowers its head and the eyes close.

  “Is it dead?” Dian asks.

  “No, not dead—in a sleep-like trance.” She points to the beast and gestures to its sleeping form. “This is Tybalt, offspring of Ulliam, the great dragon Sire Goglas of Tinswood slew over a hundred years ago.”

  Natsha and Gareth look to each other. “You mean this is the descendant of the dead dragon in the cave? So the egg really hatched, and this big fella found its way from under the mountain.” Gareth says.

  “Yes my friends, the very same!”

  “You can speak to it?” Holl-tu asks.

  “Yes, Tybalt and I can silent talk with our minds. This one has been following us ever since we left the cave. It can smell its mother’s scent in the pouch at my waist. Remember when I took the scent gland from beneath the dragon’s neck Goglas killed ages ago.”

  “How is it you can speak with beasts using your mind?” Truk asks while swiping at an annoying bug that tries to make a home in his beard. “I thought I had seen all the magic you could bring to bear. It is certain that you possess much more than you have shown us.”

  “I am only discovering what was lost to me while in the death-sleep. It is possible these abilities are revealed to me when the time and need are right. I cannot communicate with all animals, only those that come close to man; like the apes, or this dragon.”

  “Ok Maiden,” asks Holl-tu? “What are we to do with this big lizard?”

  “First while it sleeps, we must remove Natsha’s shafts from its neck. The points are dangerously close to its heart.”

  “And how do we go about doing that?” Gareth asks while prodding the sleeping dragon with his toe. “Have you seen the arrow heads on my sister’s bolts? They are barbed and have a spring load that makes it almost impossible removing them without tearing flesh and muscle.”

  “I can be of help my friends,” says Holl-tu. “Before turning to wizardry and spells, I was a physician of sorts. I need the sharpest knife anyone has.”

  “Gareth reaches into his boot and pulls forth a small dirk, the keen edge reflecting the morning sun. “I have spent many hours honing this blade. Use it well.”

  The Wizard looks at Gareth and says. “How many knives do you carry? You broke one during our travels, and gave one to that Innkeeper up on the three peaks.”

  Gareth smiles at Holl-tu. “One cannot have enough blades upon their person, right Natsha?”

  “Yes brother—I carry six.”

  Holl-tu shakes his head, and takes the offered knife by the handle. He lays it upon the dragon’s neck near the embedded feathered arrows.

  Opening the bag slung around his shoulder, he pulls out a rolled cloth. Carefully unwrapping the small bundle. It reveals the contents in little pockets of sewn cloth. A small sharpened bone, no thicker than a blade of Hare Grass. In another pocket wrapped about a twig is fine thread made from the sinew of a ram. A flask with dark amber liquid is in yet another pocket.

  The wizard now physician looks to the dwarf holding a sputtering torch. “Truk, bring that flame closer.” Holl-tu passes the knife several times over the flame—purifying the metal. He sees Gareth questioning eyes and asks. “How do I know you have not been cleaning your toes with this?”

  “Tread careful old man before I use it on you.” He winks at the wizard. It was meant as a jest to break the tension on what he was about to do. Holl-tu knows this and smiles back.

  He runs his fingers over the flesh where the shafts have penetrated. “I must be careful with my cuts. Too deep and I could do the job the arrows came close in doing. Too shallow and the points will not release from the inner flesh and muscle.”

  “Might I help brother wizard,” Amari says while holding the top of his hand. “I can see beyond the outer flesh and to the place the points stop. I dare to say, those barbs are a mere finger’s thickness away from the dragon’s beating heart.”

  Dian pipes up. “Tell me again why we are expending the energy saving this beast? It tried to knock us out of the air.”

  “Dian,” says Amari. “It thought the flying machines were giant birds or evil ones of its own kind who were carrying us off. I felt its thoughts; it means to do us no harm. Just think if we gain it as a friend and ally. It could soar over our heads and see any danger before even my far-reaching sight, or the battle instincts of Gareth, Natsha and Truk.”

  “I believe what you say Maiden, but after all, it is a beast; a large one at that. As with most wild beasts—this one may turn on us instead of helping.”

  Amari shrugs her shoulders and turns her full attention on guiding the sorcerer’s hand, as he makes long precise cuts. Even with the sharpness of Gareth’s blade, it takes a great deal of effort to saw into the flesh and tough muscle. The dragon trembles with each cut made, but does not wake from the Maiden’s spell. The final cut is down the length of the shafts.

  “Holl-tu, you are almost to the end of the shaft and the arrow heads.” Amari remarks for everyone watching. “You have but another few centimeters.”

  “I remember the last time I had to remove an arrow from one of the king’s soldiers. It was two hours of delicate cutting of flesh.”

  “I bet he was grateful for your surgical skill.” Apikala says.

  “Not really. He died a short time later in a swordfight with another soldier over all things—a woman.”

  “There Wizard, go no further with your cutting.” The Maiden shouts a little louder than normal.

  Levering the blade along one of the previous cuts, he removes the arrow which is no longer hooked into the muscle. He does the same with the second. He hands the bloodied crossbow bolts back to Natsha. “Sister, you may have need of these later.”

  She takes the arrows, and wipes the length of each on her leg and returns them to the quiver.

  Amari touches Natsha’s hand. “Sister, dragon’s blood is said to be good luck.”

  “We could use more good fortune on this quest.” Natsha returns.

  Holl-tu uncorks the bottle of dark liquid and pours it directly into the wound. The dragon gives an involuntary flinch as the solution bubbles out of the wound and turns a milky white.

  “This should take care of any infection and allow the wound to close cleanly with no decay of flesh.” Taking the needle sharp bone, he attaches a length of ram sinew and proceeds to sew up all the incisions he made. It is far easier to make the small puncture holes with the needle that is required for doing the stitches.

  His last step is to smear a hard-setting mixture of tree tar and berry juice to the wound. The entire area is sealed and protected. After almost an hour’s time—the job is done.

  Holl-tu rinses his hands of blood with water poured from a travel canteen. While inspecting his work says, “Maiden, do not let this beast wake for a day’s time. The fast healing mixture I poured into its wound still needs time to work. This creature sh
ould not be trying to move its neck just yet.

  One of the other by-products of my remedies is that it will dull the pain and senses as well. When it does wake, it will not feel like moving or attempting to fly.

  Amari nods her head and repeats the gestures over the prone dragon as she did before. “This one will be in a sleep-trance until sunrise tomorrow.”

  By now, the rest of Apikala’s men have joined the circle of those watching the sleeping winged death. They have made sleds loaded down with the dismantled flying machines. He speaks to one of them and comes to the warriors. “We have fulfilled our part of getting you safely off the mountains and away from those that would do you harm. We must return to our lands.”

  Mimna wraps her arms around Apikala and lingers there for many moments. “Thank you my brother. Will you be able to get past those around our home?”

  “Worry not for us Cloud Sister, but those that are in our way. See, as he pulls a slender rod from his leg pocket. “I have brought Epsi’s Flute in which to call the Cylok. They will come to its sound and give us safe passage. Pity those that try to get past them to us. We need not fear my friend.”

  Apikala gives a wave to the others. He and his men walk away into the forest…back to the home of the Black Angels.

  Gareth touches Amari’s arm. “Maiden, since we are to stay here until the morrow, I suggest we make a camp of sorts. I will gather wood for a fire and hunt game. We passed several bushes laden with blue-green berries. I will collect as much as I can for your meal. Later, I will circle the outside of our camp at regular intervals so nothing will approach without warning.”

  “Brother, the fire and food are good, but you need not stay your rest walking a patrol. My magic and Holl-tu’s enchantments will warn us of any approaching danger.”

  He bows and walks off into the wood, followed by his shield mate Natsha. Amari knows his sister will watch his back. They are truly mated to each other.

  “Brother Wizard,” Amari motions to Holl-tu. “Do your enchantments around us. Make this look like an empty glade to any who happen to chance by. Instill in them a fear of the unknown to retreat and go around.”

  “It will be done as you wish Maiden.”

  The old one pulls a pouch from his bag. He shakes out a goodly portion of gray dust into his open palm. Bringing his hand close to his face, he whispers a few magic words and tosses the powder into the air. It quickly spreads in an ever-widening circle until it expands outside of the glade where they and the snoring dragon have settled. The enchanted ash disappears quickly. Those gathered know that from the outside of the ring of magic dust, those within cannot be seen.

  Dian, Mimna and Truk are busy clearing the ground of brush and rock. They have built a large fire pit and put shaved kindling into its bed.

  Sometime later, Gareth and Natsha return with large armloads of dried wood. They go and come several times until a big enough pile to last when night closes in. They leave a final time to hunt for game. Dian goes with them. It is only mid-morning, no need to start a fire until something is brought to cook. Those left at camp sit, rest, and wait.

  It is well past the high sun when the hunters return. A small deer is across the big man’s wide shoulders with another of Natsha’s darts protruding from its flank. She is carrying at least six large hares on leather cords. On one hip, bumping as she walks is a bulging water pouch with wetness glistening down its sides. Dian, using her battle skirt like an apron, is overflowing with berries and what look like large apples.

  “Tonight we feast.” Gareth says as he dumps the deer at his feet. He drags it a short distance away and starts butchering it; along with the hares, Natsha set down near him. She sharpens long sticks and pokes them through the now cleaned headless grass jumpers. The deer is gutted and tied to a stout tree limb cleaned of its branches. The whole it is suspended over the fire pit.

  A wave of Amari’s hand and a fire bursts to life under the deer.

  “It will need several hours to cook the meat.” Natsha says. She goes a good distance away to bury the remains of the hares and the entrails of the deer.

  The roaring fire burns for a spell before it settles down to hot coals. As it starts to cool, whoever is near adds wood to keep it blazing. They do this task the rest of the day and into the night.

  The cooking meat smells good—even to Amari. Nevertheless, she will not eat of it. Her fare is the berries and prickly apples Natsha brought back. This is washed down with water found in a stream nearby.

  Dian had replenished the water bags several times until everyone had his or her fill of the cool liquid.

  After Amari gives thanks to the spirits who protect and guide them, Truk and Dian cut off large chunks of the deer meat and pass it to those sitting around the fire. The water skins follow. Everyone’s stomach is filled; even Gareth who gives one of his large burps of approval. Wiping an arm across his mouth, he stands.

  “I am going to patrol the borders of our camp. You all can rest while I am on guard.”

  “My big friend,” Amari says. “As I said earlier, there is no need while Holl-tu’s enchantments are in place. None dare come near. Dread of the unknown which cloaks our camp site will stop them from venturing in this direction.”

  “I know this Maiden, but my mind will not be relaxed, and I cannot sleep when it is thus so. True no mortal may venture here, but we fight the spiritual battle.”

  “Does the spiritual realm frighten you?”

  Gareth dispels that comment with a wave of his hand. “I fear nothing. Those that possess magic and spells may see this as an enchantment and catch us slumbering. This will not happen when I stand watch with sword in hand.”

  Natsha reaches over and touches Amari’s shoulder. “He is stubborn and inflexible in times like this. I will relieve him in a few hours. He will relax a little if I am up and about.”

  “You know better sister. I hope someday when the evil in this land is destroyed, all will sleep well in their beds.”

  With middles full and thirst abated, all but Gareth settles into a sleeping position. He has walked off silently into the brush.

  The dragon still slumbers on the other side of the glade. His rhythmic breathing can be heard by everyone. Still, all manage to close eyes and sleep.

  Around the third hour, Natsha rouses and ventures out to find Gareth. She whistles like a certain bird the big man knows well.

  He tenses at the sound, then, relaxes his tightened muscles. It is his shield sister, who approaches.

  She whispers his name into the night as she nears him. Natsha can see him sitting upon an outcropping of rock overlooking a valley. His sword across his knees and head bent as if listening to the night sounds. “How goes the watch dear friend. Is there anything but animals and birds about?”

  He motions with his hand. “Come and sit beside me Natsha.”

  The former thief climbs upon the rock and loosens her sword belt. She carries a cocked cross bow which she lays next to her leg for an easy grab.

  “No Natsha—nothing bigger than a rabbit has passed by here. It would seem that the wizard’s trick is even keeping the critters away. Although, an hour into my watch, I thought I heard a strange noise sounding like the beating of wings. It might have been just a big bird…perhaps an owl or hawk giving wing. I dare say; I hope there are no more dragons to be had!”

  “I agree my brother. Where one flies, others may be not far away.”

  The night passes quickly as the two warriors more than just battle mates, talk and joke. Still, they are attuned to what is around them and will become silent when one or both, either sense or hear something. Most interruptions are just some animal scared away by the enchantment, or catching the scent of man in the air.

  Natsha pretends to be looking out into the night, but her sideways glance is of admiring the man sitting next to her. She has known him for many a year now, and still her heart flutters when she is this close to him. Maybe Amari is right when she says there is more to Gareth and I
than just friendship, she thinks while purposely brushing his arm with hers.

  As the sun crests the hill to the east, Gareth and Natsha walk back to their camp. Drawing closer, they can hear the others are already up and moving about. The fire reduced to a few hot coals is stirred into life again. A small kettle of water is set upon a flat rock near the flames.

  Holl-tu sees the two approaching. “Come sit by the warm fire to break the morning chill. I cannot believe you two stayed the watch for an entire night. Do you not feel foolish to give up your rest? Nothing could penetrate my spells. Their hearts would burst from the fear I placed around us.”

  “We did get some sleep. One would doze while the other maintained vigil. Even with the little sleep” Gareth says. I feel quite rested and ready to battle to whatever we come against.”

  The wizard looks to Truk and Dian while nodding his head toward the returning sentries. “I am glad those two are on our side!”

  The dwarf and former Nix nod in agreement.

  After consuming what is left of the dried meat and fruits, the band of adventurers gather up their gear and belt on swords. Crossbows are slung across backs, and armor straps cinched tighter.

  Only Gareth carry’s a shield. He pulled it from a long-dead dragon’s midden pile of defeated challengers in the Dragon’s Grave.

  “Come warriors,” says Amari. “Let us form a warrior’s circle and repeat our oath.”

  Everyone stands facing each other and draw swords. The blades pointed inward with the sharp tips touching each other. The metal seems to sing when it makes contact. Amari, Dian and Gareth’s sabers as part of the Kcaj glow blue when they come in contact.

  The energy released from those enchanted blades seems to flow down the other swords and into the grip of Truk, Natsha and Holl-tu. The dwarf who is bent over with age and disease straightens his body. The worry lines which crisscrossed his face lessen. The others can feel a renewed strength coursing through their own bodies.

  Amari starts the warrior’s oath. The others join in.

  “May the Spirit of Light grant us the strength; holding to our sworn pledge. My sisters and brothers, who draw metal with me, have bid that I take my place among them. Our fate is fixed in what destiny has already written. We do not fear death as it profits us not. The god’s ordained quest placed upon us will set our place in the next realm. What remains in us is the final battle when all we know is the way of the sword and the light which draws us close.