Heart of Steel

by Samantha M. Derr

  Myles looked around the column. There was one other knight, also wearing leathers. Except his were older, the chainmail a bit rusted. It had to be Sir Paul Elliry, the knight born of poor merchants lucky enough to happen on a dragon egg.

  "Who's the boy?" Myles asked, motioning to the (very) young man in a knight's plate armor. The suit swallowed him.

  "Marcello Angioli," Aden answered. "His father's the lord of Parum. With any luck, he'll have a knighthood at the end of this."

  "We're ready, my lord," one of the servants called.

  He hadn't been talking to Aden. Lord Zyon looked back at the column and nodded to Sir Mordechai. Sir Mordechai urged his horse forward. "Move out!"

  *~*~*

  They made it two days before trying to hack each other apart.

  In Myles's defense, Sir Aurelius had started it.

  They were at the base of the Bloody Mountains. Most people believed they were so named because of the hundreds of battles and skirmishes that had taken place between Septimos and Yastabul (before Septimos had won the Changeling War twenty years ago and conquered the land over the mountains), as well as battles between Septimos and Tieraustria. And of course, Tieraustria and Em'malkuth had never gotten along, either. Or perhaps it was because the mountain range was home to at least three dragon nests, and they were not peaceful creatures.

  But seeing the mountains at sunset, Myles would bet good money that the name came from the gorgeous—if foreboding—crimson color the mountains and sky took as the sun bled in the west.

  When the servants set up camp, Marcello came up to Myles and said to his shoes, "I… um, I would be greatly honored if… um, if you would give a lesson? On fighting? Sir?"

  She raised an eyebrow. "Sir Mordechai is probably the better swordsman."

  "I-I don't think so," Marcello stammered, looking up just long enough to meet her eye before quickly turning away. "And, uh… he's busy?"

  Myles stared at him. Sir Mordechai was sitting just a few tents down, starting his supper. She would bet good money that she looked as awed and awkward in his presence as Marcello was in hers.

  That… that was a strange feeling.

  Myles agreed to the lesson.

  Marcello had some talent. He just needed to hone it for a few years. The sparring wasn't anything special, except to provide some mild entertainment for Lords Zyon and Aden while they ate dinner and argued over where to go. Lord Zyon had, to the shock of the party, refused the roast chicken. Instead he ate roasted greens and rice.

  "I refuse meat in the name of our god," he'd explained with a somewhat shy smile. "It doesn't seem right to eat His other creations."

  "That's why He made them," Aurelius had jested with his mouth full of chicken.

  "Well, that, and it disagrees with my stomach. We don't want my vile shit stinking up the camp," Zyon had admitted.

  Half an hour and a couple sparring rounds with Marcello later, Aurelius stepped forward with his sword and a smirk on his face. "Come now, Sir Myles. Let's see some real skill."

  Myles didn't hesitate as long as she should have. She twirled her sword and welcomed him to the ring.

  Fighting a good opponent like Sir Aurelius was like entering another world. Myles's mind became a calm hum, everything narrowed down to her and her opponent. There was nothing but the breath in her lungs and the song of the sword. And it was glorious.

  Within a minute, Sir Aurelius was disarmed, Myles's sword at his throat.

  He sputtered. "You got lucky. Again!"

  "As you wish." She waited for a servant to retrieve Aurelius's blade. They clashed again, with the same results.

  Aurelius grunted. "I must be off today." He shoved past Myles to his tent.

  Myles handed her sword to her squire Puer and went to join Aden and Zyon. "Do we know where we're going tomorrow, my lords?"

  "We're starting down the Cruento Pass, then turning onto a goat trail about halfway through," Zyon explained.

  Myles hissed.

  "I know, I know, it's dangerous," Zyon said. "But the Pass is the only way into the mountains, and if we stay in it for too long, we have a greater risk of getting ambushed than if we take the goat path."

  "Though we have a higher chance of getting found by a dragon on the goat path," Aden grumbled.

  Zyon gave him an annoyed look. "That's the whole reason we're here."

  Aden returned the look with one of his own. Myles rubbed her tired eyes. Men.

  "To think, I could've gone on a mission to Novae Terrae instead," Zyon grumbled.

  Aden perked at that. "You're going to the Southlands?"

  "There really is a new world in the south?" Myles asked. "I thought it was sailor hogwash."

  Zyon shook his head, grinning. "An unexplored continent across the ocean. King Scipio's already sent a few ships out to begin mapping it. As soon as I'm done here, I'm going to join them. Document the new creatures and plants we have to discover."

  "We'll have to survive this first, my lord," Myles pointed out. "I'll tell the others to get some sleep."

  *~*~*

  The day of the ambush was unusually silent.

  Though maybe it wasn't so unusual. They had turned south halfway through the Cruento Pass, straddling the territorial line between Septimos's newly-conquered lands (formerly the country of Yastabul) and Tieraustria. Almost everyone in the party was silent and wary this close to enemy territory. Almost.

  "With any luck, we'll have a good fight on our hands," Sir Aurelius said.

  "Quiet, boy, or you'll get your wish," Mordechai growled, tightening his grip on the reins of his horse.

  "'Boy'?" Aurelius scoffed. "I'm a knight, sir."

  "Then act like it. The people of these mountains are expert warriors. If we're ambushed, we're dead."

  "We have a wizard," Aurelius argued.

  Aden nervously cleared his throat. "I'd prefer not to jeopardize our lives in the name of showing off."

  "You understand we're on a dragon hunt, don't you, my lord?" Aurelius said. "All of our lives are in jeopardy."

  "Then I don't see why we should tempt fate any further."

  "Have you ever fought, my lord?" Sir Paul asked curiously.

  "No," Aden admitted. "I prefer healing wounds, not causing them."

  "Then I'd say you're in the wrong profession," Zyon called from two horses back. "I've never heard of a wizard getting fame with only healing magic."

  "First time for everything," Aden said, an edge to his cheery smile.

  Myles barely registered the conversation going on around her, even though her horse was right next to Aden's. She kept her eyes on the mountain walls surrounding them, and thus was the first person to spot the glint of sunlight off of an arrowhead.

  "Down!" she ordered, raising her shield to cover Aden.

  A wave of arrows rained down on the party. Mordechai shielded Zyon, the other knights shielded themselves, and the servants dove for cover. Three were struck by the falling arrows, blood painting the rocks. Horses reared and fell as they were hit. Marcello nocked an arrow and fired back.

  The dragon's shriek made everyone freeze.

  "No," Zyon breathed. "We're too far from the nest!"

  "It's a dragon! They have wings!" Aurelius snapped.

  The crimson beast came around the mountaintop, smoke escaping from its teeth in wisps. Myles clamped down on her icy fear and dread. There was nowhere for them to go. The dragon would kill them all in a single flyby.

  "That's no dragon," Aden said, and muttered an incantation. Myles jerked back when his eyes turned black.

  The dragon shrieked, and it turned into a man's scream. The wings shrank, the scales were shed, and the soaring dragon turned into a falling man. He dropped onto the rocks with a sickening crack.

  Paul spat on the ground. "A changeling."

  "My lord, give us cover!" Mordechai ordered.

  Aden did another incantation and clapped his hands. Blue mist poured out of his palms, filling the mountain pass. Anothe
r hail of arrows came down. Myles positioned her shield above Aden's head to protect him. She grunted at a spike of pain in her shoulder.

  Covered by the mist, the group rode out hard and fast. It wasn't until the ambush site was several leagues behind them that they stopped their sweating horses and Aden ran out of mist. Aurelius's horse crumpled, three arrows sticking out of it. He cursed as he rolled onto the ground. Sir Mordechai surveyed the survivors and ordered the uninjured servants to set up camp.

  "Sir Myles, you're injured," Aden gasped.

  Myles looked down at her shoulder and the arrow sticking out of it. She tested the movement and winced in pain, but otherwise had full command of the arm. "Merely a graze, my lord. There are others who need tending first." She motioned to the servants and squires that had gotten hit in more vital areas, the ones who'd been lucky enough to have their friends drag them away.

  Aden dismounted and went to help. Zyon brought his horse up to Myles's, his forehead scrunched in concern. "Do you need help?" he asked.

  Myles shook her head. She grabbed the shaft of the arrow and yanked it out of flesh and metal.

  *~*~*

  Puer had been injured in the attack. Given the two arrows in his belly, his chances weren't good.

  Myles refused the others' offers to help her out of her armor. She took care of it herself, alone in her tent. She cleaned up the blood, realized the cut needed stitches, and was just tying off the knot when Lord Zyon entered.

  "Pardon the intrusion, Sir, but you've been in here for a while and people are starting to worry—"

  Myles's blood froze when Zyon came into her tent. Her armor was off, and the cotton shirt did nothing to hide her figure. She dropped the needle and grabbed her knife.

  Zyon stood just inside the tent, staring at her. He didn't move even as Myles wrapped her fingers around the knife.

  "…huh," he finally said. "I was not expecting this."

  "Do we have a problem, my lord?" Myles growled, pouring as much intimidation into her tone and glare as she could. On the inside, she was little more than a crying, trembling girl.

  Zyon gave her an odd look. "You're still an expert with the sword, right?"

  "Yes," she said at length, drawing the syllable out.

  "You still know how to defend us against a dragon that will almost certainly attack us when we try to tame it, right?"

  "Yes," she repeated with the same, slow deliberation.

  "Then what's the problem?"

  Myles studied him for a moment. "What do you want?"

  He shrugged. "What any man wants, I suppose. Wealth. Love. Safety. A decent life expectancy. Lobster."

  Myles frowned. "I thought you didn't eat meat."

  "I have moments of weakness," Zyon admitted. He gave her a genuine smile. "I'm not going to blackmail you, threaten you, or expose you. I swear by Sol Invictus and all the other gods of the world, your secret is safe with me."

  Slowly, the tension trickled out of Myles's shoulders. To her horror, her eyes started to water. She quickly turned away, blinking furiously to keep the tears back. "You have more honor than most knights," she said, when she was sure her voice was steady.

  "Well, that, and I have no intention of angering a dragon-slaying soldier of fifty battles. Scholars are smarter than that."

  When Myles looked up, Zyon had that playful smirk on his face that told her he wasn't truly afraid of her. To her surprise, his attempt at lightening the mood worked. She found herself returning the smile.

  "I'd hurry to get covered if I were you," he said, stepping back out. "Paul made woodland stew and Marcello has already had two bowls."

  Myles stood in the middle of her tent like a fool long after Zyon left. It was as if a hot poker she hadn't known existed had been lifted from her forehead. She could finally breathe.

  *~*~*

  By the time they made it to the dragon's nest a week later, it was a common thing to see Lord Zyon and Sir Myles together. Even though Zyon was supposed to be protected by Mordechai and Aden by Myles, they had ended up unofficially switching: Mordechai stayed close to Aden so Myles could stay with Zyon.

  "You don't want to be a dragonrider?" Zyon asked between bites of jellied bread. The servants had set up a dining pavilion so the knights and nobles could eat while the camp was being set. "Why not?"

  Myles thought about the question while she chewed on the roast goat the hunters had killed that morning. "It just never appealed to me. That kind of fighting simply isn't what I want to do. I prefer staying on the ground."

  Zyon shook his head. "You belong in a madhouse. Flying is the most incredible thing in the world."

  "You've done it?"

  "I study dragons. Only makes sense that I know a few dragonriders."

  "That seems like a great way to die a fiery death," Myles commented.

  "And trying to slay them isn't?" Zyon asked with a wink.

  She gave him an annoyed smile. "Touché."

  *~*~*

  "What do you mean I shouldn't wear armor?" Myles snapped. "I'm a knight."

  They'd been camped uncomfortably close to the dragon nest for two weeks. Every day, the dragonriders had gone further up the mountain to the edge of the nest to leave a pile of meat, getting the dragons used to their presence and smell. Today was the first day they were going to try to mount the damn things, and since Lords Zyon and Aden would be joining them, Myles would be going with them for protection.

  "We're going to be climbing sheer cliffs into fires hotter than Helios's kingdom," Sir Mordechai said. "You wear plates, you're going to roast."

  Myles gritted her teeth. She had leather armor, but she needed another person's help to get out of her plate armor quickly, bind her chest, and then get into the leather. And with her squire still too injured to help…

  "Go easy on the man, Sir Mordechai," Zyon said, stepping between them. "This is Myles's first dragon hunt." He turned to Myles and started tugging her along. "Let's go to your tent and make sure you have everything you need."

  "What are you doing?" Myles whispered.

  "Stealing a look at your teats," Zyon replied.

  Myles glared at him. Zyon chuckled and followed her into her tent. "Relax. You need help, and I don't want you exposed."

  "So why are you taking the risk to help me?" Myles challenged.

  Zyon shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. You're… special."

  Myles crossed her arms and glared at him.

  He huffed. "Do you want help into your armor or not?"

  "Fine," Myles growled. "But keep the eyes up."

  Half an hour later, the leather-armored knights, Lord Zyon, and Lord Aden were on their way up the mountain on foot. All the knights were carrying bags of meat, to be used as bait (the bags were lined with tar so as not to attract the dragons prematurely).

  "When we get up there, Marcello should get the pick of the litter," Aurelius said. "The boy deserves a chance."

  "Thank you?" Marcello replied uncertainly.

  "You're welcome. It's not as if we can let the best dragon live in Sir Paul's barn."

  "Clearly, Sir, you've never slept in a barn," Paul replied. "They're cozier than most inns."

  "Only to those with no taste of the finer things," Aurelius said.

  Myles couldn't help but agree with Paul. She'd slept in her fair share of barns before her knighthood. Finding one to sleep in for the whole night had been akin to finding gold. It was certainly better than sleeping on rocks or the forest underbrush.

  It took another two hours of climbing before they made it to the nest. Myles wiped the sweat from her brow and gave Mordechai a grim smile. "Thank you for talking me out of the plate armor."

  A shadow fell overhead. They pressed themselves close to the ground as the sapphire-scaled dragon flew into the valley, hunting for goat.

  "That was an adolescent," Zyon huffed. His dark hair clung to his sweaty forehead, but he seemed undeterred as he dug into his canvass bag. "All right, everyone put on the lotion."


  "What?" Myles asked.

  "It grants us limited protection from fire," Aden explained. "And it smells like pax weed, which will make the dragons think we're not a threat."

  "Thus giving us half a chance of not dying today," Zyon said, pushing a vial of cream into Myles's hands. "Lather up!"

  *~*~*

  Myles bit the inside of her cheek as she watched young Marcello approach the adult dragon with nothing but a length of chain and a tar-lined bag. The dragon had scales white as snow and angry red eyes. It kept its focus on the goat flesh they had placed as bait.

  The dragon suddenly stopped and turned on Marcello. Aden sucked in a breath while Myles tensed.

  Marcello sat on the ground.

  "What is he doing?" Aurelius hissed.

  The dragon loomed over Marcello, smoke leaking from his mouth. Marcello didn't move a muscle, not even when the dragon sniffed his head and flicked its tongue at him.

  Marcello opened the bag and pulled out a slab of meat. Instead of setting it on the ground, he held it up. The dragon sniffed the meat before carefully taking it in its teeth. It turned away from Marcello and breathed fire, roasting the meat in its mouth. In two bites, it was gone.

  Marcello giggled and held out his hand. The dragon pressed its nose into his palm.

  "Is that normal?" Myles asked.

  "Nooo," Zyon said. "But it's Marcello."

  An hour later, Marcello was on the dragon's back, whooping as they soared through the clouds.

  "I don't know, I think that dragon would've been more comfortable in my barn," Paul said, smirking at Aurelius.

  "Fine. I get the next one," Aurelius declared.

  *~*~*

  Aurelius wasn't nearly as lucky as Marcello.

  Sir Mordechai had been ill the morning they set out to claim the second dragon. Considering that half of the servants had also been sick, it was safe to say that someone had confused the native "edible" berries with something else.

  Aden's magic had alleviated the illness to something bearable before he'd joined the rest of the party with Myles, Zyon, Paul and Aurelius.

  They was taking cover behind a rock outcrop while Aurelius approached his potential dragon. When the dragon turned on him, Aurelius tried to rope up its neck with his chain. The dragon dodged and swiped Aurelius aside with its claws, slamming him into the rock wall.