by Nathan Roden
The night exploded in bright light. The light of fire.
The men had not seen the assault that came from the sky. They did not have time to cover themselves with their shields. And though their helmets and armor afforded them a great deal of protection, it was no match for a direct assault from a full-grown and angry dragon.
Five of the men screamed. They fell to their knees and pulled at their helmets, but it was too late for them.
The other men swore and scattered.
“Who was supposed to stay with her?”
Simon heard one of the men say.
“We had the bitch pinned down!”
Her? Simon thought.
The dragon made another pass. The men tucked behind their shields. One of them was not quick enough, and he exited the earth. His screams became a memory that would haunt his friends forever.
“Fall back!” one of the men shouted.
“We’re leaving the one in the snare?” one man replied.
“He’s as good as dead!”
The men ducked behind their shields again as the dragon passed.
“Dead men cannot spend gold. Get to the woods. Now!”
Seconds later, the night was silent. The only sound came from the swaying branches, some wood crickets, and the crackling of a dying fire.
Simon pushed against the snares with his remaining strength. The snares did not budge.
I am alive. But, for how long? Until I starve? Or until…
There was still a threat out there. And she was coming.
The ground rumbled when the dragon landed. It loosed a low growl. Black smoke poured from its nostrils. It stepped toward the dragon lying helplessly bound on the forest floor.
Simon didn’t dare speak. How would the dragon react to hearing one of its kind speaking the language of a man?
Not well, would be my guess.
The dragon stepped cautiously toward him. It paused with every step, turning its head to look and listen.
Is it going to kill me? Simon thought. That would be a fitting end.
The dragon lowered its head. It sniffed him.
Simon closed his eyes.
This could be horrible. Please make it quick.
Nothing happened for one second. Two seconds.
Simon opened one eye.
The dragon opened its jaws
And snapped at the ropes and chains that made up the snare.
Simon pushed himself up. He sat on his haunches and breathed a sigh. He opened his mouth and quickly snapped it shut.
He had almost said “Thank you”.
The other dragon turned its head and screeched. It turned its head the other direction and screeched again. Simon had no idea what that meant if anything at all.
The dragon turned around and walked several paces. It turned its head to face him and screeched again.
Follow you? Simon thought.
Simon walked behind the dragon. It stopped one more time to see if he was following. It screeched again.
The dragon stepped into the mouth of the cave. Simon stopped. He had no idea what to do next. The dragon turned and screeched before disappearing inside the cave.
Simon sighed.
“This could be a mistake,” he whispered to himself. “But this creature saved my life.”
Simon ducked his head and stepped into the cave.
The dragon nuzzled her nose against two baby dragons. They were only about four feet tall.
Now, it makes sense, Simon thought. A mother, protecting her—
Simon looked into the corner of the cave and saw the pieces of broken eggshells.
One. Two.
Three.
Simon closed his eyes. He saw a vision of the bound and crying baby dragon—and the ax swinging down to its neck. That vision would never leave his mind again.
Simon watched the mother with her children. His heart was tortured.
How is this any different from a woman with her children? Why do we have to kill each other? Is it impossible—that we could exist together—in peace?
Yes. It is impossible, he thought, sadly.
He turned and walked slowly out of the cave.
The dragon screeched behind him. Simon stopped and turned around.
The mother dragon walked up to Simon and laid her head against his chest. They stayed that way for several seconds.
She stood back and looked into the sky. She screeched loudly.
Simon looked up and saw the reason.
There was another dragon coming.
A very, very, big dragon.
Simon was sore and hurting, but he knew that it was time to go.
Forty-Two
Simon saw the lone campfire that belonged to Lord Lamont and his group. He circled overhead once and landed in the nearest clearing.
He walked up on the two sentries.
“Hello!” he called out. “I come in peace!”
“We saw you.”
“Come forward, dragon-friend.”
Simon walked between the sentries.
One sentry looked at the other.
“Your Grace—you were attacked?”
“Yes,” Simon said. “Nothing serious.”
“But, you…you took arrows.”
“Yes,” Simon said.
“I will see to him, guardians of Islemar,” Lady Magdalena said. “Return to your watch, please.”
“Yes, My Lady,” the sentries bowed their heads and backed away.
Simon started to walk past Magdalena, but she put up her hands and stopped him.
“You have an arrow protruding from beneath your…leg. Do you think it best that the others see that?”
Simon lowered his head and tried to see.
“I thought there were three of them. Two must have fallen out. I can’t even feel it.”
“Good for you,” Magdalena said. “After last night, do you think these men need any more reason to believe that our quest is doomed?”
Simon snorted.
“I needed to burn off some frustration. As luck would have it, I found myself involved with a party of hunters. That is not unusual in the Southlands.”
“Dragon hunters?” Magdalena asked.
“Yes.”
“How could they have learned of your presence this quickly?”
“They were not hunting for me.”
“There are…there are others?” Magdalena asked.
“Keep your voice down,” Simon said.
“But why…”
Magdalena stepped toward Simon.
“Have me made a horrible mistake—coming here? Is our quest to make allies only a hopeless dream?”
“I cannot believe that,” Simon said.
“We only have Helena’s word—” Magdalena said.
“No,” Simon said. “We are small in number. But we are very large of heart. What men would not draw inspiration from the Blankenship brothers? Or Lord Lamont and his men? Or even the mysterious magic man who gave us the chance to escape.”
Simon lowered his head and stared into Magdalena’s eyes.
“Was he a man, or was he an angel? He sent fire into the sky and brought the fire of judgment down upon that village. Do you know who he is?”
“How can you ask me such a thing?” Magdalena asked.
“For some reason, I have always found it difficult to trust magic,” Simon said. “For now, I must speak to Lord Lamont.”
“Not with an arrow under your arm,” Magdalena said.
“It is a leg.”
“Wiggle your toes, then. Move it.”
Simon raised his head into the air and coughed a blast of fire. He raised his leg.
Magdalena grabbed the shaft of the arrow.
“Be quick about it,” Simon said.
“Turn your head,” she said.
Simon did.
Magdalena uttered some words and pulled on the arrow. It came out easily.
Simon was silent for as long as he could bear.
He lit up the night sky with a blast of fire and a roar. He sat down hard, breathing heavily.
Magdalena stepped beside him. She patted his side.
“That wasn’t so bad.”
Simon said nothing.
“You big baby,” Magdalena said.
Simon pushed himself to his feet.
“Thank you,” he said.
“These other dragons—did you see them?” Magdalena asked.
Simon shook his head.
“Only a glimpse. They were quick.”
His feelings about the mother dragon and her babies confused him. He did not expect anyone else to understand.
“I need to speak to Lord Lamont,” Simon said. “Are you coming?”
Magdalena sighed and followed.
Simon met Boone, Helena and Ben at the edge of the camp. Lord Lamont soon joined them.
“Did you see anything that will be of use to us?” Lamont asked.
“I am not sure of their weaponry,” Simon said. “But I saw one cannon.”
“A cannon?” Lamont said. “Was in near Drakal?”
“No,” Simon said. “It was well outside of any village—a rogue group of hunters, perhaps.”
“Hunting with a cannon?” Lamont said. “What might they be—oh…”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“I will send a team of scouts into Drakal,” Lamont said.
“No,” Simon said. “There is no time.”
“No time for scouts?” Lamont asked. “It would not be wise to enter the village without—”
Simon stared at Lady Magdalena.
“We have a much more efficient means of surveying the village.”
“What are you talking about?” Lamont asked.
Magdalena swore under her breath.
“I have a limited amount of trust among this group—and you wish for me to destroy that?”
“What is she talking about?” Lamont asked.
“We are running out of time, as well as options,” Simon said, “We must use what talents we have. Lord Lamont, the lady has a little secret to share.”
Forty-Three
Magdalena sighed.
“Very well. Turn around.”
“Why must I…if there are more parlor tricks to see, I am quite capable of—”
Nicolas Lamont did not finish his statement.
Magdalena lowered her hands to the ground and became the wolf.
“Great Vehallion’s ghost,” Lamont could only manage a whisper.
“A much faster and efficient scout, Lord Lamont,” Simon said.
Lamont continued to stare at the wolf. He nodded his head slowly.
“Boone and Benjamin will leave soon,” Lamont said. “To search for Ben’s child.”
“I am going with them,” Simon said.
Lamont blinked rapidly.
“What? Drakal may be our only hope to form a base of allies—!”
“The people of Drakal were already friends of Helena’s people. She should prove to be a valuable asset. We should not be gone for more than two days. If you find friendly ears, then you will have time to prepare them for my arrival. We will wait on the north side of the village to hear from you. You can send—”
“The wolf,” Lamont said.
Lamont took a step toward the wolf. She took a step backward.
“Please, My Lady,” Lamont said. “I certainly do not think less of you. If fact, it is if I have learned that one of my officers has an ability I did not know of.”
Lamont took another step. He patted the wolf on the head and scratched behind her ears.
Lamont snatched his hand away.
“I’m sorry. That seems…inappropriate, somehow.”
Simon struggled to keep from laughing.
“Two days, then,” he said.
The wolf turned and ran away from the camp, and toward Drakal.
“Amazing,” Lamont said.
“She is amazing,” Simon said. “But please do not refer to her as ‘magnificent’.”
“Aye,” Lamont growled. “I never want to hear that word again.”
Ben and Boone approached.
“You seem… different, somehow,” Ben said to Simon. “Have you cut your hair?”
“Ben,” Boone said. “I have known Simon for years. I have made the same joke more than once.”
“More than once?” Simon said. “If I had a gold piece for every time you’ve said that to me, I could—”
“You could what?” Boone asked. “Become the king? Fat chance of that happening.”
“I’m coming with you,” Simon said. “Actually, to be more exact, you are coming with me.”
“But…what about Drakal?” Boone asked.
“My presence did not endear us to the people of Vallen. We should be able to reach the southern border within two hours. We will make our way north from there. How many villages are there between the border and Drakal, Ben?”
“Two.”
“What are they called?”
“It depends on who is currently in power. The last I heard, a man named Black controlled the border village.”
Simon exhaled, billowing black smoke. He stretched out his wings.
Boone stared at the fresh wound on Simon’s chest. He looked over the rest of him. He made note of two holes in his wings.
“We should go, before Helena finds out that you are coming with us,” Boone said. “I don’t want to have to go through that argument again.”
“I will tell her that you have gone with them,” Lamont said. “After a little time has passed, of course. I believe she will be glad to know that you are with them.”
“Yes,” Boone said. “To protect me.”
“Or the other way around,” Simon said.
Simon, Boone, and Ben walked toward a nearby clearing.
“You are injured,” Boone said. “Where did this happen? And why didn’t you mention it to Lamont?”
“It was…it was no one who might be a threat to anyone other than me.”
“Then why the need for secrecy?” Ben asked. “Our group is small. If we cannot trust each other, then we are doomed.”
Simon looked away.
“It was hunters.”
“Why would you engage hunters?” Ben asked.
“I could have killed something for you, Simon,” Boone said. “This is not the time to risk—”
“What are you talking about, Boone?” Ben asked. “You have to do the hunting—for a dragon?”
Boone shifted on his feet and looked at the ground.
“It is not really that simple—”
Simon raised his head and blew fire high into the air.
Ben stared. He took a step back when Simon lowered his head in front of him.
“I am alive because of your brother and his bow, Benjamin Blankenship,” Simon said. “And yes, it is true that I have never become an accomplished hunter. Perhaps, that is because I was not born a dragon. One moment, I was an innocent little boy. The next moment, I had to hunt and kill—just to stay alive. Let me offer you a different perspective.”
“You kill an animal from a certain distance. You remove its skin. You take a dagger and cut the meat from its carcass. You leave much of it for the crows and the jackals. And then you roast the meat over an open spit.”
“But, just imagine—if you had to come eye-to-eye and nose-to-nose, with every living creature that went into your mouth. If you had to see the fear—the pain—the hopelessness, at the last moment of their life.”
“And in the next moment, grind the bones of that soul between your teeth.”
There were several seconds of uncomfortable silence.
Ben looked into Simon’s eyes.
“You are no beast, Simon Morgenwraithe.”
A tear ran down Ben’s cheek. He wiped it away, embarrassed.
“A man should not be upset so easily. Yet, look at me. And by the wise words of a dragon.”
Boone grabbed his brother’s shoulder
and squeezed.
“We should go.”
Forty-Four
The two boys ran through the woods, circling behind the stables. They pushed through a loose board and crawled inside. They climbed on the backs of horses and drove them toward the doors. One horse stopped, nearly throwing its rider off. The other horse reared, crashing through the double doors.
The sixteen-year-old friends passed through the doors and took one last look back toward the village of Vallen. The glow grew larger as flames overtook the village.
The boys turned away and took the road north of town. They rode by moonlight until they felt they had traveled far enough to stop for the night.
At dawn, they continued to travel north, reaching the border late in the day. This was not their first such trip.
The two friends were fascinated with armies and battles. They dreamed of swordplay and riding formation on enormous black stallions. They dreamed of becoming expert archers and having people whisper about them in reverence. They dreamed of riding through the villages in their resplendent uniforms.
But they were only dreams—the product of listening to the tales of older boys, told around the light of campfires.
The two friends never knew if the stories were true. Some of the older boys said that in the past, brave souls had sneaked to the border and spied on the Border Guard.
There were also stories of boys who had gone there and never returned.
The friends never understood why there was no such army in the south. When they brought up their fascination with becoming soldiers, they were chastised. They had even been struck on the ear by one cantankerous old fellow.
“An army? Here?” the old man had said.
“Why not ride into Morgenwraithe and slap the king? Call his mother a whore while you’re at it!”
The boys rubbed their ears and turned to walk away.
