The Dragon's Prophecy

by David Noel

  The Vouivre tenderly set the maiden on her feet and presented her to her father. He gasped in delight and wrapped his daughter up in a hug of joy. For her part, the girl seemed lost in her father’s arms, surrounded by strangers in a strange place. The Vouivre put her hand on the girl’s head very tenderly.

  “You were very sick and died, child. Your father and these brave men brought you to me to see if I could help you.”

  "How can we ever thank you?" He asked, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  "Give glory to God for what He has chosen to do this day," the Vouivre answered. She turned to Sir Gerard, "What can I do for you good knight?"

  He thought for a moment then answered, "Pray for the safety of my wife and daughters and all who share our home." She nodded, obviously happy with his choice.

  "Lady Evelyn, Miss Portia, and Miss Marcia await you." She turned and faced the last member of their group, "And you, young Brendan?"

  He hesitated for a moment, surprised that she knew his name. Despite what he had just seen he found himself deeply suspicious of her and her motives. Was she just another hoax? Was she some sort of a demon who would twist his wish and use it to ensnare him in some evil? The Vouivre saw his hesitation and chose for him.

  “I see that you have many questions so I will give you some of the information that you seek. First, you will have to commit to one of two paths, but the choice will not be as obvious as you think. When you were in Constantinople you were faced with a choice to jump for the railing of a balcony and trust it to hold you or to stay safely on the ledge. You had to choose between facing great danger to reach your goal or shrinking back in fear and giving up.”

  Brendan felt intensely uncomfortable at the direction this was heading. She was talking about the heist that drove him out of Constantinople. He was hired by a political rival to break into the High Chamberlain's quarters to steal the man’s regalia, he had succeeded but his actions triggered a political hurricane that no one could have predicted. It had been a major turning point in his life and the Vouivre continued as if she was only talking about a time when he had to make a choice about what to wear.

  “It was all or nothing, you had to commit yourself to trusting in the railing and jump for it. You could not keep your feet on the ledge and reach for the railing at the same time, they were too far apart. Trying to do both would have caused you to fail at both and fall to your death. You have a similar choice now. You want to be a Centurion, but you have many doubts. If you would be a Centurion you must commit to everything that means, you cannot simply go through the motions and pretend to be a Centurion. You cannot accept part of the Centurion way while still holding onto some of your old beliefs. Commit to being a Centurion with everything that you have or commit to staying the way you are, but do not try any half measures.” She looked into his eyes searching for something.

  “Know this, there is one difference between this choice and your choice in Constantinople; in Constantinople, the ledge was safe and you could have chosen to stay there but in this case staying where you are is just as dangerous as going forward but it has the illusion of being safer. Do not be fooled, choosing to be a Centurion means choosing to walk on God’s path, you cannot be a real Centurion without being a true Christian. Make your decision wisely.”

  The Vouivre paused for a long moment and Brendan spoke up in an attempt to change the direction of the conversation.

  “You said that you would tell me two things, what is the other?”

  She smiled at him playfully, “"The other thing I will tell you is this, if you choose to commit and move forward, you are headed down a path that will test you more than you can imagine. Your choice in Constantinople brought you here and your choice here will take you to your next destination. If you choose correctly, the great trials that lie ahead will bring you the deep and abiding peace you long for, a new home and family to replace what you have lost, and a true love you didn’t even know you were missing.” The Vouivre laughed, “but I must warn you that she will not come in the form that you expect."

  "Umm, thank you, I think," he answered with a mystified tone in his voice.

  "You are an answer to her prayers as well since you do not come from the west so you don't see things through western eyes." The young man found himself blushing which was an unusual feeling for him; he was not used to having someone expose the secrets of his heart. Sir Gerard shot him a thoughtful look that Brendan wasn't sure how to interpret.

  "It is time for us to set off," the knight finally said. "We may well have to face the Wyvern on our way out of this wilderness and I would rather it happen while we still have daylight."

  The young woman ran forward and hugged the Vouivre tightly.

  “Thank you and praise God!” She said.

  “You are welcome child,” the Vouivre answered as she held her close and gently stroked her hair for several moments. “Now go and tell everyone what the Lord has done for you.”

  The three men also said their thanks and goodbyes to the lady of the forest before turning and heading down the path that would, hopefully, take them out of the woods. "Trust your eyes, Sir Gerard," the Vouivre called after them, "Few men are able to see as truly as you though your young companion sees a bit more than most."

  The peasant and his daughter both looked puzzled. "What did she mean by that, my Lord?" The peasant finally ventured to ask after they were out of the Vouivre's earshot.

  Sir Gerard hesitated for a moment and then spoke, "What did she look like to you?"

  "She was a tall and beautiful maiden, strong as an oak and pure as a lily," the man replied wistfully.

  “And her skin was as warm and soft as a lamb’s and she smelled of jasmine,” added the daughter.

  "And you Brendan, what did you see?" The knight asked.

  "A beautiful woman, but one with the wings and tail of a dragon. When she spoke I saw fangs in her mouth," Brendan answered bluntly.

  The peasant and his daughter stopped and stared open mouthed at the young man. "You’re daft lad! There were no wings or tail or fangs."

  "There were all those things and more," interrupted the knight, "now let us keep moving so that we can be out of the forest before dark."

  “If she’s so good, why does she surround herself with illusion?” Asked Brendan.

  “She doesn’t, she is who she is,” explained the knight, “it is we who see her the way we want to see her. Learn the lesson and do not be deceived. Evil does not always look like evil and good does not always look like good. Too many times people are deceived because they see what they expect to see and not what is actually there.”

  The group moved on in silence, every ear was turned to the slightest sound, every eye to the tiniest movement. The forest, which had seemed dark and dangerous before, seemed to be nothing less than terrifying now. When they had entered the forest the Vouivre and the Wyvern were still just mythological creatures but now they were all too real.

  They continued down the path in silence until Sir Gerard pulled up abruptly and stopped. "Brendan, look down the path and tell me what you see."

  Brendan dutifully looked forward, the trail seemed open and clear but as he looked closer, he realized that it wasn't open and clear at all. It actually dead-ended in a bog.

  "I see the trap, though I must admit that I would have walked right into it before I saw it had it not been for you, my lord."

  The peasant and his daughter clung to each other in fear. Neither of them could see anything at all and a magical, invisible trap laid by an evil creature straight out of a nightmare was almost too much for them to handle.

  "He is certainly nearby," said the knight thoughtfully, "he would be waiting to see us stumble into the bog so that he could attack us when we were vulnerable. The bog, by itself, is not enough to kill us."

  A horrible bellowing filled the air and complete darkness descended upon the group. Brendan jumped in surprise. The peasant began yelling and his daughter began screaming neither
of which helped anything at all. The young man's mind did what it always did in dangerous situations, all emotion shut down and he felt a beautiful, rational clarity descend on him as if he were made of ice. He began to examine the situation coolly and logically. First, he had to determine where the threat was coming from. Brendan tried to shut the yelling out and focus his hearing to determine where the Wyvern was attacking from, but it was impossible. Why did so many people start screaming when they were afraid? Between the roaring Wyvern and the screaming people and the echoes bouncing off the dense forest Brendan was surprised that he hadn't been driven completely deaf. The noise made it hard to think but Brendan knew that rational thought was his only chance to survive this, so he forced himself to tune out the chaos around him.

  Something bumped into him and instinct told him to start lashing out blindly with his dagger, but he caught himself and held his hand. He could strike out and hope that he got lucky and hit the Wyvern, but this was probably exactly what the creature was hoping for since he was much more likely to hit one of the other people in the group instead of the beast. Arms wrapped around him and he realized that it was the girl who had bumped into him. Brendan breathed a sigh of relief; it would not have been good to kill the person that the Vouivre had just raised from the dead. A part of him noted that her breath on his neck was warm and sweet, no doubt a lingering effect of the Vouivre's breath of life. A crashing sound rang out from somewhere in front of him that could only be the sound of rock-hard claws smashing against a steel shield.

  As she clung to him, he tried to think, though the feel of her body pressed tightly against his was very distracting to the young man. Focus! What were his other options? He could try and sneak away in the confusion. Surely the creature knew that Sir Gerard was the biggest threat to it and it was attacking him right now. Unfortunately, with someone hanging on to him Brendan knew that he wouldn't get far before the Wyvern came for him and he would be stuck trying to defend himself with only a dagger and a girl glued to his side. That would not be a fun fight. Another crashing sound to the left told him that the fight was moving; the Wyvern was trying to drive the knight into the bog.

  Brendan decided that if he stayed here, at least Sir Gerard would be around, so he probably stood a better chance of surviving. Besides, he desperately wanted to stop being the slinking thief. He needed to stand up now and fight, he couldn't turn and leave Sir Gerard in his moment of greatest need.

  Brendan heard a sickening thud like a meat cleaver striking bone and then the screeching of the beast. Sir Gerard had hit the mark with his sword! Brendan's mind paused at this. How could the knight know where to position his shield to block the Wyvern's blows and where to swing his sword so that it would hit home? Then it struck him like a thunderbolt. How could the Wyvern blot out all the sunlight? Maybe it hadn't, maybe it had just made them think that everything was dark. Brendan looked upward and focused on seeing the sunlight. Nothing happened. Sunlight had to be there, why couldn’t he see it? You lack faith, he thought to himself.

  Wait, what? Where had that thought come from? Since when was he concerned about faith? And yet he felt convicted by its truth. The darkness wasn’t real. That was the deception of evil. He tried to focus and believe with all his heart that he was surrounded by sunlight. Surprisingly, the darkness began to slowly melt away until everything looked like it was twilight in the forest.

  Darting back and forth was a large creature that was roughly dragon-shaped but standing upright, almost like a man. It looked like a dark green, scaly dragon with hind legs the size of tree trunks, and arms that ended in enormous claws. It was at least ten feet tall and it was using its dragon wings to help it leap back out of the reach of Sir Gerard's sword and then dive back in to make an attack. Its scorpion-like tail whipped back and forth seeking an opening in the knight's defense, its tip looking like the stinger of a gigantic wasp. The huge claws on its hands were coated with dried blood while its fangs were several inches long and dripping with venom.

  Brendan had no sooner made this assessment when the horse slipped in the mud at the edge of the bog and the Wyvern saw its opportunity. It dove in striking with both claws. Sir Gerard blocked one huge claw with his shield but the other struck him on the head and knocked his helm off. The horse lunged forward to escape the edge of the bog and the knight made an off balanced swing with his sword that struck the creature on its shoulder. The beast swung around as if trying to escape but Brendan saw its tail whipping around to strike the knight from the back side.

  Brendan reacted without thinking. He jumped forward dragging the girl with him and intercepted the tip of the tail with the edge of his dagger. The blade neatly severed the gigantic stinger from the rest of the tail and splattered them both with Wyvern blood. He sincerely hoped that Wyvern blood was not poisonous.

  The injury did not seem to hamper the monster at all but only to enrage it further. From the murderous look in it eyes it would have killed him on the spot, but Sir Gerard immediately began to press his attack. The fight quickly turned from a fencing match of strike and parry, feint and dodge to a heavyweight boxing match where the two simply tried to bludgeon each other to death. Blows rained down as fast and furious as the knight and the Wyvern could deliver them. The noise from those crashing strokes was thunderous and seemed to drive even the trees back from their fight.

  Brendan reached for his throwing knives and then stopped. Shouldn't he use his dagger? It was practically a short sword and a much more substantial weapon than his throwing knives and he had already used it once to cut off the monster's stinger. It was definitely a more knightly weapon than the throwing knives of a thief.

  But the young man had no armor, and this was not the sort of hand-to-hand combat that he could wade into without it. On the other hand, throwing knives was one of Brendan's skills and Sir Gerard had said that God had a use for his unusual set of skills. Brendan stopped hesitating and pulled out his throwing knives. Someday he would be a knight, but he wasn't there yet.

  He threw all five knives in less than two seconds, no small feat with a human being clinging to your chest, and they struck the Wyvern on the side of the head, catching it completely off guard. The first four knives were deflected harmlessly off its scaly, armored head, but it had just started to turn to look at him when the fifth knife struck it near the eye and embedded itself between two of the creature's scales. The beast recoiled from the strike and then whirled on him. The injury was not fatal, but it was close to the eye and the monster lost control. Brendan was braver than most and rarely felt fear but, in that moment, looking into the raging face of the Wyvern he was terrified as he had never been before.

  Every muscle in his body tried to run but he clamped down on them all and that almost supernatural calmness came to his rescue again. All the fear that had been threatening to break through melted away, he was going to die but he wasn't afraid of dying. He could at least save the girl before he was killed so he used all his strength to pull her loose and shove her behind him. He had almost succeeded, but in her panic one of her hands managed to grab hold of his shirt. She pulled herself back to him and grasped him in the ultimate bear hug but least now she was behind him hugging his back so he could face the creature and protect her with his body.

  Brendan pulled out Sir Gerard's dagger and raised it to defend himself, but he knew that the beast was going to kill him as easily as he might kill a fly. He saw its legs tense as it prepared to launch its attack. Whether by pure luck or by the hand of God, a flash of sunlight gleamed off his blade and hit the Wyvern in the eyes and it recoiled a single step, momentarily blinded. It recovered just as quickly but then suddenly stopped short, just as it was about to crush him, the peculiar blade of a Centurion langes messer sprouting from its throat. It seemed to look down with its eyes in surprise at the unexpected weapon that shouldn't be there before it dropped like stone, instantly dead. Sir Gerard pulled his sword out of the back of its neck. He was bloody, muddy and looked like he had just been
trampled by several warhorses, but he was still upright in the saddle.

  "Thank you," said the knight, breathing heavily. "I see that you were able to shake off the darkness and see our enemy."

  "Not completely, but enough," responded Brendan.

  "Good, the first step in defeating your opponent, whether it is a Hungarian horseman or Satan himself, is to see him for who he really is. You have earned the title of 'squire' today.”

  "Squire?" Asked Brendan in surprise, it was what he had been hoping for of course but he had expected it to take several years at best to achieve that rank. "I am not worthy, my Lord. I am a thief and a liar, and I have none of the basic knightly training that someone my age should have."

  "I know," replied the knight, "but you have the most important qualities that a squire requires; loyalty, courage, and intelligence. These are rare finds in the world today. I can train you if you can turn from thieving and lying."

  "My lord, you barely know me," was all that Brendan could think to say in protest. His motives in fighting the Wyvern had been more selfish than noble and the young man knew it, staying and fighting had been the smart play for survival, running away would have been stupid and futile, not just cowardly. The young woman was still clinging to him with her face buried in the middle of his back. He carefully unwrapped her arms, pried her loose, and pointed her toward her father. The two ran to each other and embraced and Brendan silently thanked the Lord that she was hugging her father now. His own ribs were so bruised from her desperate grip that it hurt to breathe.