The Dragon's Prophecy

by David Noel

  Portia looked through the tube and was amazed at the view but after several minutes of looking at the cliff she had to admit she had no idea what looked unusual to him. She shrugged.

  “Sorry but it all looks normal to me,” she said as she handed the tube back.

  "Come on, if we don't see something soon, we'll cross the river and double back and check the other side, they may be up in those hills somewhere.” He shook his head, “Something about the face of that cliff is off."

  He started to ride forward and then suddenly pulled up and whipped out Marcia’s tube and looked again, "That's what's wrong with it!" He exclaimed, "Look at the center section of the cliff. There are plants growing in other places on the cliff but not there, I can't tell for sure from here but that rock looks fresh like the face of the cliff has sheared off recently." Portia nodded but she knew that cliffs collapsed sometimes and wondered what was so unusual about it. He handed her the tube, "If you look at the base of the cliff face, what do you see?"

  She shrugged, "Trees, just like every place else on the hill.”

  "Exactly!" Brendan replied with a note of excitement in his voice, "If that cliff face had collapsed recently, we should only see rock and dirt at the base of the cliff, all the trees would have been buried. Even if the collapse happened a year or two ago there would not have been time for full grown trees to take root and grow there at the base. Where did all that rock go? There’s something strange up there, the only question for us is whether or not that something has anything to do with your sister's disappearance."

  "What would be the smart thing to do?" Portia asked patiently.

  "Cross the river and look for tracks on the other side, we would have to do it eventually, we may as well do it here."

  She unslung her scuta from its position across her back, put her right arm through the straps, and then nudged her horse into the river, "Follow me," she said.

  "Wait," Brendan called after her hastily, "I should lead, we don't know if the river is fordable here or if there are enemies on the other side watching us right now."

  "I know, but I’m the better rider, I’m used to handling a shield while riding, and Winter Storm is the better horse. I trust her to find a way across the river if there is one and I trust myself to stay in the saddle if things get dangerous. I can keep myself covered if we’re ambushed before we get across and I even have the better armor thanks to my mother’s mail and plate. I’m the better choice to lead. Do you have that much faith in Nightwind or yourself to get across the river safely while holding onto your shield?" Portia asked without taking her eyes off the woods on the far side of the river.

  "No," Brendan answered after a long moment.

  “Then trust me, we are in this together, our strengths cover each other’s weaknesses. You have led up to this point, let me lead now. Get behind me and use my shield for cover.”

  He nodded and nudged his horse to follow hers as she began to guide Winter Storm out into the river.

  No attack came as the horses and riders threaded their way across the river. The river was wide, but it was also fairly slow and not as deep as Brendan had feared. As they came out on the other side the squire spotted a flash of sunlight off metal in the woods ahead of them. He pointed and motioned for her to dismount. They both got down and stood behind their horses for protection for several minutes, but no sound came from the trees. Brendan pulled his own kite shield off his back and cautiously led the way back to where he saw the flash of steel. They found two dead Hungarians, one with a spear in his chest and the other with saber slash to his throat. A few yards deeper into the woods they saw another dead Hungarian with an arrow in his eye.

  It soon became clear that there was a trail of at least a dozen dead bodies leading in the general direction of the hill. Brendan and Portia led their horses on foot and picked their way silently through the destruction as they followed the path of corpses to its end. Each apparently killed with his comrade's weapon. Finally, Portia could take it no longer.

  "What do you think happened to them?" She asked in the quietest of whispers.

  "They killed each other," the squire whispered back. The handmaiden rolled her eyes at this statement of the obvious before she realized that he was already thinking about something else. "Look there," he said, pointing at the forest floor several feet past the last body. "Someone tried to run away and, judging by the size of their footprint, it might have been your sister."

  Portia saw Brendan's whole body tense up, without a word, he pointed to a spot about ten feet past the last of the footprints. Portia looked and felt a wave of fear wash over her so strong that it crushed her chest and left her unable to breath. There, in clear view, were gouges dug by an enormous, clawed foot. Whatever happens, whether we live or die, God will prevail, she told herself, God WILL prevail.

  The young squire carefully moved forward and studied the prints. The track itself was nearly five feet across with claws that extended over another foot farther than that. He looked in the direction of the cliff which was still above and ahead of them.

  "There are two more tracks heading in that direction," he said quietly with a nod of his head, "then nothing. If those are dragon marks, and I must admit I can think of no other explanation for them, then it would appear that it landed and then took off again toward the cliff."

  "With Marcia?" Was all that Portia could force out.

  "Probably. I don't see any more of her footprints, nor do I see any sign of her body. If the dragon exists it is an evil master,” Brendan commented as he surveyed the trail of bodies. “It tricked them into serving it and then discarded them like trash when it was done with them.” He shook his head in distaste and then turned back toward the cliff.

  “The time has come to investigate that mysterious cliff," he said with determination. He drew his sword, a traditional Centurion langes messer, settled his shield on his arm, and began leading his horse uphill.

  Portia couldn't make her legs move until Winter Storm came up behind her and began nudging her forward in the back. Even her horse knew what needed to be done and had the courage to do it. The strange thing was that she didn’t fear her own death at all, she feared finding Marcia’s half-eaten body and knowing that she had failed her, she feared her parents being distracted by their missing daughters and being overrun by the Hungarians, she feared the dark, unnamed dreads that called to her from the depths of her dreams.

  She drew a deep breath; she was the daughter of the greatest Centurion knight of this age, a handmaiden, trained for battle, and her sister’s life was on the line, she could do this, she would do this. Portia forced her legs to move and she climbed the hill behind Brendan.

  At the top of the hill it became apparent what caused the unusual appearance of the cliff. There was a deep but narrow chasm right at the base of the cliff. The face of the cliff had sheared off, but it had not buried all the vegetation at the bottom because it had tumbled down into the chasm instead. Brendan tied Nightwind to a tree branch and eased closer to the edge of the deep, ugly gash into the earth. Portia forced herself to do the same thing.

  The stench that rose from the chasm was like nothing that she had ever smelled before. She had to focus on something to keep from throwing up so she pulled out her mother’s war bow and tried to string it. It was almost impossible, finally succumbing to a herculean effort on her part. Portia knew of no other woman besides her mother who could draw this bow and even her mother hadn’t drawn it in over a decade. How could she possible shoot it? She thought that she was probably stronger than her mother had been even in her prime so technique must have played a big part in her mother’s usage of the bow. The problem was that her mother wasn’t here to teach her the technique and she didn’t have time to figure it out on her own.

  Portia shook her head, muttering to herself. She had no idea what she was going to do with the bow, but it was the only weapon that she carried that had even the tiniest chance of hurting a dragon. She began praying to Go
d for strength.

  Brendan pointed to one end of the deep crevice. "I think we can work our way down over there. This rift seems to open into a large cavern below. I’ll lead the way down while you cover me. I'll signal you to come down when I’m sure that the entrance is clear. We'll move in and explore the cavern. If we run into the dragon your job will be to find a vantage point, preferably as high as possible, and use your bow. If it focuses on me it may leave an opening for you, if it gets distracted by your arrows that may create an opening for me. Agreed?”

  Portia nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak. She knew that they would probably both die but she couldn't stop now and leave her sister in the claws of Taushung. She looked down at herself, she was only a 16-year-old girl wearing mail and plate armor that was too tight for her, covered by stinky clothes that didn’t fit and a dirty cloak borrowed from a squire, carrying a bow that she couldn't even draw. She slung her shield on her back, her gladia would be useless here, and she would need both arms free to fire the bow. The heft of the arrows in her quiver was the only thing that reassured her at all, their long, solid shafts and heavy, armor piercing heads gave her a faint glimmer of hope. She glanced at Brendan; he wasn't much better. It was true that he had a kite shield and chain mail, but they didn’t hide the fact that he was also a 16-year-old boy whose beard was only starting to come in and who still had growing to do before he could properly be called a man.

  He saw her doubts, “’We can do all things through Christ who strengthens us’, remember? We can rescue Marcia.”

  She put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, “Do NOT get all macho and try to protect me by leaving me up here and wandering off in the cavern by yourself. I swear before the Lord that if you do that, I will still come down looking for you and then we will simply die separate and alone. Wait for me to come down after you. We are in this together, we live or die together, okay?”

  He smiled, “Got it, but I still get to be the first line of defense for you.”

  She smiled back, “And I have your back to the very end.”

  Brendan took a few practice swings with his sword. She could tell that he loved his sword, single-edged with a razor sharp tip and the perfect heft, it was a Centurion version of a sword type known as a langes messer, or a long knife, but the Centurion version had a 30 inch blade made of altum steel so that it was actually a little bit lighter than a traditional messer despite being longer. It was an ideal slasher and stabber that fit him exactly. She caught her breath.

  "Where did you get that sword?" She asked in disbelief.

  "Your father gave it to me when I first came into the castle a couple of months ago. You must have seen me using it before now.”

  “Not up close, not in bright daylight, I always thought that he had given you one of his old training swords, I didn’t realize that he had given you that sword.”

  “During training, none of the other weapons really felt right for me. Your father said that it is very important in battle to have a weapon that feels like it was made for your hand, so we kept trying different weapons until he went and got this one out of some old storage room and gave it to me to try. It felt perfect, I loved the engraving on the blade and the faint reddish tint to the blade. I asked him how the smiths had given it that color but he just smiled and told me it was a secret. Since I liked it so much your father gave it to me to keep. Why? What’s so special about it?"

  "It’s the sword that my father used to kill Feuertod. The tint comes from dragon blood. It’s a sign from God. He’s with us."

  Brendan nodded. He looked at her rather awkwardly and then put his hand on her cheek, closed his eyes and prayed, "Father Almighty, open our eyes to what is real and help us to see through each deception. Fill our hearts with courage, give strength to our arms, and guide our weapons to their mark as we stand together and fight against evil. Amen." He looked at her, "Not much of a prayer I’m afraid but I’m still learning. Now we need to get going." She nodded and followed as he moved toward the end of the crevasse.

  Chapter 37

  “Make plans but be ready for the unexpected, it is a rare thing for even the best plans to go perfectly.”

  The Centurion Guide to Practical Advice – Chapter 2: Proverb 5

  The Black’s head whipped around. The sound of voices? Outside of her cavern? She had been dreaming, working her way through the brat’s mind, trying to collect information. What had she heard? Tiamat’s breath! She couldn’t have anything unexpected happen now!

  “Hello?”

  Great, she had pulled out of Marcia’s dreams so quickly that she had woken the child up. Perhaps that was just as well. She could use her as a lure for Portia. She moved silently over behind her wall to hide herself from sight. Portia was supposed to come alone, so who was she talking to? It sounded more like two young men talking. Where was Portia? Had she brought help? Two young men and Portia meant that there were at least three at the entrance to the cave. How many more might there be?

  She drew a long breath through her nostrils to familiarize herself with her prey. She should smell something like Marcia, the girls were sisters after all, but she didn’t smell her, which was strange. Where was she? She heard voices but none of them sounded like a teenage girl. The plan had been to gobble up Portia as soon as she entered the cave but now the Black would have to wait and see what was going on. It wouldn’t do to eat the wrong person while Portia waited outside of the cave and give the little viper a warning about the trap.

  Chapter 38

  “Do not let fear keep you from standing up against impossible odds to protect the innocent but also do not let pride drive you to stand up against impossible odds to protect your reputation. The first is courage, the second is folly.”

  The Centurion Handbook of Combat – Heart and Mind: Chapter 2

  Portia held her bow tightly and watched as Brendan scrambled down the steep pile of rubble that had fallen from the cliff above and partially filled one end of the cavern. He could see her white knuckles on the bow, but he had to stop worrying about her and focus on his own descent or he was going to take a tumble all the way to the bottom. He was trying to keep his shield and sword at the ready, but it was impossible, it was all he could do just to hang on to them and keep his feet. Fortunately, nothing attacked him before he finally reached the bottom and looked around. After several moments of cautiously peering through the darkness he gestured for Portia to come down. She hastily scrambled over the rocks and made her way to the bottom. He had to admit that there had been a strong temptation to go on alone and leave her at the top. Unfortunately, the truth of the matter was that, she was clearly the better warrior and if they had any chance at all of saving Marcia, it really was for them to be fighting together. Besides, if he had tried to go on alone, she would have kept her vow and followed him down anyway.

  Brendan surveyed the cavern and saw that it was enormous. The floor of the cavern was littered with bones, some human sized and some from much larger animals. There was a faint haziness inside that made everything appear to be blurry and indistinct, but he could see a great crack in the floor and far wall that was lit up by a faint bluish glow that reminded the squire of the glow of the moon. The odor quickly became so overwhelming that his nose had ceased to smell it (or anything else) anymore. A very faint, indistinct sound, rather like air blowing from a bellows seemed to come from all directions. Either there was a great forge at work down here or else... Or else that was the sound of something breathing. They stepped from the light of the opening into the gloom of the cavern and felt momentarily enveloped by complete darkness and chilling cold. A suffocating fear gripped Brendan as his legs turned to jelly. It took every bit of strength that he had left to keep from collapsing on the floor. He began praying soundlessly, his lips moving as he prayed for every sort of blessing that he could think of. He forced himself to continue forward and after a few moments his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he was able to see again.

  He
looked at Portia and saw that her eyes were wild as she looked at him and he could tell that she was terrified. He looked down at the arm that held his shield. The blue cloth was still tucked into the arm straps, remembering what it represented, it encouraged him to lift his head and push deeper into the cavern. He began to carefully pick his way across the debris covered floor toward the great crack and Portia forced herself to follow. There were little skittering sounds in the shadows which Brendan took to be rats, at least that’s what he hoped they were.

  "Help me!" a shrill voice echoed out of the darkness. Portia charged forward, sure that it was Marcia. Brendan blocked her path with his shield.

  "Stop!" he called. "With all of the echoes in here I'm not sure that was her voice. Even if it was, it’s most certainly a trap."

  A deep silky voice spoke out of the darkness from the other side of the cavern, "Things would have been so much simpler if you had both simply charged forward to the rescue."

  Both the squire and the handmaiden whipped around so fast that the blink of an eye seemed slow in comparison. A dark bulk moved forward from behind a shadowy wall and blocked their exit. Despite its size there was an eerie silence to its movements, and it was surprisingly hard to see clearly. More than anything it reminded Brendan of a gigantic black cat hiding in the darkness. Its scaly skin reflected no glint of light and revealed no details. Its eyes seemed to shine with a faint greenish-yellow light and there was a dim reddish gleam to its mouth and nostrils. Other than this, it seemed to be defined less by what could be seen and more by what couldn't be seen. Brendan saw Portia lock up out of the corner of his eye, this was straight out of her nightmares.

  "Where is she?" asked the voice that seemed to be almost disembodied from the black shadow that was its source.

  Where is she? The dragon had to be referring to Marcia since Portia was standing right there in front of it.