by David Noel
"It was a combination of a prophecy, arrogance, and God at work in the midst of our trials," Responded Brendan cryptically. The priest raised an eyebrow. Portia hurried to explain.
"Apparently, there was a prophecy made twenty years ago that Sir Gerard would kill Feuertod and that Sir Gerard's first-born daughter would kill Taushung. They both thought it was silly and ate the prophet. Then my father showed up and killed Feuertod. Now Taushung knew that the prophecy was true, so she laid low until her eggs hatched and then decided to go on the offensive and lure Sir Gerard's first-born daughter - me - to her lair to kill me."
"Ahh! I had forgotten about the prophecy; it was my uncle who delivered it.”
“Your uncle? That’s why he seemed so familiar in my nightmares! He reminded me of you!”
The priest nodded, “That makes sense, we did look a bit alike. He told it to the local villagers to encourage them before he went and delivered the message to the dragons. I forgot about the prophecy because the black was never seen again, and you were not born until several years later. But, back to your story, if her plan worked, why didn't she kill you?"
"Because she believed that it had failed,” Brendan explained. "She was sure that because of the prophecy, she couldn't be killed by anyone other than Portia, 'Sir Gerard's firstborn daughter' was the only thing she had to fear. Taushung has never seen her so she was looking for some dainty young noblewoman dressed in fine clothes or at most a young handmaiden in fancy, ornamental chain mail with gilded weapons and a silver tabard. Does Portia look like any sort of a young noblewoman to you right now?" Father Cardic's face began to break into a smile. Brendan continued.
"The only way she could fit into her mother's armor was to wear it underneath everything else, a situation that I am sure she finds very uncomfortable but one which hides both the noblewoman's armor and her feminine shape. On top of that she is wearing my dirty work clothes and one of my cloaks because she couldn't find any other clothing that fit over her armor. Not only does she look like a young soldier-in-training, but she smells like one too. Taushung thought we were two young men trying to rescue Marcia on our own. Being the arrogant dragon that she was, she decided to amuse herself before she killed us since, of course, we were no threat to her. Marcia played her part in the attack by being so annoying that she distracted the dragon. It started bellowing at her, I attacked with my sword, and Portia made at least two dozen of the greatest bowshots I’ve ever seen, every one of them was bouncing off its skull or hitting something sensitive. Then she finished it off with the greatest shot of all.” Brendan took a small bow as if finishing a performance on stage. “And that is the story of why we’re alive and Taushung is dead."
Father Cardic's laughter rang through the cavern.
"And all of those inconveniences, all of those little things that you found so aggravating when you set out, the very things that made you feel like God had abandoned you just when you needed him most, those were the very things that God used to save your life!” The priest had to stop and breathe and laugh some more. Portia was far less amused. “Surely God is able to use all things for the good of those who love him,” the priest continued as he wiped a tear of laughter from his face. “Bless Him and bless you!"
"Well, we must make a decision on where to make our camp,” began Father Cardic after he had caught his breath again. “We have light and protection here in the cavern or we can go outside and sleep out there, but it’s already dark and there may be Hungarians in the woods," he pointed out.
"Our light is coming from a burning dragon body; the stench makes me want to vomit and who knows what may still be crawling around in all of these piles of bones. I vote for outside in the clean air," said Portia quickly.
"There are also young dragons out there in the woods," pointed out Marcia, "Or did you forget about them?"
Portia gave her sister an exasperated look, "You don't really want to sleep down here; you just don't want to agree with me.”
"What do you think Brendan?" The priest asked looking at the young man.
To his own mind it made more sense to spend the night in the cavern, but he completely understood why Portia wanted to sleep outside. He also felt like he should support her because of what they had just gone through. Whatever the future held they needed to stand together. He looked at Marcia and realized just how tired they all were. Everyone was in desperate need of sleep and those two were more afraid of both options than they wanted to admit. Brendan decided that everyone needed a change of scenery.
"Our horses are outside at the edge of the woods so, at the very least, we must do something to protect them so that they don't get eaten by dragons or stolen by Hungarians. I don't think that bringing them down here is practical. The path down is very steep and even if we could somehow get them down here, we might not be able to get them back out. I suggest that we spend the night on the top of the hill above the cliff. It’ll be a bit of a hike to get up there, but we’ll have a clear view on all sides if anything chooses to come after us."
Portia's exhausted but grateful smile made it clear to him that he had made the right decision. Even Marcia grudgingly accepted the plan.
Fortunately, no one, and nothing, had bothered the horses while they had been fighting the dragon. Undoubtedly, the rest of the Hungarians were to the east doing battle with the Centurion forces and all the larger predators in the area had either left from a lack of prey or had become prey themselves for the dragon.
It should have been the work of a few minutes to get the horses and gear collected and up to the top of the hill above the cliff, but it was dark and everyone was beyond tired. Brendan figured that it took closer to an hour before they were able to start setting up a camp. Father Cardic took the lead and Brendan let him do it. Somehow the old priest still had some energy left even after a full day of travel and carrying at least a dozen loads of firewood down into the dragon's lair.
Brendan didn't even remember falling asleep, but he woke up the next morning stretched out in his bedroll with the sun high in the sky. Somebody had gotten him out of his armor and gambeson. He looked around and saw the priest asleep in his own bedroll. Marcia and Portia were up making some breakfast. Brendan started to sit up and then realized that every muscle in his body was screaming at him. Slowly, he forced himself upright, but he had no idea how he was going to travel that day.
"So, you can sit up!" said Portia brightly. "I was afraid that we might have to carry you home on a litter. I took a good look at your armor and shield, the armor will need a lot of repair and the shield is ruined; it’s a miracle of God that you’re still alive. You really took a beating out there, the dragon hit you a lot harder than I realized."
“I was so tired last night that I don’t even remember Father Cardic getting me out of my armor.”
“That’s because he didn’t,” Marcia chimed in. Portia tried to rush over and shush her, but Marcia fended her off and plowed ahead, “Portia and I did it. Portia said that we had to check you for broken bones or serious injuries and clean you up, so we checked you over from head to toe. Of course, Portia did all the best parts herself and wouldn’t let me watch. She was very thorough.” Marcia gave him a wicked smile.
“Ignore her,” Portia snapped as she threw a stick at her sister’s head, “We had to make sure that there wasn’t even the tiniest spot of dragon’s blood left on you anywhere. I only did what was necessary, it’s very corrosive. I was just being a good nurse…”
“You’re overexplaining,” the priest grumbled from his bedroll, “We trust your motives.”
“Just wait until I tell daddy you had your hands all over his squire again,” Marcia snickered.
“You promised not to embarrass me anymore, remember?”
“Killjoy.”
“At least that would explain why all of my clothes are on crooked. Did you find any broken bones or spots of dragon’s blood when you checked me out?”
“No broken bones, but lots of little splashes
of blood. They left red spots on you and a couple of the bigger spots started to blister before we cleaned them off,” Portia said, blushing a dark red. Brendan felt himself blushing too.
“Yeah, good luck riding a horse today,” Marcia interjected, “Some of those spots are in very inconvenient places.”
“Which explains all of the little holes in my clothes, now that I am looking at them more closely.”
Portia hurried to clarify, “But don’t worry, I was just checking you over for medical reasons, I wasn’t, you know, looking at you for other reasons. Besides, it was dark, and …”
“Overexplaining!” Gruffed the priest again, “You were being a good Centurion and treating the injured, we trust you.”
Brendan tried to get out of his bedroll but it hurt too much. "I feel like one gigantic bruise. How about you?"
“I just stood on a ledge and shot arrows; I’m doing great.”
“You did a lot more than that!” Brendan corrected. He smiled, “Do you need me to check you for broken bones or spots of dragon blood?”
“No really! I’m good.”
“She made me check her while you were sleeping, sorry you missed out on all the fun,” Marcia chimed in. “No spots on her.”
“As long as you’re okay,” Brendan said, “That’s what really matters.”
“I’m fine too,” Marcia added from the other side of the fire as she continued to work on breakfast, “Thanks for asking.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” replied Brendan encouragingly.
“I too, am glad to hear it,” said the priest from his sleeping roll, “though to be honest, I would rather hear it later and in a softer voice.”
“We should try and get going,” Brendan said. “It was a night and a long day to get to the dragon’s cavern. We’ve already spent the night and it is now late morning. Even if we travel hard, we won’t make it before nightfall. Your mother is going to be very worried about you both.” It was agony to get to his feet but with Portia’s help he finally made it. He had to admit that he really appreciated Portia’s strength in that moment since she was the one who actually lifted most of his weight.
Marcia put a bowl of hot soup and a hunk of bread in his hands. Brendan hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until that moment. He thanked her and began eating ravenously. Marcia waved food under the priest’s nose and he roused from his semi-slumber to fully awake.
“Thank you for standing my watch,” he said to Portia with an appreciative smile. “I told you that you would get the chance to pull your own weight.”
“It may not sound like much compared to fighting a dragon,” the priest interrupted, “But collecting and carrying two cords of firewood down into that cavern has given me a powerful appetite. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, never underestimate the power of a warm meal when you’re traveling.” He inhaled his food and then patted his stomach when he was done. “You heard the squire, let’s get moving.”
Brendan made a quick check of his armor and sword to make sure that they were clean. He didn’t want his sword to be ruined by some bit of dragon’s blood that was allowed to sit and corrode the metal because he had missed it. When he pulled the blade from the scabbard, he was shocked at what he saw.
“Portia, did you take a close look at my sword last night when you were using it on the dragon hide?” He asked.
“No, the light in the cavern wasn’t very good and it was covered with dragon blood. I tried to wipe it off and then held it over the flames for a moment to burn off anything that I missed. After that I just put it back in its scabbard.” She walked over and looked at the blade with Brendan. “Whoa, what happened here?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. The steel blade was a deep purple unlike anything that he had ever seen before. The etching in the blade was easily visible as a much lighter shade of purple. He ran his hand up and down the flat of the sword. It felt perfectly smooth and dry so whatever had happened this was not something coating the blade but rather the steel itself that had been stained this color.
Portia reached out and touched the blade. “It feels different somehow,” she said, “and it doesn’t feel as cold as I would have expected it to if it was sitting outside all night.”
He swung the sword and hit a piece of firewood lying next to the fire. The sword easily split the wood.
“The sword seems to be just fine,” he finally commented, taking one long, last look at it before putting it in its scabbard. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough if it starts falling apart on me.”
Brendan was honestly surprised at how quickly the camp got packed up, especially since he was of little help. There were only three horses, so Marcia started off riding behind Portia, but she changed places from time to time to keep any of the horses from getting overworked.
They rode as hard as they could without killing the horses. There were Hungarians in the area, and they didn’t want to spend another night outside the protection of the castle walls. When it was Brendan’s turn to carry Marcia on his horse, he caught a glimpse of Portia giving her sister a meaningful look that clearly carried some sort of private message between the two, but the squire wasn’t quite sure what. For her part, Marcia sat far enough away from him that he was afraid she was going to fall off the back of the horse, especially with the way Nightwind balked and skittered over every little thing in their path. In desperation, she finally grabbed onto his waist to keep from being thrown off completely when the horse was working its way down one side of a gully and then up the other.
Dangerous lightning flashed from Portia’s green eyes.
“I have to hold on,” Marcia said defensively. “If I don’t, I’m going to fall off and break my neck and then your whole expedition to save me will have been a worthless waste of time.”
“Well then ride with me on my horse!” Portia countered.
“What’s this all about?” Demanded the priest, reigning to a stop. “Portia’s horse cannot carry two riders all day even if it’s two girls.”
“Portia says that she and Brendan have ‘an understanding’. Is that true?” Marcia asked the squire.
“I’m from the east, not the west. Please explain exactly what you mean by ‘an understanding’,” asked Brendan in exasperation. He had an idea about what she meant but he figured he better make sure before he made a wrong assumption and messed everything up.
“You know, ‘an understanding’.” Marcia repeated as if that made everything clear. “When a boy and a girl are interested in each other they have ‘an understanding’. It means that they are both agreed that they want to court but they are waiting until they can get approval from their parents to make it official. It’s supposed to be a secret, but it almost never stays secret. Sometimes though, girls just say that they have ‘an understanding’ with a boy to try and keep other girls away from him. So that’s the real question, are the two of you really going to start courting or is she just saying that?”
“They have an understanding,” interjected the priest, “I’m a witness. In fact, it will be a betrothal when we get back to the castle. Let’s try a different solution to the riding double problem. Portia will ride with Brendan and we’ll just move the two of them from horse to horse to give each animal a break.”
“Great idea!” Portia exclaimed.
“Works for me,” Brendan laughed.
This time it was the priest’s turn to give a meaningful look when he made eye contact with Portia. “Listen up, young lady, just because you are a woman with ‘an understanding’ does not mean that you are married yet or even betrothed so NO hanky-panky! You put your hands on his hips and nowhere else! Do I make myself clear? Your parents could still say no to the two of you courting so don’t jump to any conclusions just yet.”
“Considering Brendan’s skills with a horse, shouldn’t Portia be the one in front guiding Nightwind while Brendan holds on?” Marcia asked, trying to keep a straight face.
“Hush!” Retorted Portia a
s she scooted up next to Brendan as close as she could and wrapped her arms around his waist. “We’re good.”
“No, you’re not,” corrected the priest. “You’re too close to him. I said put your hands on his hips not put your arms around his chest. I need to see lots of daylight between the two of you.” Portia scowled at him, but he scowled back and won. She scooted back an inch.
“More!” He barked. “I will not play this game with you all the way back to the castle. If you cannot maintain an appropriate distance, then you’ll be riding behind me instead.” Portia quickly pushed herself further back. It was clear that riding behind the priest was not an option in her mind. Father Cardic shook his head and looked to heaven, “Lord, I never dreamed I would see the day when Portia would need a chaperone to be around a young man, and now that she needs one, why did it have to be me?”
Chapter 41
“Always keep in mind that the end is not always the end. Do not be like the Centurion who, after winning a victory over a terrible enemy, began to dance in celebration, tripped over his own feet, and fell on his sword.”
The Centurion Guide to Practical Advice – Chapter 7: Proverb 7
Dusk was approaching as they continued to push on toward the castle. Nightwind was very tired and very balky so Portia and Brendan had traded places. Neither was particularly happy with the new arrangement but Portia’s superior skills as a rider dictated that she be the one in the saddle while Brendan sat behind her. Portia felt a creeping uneasiness as they began to enter the last stretch of forest before reaching the village and slowed the horse to a stop. Forests were often good hiding places for highwaymen and robbers and while they didn’t usually have such problems this close to the castle anything could be happening right now with the knights gone and the Hungarians raiding in all directions. It was dusk outside of the forest, but it was midnight inside. Portia sensed in her spirit that something was wrong with the forest. Brendan, with his hands on Portia’s waist, picked up on her tension.
