The Dragon's Prophecy

by David Noel

  “We should go around,” he stated, matter-of-factly. “There are Hungarians on the prowl and there’s no telling who or what may be hiding in the darkness. Even if the way is clear there’s too much risk of injury if one of the horses stumbles in the dark.”

  “It will add at least an hour to our trip to go around this little stretch of the woods and I do have a small lamp that I can light to help us see the way.” Father Cardic pointed out.

  Brendan seemed to consider this for a moment and then dismissed it. “A small lamp won’t provide enough light to help us very much, but it will make us a lot easier to see for any enemy waiting to attack us.”

  The priest nodded his head, “Very well, we’ll go around.” He turned his horse and began to head to the west.

  “Wait! Since when is the squire in charge?” Demanded Marcia. “I don’t want to waste an extra hour. I want to go straight home. You’re the oldest one here, if anyone should be in charge it’s you.”

  “I’m giving him the opportunity to lead. If I felt very strongly that we should go through the forest, we would. But I was debating this very question with myself even as we were riding up and I’m still undecided. There are advantages and disadvantages either way and one choice is not clearly better than the other. Since Brendan may someday be the Count of Carinthia and be expected to lead Centurion forces in the field against the Hungarians, I have chosen to let him practice leading.” With that Father Cardic urged his horse forward and started westward again.

  Marcia groaned at this but turned Winter Storm to follow. Portia turned Nightwind to follow and bring up the rear. She took a long parting look at the dark hole that was the road through the forest. She stiffened suddenly; she could have sworn that she saw something white move back in the shadows. Was it her imagination after everything else that had happened on this trip?

  “What is it?” Brendan asked, instantly alert, sensing her reaction to something.

  “I thought I saw…”

  A blood curdling yell came from the woods interrupting her. Two Norsemen and a huge white wolf came running out of the dark roadway that the travelers had just chosen to avoid. Brendan slid off the back of the horse, clearly preferring to fight their attackers on foot rather than on horseback. Nightwind balked but wheeled around as Portia yanked at the reigns. She grabbed her gladia out of its scabbard. The gladia was almost useless on horseback but it would have to do, there was no time to unpack and string her bow. It was at that moment that the winter wolf began to howl and Nightwind chose to panic.

  The horse shied away from the wolf and tried to escape in some other direction. It started running in a circle and slammed into Winter Storm. Had Portia been riding Winter Storm it would have responded to its master’s sure hand but Marcia was not the accomplished rider that Portia was and she lost control of the horse. Marcia was desperately trying to rein it in but Nightwind’s panic was infectious and the lack of a sure hand at the reins caused Winter Storm to panic as well. Portia pulled Nightwind’s head around sharply and squeezed it as hard as she could with her knees and was finally able to establish some control. She thanked God that she had been in the saddle and not Brendan or it would have been a complete disaster. Winter Storm began galloping toward the Norse in its panic, carrying Marcia into danger. Portia spurred Nightwind forward trying to put herself in between their attackers and her sister. Brendan was a couple of steps in front of her sprinting toward the enemy when the Norsemen both threw their axes at her and then drew their swords to face him.

  Portia saw the axes coming at her in slow motion. She could duck out of the way but if she did, they would almost certainly hit Marcia. It was an easy decision since she was wearing armor and Marcia wasn’t. Portia would probably be injured but Marcia would dead if she was hit by one of those wicked looking blades. Besides, what had Master Kurt said? Trust your armor, it is made of Centurion steel and stronger than your enemy’s weapons. The handmaiden sat up in her saddle, brought her arm up over her face to try and block the closest axe, and braced herself for impact.

  In the blink of an eye she saw first one and then the other axe get snatched out of the air right in front of her. It was almost like a magic trick, the disappearing axes. She glanced down; Brendan was standing in front of her with an axe in each hand.

  “How did you…”

  “Here, use these,” he interrupted, tossing them up to her, “they have a bit more reach than your gladia. Kill the wolf.” He picked his sword up from where he had dropped it on the ground just in time to parry the attack of a charging Norseman.

  Portia dropped her gladia and caught the axes. Norse hand axes were similar to Franciscas with one important distinction. Franciscas were designed to be excellent throwing axes that were still very good for fighting with, while Norse hand axes were designed to be excellent hand weapons that were still pretty good for throwing. The distinction was not a big one but it meant that the length and balance was a little different than what she was used to. Still, they were better from horseback than her gladia.

  She glanced around; she was sure that she had seen a giant wolf come running out of the forest with the Norsemen but now it was nowhere. Where did it go? It must be circling around them right now. Winter Storm had pulled up short when Nightwind had cut in front of it, blocking its way but now it was thrashing around trying to find a safe direction to run. Portia rode a quick circle around Marcia looking everywhere for the wolf. Marcia squealed and Portia reacted instantly. She threw herself sideways and knocked Marcia out of the saddle and off the horse. Both girls landed on the ground just as a blast of frost flashed over the back of Winter Storm.

  The horse reared up on its hind legs trying to get away from the threat beside it. Portia grabbed her sister and rolled away from the animal as fast as she could, which turned out to be an excellent decision. Just as she had anticipated, the terrified horse slipped in the grass and fell over on the spot where they had just been a moment before. It rolled to its feet and bolted off.

  Portia grabbed the axes and jumped up. She saw the scar across its eye and the ugly scowl on its lips. It was the same wolf that had attacked the castle all those weeks before. The wolf and the handmaiden stared each other down for a long moment. She was sure that it remembered her, and it knew that she was a dangerous opponent with axes in her hands. There was a gleam of human-like intelligence in its eyes and she knew that it was used to fighting humans. Maybe she could use that to her advantage.

  Portia stepped forward with her left foot and began to throw the axe in her right hand. The wolf instantly reacting by sliding toward her left and out of the path of the incoming axe. This was exactly what Portia was hoping it would do. It was reacting to a right-handed opponent.

  Portia faked her throw, holding on to the axe. She continued her forward momentum and stepped forward with her right foot while throwing the axe that was in her left hand with all her strength. In classic Frankish style she immediately charged forward with the other axe ready to attack an off balance or injured opponent. She watched as the spinning blade impacted with the wolf’s head. Her aim was true but the different balance in the weapon caused it to hit the beast with the top of the axe head instead of the blade. The blow was still hard enough that the wolf was stunned for a moment and Portia’s charge brought her within striking distance before the wolf could recover. She swung the axe with both hands as hard as she could and immediately let go. The axe froze when it contacted the blood from the winter wolf and the wooden handle shattered just as it did before, but this time she wasn’t holding on to it. The cold of the wolf’s blood was a slap to her face but at least her hands were still working. She ran to the other axe and grabbed it from where it had landed. She turned around ready to attack again, but it was unnecessary, the wolf stumbled for a moment and then fell over and was still. She had killed it with a single blow. Compared to the dragon, this had been almost too easy.

  Chapter 42

  “Pride and revenge are terrible reasons for
battle, they blind you to the truth and lead you into folly. Earnestly go before the Lord before going into battle and let Him lay bare your motives.”

  The Centurion Handbook of Combat – Heart and Mind: Chapter 8

  Brendan rushed toward the Vikings, rage exploding in his heart and blood pounding in his temples. Now was his chance to get revenge, now he would finally get the chance to kill some Vikings. He suddenly heard Sir Gerard’s voice in his head, “The Centurions focus on being humble servants of the Lord, protectors of the weak, and defenders of the innocent, not destroyers of our enemies." Brendan was so stunned he actually pulled up short and stopped.

  “Surely Lord, this is the time to be destroying our enemies,” he said to God as the Norse charged him.

  “There is a time for every action under heaven, even waging war on your enemies, but this is not that time. This is the time to show me who rules your heart, Jesus or Hatred? The voice in his head was his own but it was saying things to him that he would never say to himself. It had to be God speaking to him.

  Brendan screamed in rage; this is what he had been waiting for all these years! But he knew that the Order was not interested in revenge, and neither was God. “Jesus rules my heart,” he was finally able to say, “Lord take away my hatred.” A peace came over him that he couldn’t explain and, in that moment, the Vikings were upon him.

  Brendan’s opponent rushed at him with his shield in hand trying to use it to knock the squire off his feet, but pankration had the perfect counter for this move. Brendan pulled his knee up to his chest and kicked straight forward into the middle of the Norseman’s shield with the heel of his foot. The heel kick was so powerful that it was routinely used to shatter enemy shields and it worked to perfection here. The other Norseman swung at Brendan’s head with his sword and Brendan parried with his own. The smoky purple blade in his hand cut through his opponent’s sword like butter, leaving him with a hilt but no blade. He tried to charge Brendan with his shield while the other Viking attacked with his sword. Father Cardic had finally arrived as quickly as his old legs could carry him and he used his staff to deliver a ground sweep that took the legs out from under the shieldbearer. The squire parried the sword attack of the other Viking and again, severed his blade from the hilt.

  The priest engaged the other Viking, staff against shield, while Brendan took on the first attacker who was now reduced to using a knife. Brendan sheathed his sword and drew his own knife, the long seax that Sir Gerard had given him when they faced the Wyvern.

  “I’m going to capture you alive,” he told the Norseman in Greek.

  The Viking was almost a foot taller than the squire and probably close to a hundred pounds heavier, but he was wary of Brendan. He had learned never to underestimate a Centurion and he was smart enough to recognize that the squire had something up his sleeve if he was willing to sheath his sword and face him with a knife of his own. Each made several feints with their weapons until the Viking suddenly lunged forward in a real attack. This was what Brendan had been waiting for. He grabbed the bigger man’s right wrist with his left hand, dropped his own weapon, and stepped inside of his opponent’s reach. He pulled the wrist hard while turning his hip into the Viking’s pelvis and flipped the man over his shoulder. Brendan held onto his wrist and moved into an elbow lock with the knife blade pointed away from himself and his foot against his opponent’s neck for leverage.

  “Drop the knife or I will break your elbow,” he commanded in Frankish. The man refused to comply and continued to try and break free from the squire’s lock. “Suit yourself,” the squire replied and broke the elbow. The Norseman grunted in pain and dropped the knife but continued to fight. “You’re tough, I’ll give you that.” Brendan released his arm and when the Viking tried to roll away the squire jumped on his back and put him in a choke hold until he passed out.

  The squire looked around and saw that the Winter Wolf was dead. Looking in the other direction he saw that the priest had completely befuddled his opponent with his quarterstaff, which was like a living thing in his hands. When he saw the opening he wanted, he drove the end of it into his opponent’s jaw, knocking him out. Father Cardic walked over to the squire and he could see a little moisture in the old man’s eyes.

  “I’m proud of you Brendan,” the priest said. “I know how hard it was for you not to exact some revenge. God is proud of you too.” He patted him on the shoulder. “Now we’ve got to get these two tied up before they wake up.”

  Chapter 43

  “Kill an enemy when you must but spare him when you can, as Christ himself instructs us, ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy’.”

  The Centurion Handbook of Combat – Heart and Mind: Chapter 10

  Portia had seen the last part of Brendan’s fight and was very impressed. She had never seen some of the fighting moves that he had just use to capture his opponent even though the other man was much larger. She saw the shattered shield on the ground and the broken swords and wondered how that had happened.

  “That was quick,” Portia said. “Are they dead?”

  “No,” Brendan answered with a little smile on his lips. “I wanted to kill them more than I can tell you. I wanted revenge so badly that I could taste it.” He paused before continuing, “But God made it clear to me that this was not the time for killing and revenge is never an acceptable motive for anything.”

  “Still, this guy was really big, strong, and fast and he had a lot of experience in combat, how were you able to knock him out so quickly?”

  Brendan held up his weapon. “My sword sliced right through their swords, and since they had already thrown their axes at you, that left them both with just knives and shields. I shattered this one’s shield with a kick and then I introduced him to the ancient art of pankration.”

  “Pan what?” Asked Portia.

  “Pankration,” corrected Father Cardic. “It’s a style of ancient Greek unarmed combat. It uses many different types of attacks; hand strikes, kicks, throws, take downs, choke holds, and many other moves. I have, of course, read about it but I have never actually seen it being used. I didn’t know that anyone still practiced it. Your demonstration was most impressive; you really must teach it to me sometime.” Brendan nodded his head in acceptance of the compliment before explaining.

  “Me too! I want to learn, it sounds very useful,” Portia added.

  “I’m just as impressed with your use of the quarterstaff,” Brendan said, “I always considered it to be just a stick to hit someone over the head with but now that I’ve seen it in the hands of a master I must admit that it may well be the best weapon of all. You’ll have to teach me how to use it sometime.” Father Cardic nodded his head accepting the return compliment.

  “Are we done flattering each other yet? Can we go home now?” Snapped Marcia as she dusted grass off her dress.

  “I’ve saved your life twice now!” Crowed Portia. “You owe me big time.”

  Brendan was surveying the situation. “I am afraid that we’re down another horse,” he said. “Winter Storm took off and I don’t see her anywhere around. We’ll throw these two over Nightwind and Jack and tie them down so that they don’t get any ideas about escaping. I think it’s best that we take the road through the woods now.”

  “Wait,” interrupted Marcia, “I thought you said the road through the woods was a bad idea just a minute ago.”

  “I did,” agreed Brendan. “But these three have been eating something or living off of somebody for the last couple of months. So I’m pretty sure that they’ve cleared any bandits or predators out of the woods for miles around. We’re also all on foot now so our chances of stumbling are smaller. On the other hand, if we go around it will now take us at least two hours longer since we’re on foot, and it will be well after dark for the last part of the trip.”

  No one disagreed so Brendan and Father Cardic pushed one of the Norseman over the back of Nightwind. The other Viking was so large that it took Portia as well
as the two men to get him over Jack and tied down. Portia put Marcia to work looking for the gladia that she had dropped in the grass and Brendan’s long seax, while the other three were loading up the Vikings on the horses. The priest’s lantern turned out to be very helpful in the growing dusk as the glint of the blades in the lamplight made them easy to spot. When everyone was ready the priest took the lantern and led the four into the woods.

  Chapter 44

  “The best part of going on a trip is coming home. The best part of coming home is sleeping in your own bed (assuming that you have a comfortable bed to sleep in).”

  The Centurion Guide to Practical Advice – Chapter 12: Proverb 2

  “Who goes there?” Came the traditional call from the old guard on top of the walls as the little party struggled up the hill toward the small postern gate in the back of the castle

  “It’s me! Father Cardic! Squire Brendan, Handmaiden Portia, and Miss Marcia are with me. Now let us in before I march around these walls seven times and call on God to knock them down like he did the walls of Jericho.”

  The gate flew open and Lady Evelyn herself came rushing out and grabbed both of her daughters in hug that seemed to last forever. Finally, she turned to Brendan and Father Cardic and hugged them both, “Thank you so much for bringing my daughters back to me, I can never repay you both.”

  “You shouldn’t be thanking Brendan and me for bringing your daughters back, you should be thanking Brendan and Portia for bringing Marcia back. She and Brendan were able to track Marcia all the way to the northern hills and rescue her. They killed a dragon and saved Marcia’s life several times in the bargain.”