The Roar of a Dragon (10 page)

‘Tastes bitter,’ he remarked.

‘It’s medicine, it’s not supposed to taste good,’ I responded, echoing his words from an eternity ago. I sat beside him on his bed, examining him visually — his face was red, his skin was clammy, and he was still breathing in shallow breaths.

‘Aidan,’ he whispered suddenly, his hand reaching for me. His hand was almost to my face when it stopped, the long fingers trembling. I grabbed his hand and put it on my cheek. ‘I… could never have wished… for a better son.’ His voice was a ragged whisper.

I couldn’t take it anymore. The feelings of pain and despair that I was trying to keep locked in my heart burst forth. Tears were flowing from my eyes. ‘Don’t speak like that, Father,’ I whispered between sobs. ‘You’re going to be alright.’ My voice faded at the end.

‘If I am, I’ll be with you,’ Father responded. ‘If I’m not, I’ll be with your mother. Either way… they both sound real good to me.’

My sobbing wracked my body. ‘I can’t do this, Father,’ I confided. ‘I… I’m not ready…’

‘Yes, you are, my son,’ Father whispered, his voice suddenly emitting more strength. ‘I’ve taught you everything… I know. And your will…is as strong as those of any knights who have walked this realm.’

I now couldn’t see through the haze of my tears. Crying, I laid my head on my father’s chest, wrapping my arm around him, and he held my head, stroking my hair. After a while, I was about to lift my head and tell him that I
would
see him in the morning…

When I realised it
was
morning.

Startled, I sat up. Father’s arm (which had be cradling me all night) flopped off of me, and dropped heavily off of the edge of the bed, hanging there.

‘Father?’ I whispered.

But there was no response. He wasn’t moving.

‘Father?’ I said again, a little louder this time. Still, nothing.

Slowly, I reached out for him, my hand drifted closer and closer… I was scared to touch him, scared of the truth.

My fingers touched his forehead lightly, and to me, it felt as cold as the ice I had handled the night before.

Father was dead.

***

‘I buried him in the back yard,’ I said, finishing the story. ‘I had to dig through the snow and ice.’

‘Gods above, Aidan,’ Derrick said, his expression devoid of his usual twinkling humor.

Suddenly, there scuffling at the front of my tent, and a soldier peeked in. I recognized him; he was one of the soldiers from Norvin’s original scouting party.

‘Excuse me, Aidan…’ he began, his voice low.

‘Yes,’ I answered.

‘I just wanted to say that we had no idea what Sir Norvin was going to do. If I had known —’

‘You wouldn’t have done anything anyway,’ I interrupted. ‘But I appreciate the thought.’

Bewildered, the soldier looked at me for a bit, then nodded and left.

Derrick turned to me and said, ‘You’ve proven your strength through adversity, Aidan. Your will is stronger than you know.’

I thought about his words for a moment (how similar they sounded to my father’s!), and then we heard horns. The soldiers were being summoned to battle.

***

After a meal of dried fruit, we were mustered into formation to begin our march. As the units were being assembled, I walked in and took my place, where Sir Norvin happened to be, watching the proceedings. His eyes quickly fixed on me, and he gestured with his finger for me to join him.

Oh, Gods above — what now?

But I did as he expected, and as I stood in front of him, he looked me up and down, inspecting me. ‘Are you sure you’re up for this?’

You have no idea
. I didn’t care that he was my commanding officer — I no longer had any respect for him. ‘What do you care?’

Rather than waste time with an answer, Norvin moved on. ‘Well, if your heart is set on it, take your place at the back of the ranks — I believe you deserve a bit of respite, after what you had to endure yesterday.’ He delivered all of this with a smug look and an arrogant attitude.

I took another step toward him. ‘I don’t need respite, or your help, but if that is a direct order, I will follow it —
sir.’

Norvin nodded. ‘It is.’ Then he dismissed me with a jerk of the head. I had to absorb all of my anger — I was dangerously close to trouble with him as it was. I did as I was ordered.

Someday, Norvin. Someday
.

For all the (new) issues I suddenly had with Norvin, I had to give him a little credit — he was smart enough to know that the Boulton army wasn’t likely to be in the same spot, since the element of surprise was gone, but they weren’t likely to be far away either as an army that big wouldn’t move that far in a day. He marched us directly west, with warnings to everyone to watch their surroundings, be aware of an ambush.

It was a bit cloudy on this day, but as opposed to yesterday, rain didn’t seem to be on the horizon. There was some fog in the distance, settled in the bottom of nearby valleys.

The march didn’t take long, and Norvin was right — the army of Boulton hadn’t gone far; they were settled
in front
of the steep hill, rather than waiting at the top of it. My guess is that with the element of surprise gone, Boulton had opted to face us head on, rather than relying on an ambush.

Norvin’s order of being aware of an ambush proved pointless — the fog I had mentioned earlier had settled in this small valley like a thick blanket completely obscuring our view of anything nearby.

Norvin called for us to halt, a fair distance away from the enemy. Now began the ages-old tradition of last-minute negotiations, an attempt to see if war can be avoided. In my heart, I wanted to make a snide comment to myself that having Norvin as our negotiator would deny any chance of peace, but I was pretty sure it wouldn’t matter who was doing the negotiating. Boulton had its heart set on war, the chance to prove itself, and nothing was going to deny it that chance.

So I knew that when Sir Norvin and Commander Hardlow met in the center of that small valley that we were going to battle, no matter the outcome. I couldn’t hear what was said, but I could see plainly that the exchange wasn’t particularly heated. After a short time, Norvin was walking back toward us.

‘No chance at peace,’ Norvin called out — from my position in the back of the ranks, I could barely hear his greasy voice. ‘Let us end this battle quickly, so we may return home, to our people… and our ale!’ Several of the soldiers laughed and cheered, but I didn’t join in.

Then Norvin took his place at the back of the army… a move that annoyed me, perhaps irrationally. True, many kings and generals commanded their army from the rear (in the scheme of things, they needed to be alive as long as possible to lead the army), but I couldn’t help thinking that Norvin was doing it simply to avoid battle. Based on my own experience, Norvin didn’t exactly have a reputation for honor and bravery.

‘Charge!’ Norvin screamed, and in an instant, the battle was on.

Standing at the back of the ranks, it was some time before my line would move, but I could hear the screams of the men as they charged into the dense fog. Not long after, I heard the clashing of steel, and the screams of the dying. With men in the front ranks falling to the wayside, the swell of men moved forward to take their place. Finally I, and the men around me, began to drift toward the massive battle.

Suddenly, I heard a commotion behind me. I turned to find a unit of Boulton soldiers, on horses, charging out of the fog, heading straight for Norvin. With all the knowledge I had attained from reading many books on war and strategy, I knew exactly what their intention was — to kill the serpent by cutting off its head. My dislike for Norvin aside, if he fell, our army would be in disarray.

Despite this, I have to admit: I almost let him die anyway.

The desperate nature of our situation suddenly hitting me, I turned and rushed toward our commander. The horses got there far ahead of me, and Norvin, realizing the trouble he was in, frantically tried to turn and run, only to find his escape route blocked. Before I knew it, Norvin was quickly surrounded.

I wasn’t the only one who charged — several of the soldiers around me saw the trouble and moved with me. I focused on a single rider, with a hold on Norvin’s saddle, attempting to hold the horse still for his comrades. Norvin was attempting to keep them back with his sword, but it wouldn’t be long before the overwhelmed weasel lost that effort.

I attacked immediately, driving my shortswords underneath the ribs of the stunned rider. He let out a howl of pain, then fell to the ground, no longer a concern.

The horse, however, was another story.

Knowing it had lost its rider, the horse attempted to flee, but unfortunately for me, I was in its way. It whipped its large body around, colliding with me, which was more than enough to knock me to the ground, and my swords out of my grasp. The horse then took advantage of the open space, escaping the battle. Its absence revealed another rider, who had seen what was happening and moved to eliminate the threat — me. Battle-axe in hand, he screamed a battle cry as he ferociously attempted to split me in half. I moved out of the way, only to be met with another attempt. I rolled back the opposite way, trying to get within reaching distance of my swords. The soldier saw my plan, and moved to cut me off from my weapons. Seeing that route cut off, I quickly realised my best chance of survival was to get back to my feet. I had my dagger, but it would be useless against the axe.

Unwilling to allow me room to maneuver, the soldier tried for another chance to split me in two. Still on my back, moving with my hands, I sent a strong kick to his midsection. He was heavily armored, but he still recoiled from the blow. Using the only opportunity I might have, I spun the other way, back to my feet. The soldier moved to swing again, but I moved
toward
him, inside the arc of danger. Surprised by my move, the soldier was helpless and couldn’t stop the swing of the heavy axe in time; I caught hold of it, and head-butted him twice in the face. Seeing the soldiers dazed expression, I reacted immediately. I spun around, yanking the ax out of his hands, then used it to sweep his legs out from under him, and finished him by driving the axe into his chest.

But there was no time to rest or celebrate — two riders had succeeded in pulling Norvin off of his horse, and had him pinned to the ground. A cornered rat, so to speak, Norvin was desperately fighting back, but he had lost his weapon and shield.

Pulling my dagger from my boot, I made a critical throw — the aim was a little off, but I still managed to bury the blade deep in the shoulder blade of one of the soldiers, enough to make him gasp in pain and fall away from Norvin. Scooping up my swords, I charged at the lone assailant, and knocked him off Norvin with a diving attack. My shoulder struck his helmet, disorienting him. My momentum carried me far past them, and I rolled back to a standing position. By the time I spun around, the remaining soldier was already pulling himself to his feet, drawing his longsword. With an expression of fierce bloodlust and determination, the soldier screamed his fury as he made a lunging swing with the sword. I jumped back to avoid the blow, then sent him reeling backward with a kick. Immediately, I delivered spinning double backslash, one sword glancing off of the armor on his shoulder — the other catching him across the neck. Gasping for air, he fell to the ground.

Not long after, I heard cheering — the White Army had succeeding in routing the Boulton Army. Seeing that they had lost, the remaining riders abandoned their now-pointless objective and fled. I watched our soldiers celebrating, and smiled at our accomplishment.

In the midst of it all, there was Norvin, still on the ground, staring at me with a look of bewilderment on his face.

Then I heard groaning. The soldier I had struck with my dagger was alive, but still lying on the ground. In between gasps of pain, I could see the fear in his eyes — he was laying as still as he possibly could. I walked over and examined him from a short distance away — the dagger was high on his shoulder. He shouldn’t die from the dagger blow, and with time he would make a full recovery.

I could have killed him, maybe even should have — this was a war, and any soldier left behind is a soldier might even take your life later on. But this wasn’t an army bent on world domination, an army slaughtering innocent people in their homes as they invaded a village, or an army that executed a sneak attack on our country, in an attempt to drive us from our home. This was an army serving a country that simply longed to be accepted, and this soldier may not even subscribe to the same beliefs as his superiors — he may simply be like Derrick, a man who takes care of his family through the gold acquired by his occupation.

In the end, we are all same, just looking to survive.

I bent down and yanked the dagger from the soldier’s back. He yelped and groaned loudly in pain, but didn’t make a move to either get away or attack. I walked around and knelt in front of him, dagger still in hand.

‘Your army is routed,’ I informed him. ‘The battle is over… go home.’

In between gasps, he stared up at me with hopeful eyes. ‘Really?’

I thrust my dagger back into my boot. ‘No good soldier kills for fun.’

Even through intense pain, the soldier managed a shaky smile. ‘Thank you.’ He then left the battlefield, crawling at first, then he pulled himself up and managed a stumbling jog.

Derrick, who had apparently been looking for me, was watching. After he watched the soldier stagger to safety, he joined me. ‘You did a good thing there.’

I shrugged. ‘The battle was over… no need for senseless waste of life. Besides, I feel like I owed Commander Hardlow a debt for setting me free.’

Derrick clapped me on the shoulder. ‘You are wise beyond your years, my young friend. You’d better be careful, or else you will be considered a philosopher.’ A look of mock terror followed this comment.

Derrick glanced over at Norvin. ‘What’s wrong with Rat Face?’

I didn’t need to look to see what Norvin was doing. ‘He’s asking himself many questions right now.’