Sheillene: Choosing Fate

by Wil Ogden

THE HONOR OF A KNIGHT

  Gazing to the huge cave at the far end of the valley, Reginald breathed deep, letting the smell of wet fallen leaves calm him. Behind him, his last eight loyal knights waited for the command to charge.

  Two years earlier, Reginald had been King. Even after his brother took his throne he’d had hundreds of knights at his command. Most had just lost their faith in his quest to regain his kingdom. A few dozen had died on fool's errands such as they were about to attempt. With the help of his knights, he'd killed sixty trolls, a dozen ogres and three dragons. That day he had no doubt that he would kill a fourth but, the price would be high. Each of the dragons he'd slain had taken some of his knights with it.

  Such was the price of chivalry. Knights died in the name of honor and duty. He wondered which of his most loyal followers he would lose that day. He wanted to leave the dragon and continue his journey to take back what was taken from him. The dragon might kill another cow, depriving another farmer of his milk, of his livelihood. A knight or two's lives were not really worth the price of a cow, were they?

  But he wasn’t fighting for a cow; he was fighting for the support of the people. He would have to lead his knights to probable death for one thing: honor. Was honor worth it?

  “Sir Jessup,” Reginald called to his eldest knight, the only person he took advice from.

  Jessup trotted his horse to stand alongside Reginald’s. “Yes, my liege?”

  “Is risking the lives of my knights worth the honor?”

  “We are your knights because we believe your honor is something worth risking our lives for,” Jessup said. “That’s part of what it means to be a knight.”

  “It’s just a few cows, maybe a dozen, over the course of a year,” Reginald said. “I could repay any farmer that lost a cow.”

  “We’re not fighting for cows. We’re not even fighting for the dozen farmers who might lose a cow,’ Jessup said. “We’re fighting for the whole nation. We’re giving them the hero they need. We’re showing them that you should be their king.”

  “It’s a dragon’s life,” Reginald said. “I know they are just animals, very big fire-breathing animals, but killing one needlessly doesn’t seem very honorable to me. Worse is that I’m sure one of us will die. I haven’t fought a dragon yet without losing one of my best knights.”

  “Dragons are wild,” Jessup said. “You and I both know it’s unlikely that the dragon will ever kill anything more than a few cattle. But the people don’t. Dragons scare them. We need to save them from that fear. We need to show them that you are the man who will fight their fears and keep them safe.”

  “Thanks Jessup,” Reginald said. “I don’t like unnecessary killing. But, protecting the people of the kingdom, even if only protecting them from fear, is the duty of every knight, even me.”

  “Who are you going send in at the point?” Jessup asked.

  Two of the last three knights to take point against a dragon had died in its jaws. Looking back at his knights he knew any one of them would take the position at his order.

  "Makketh, Jessup," Reginald barked, "You two take left. Everyone else take right. Remember the scales beneath the wing are the thinnest." Reginald moved his horse to the point. He flipped the visor down on his helm. No one would die for his honor that day.

  Jessup lined up a few paces to his left. “My lord, don’t confuse valor with honor.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” Reginald said.

  He tightened the strapping on his shield and lifted his lance high into the air. The banner trailing behind the point still bore the crown arms. He spurred his horse into a trot and his knights followed.

  He hoped the thunder of hooves across the valley floor would rouse the dragon. The horses would not be useful in the cave and the lance would lose its effectiveness without the power of warhorse behind it.

  The roar from within the cave caused Jessup's horse to falter. But they were too close to change the flanks now. He lowered the tip of his lance to charge position.

  The beast that emerged from the cave was twice as large as any other dragon Reginald had seen. Rust brown scaled wings stretched to four heights of a man in each direction. The head of the dragon was as large as Reginald's horse. Two more of his knights’ mounts lost their nerve and turned away from the charge.

  Reginald's lance slammed into the dragon's chest and splintered without penetrating the thick white scales of the dragon's underbelly. The force of the impact threw Reginald off the back of his horse. He landed hard on his back. As planned the dragon seemed to ignore the other knights, but none of their lances had found a way through the beast's hide either. The dragon snapped at Reginald, but he rolled to the side onto his knees. Hearing the dreaded inhale, Reginald managed to spin around to bring his shield up. The flames spewed from the beast’s mouth and flowed around Reginald’s shield. He felt the heat building up on his greaves but could do nothing but hold until the flames stopped. When they finally did, Reginald didn't have a chance to move away. The dragon bit down on Reginald's shield, the softened metal bent onto his arm.

  The dragon lifted Reginald into the air.

  "Milord!” Reginald heard Jessup's voice and felt a sword grip in his free hand. He gripped tightly and swung. The blade bounced harmlessly off the dragon's snout. Reginald felt a bone in his forearm snap where the dragon bit into the shield, into his arm. He looked the dragon in the eye. He could only see one. In that one red eye, he saw fury. In that one eye he saw his reflection dangling from the dragon's jaw. In that eye, he saw his opportunity.

  With all of his remaining strength, he pulled his body around and struck, thrusting his sword to the hilt into the dragon's eye.

  Suddenly he was falling. The ground hit harder this time. Several pieces of his armor, having their straps weakened by the fire, fell off. He saw the head of the dragon rushing down towards him but he couldn't find the strength to roll away fast enough. At least a couple of his ribs cracked from the impact, but he saw that the dragon was dead. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. The pain from the cracked ribs and weight of the dragon kept the breath from being as relaxing as he'd hoped.

  With his eyes still closed he exhaled shallowly and evenly. His knights would get him out eventually and then they'd take him to a healer, somewhere. The cows were safe, his knights were all still alive and his honor was assured.

  I have a whole novel about this character, but it’s not quite finished. Maybe I’ll get that one done this year…I also have a novel started on the origins of Sir Jessup, which also may happen, but not this year. What I particularly like about this story is how they respect the dragon’s life but go ahead and kill it for what they consider to be valid reasons. I’m not sure I’d arrive at the same decision, but I suspect I will never be put in the same situation.

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