by Bryan Davis
Joseph yanked out the arrow, but this jolt was far less painful.
“Dear Makaidos,” Joseph said with a soft chuckle. “Listen to yourself. Too obedient to God? Might have helped? These are not sins; they are limitations. You cannot see and know all. Don’t condemn yourself for lacking God’s attributes.”
Salome borrowed a headscarf from another woman and blotted the chest wound. Makaidos cringed. Now it hurt! He exhaled, trying to ignore the pain as he stretched his neck toward Joseph and lowered his voice. “You have proven that I still have more to learn. Let me come with you to the islands of the North and protect you until you find a safe place to house the Holy Grail. Then I will come back and bring my family to live wherever you dwell.”
Joseph raised the second arrow, blunted on the tip and less bloody. “Of course you may come, and I welcome your protective shield. Who am I to tell you what to do?”
“My wounds are minor,” Makaidos said, pushing his weight down on his bandaged leg. “I will be ready at dawn.”
Joseph shook his head and laughed. “As old as you are, you still remind me of a young man I encountered in Ephesus Timothy, a disciple of Paul the apostle.”
Makaidos rotated his ears. “How so?”
“Well, he is enthusiastic and wishes to follow his mentor wherever he goes.” Joseph raised a finger. “But he is also learning the same lesson you must learn.”
“What lesson is that?”
“One that I must drive into your brain so you will never forget it.” Joseph spread an arm out toward the sea. “Since we are sailing on a Greek vessel tomorrow, I want you to remember a Greek word. Autarkeia.”
“Autarkeia? What does that mean?”
“It means ‘contentment’.” Joseph stooped, reached into his saddlebag, and withdrew a small wooden goblet. He held it in his palms as if swirling liquid inside. “A vessel that seems destined for common use can transform into a great treasure when touched by the finger of God. Whether dragon or human, we must be content with who we are and be patient as we wait to see what God will make of us.” He laid a gentle hand on the dragon’s long, narrow jaw. “You are not human, Makaidos. Be content with the fact that God made you a dragon for a reason. Rest in God’s will for you, serve him with all your might, and he will transform you into what he wants you to be.”
Makaidos lowered his head and closed his eyes. The word did pierce his brain, painful and deep like one of the arrows, yet there were no scales to blunt its penetration. He sighed and nodded. “Autarkeia. . . . I will remember, Master Joseph.”
“Excellent.” Joseph patted Makaidos’s good leg. “It will be a pleasure having dragons in the northern islands.”
Circa AD 490
Morgan bent forward and stroked the man’s rugged chin, her eyes flaming red. “Are we agreed then?” she asked. “Your perfect allegiance to me in exchange for immortality?”
“Without question, my lady.” The man, sitting straight on a low footstool, picked up a black helmet from his lap and tucked it under his mail-clad arm. “Although the king has outlawed dragon hunting, I trust that you will prepare the way.”
Grasping the hilt of a beautiful sword, she leaned back in her throne-like chair. The dim chamber echoed every squeak of antique wood, the sounds bouncing off an open balcony encircling the airy lower floor. A dank odor of disuse hung in the air, as if neither door nor window had been opened in years.
As Morgan fingered the sword’s hilt, lantern light glimmered on the shiny, etched blade. “I will prepare the way. Makaidos and his followers have had over four hundred years to endear themselves to the people of the North, but the spirits of the Nephilim are guiding another brood of dragons to our shores. Goliath and his company will repulse human hearts with their, shall we say, onerous behavior. In any case, I will personally see to Arthur’s enchantment. The laws against dragon hunting will soon be only a memory.”
The man rose to his feet and set the helmet next to a chessboard at the end of a long table. “And what of Merlin? He is not so easily enchanted.”
“Leave Merlin to me.” She ran her thumb along the edge of the blade and smiled. “There are many ways to skin an old gray fox.”
The man reached for one of the chess pieces, but Morgan slammed the flat of the sword on the table. “Don’t touch that!”
The man jumped back and smoothed out the banner draped over his mail shirt. “Oh! Sorry . . . well . . .” He cleared his throat nervously. “My squire has been of great service to me. Shall I tell him of our plans?”
Morgan pulled the sword back and propped it against the chair’s headrest. “Only that you are ridding the world of the dragon menace. Tell him nothing of our plot to overthrow Arthur until the time comes. He will gladly fill his moneybags and enjoy unnaturally long life while keeping his questions to himself.”
The man bowed. “I am confident of that, my lady, and we both look forward to serving you.”
“Of course you do.” Morgan stood and angled the blade toward the chess pieces. “As long as you play this game well, your rewards will be great.”
The man swallowed hard and backed away. “I will play it well. I do not wish to consider the alternative.”
With a deft stroke, Morgan sliced the chessboard’s black knight vertically in half. “No,” she said, glaring at him. “The alternative is not pleasant . . . not pleasant at all.”
Circa AD 492
Edward shivered. Rarely had it been so cold this early in the season. He shifted his feet, trying to stay as quiet as possible while listening to the generals who surrounded the king, but the freezing rain spattering the fallen leaves sounded like a hundred slabs of sizzling bacon, drowning out the conversation. Walking on tiptoes as he strained to see the king, he wedged his way between two soldiers. They stank badly, but at least they shielded him from the cold, wet breeze.
He tightened his scabbard belt and folded his arms in behind his shield. The lining his mother had sewn into his tunic really felt good now. She had warned of an early winter, claiming that her aching bunions and arthritic elbow agreed with the forecast of the early migrating birds. She was right, as usual. Now if only he could prove himself to the king and move up in the ranks, he could afford to send some money back to her for medicines and a thicker cloak. Ever since Father died, sewing soldiers’ uniforms had been their source of income, and that barely put food on the table.
He elbowed to the front line of soldiers and settled next to a burly man who smelled even worse than the others. But it was worth it. Now he could see the king sitting on a rotting stump in the center of his ring of advisors. With his arms propped on his knees, King Arthur leaned his sword against his shoulder. He spoke loudly enough to be heard over the winter storm. “I know of Goliath’s evil deeds, Sir Devin, but I trust King Makaidos. He did not teach his son to murder and steal.”
Sir Devin nodded with a slight tilt of his head, his pupils barely visible in his narrowed eyes. “Too much trust makes kingdoms fall, Your Majesty.” His words slipped out through clenched teeth, each one tempered by the diplomacy due a knight of his order. “Your faith resides in coats of scales while you snub your nose at your own kind, which could lead to dishonorable, even rebellious, behavior.” He dipped his head again. “Your Worship.”
Edward fumed. How could the king put up with Devin’s sarcasm? Sure, the knight had good reason to hate dragons, but his irreverence deserved a date with the ax man.
Merlin pounded the end of his walking staff on the leaf-strewn ground. “Sire, a man who breathes rumors of treachery had better back his words with more evidence than his own hot air.”
Edward clenched his fist. That’s telling him, Merlin!
Devin swept his arm toward a village on a nearby hill. “Didn’t Goliath’s slaughter of six orphans convince you? Isn’t that enough evidence for us all to hate the very air they breathe?”
“You only hate what you fear,” Merl
in retorted. “If you weren’t such a coward, you would learn that many dragons are trustworthy.”
Devin sneered at him. “It’s easy to feign courage when you hold the dragon’s bane, but you won’t even tell us what it is. Every dragon seems to tremble when you walk near.”
“That will remain my secret, for I am bound by a covenant from Noah himself to protect what he has passed down to me.”
“Merlin,” Devin said with a condescending glare, “having heard you recite your pedigree too many times, we are painfully aware of your prophetic heritage.” He turned to face the king. “My point still stands. The seed of murder had to come from somewhere, and Goliath’s father is the sower.”
“And God himself created Satan and all the demons.” Merlin pointed his staff at Devin. “Where did your seed come from?”
Devin grasped the hilt of his sword. “Listen, old man, you ”
“Enough!” Arthur rose to his feet. “In a time of crisis, what might happen must yield to what is certain to happen. We cannot defeat the barbarian horde without help from the dragons, so there is no real choice in the matter.”
The crowd of soldiers murmured. Edward picked up the words of the closest men. “Fight alongside dragons after so many years? How can we know which ones to trust? And, in any case, who would dare venture a journey near Bald Top to request their aid?”
The king waved a hand toward Devin’s squire. “Palin. I will assign another scribe for the battle. Go and ask Makaidos to come!”
Palin lifted his quill and stared at the king, wide-eyed. “To the dragon’s cave, Sire?” He glanced at Devin, then shifted his gaze back to the king. “I only brought my close combat sword,” he said, patting his scabbard.
Cold sweat dampened Edward’s back. He took one step forward, then hesitated.
The king scowled. “You won’t need a sword, Palin, just ”
Edward cleared his throat and thrust himself into the inner circle. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty.” He stepped up to the king and dropped to one knee. “I will fetch the dragon for you, Sire.” Looking King Arthur in the eye, he tried to keep his voice steady. “He will either come with me or die.”
Arthur smiled and gestured for Edward to rise. “What is your name, young man?”
Edward stood and nodded at the king. “Edward, son of your servant, Edmund.”
“Edmund, the orphan-keeper?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“He told me he named his son Edmund, after himself. Why would you disrespect him by calling yourself by another name?”
Edward nodded again. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I honor my father. I have chosen to take a similar name until I prove myself worthy to carry his.”
“And what would make you worthy? Daring to enter the cave of Makaidos? He is not a danger to you or anyone in my kingdom.”
“No, Your Majesty. I wish to prove myself as a faithful servant to you. A dragon killed my father as he defended the orphanage, so the thought of aligning myself with their kind is abhorrent to me. Yet, I am willing to do your bidding in spite of my hatred of dragons.”
Arthur slid his sword into its scabbard. “Well spoken, young knight, but your father’s murderer was Goliath, not Makaidos.”
Sir Devin patted Edward on the shoulder. “It is said that the sprout never sloughs off its seed, Your Majesty. Edward is brave and honorable, as was his father. Goliath is a murderer, so his father ”
Merlin pushed Devin away with his staff. “You have spilled enough bile, Devin. Let the boy get on with it before we all freeze to death.”
“And before the Saxons return for another attack,” the king added.
The burly man from the circle stepped forward. “I volunteer to accompany him, Sire.” He drew a long sword from his scabbard. “I fear no dragon.”
“Excellent!” the king said. “No one should venture toward Bald Top alone. We will assemble at Chalice Hill as planned and await the dragons.”
Edward frowned. With that huge man at his side, no one would ever give him credit for bringing back Makaidos. Besides, this wide-bodied soldier needed a bath worse than if he had been sprayed by a polecat.
After bowing to the king, Edward turned and stalked away. He could hear the soldier’s heavy footsteps behind him and his deep voice. “Edward, may I suggest the more gradual slope? It makes a wide circuit around the mountain.”
Marching more quickly, Edward held his shield close to his side to keep it from bouncing. “If you’re too old or fat to follow, then take the easy path. I’m going the fastest way.”
“I am not concerned for my sake. Goliath was seen on that slope only yesterday, and if you have never fought a dragon, you’ll need ”
“The faster we get help, the faster we defeat the Saxons.” Edward halted and spun around. “Are you with me, or aren’t you?”
The knight’s thick mustache lifted as he spoke. “I am with you, Edward, to be sure, but you are not showing proper respect to an elder soldier.” He moved his shield to his other arm and peeled back his sleeve, revealing a tattoo on his hairy wrist. “And one of higher rank.” The black ink was bloodstained and crude, but clearly displayed the insignia of a captain.
Edward bowed. “I had no idea. I beg your pardon, Captain, uh . . .”
“Barlow,” he replied, placing a hand on his chest. “Winston Barlow of Hickling Manor.”
“Captain Barlow. I apologize for my rudeness. Your manner of dress didn’t match what I normally see in an officer, nor did your . . . uh . . . your odor.”
“Completely understandable, young man.” Barlow strode forward through the underbrush, scaling the steepening slope with ease as Edward followed. “When I go to battle,” he continued, “I don’t stay back and shout at my men like a prissy schoolmarm. I charge with them on the front lines. As you might expect, that can be a messy business, and we have not had time for baths in almost a month.”
“I see, and again, I beg your forgiveness.” Edward had to hustle to keep up with the huge man who showed no signs of slowing down as he leapt from rock to rock like a big mountain goat. “Captain Barlow, I don’t mean to question your directional skills, but we just missed the path that goes around the summit of Bald Top.”
“You’re the one who wanted to get there quickly.” Barlow grabbed a sapling and hoisted himself up to a ledge, ripping out the tree and its roots in the process. “And the shortest way to the den of Makaidos is straight over the top.”
Edward scrambled up to the ledge, using his shield for leverage, and reached the Captain’s side. “But we would be exposed. If we skirt the top we could ”
Barlow halted and pressed a finger into Edward’s chest. “If you fear Goliath, then go around, and I’ll scale the top. If Goliath accosts me, then all the better for you. At the very least, I will distract him and clear your path to Makaidos.”
Edward clutched the hilt of his sword. “And lose my chance to slay Goliath and gain honor in the king’s eyes? Never!”
“Honor?” Barlow pushed him away. “This isn’t about honor.” He turned and marched up the slope.
Edward ran after him, his cheeks now blazing. What a fool he had been! He sounded like a self-serving mercenary, not a humble knight! Grabbing a fallen branch from the undergrowth, he pushed the end into the ground and hoisted himself up the hill. It was time for more action and fewer words.
When they neared the summit, the forest ended abruptly, revealing a huge, grassy field that served as Bald Top’s treeless dome. Flakes of snow mixed with stinging sleet, and the gusty breeze whipped the icy mix into their faces.
Barlow withdrew his sword. “Dragons can sense danger, so Goliath likely knows we’re in his territory. There is no reason to dawdle.” The hefty knight broke into a trot, his chain mail jingling as his feet pounded the grass.
Edward dropped his stick and slid out his own sword, balancing his body between his w
eapon and shield as he jogged stride for stride behind the captain. His eyes darted all around at the dreary skies, and his boots crunched a thin coat of ice pellets that salted the ankle-high grass. The clamor drowned out any hope of hearing the wings of an approaching dragon.
As the forest on the opposite edge drew nearer, Barlow stopped and raised his sword high. “Back to back!” he shouted.
Edward swung around and pressed his back against Barlow’s. He scanned the blanket of clouds but could find no dragon. “Where is he?”
“Shields up!” Barlow yelled, crouching low. “Now!”
Edward crouched with him, his heart pounding. “I don’t see him!”
“If you don’t raise your shield, you will never use it again!”
Edward thrust his shield up over his face and tucked his body into a ball. Suddenly a wave of fire splashed around the edges of his shield, so hot, it felt like his hair had caught fire.
“Flatten!” Barlow yelled. “The tail is next.”
“Flatten?” Edward repeated. “What do you mean?”
Barlow’s heavy body flattened Edward face down on the slushy grass. Then, the weight suddenly lifted. Edward flipped over. Barlow was flying away, the strap of his shield caught in the spiny tail of a dragon!
“Let go of me!” Barlow shouted. “Or I’ll feed your bones to my dog!”
Edward jumped to his feet, snatching up his sword and shield in one motion. With the dragon’s tail swinging violently, Barlow swung with it, his arm apparently stuck in the shield’s strap. The knight clawed viciously at the dragon’s tail with his free hand as he continued to shout, but the wind garbled his words.
With his sword at the ready, Edward pivoted in place, his gaze locked on Goliath. The dragon swooped low and tried to slap his rider against the ground, but he only managed to dredge a Barlow-sized divot.
As they zipped toward the edge of the hill, Barlow shouted, “Complete the mission! I will take care of this overgrown butterfly!” The dragon glided over the trees and disappeared from sight.
Edward gasped for breath, his heart pounding in his throat. Seeing Barlow’s fallen sword in the slush, he grabbed it and thrust his own sword into its scabbard. Pivoting again as he scanned the skies, he puffed clouds of vapor into the chilly air. What should he do? He couldn’t abandon his captain, nor could he defy his orders. Either choice seemed dishonorable.