As he drew nearer, the sound of hooves and the clink and jingle of armor confirmed his fears. Soldiers. More than a dozen of them. Before long, they were in sight. Halfax could determine their intentions with little more than a glance. Each was armed with heavy, cruel weapons. Oversized axes, spiked clubs, two-handed swords, and longbows. Things capable of piercing armor . . . or scales. They were dragonslayers, or hoped to be. The undeniable looks of anxiety on their faces suggested they had little experience in the area, and no confidence. Only the man in the center of the group stood as an exception. In place of anxiety was a look of determination. He alone was armed with a light sword, and the higher quality of his ornate armor labeled him as their superior, in title if not in skill.
The horses, more mindful of hidden threats than their riders, became uneasy. Most of the men were able to quickly set their steeds straight again. The well-dressed leader had more difficulty. When he finally succeeded, he felt the gaze of his men. It was the prince, and alone among his men for the first time in ages, it was only now becoming clear to him the contempt they felt. Drawing himself with as much regal bearing as he could muster, he spoke.
“Right, Commander,” he said, “the horses seem restless. How much further until we reach the tower?”
Halfax's expression sharpened.
“Not long. Within the hour, Your Highness,” replied the soldier.
He hissed the prince's title like a profanity, a subtlety the noble failed to notice.
“Good, excellent. And we are all prepared to put this woman and her pet to a swift and certain end?” he asked.
“Yes, Your Highness. As prepared as any men can be.”
That was all that Halfax needed to hear. If they were planning to attack Jade, then they would go no further. The dragon readied himself. He'd dealt with dragonslayers before. Perhaps they claimed to do what they did for the good of their country or for the vast rewards, but there was always a deeper desire: glory. These men wanted a reputation. They wanted to prove to themselves that they were strong enough to stand against this mighty beast. The way to deal with them was not to kill them. That would only bring more men to replace them, better armed and more determined. No, one must fulfill their expectations. Give them what they wanted. Terrify them, clash with them. Give them scars to show off and stories to tell around the campfire. Give them a fight they would never forget, and one that they would never want to repeat.
With a slow, purposeful step, Halfax snapped a branch on the ground. The men turned toward the sound in perfect unison. He plodded slowly toward them, crushing brush and stomping the earth. Were he trying to kill these men, he would never be so clumsy in his approach, but in the mind of a man, a dragon was a mindless monster thrashing through the forest. It was best not to disappoint. His approach ratcheted the tension tighter than the bow strings that the archers shakily held ready. He let out a low growl that shook the trees and seemed to come from everywhere at once.
At the sound, the horses panicked, forcing the soldiers to struggle to keep them under control. Some had more success than others. The well-dressed and poorly-equipped prince failed completely, his horse breaking formation and galloping madly away amid his angry protests. Halfax chose that moment to reveal himself, broken wings spread and thrashing, teeth bared and gleaming, and a bloodcurdling roar splitting the air. The bowmen released their arrows, not a single one even close to hitting its target. The sight of the charging monster was too much for half of the men, sending them galloping back from whence they came. The more steadfast of the men abandoned their horses and raised their weapons, ready to do battle.
The battle that followed was as well-choreographed as a dance. Halfax darted in and lashed with claw and tail, separating the warriors into manageable groups. Most of the archers were gone, but those who remained each got a skillfully aimed burst of flame, just strong enough to snap the bowstring and singe some skin. That left only the heavy weapons, which were little threat at all. The well-earned reputation of invincibility that dragons enjoyed was thanks in no small part to the fact that most weapons powerful enough to do any damage were far too slow to be any good. By the time a suitably large ax was raised and ready, Halfax had easily put the wielder on his back with a firm butt of his head or a careful rake of his claws. The broadswords were a bit faster, but exhausting to use. One or two soldiers hacked a shallow notch into his scales--one even drew blood--but by the third swing, no man among them had the strength to manage anything more than a glancing blow.
In no time at all, each of the men had taken more than he could stand. One by one, they retreated. The final warrior to go was the commander. He was tired and bloodied, but he refused to back away until his sword, a weapon even more battle-scarred than he, broke upon the dragon's back. Finally, he'd had enough. He moved as quickly as his tired body could manage in the direction the others had gone, hand still clutching the broken sword. Halfax gave chase for a few steps, and heaved a blast of flame for good measure. As quickly as it had begun, it was over.
The beast allowed himself a brief moment of pride, but it flickered away as the sound of frantic hoofbeats began to approach again. From among the trees came the prince. He had managed to get some degree of control over his steed again and was urging it back into the battleground. Halfax planted his feet, drew in a breath, and unleashed a rush of flame. He'd intended it to startle the horse beyond any hope of regaining control and he was, if anything, too successful. The terrified animal thrashed about, turning abruptly enough to hurl the prince from its back. In a hapless tumble of flailing limbs and gleaming armor, he careened toward a tree. A dull thud and a rush of pained breath marked his impact. He fairly wrapped around the trunk before recoiling and tumbling to the ground. Halfax continued on his way, leaving the man wheezing and attempting to reclaim the wind that had been knocked from him.
“You . . . you come back here!” he managed, crawling after the dragon, “Damn you, beast! Face me!”
The would-be king struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on the tree.
“You are a . . . blight on my people! We have been deprived of a valuable hunting ground, a lifeline, by . . . you and your dark sorceress of a master! I swear to all that will hear me that I shall reclaim it for my people. Even if I have to strike you down myself! Even if I have to strike her down mys--”
He never managed to finish the oath. A sweeping swat of a claw sent him first to the tree, then to the ground. Halfax stood over the now-motionless noble, feeling for a moment as though what had just happened had nothing to do with him. The suggestion that this man would harm Jade robbed him of centuries of carefully cultivated control, allowing a flash of raw anger to take hold for an instant. The result was the crumbled, broken wreck of a human being before him.
The dragon scolded himself. Killing a prince . . . they would have to leave now. Killing a prince would bring the wrath of a kingdom. He plodded slowly away, but as he did, a nagging sensation that he couldn't place began to make its voice heard. It reminded him of the sense he had used to find Jade all of those years ago. It wasn't something of the body; it was something of the mind, of the spirit. A weak, subtle glow just beyond the point of vision. An aura that only people like Jade shared . . . people who were of a Chosen line . . .
Halfax turned and rushed back to the fallen prince. It was unmistakable now, glaringly obvious. The aura was not a match for Jade's, but it had the same quality, the same power. This man was of a Chosen bloodline, and a familiar one. It was the one his brother had been tasked with protecting . . . and now he had severed that line . . .
Prince Lumineblade coughed weakly. The dragon leaned low over the injured noble. The fall from the horse and the one savage attack had not quite been enough to kill him, but death was near. There was too much blood too quickly. He would not survive the night without treatment. He might not survive the hour. There was no other choice, and no time to lose. Halfax scooped up the ailing prince and ran with all of the speed he could muster toward the
tower.
Outside the tower, under the warm sun of its perpetual spring, Jade was tending to her garden when she heard the thundering return of her friend.
“Hal,” she began without looking, “what was all of that noise? I thought I heard--what happened to you!?”
She ran to the winded dragon. The handful of places where swords had met their mark oozed blood. None of the wounds were serious, a fact that mattered little to Jade, who was so distracted by the injuries, it took her a moment to notice the cargo Halfax carried.
“Did this man do this to you?” she hissed.
“He and his men. You must help him.”
“Why should I? Did you do anything to deserve those gashes you've got?”
“I defended myself--and you.”
“Then he got what he deserved. Drop him somewhere and let me look at those wounds.”
“You must help him. He is from a Chosen bloodline.”
“A Chosen blood . . . like me? Is he a member of my family?” she asked, a gleam of hope in her eye.
“No. He smells like those my brother Windsor was protecting.”
“Windsor . . .” Jade said, thinking back to the stories of her youth. “Windsor was protecting the Lumineblades. So this is royalty . . .”
She looked over the ailing human. His wounds were many, and more than one of them would take his life if given the time. Her eyes then turned to the dragon. After the events with Damona, Jade had become very protective of Halfax, and slow to trust others. Her mind told her this was another enemy, come to hurt her and her dear friend. Her heart, though, demanded she do what she could to help. And besides, this was almost certainly a noble. If he didn't come back, there would be more to find him.
“Fine. Put him inside. I'll fix him up and send him on his way,” she said finally.
The dragon clutched the young man in the claws of one paw and reached through the doorway, placing him gently on the floor. Immediately, she set to work. Ointments and salves were applied. Clothes were removed to better access the injuries. Wide gashes were stitched, small ones bandaged. It took some time, even with her practiced hand. By the time she'd taken care of the urgent wounds, Halfax had seared his own injuries shut, leaving the injured noble as her only concern. Worse, the man seemed to have developed a fever, and had lost considerably more blood than she'd thought.
Hours passed. Jade placed a wet cloth on his head, cleaned away dried blood, and did all of the other things healers do when it is out of their hands.
As she did, she looked over him. Surely this was not the face of a man who would hunt a dragon for sport. His face, even at rest, had a look of intelligence, and a grace that betrayed a dash of elf in his ancestry. That made sense. If he was a part of the Lumineblade dynasty then, according to Halfax, Desmeres Lumineblade and Trigorah Teloran were at the root of his family tree. Each was an elf, at least in part.
Whatever its heritage, it was a handsome face. As she admired her visitor, he began to stir. She stood and began to prepare for when he would wake.
Chapter 9
Before long, the prince opened his eyes. He did not recognize his surroundings. Beneath him was a simple cot. A cluttered cottage surrounded him, the smell of simmering food heavy in the air. Outside the window, the golden rays of the setting sun fell upon an apple tree ready for harvest, yet beyond that were snow-covered pines. At the sound of footsteps, he turned to a woman, radiant in her beauty, holding a steaming bowl of broth.
“Speak,” the girl demanded.
“I have died. This is paradise,” he murmured.
“Not quite, I'm afraid. Though it wasn't for lack of trying,” Jade said, handing him the bowl. “Drink."
The prince accepted the bowl and put it to his lips, the warm, delicious meal trickling down his throat. The fog of sleep cleared, and the memories of his last moments of consciousness returned.
“I remember now. I fought a dragon . . .” he said.
“Yes. You did,” Jade said bitterly.
“Where are my men?” he asked.
“I wouldn't know.”
He glanced down.
“Where are my clothes?” he asked, suddenly realizing the state he was in.
“In a bloody pile on the ground,” she said, gesturing in their direction, “just like you were a few hours ago.”
“You undressed me!?” he exclaimed, somewhere between shocked and mortified.
“It was that or let you bleed to death,” she replied simply.
He lifted the blanket and quickly lowered it again.
“You completely undressed me!?”
“There was a nasty puncture on your thigh. I'm a healer. You haven't got anything I haven't seen before.”
“M-my dear girl, I am a very--you shouldn't--”
“You're blushing,” she said with a grin.
When she'd first learned of what he'd done to Halfax, Jade had been furious at this man. When she saw what state he was in, sympathy overcame her, then concern. Now that he was through the woods, she'd prepared herself for anger again, but something about his flustered stammering was almost endearing.
“Do you know who I am, miss?” he finally managed.
“Roughly. One of the Lumineblades, right? A lord or some such.”
“I am a pr--the prince, miss. Soon to be king!”
“I see,” she said, unimpressed.
Halfax had taught Jade much, and the many books had taught her more, but nothing had taught her the finer points of social grace. To her, the prince was just another patient, and an uncooperative one at that. When he tried to rise, blanket wrapped tight about him, she firmly pushed him back to the cot.
“Lay down. You aren't getting up until I am satisfied you have recovered enough. Eat your soup and I will look you over.”
She placed a hand on his head, and one by one began to investigate the wounds she'd had to treat. He drank desperately of the contents of the bowl, partially because he was famished, but mostly because he hoped to finish quickly enough to prevent her from asking to peek under the . . .
“That will be quite unnecessary!” he sputtered as she reached for the blanket, “You've done more than enough, miss.”
“You need to stop calling me miss,” she replied, fetching a strong-smelling paste and leaning close to apply it to a cut on his head. “What is your name?”
“I am Prince Terrilius Croyden Lumineblade III.”
“Well, Terry, I--”
“Terrilius! Err, Prince Ter--no, Prince Lumin . . .” he stammered, pausing to gently push her away and gather himself before continuing. “The proper style of address for someone in my position is 'Your Highness.'"
“Your position right now is convalescing in a bed in my home. Naked. I'd say that hardly calls for courtly formalities. Now, my name is Jade Rinton. You can call me Jade.”
“I . . . yes, well, I suppose that, under the circumstances, a more casual language is allowable. This is, after all, your home. And, er, what do you call this place?” he asked, glancing again to the paradoxically fruitful tree.
“I just call it home. Or the tower.” She shrugged, ladling out another bowl of broth.
“The tower. This is Ravenwood Tower. The Wizard's tower?”
“It is.”
“Please, miss . . . Jade . . . Miss Jade! Fetch me my clothes, fetch me my weapons! We are both in grave danger--” he urged.
“Now, now, now. Either you lay back down or I'll have to put you to sleep,” she warned, thrusting the bowl into his hands.
“Please. I came here to kill a terrible sorceress and her dragon. I've already defeated the beast, now--”
“That is just a lie.”
“I assure you. There was a dragon, and I--”
“Oh, there was a dragon. You didn't kill him.”
“I succumbed to my wounds, but the dragon must have done so as well, or surely I would not be here speaking to you. It would have killed me.”
“Hal!”
“There is a
man about? Excellent. He can help me get you to . . .”
The thundering of the dragon's approach silenced the prince. When Halfax emerged from the trees, the injured man leaped from the bed, hurled the soup messily to the floor, and threw himself in front of Jade.
“Go! Take shelter. I'll hold him as long as I can!” He proclaimed.
Halfax leaned low, looking through the doorway and focusing on the prince. The man's eyes flicked about the room until he spotted a knife on the table. He snatched the weapon and held it ready. The moment his fingers touched the blade, Halfax drew his lips back and rumbled a savage growl.
“Go!” Lumineblade cried, standing firm.
Man and beast were locked in each other's gaze. Slowly, Jade walked between them clutching a large, worn robe.
“Cover yourself, Terry,” she said with a smirk. “And, Halfax, step out of the doorway, please. You seem to make Terry nervous.”
With a final, vicious glare, he stepped aside. His shadow still hung threateningly across the walkway. Terrilius shakily donned the robe, awkwardly doing so without setting down the knife.
“The beast obeys you,” he said in a hushed tone.
“I wouldn't call him obedient, but he's obliging if I'm reasonable. That is the dragon you attacked, right?”
“You . . . You're the sorceress. This is your tower.”
“Sorceress? I've cast a spell or two, but . . .”
Before she could finish her thought the prince had bolted for the door, hobbling with remarkable speed out of the cottage and into the icy forest. Jade paced outside and crossed her arms, leaning against Halfax as she watched the injured man disappear into the woods.
“What a strange fellow. Brave, though. Standing up to you when he thought you might hurt me. Very brave.”
The Book of Deacon Anthology Page 140