Selen saw Louis bite his lips and take a deep breath. “You can do it,” Selen whispered, “you can.” Louis raised his head. His sapphire eyes burned with flames of ice. Louis twitched his legs. His horse piaffed and danced on its spot. Louis’s hair floated around his shoulders, whirling with each move of his mount. Selen had never seen him so sublime. Louis raised his sword in the air. As his horse cantered down the line, he shouted loud with an orotund voice that took Selen aback.
“Soldiers of the Rebellion! Warriors of Trevalden! Shall we bend and creep forever?”
“No!” the soldiers yelled in unison.
“Shall we let them rape our land and behead our children?”
“No!” the men roared louder.
“Have we fallen so low to give up our country to rascals and imbeciles without even a fight? We have no home left. We have lost so much. But have we also lost our dignity?”
“Never!” the clamour thundered.
“There is no king but a tyrant! And we are the people. We create our own future! We are the Rebellion! We are soldiers of light! Burn our hearts, burn it out! This is the last battle! The glory will be yours only! Bathe in their blood! Send this shit back to hell! Are you heroes or are you cowards? Take up the spear of your fallen brother! Avenge the dead! For a new dawn!”
Louis was exalted. His horse progressed up and down the line, and turned the sand into clouds of dust. The soldiers roared like a growing thunder. They shook their spears and banged their swords against their shields. Selen raised his sword and shouted with them. Louis’s horse reached the middle of the line again. He jerked it around, the long white tail flowing in the air.
“No prisoners! No surrender! No retreat! For the people of Trevalden!”
Louis’s horse reared and plunged forward. Selen spurred his mount at a hard gallop. The whole line followed its commander. The orcs ran towards them from the other side. The creatures halted and formed a wall. Selen heard the whizzing of arrows passing over their heads. Orcs fell. On the sides, the lords led their riders in a curve, aiming at the enemy’s flanks. His mount’s breathing was harsh and husky. The pounding of the several thousand hooves on the ground was deafening. Metal chinked, men shouted, and horses whinnied. Selen was panting. His heart palpitated. He focused on the kill. There could be no place for fear. The orcs shot their first range of arrows. As they drew nearer, their horses increased their pace.
Only a few yards left. The riders lowered their lances, as did the orcs. Selen raised his spear high and aimed for the orc in front of Louis. The stick pierced through the orc’s chest. The creature fell, creating an aperture. Selen spun his mount behind his friend’s mount. Louis’s horse rammed into the mass of orcs. Some were trampled under the hooves. Others had their bodies smashed into pulp against the metallic peytral. Louis lowered his sword, mowing down the creatures. Black slime squirted out of severed necks and splashed on Selen’s face. His whetted sword hewed all that stood in the way. Selen pressed his heels against his horse’s flanks to hold the distance with his companion. Their cavalry spread like bloody streaks into the orcs’ battalions. The mounts could not be stopped. They crushed and slew the foes. Concentrating on his moves, Selen lost all notion of space. He had no idea where the rest of their battalion was or if soldiers followed. He fought for survival.
A dark shape covered the sun for an instant. Selen looked up. “The dragon!” he shouted. The beast let out a tremendous roar. Louis raised his head and pulled brusquely on the reins at the last second to avoid the giant orc in front of him. Cut in his run, Louis’s horse sidestepped, stumbled, and crashed on its side, throwing man and beast to the ground. Selen jumped from his mount onto the orc. His sword cleft the beast’s throat. He rushed to Louis, who disentangled himself from the reins and rose laboriously. Placing himself between his friend and the sea of foes, Selen sliced through the first orcs approaching.
“Where is it?” Louis yelled.
In the distance, the dragon plunged into the melee, attacking indistinctly all that his jaws could reach. Yet, there was no fire.
“He can’t spit flames!” Selen shouted. With the flat of his sword, he blocked a blow coming from the right, rotated the blade, and chopped off a hand.
“We need to reach it!”
Selen glanced around. The dragon was far, and mayhem lay between. Selen saw the banner of Bertrant in the east, circled by the foe and with few men around him. The Rebellion had progressed so erratically through the enemy lines that it was widely scattered. Wounded horses and men thrown off the saddles, screamed of pain. Yet, the orcs drew back.
“No. It must come to us!” Selen shouted, dodging a blow. He ran his sword through a chest. The dragon took to the air again. “Call the men to reform the ranks!”
“No one can hear me from here!” Louis shouted. His friend pulled his sword out of a skull. “Let alone see me!”
Selen looked around and glimpsed a prominence that was not covered with orcs. “Up there!” More orcs came towards them. They placed themselves back to back and progressed slowly towards the hill, chopping and cutting the enemies with powerful counterstrikes. United as one, they fought with ardour. Swords clashed. Maimed orcs fell. Cold and sticky blood squirted onto their faces. The orcs were legion, but Selen and Louis were skilled. Finally, they reached the middle of the hill.
“I will call the men!” Louis shouted, searching for the nearest group of soldiers.
They heard a strident shriek. The dragon was flying towards them, its giant, golden wings flapping slowly. Its devilish, vermilion eyes looked right at them. The jaws opened, revealing rows of soiled fangs. It came down on them. “It can’t spit fire,” Selen muttered, terrified.
“No, but it can bite!” Louis shouted, pushing him to the ground.
He heard the sharp teeth snap. The long, amber body passed over them. The dragon landed on the top of the hill. It turned around. Its razor-sharp claws crumbled the stone under them. The beast stretched its long, muscular neck in the air and uttered a cavernous rattle.
“I must face it, Selen,” Louis said, resolute.
“No! It’s suicide. Please,” Selen implored. He held to him and looked at his love with appealing eyes.
Louis grabbed Selen’s neck. “I am the only one who can kill it. It is our fate. We live—or we die,” Louis said with fatality in his voice. “I love you. Goodbye.” Louis escaped his grip and ran up the hill.
The pain in Selen’s chest went out in a mad scream. Selen turned to face the orcs again. The filthy creatures climbed the slope. “We live or die,” he whispered. “Go face the dragon. I will be the shield to your back.” Selen stretched his arms, sword in hand, like a wall against the sea. He took a last breath. “To the end.” He extended his sword forward. The first wave was on him.
He slashed, sliced, and hacked with frenzy. His hair swirled around him, following every move. For each fallen enemy, gushes of blood ran down the hill. Bodies piled up at his feet. He kicked them down. At least, these improvised logs slowed down the progression of their followers. Selen’s legs were sore, and he could not feel his arms anymore. Still, he held. With each sensation of despair rose a spark of anger. He would not give up. His rage against the orcs was nothing compared to his rage to live. What kept him alive was not the cause, but to know he fought for the one he loved.
The flow of enemies became scarcer. The orcs had favored the melee. He gazed downhill, searching for his next opponent, when pain rose from his right leg. Selen lowered his gaze. A black arrow was stuck in his outer thigh. Though he tried to stay up, his exhausted legs gave in under him. He fell on his back on the green grass. This time, no anger blocked his sorrow. His strength left him. He turned his face slowly towards the top of the hill. A curl of hair slid down his cheek. Louis was still alive. Yet, the dragon was unharmed and had the advantage. Selen thought he saw a faint white light come from where his friend stood, but blades of grass stood in the way. Tears pearled in the corner of his eyes. Selen felt a presen
ce towering over him. He turned his head slightly. A muddy sabaton compressed his chest. A stout orc stood over him, holding a serrated blade. Selen’s hand searched for his sword on the grass in vain. With his last strength, he tried to move and grabbed the creature’s ankle. The foot pinned him harder to the ground. I’m sorry, Selen thought. The orc grinned and raised its blade.
A sword ran through the orc’s flank. Another blow fell on the creature, and a fountain of blood spurted where the head had been.
“Get up!” Lissandro shouted, shoving the heavy body of the creature out of the way.
“I can’t, it hurts,” Selen answered, rising laboriously on his elbows. Lissandro slapped him hard in the face.
“It’s only an arrow on the wrong side of the leg!” Lissandro twirled the shaft of the arrow. Selen shrieked. His fingers dug into the ground. “And it’s loose!” His friend unsheathed his dagger and pushed it into the wound to remove the head of the arrow. Selen howled with agonizing pain. Blood jetted as Lissandro pulled the whole arrow out of the open flesh. “See? Now, get up!” he shouted, dragging Selen up by the arm.
Holding on his friend’s shoulder, Selen turned towards the top of the hill.
“The beast is going to eat him,” Lissandro whispered in horror.
“No.” Selen felt his wrath come back. “Give me a spear.”
CHAPTER 56
Louis was scared, but he would not show it. He walked towards the dragon, sword in hand, forcing himself to ignore Selen’s heartbreaking scream. The dragon had been his call from the start. It had haunted him, provoked him. This fight was more than saving the land. The beast turned its ruby eyes towards him and frowned. It crawled and flapped its vast bat-wings with slow movements. A low hum came from its throat. Like a predator, it waited, gazing at its prey. Louis stopped and stared at it with repulsion.
“Do you believe you can kill me?” he heard a low, guttural voice say in defiance. The dragon had not moved its jaws, but Louis had no doubt on the origin of the voice.
“I will kill you and put an end to all this,” Louis said.
“You think so?” The dragon’s tail snapped into the air and spun towards him. Louis threw himself flat on the ground. The tail passed only a few inches above him. Though supple, he knew he was not as trained and nimble as Selen. He would have to engage and stay near. As he rose, the dragon stretched its head to grab him. Louis sidestepped and moved under the neck. He delivered a blow to the throat, but the blade bounced on the scales. Astounded, he stepped back and hit a paw. Raising his head, he realized that the beast’s front paws were twice his height.
“You are no match for me. You never have been,” the voice said with scorn. “I can see in the innermost of your soul, crystal clear.”
“I am deaf to your provocations. God brought me here to defeat you,” Louis answered, challenging the dragon.
“Do you hear yourself?” the beast chuckled. “Pretentious fool! I rule the Earth. I am invincible.”
Anger grew inside Louis. He aimed for the paw again, but the blade did not even leave a scratch. The dragon walked around him, encircling him.
“See? You can’t pierce my skin. You are powerless. Your words and your sword are useless.” The voice ringing in his head laughed.
Louis tried to pierce the dragon’s flesh. Despite the strength of each blow, the point of his sword would not break the skin.
“This world will be consumed to ashes. This country will drown in its own blood as yours did. And why should you care? Look at these men, pitiful cowards wallowing in depravity. Imbeciles and rascals. Those were your words, right?”
“You’re twisting the truth,” Louis muttered, confused.
“Am I? Look at them, for once! Look how they really are! They let you down once. Would you fight for them again? You despise them more than I do. I actually like them. I encourage their vices. And these are deeply rooted in their souls,” the voice whispered. “And by the way, they dislike you. You are not one of them, and you will never be. Your name will forever be soiled with blood. The only thing they will remember about you is the insufferable conceit of a pretty face.”
“Liar!” Louis hit the scales once more in infuriation. The dragon’s words had upset his heart. Something within him was amiss. He could not have lived in vain. “You are nothing more than lies and delusion! There is always hope for justice and virtue. Innocence will prevail!” he shouted, but his voice was weak.
“Is it doubt I hear? You can’t escape your own nature. The fairy tales in your head you force yourself to believe in will be submerged. Your will will be crushed, and you will learn how to serve me. Remember the faces of your enemies.”
As the dragon uttered these words, Louis’s mind blurred, and he saw them, the hundreds of hatchlings, but their faces were human again. Some stood out. Traitors’ faces. He saw one that should not have been there. Rising proud like the Hydra’s head, it smiled at him with a rictus. Louis clenched his sword and twisted his features with ire. It can’t be. I killed you.
“Yes. Unleash your hate once more. Because it is all you are. God is dead, and heaven rejected you. You should have accepted your place in hell,” the cavernous voice carried on. The dragon kept on crawling around. “This is where you belong.”
Louis raged. No, I don’t, he thought. He rushed to the other side of the beast and ran up the bent rear paw. He turned around and jumped on the left wing, sword forward. The blade passed through the membrane. As he fell, he ripped it like a piece of cloth. The dragon’s tail hit him hard and projected him to the ground. Blood ran down Louis’s face. He tried to rise but lost balance. As he bent to pick up his sword, drops of blood fell from his head onto the blade. The stained spots briefly shone like crystal. The dragon reached him with his paw and blocked him down between two claws.
“You are a failure, for both sides,” it drawled, “and I will feed on your flesh.”
Its muzzle drew closer. Louis could feel the hot breath on his face. He wiped his forehead with the palm of his hand and applied it on the scales of one of the dragon’s fingers. In a second, the beast drew its paw back as if it burned. Louis crawled back and took up his sword. He removed his gauntlet. “We live or die.”
The dragon realized what Louis was doing. It was preparing itself to jump when a spear hit it in its eye. The dragon roared and looked for the foe. Louis cut through the flesh of his arm with his sword, bathing the blade in his blood. Before the dragon turned its head towards him again, he ran and climbed on one of the bent front paws. Louis’s sword pierced the skin at the top of the neck and buried itself deep. Louis held to the hilt and let himself fall. The blade severed the throat from top to bottom. Buckets of blood showered him. The voice in his head turned into an agonizing shrill. The dragon collapsed in a heap of limbs and wings, dead, its neck half sliced. Louis raised his sword and chopped the other half in frantic slashes. He moved towards the head.
“I am not a failure!” he shouted to the blank eye before running his sword through it.
“Louis!”
He turned around. Selen hurried towards him, limping on his right leg. Blood ran down his thigh. Lissandro followed close on his heels.
“Selen!” He hugged his friend as tightly as his strength allowed it.
“Never dare to say goodbye again,” Selen whispered with anger as he clenched him. “Now, show them.”
Louis climbed on top of the dragon’s head and raised his sword high. A loud clamour rose from downhill. He gazed at his soldiers hailing him from the battlefield and smiled.
“Victory is ours!” he shouted. The Rebellion had won the battle. Louis had learned that dragons could be defeated. “There will be a new dawn,” he whispered.
While he got down the beast’s head, his vision blurred. Louis saw his friends run towards him before he collapsed against the massive jaws and lost consciousness.
Louis woke up in bed. He had been washed, and a bandage covered his left arm.
“How do you feel?” S
elen asked him, anxious. His friend came to him, still limping, and sat on the side of the bed. His sweet eyes were swollen.
“I think I’m fine. Why do you look so sad?” Louis inquired.
“Come.” Selen helped him get up. The infirmary was crowded. The beds were filled with wounded men, and male nurses hurried through the rows. The whimpers and screams were incessant. Holding each other, they walked laboriously to another aisle of the pavilion. Soldiers standing up crowded around a bed. Among the group stood his friends Lissandro and Folc. Louis felt deeply relieved to see that they were alive. When the group saw him, the soldiers stepped back and made a way to the bed. Louis’s face fell.
Bertrant lay on bloodstained sheets. His eyes were half open. His armour had not even been removed. Louis understood at once. Sadness swept over him.
“He has lost a lot of blood,” Pembroke said.
Louis sat next to the commander. When he saw him, Bertrant chuckled. Trickles of blood ran down his chin. Bertrant grabbed Louis’s wounded arm.
“A scratch,” the commander muttered with provocation.
Even on the brink of death, the man kept his biting. Louis admired him. He half smiled and grasped the commander’s wrist. He felt a tear roll down his cheek.
“You fought bravely,” Bertrant muttered. “You may be a bloody pain in the ass, but you are a true leader.”
“It was an honour to fight by your side in the Rebellion, my lord,” Louis said. “The bards will sing your name for many years to come.”
“The army is yours now,” Bertrant sighed. “Win this war for me.”
With a heavy heart, Louis watched his commander fade away. He did not hold back his tears. Around him spread a grieving silence. The battle had been long. Louis hoped that, from the stars, Bertrant would see the light they would spread over Trevalden. Agroln’s darkness was soon over.
Rising from Dust (Light from Aphelion Book 1) Page 35