Polo Shawcross: Dragon Soldier

by Lee Abrey

  Sock-puppet, repeated Cree, laughing. I noted he was again laughing at me, or perhaps doing it again and more. I tried not to think about anything, so as to starve him of amusement and predictably, passed out.

  First the Lady of Starshore headed southeast for home.

  ****

  Chapter 14 - The Duke of Starshore Regrets

  It was evening when I woke, throwing up again, though fortunately I made it to the bucket. That led into a hangover so bad it was twelve hours before I could even keep water down. I couldn’t stomach willow either, but sucked on little chunks of our small store of ice and groaned a lot. Well into that period I remembered hitting my head, only because I touched the sizeable lump. That threw everyone into a panic in case I was concussed, and we put in to the nearest doctor. He said I wasn’t concussed, gave me a small bottle of mindweed tincture and told me to go sleep it off. So I tried that and went to sleep for most of the day.

  I woke feeling physically better, to a depression so intense it was like being sliced open. Galaia preserve me, what had I done? I’d thrown away my beautiful life. I felt like I was choking, drowning on the appalling realisation that I really had joined the army. Of all the stupid things. I was an idiot who did not deserve his good fortune or appreciate how blessed he was. The pain felt physical and no amount of mindweed helped. I agonised over the moment when I signed.

  What was I thinking? I simply couldn’t believe what I’d done. I never wanted to be like my alcoholic ex-soldier father. Gods, was I an alcoholic too? Children of alcoholics often were. As Azrael always said, I should have issues. Until my parents came back into my life I considered myself normal and enjoyed my good fortune, but now I couldn’t see how.

  It was easy to stop drinking, not that I could face even the smell of alcohol, and I stopped smoking completely for the first time in years. I tried to live like a temple monk on retreat. The pain that seemed to reach to my core got worse. Was this what I was running from? Was this why my father drank? Was this how he felt without it? He said he was cured now but I didn’t think so, not unless ‘cured’ meant replacing booze, one crutch, with another, religion.

  Besides, Father was still with Mother, or was with her again, and that was proof at the least he was completely insane. Mother was definitely a drug he should give up. Sometimes he said she was why he drank, but when in his cups he said it was to avoid the agony of being-in-body, something referred to in the Book of Thet. Father would express vague and drunken concepts of sorrow, loss, infinite self-pity, but slurred enough that I’d never understood.

  With Mother shouting at him, or me doing so, it never occurred to me that he was being truthful about the pain. Now I felt it, over a stupid decision to drink myself through a time when I should probably have talked to someone older. Obviously not to a parent, they were no use at all.

  My journal of the time was a morass of self-pity and misery, quite worthy of a drunk. I wrote awful poetry and wondered about suicide. It seemed logical and not at all an act of despair. If a lifetime of avoiding pain was the best I had to look forward to, surely stopping now was more sensible than risking a horrible death over a Sriaman campfire.

  Somewhere inside, an innate, optimistic me was trying to figure out what was wrong and why in the names of all the gods did I have to be unhappy? Joining the army was a bit of a setback but I’d manage. I wouldn’t, another part of me decided, the part in ascendance at that moment. I moped. The bodyguards all rolled their eyes and muttered about Himself suddenly getting teen angst.

  “Typical Polo,” said Archie, looking amused, “despite coming late to sulking, you have a talent for it.” I sighed, refused to smile and went to stand alone at the rail.

  Nothing cheered me. Not the sky, clouds or water, not the wonderful buck of a sailing ship as the waves lifted her and the wind filled the canvas with sheer joy.

  ****

  The gangplank was only just down at Port Azrael when Archie bolted ashore, citing things to organise. The rest of us were barely quayside when a coach arrived from the castle, someone having seen the yacht arrive. Master Thomas was used to running the Duchy of Starshore without me, appointed to the job by the King of Sendren before I made it to eighteen. I hadn’t lived in the duchy at all though I was planning to once I’d studied more. That would all be on hold for a while. I apologised to him for my absence for the next few years. It was a shame, I had plans to be such a good duke. Now the voices inside my head assured me I was going to die. I didn’t tell anyone else I was leaving. Or dying. What was I going to say?

  “Yes, very stupid of me.” Cue self-deprecating laugh. “Anyway,” I’d add with an elegant gesture, “nice knowing you, see you in the next life.” Everyone who knew me was going to say, or perhaps shriek,

  “But Polo! You had lists of reasons why you wouldn’t join the army! What in the name of Thet happened?” Unable to even fake a smile, I would have to say,

  “I’m an idiot.” Over and over and over. Mother was going to say I was Just Like My Father. The latter would shake his head and say he told me that binge drinking was going to lead to Something Idiotic.

  “How do you think I ended up with your mother?” he would say, laughing and shaking his head. “I was drunk and being an idiot.” That was all I could hear anyway, echoing inside my mind. Idiot, idiot, idiot! I contemplated writing to everyone instead. Maybe a form letter.

  The Duke of Starshore regrets to inform you that he has accidentally joined the army. Yes, he agrees, very stupid and aye, quite drunk. If Haka doesn’t take him for a sunbeam, His Grace looks forward to seeing you in three years.

  I had to leave the duchy to someone or at least nominate a successor. I’d rather hand the duchy over to the Sriamans than hand it to Mother. Father was peasant so I couldn’t name him my heir even if I thought him fit. I picked someone sensible, Fenric, who was both Blood and head of the Crown Prince’s bodyguards. Mother had already fooled him once, right into her bed during one of her fights with me which happened to coincide with a break-up with Father, so I figured Fenric was on his guard with her now and probably safe. I left a note with my will explaining my reasoning. The king would have to ratify Fenric’s ascension to the dukedom, but I asked that, providing they behaved themselves, either he or Fenric look after my parents.

  The castle above Port Azrael was the seat of the Starshore ducal rulers for nearly three thousand years. In the duke’s office, part of the ducal suite with its fabulous views out over the Great Star Lake’s local coastline, I checked off things to do on a list. The dark wood panelling of the walls was supposed to hide secret passages that led down to the harbour and out into the countryside, for those times when even a duke needed to run away.

  There were secret ways in and out of most of the castles and great houses, of which I had a number in my duchy, and I had planned to map the secret ways, but that was another adventure that would have to wait for three years. Azrael and I had also wanted to explore the ones at the citadel. I changed my mental subject matter, refusing to think about Azrael. He was simply annoying.

  Thanks to the servants and the steward getting me ready, it didn’t take long to be properly organised. I called Ross in for a meeting.

  “Hey Polo,” he said, “everything’s under control.” He listed what was underway and there really didn’t seem much for me to do.

  “Well,” I said, pasting on a smile, “if the gods are willing I’ll see you again. In the meantime Master Thomas has instructions for you all to be employed.”

  “Long as I don’t have to babysit your parents,” said Ross, nodding. I laughed.

  “If they start causing trouble,” I said, “Master Thomas has my permission to exile them from the duchy.” Ross laughed too.

  “Then I’ll be fine,” he said, “anyway, we can talk about it on the way north.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to come,” I said, as if I didn’t mind, “I won’t need bodyguards.” I kept my pasted-on smile in place. He shook his head and repeated, />
  “We’ll talk about it on the way north.” I looked at him, unable to fake the smile any more. “We’ll see you off,” he said, softening his tone, “it can be like a holiday.” He laughed suddenly. “For us obviously, not for you.” I didn’t need his pity and tried to protest that I was fine, really. Ross shook his head at me.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Polo. We’re not doing this as staff. We’re doing it as your friends. I talked to the others. We’re coming for the trip and that’s that. Least we can do, seeing we didn’t stop you signing.” He grinned. “Besides, on the way back we can take leave with your yacht to play with.” He and the others were all employees and older than me, but I’d known them since I came to the citadel, and we had such a close relationship I’d hoped we were friends, especially since Azrael wasn’t a friend to me, not if he was in love with me.

  “Fine,” I said, smiling, “deal it is.” We shook hands. I was reassured, deeply touched and pathetically grateful that the bodyguards were coming. It was why I was drinking so much, over the loss of my best friend. He would be free to get over me without me there.

  “We’ll be going down to the harbour in an hour,” Ross said, “I’ll organise the men.” I nodded, feeling glum. “Don’t fret, Polo,” he said, “I think you’re probably lucky enough to survive. You’re definitely good enough. The Sriamans have a tendency to go berserk. You remember that, keep your head, you’ll keep your head, if you get my meaning.”

  “You’re much faster than me.” I said, voicing what I was afraid of.

  “I’m much faster than a Sriaman,” he said. That was something I hadn’t considered.

  “You are?” I said, and he grinned.

  “Aye, and you will be too. We’re Blood, remember? Descended from Dragon. Stronger and faster than peasants means stronger and faster than Sriamans. Don’t forget, not only do you stand up well against me, you can often hold your own against Fenric, and he’s like an army in one man.” I laughed. Ross smiled. “You’ll get faster as your life depends on it,” he said, “you are that good, I know. We’ve sparred often enough. Remember the time the dragon tried to kill you?” I nodded. It wasn’t something I would forget. Aunt Kristen nearly killed Azrael and me after she transformed into dragon-shape.

  The scars down my arm and hip were a permanent reminder. I rubbed at the scarring on my forearm. It was still numb in places, the nerves still did strange things, but that was to be expected as severed connections found new pathways. I was possibly slightly weaker in that hand but overall I was strong enough that it didn’t matter, and the injury meant I’d worked my left hand so hard I was closer to ambidextrous. “You were talking to your ghost,” said Ross, “telling him you were only sixteen and didn’t want to die. I gather the ghost said you were going to live.”

  “I didn’t know anyone had heard me,” I said. Gods, what else had I said aloud when talking to Cree? Ross gave me a serious look.

  “What’s the ghost saying now, he saying you’ll live?” I nodded, my mouth dry. “You live through this, Polo, you’re going to be someone. Won’t only be those silly romances going on about you. Think I’ll be glad I knew you and served in the Duke’s Guard.” I managed a genuine smile.

  “I’m glad I know you already,” I said, “you’ve saved my life at least once so far.”

  “So I might get to be in your memoirs?” It was a joke. We all said we’d write our memoirs, include each other, shock everyone and make some coin for our old age. Being around me was good for the saleability of one’s memoirs as I was often newsworthy. I smiled.

  “Course you will,” I said, trying to smile, “will I be in yours? A chapter on the Notorious Duke of Starshore?” Ross laughed.

  “More like the Idiot Duke of Starshore.” I laughed too. It occurred to me then that those in positions of power needed friends unafraid of calling them an idiot or worse when they were being one. I was in a position of power thanks to Uncle Theo, King of Sendren, who was so grateful when I saved his grandson Azrael’s life that he made me a duke. However, no denying it, I was an idiot.

  Ross shook his head at me. Everyone was shaking his or her head at me. The servants around the castle all knew about me signing up. I could tell because of the shaking of heads that accompanied my progress, like a judgemental susurrus. Nobody could believe I threw my perfect life away. Every so often they’d remember what an idiot I was and the head-shaking would begin again. I was glad when the steward arrived to say that everything was on its way to the port.

  Suddenly it was time to go. Magpie was dancing with excitement, about to be horribly disappointed when I put him on a yacht for about two weeks. I swung into the saddle, leather creaking, and heard hoofbeats. Archie rode up, and I knew the rider of the black coming right behind him.

  “We’re in time,” said Archie, “good.” I gave him a look. “Shut up, Polo,” he said, “Ross decided Fenric and the rest of us are going to commandeer your yacht when we drop you off in the north.”

  “He mentioned something,” I said, touching the reins to keep Magpie steady. Fenric was looking stern, his black still full of beans after the run from wherever they’d hurried in from.

  “I’ll need a groom to walk this horse cool!” he shouted. The grooms came running as Fenric and Archie dismounted. They didn’t need horses from here on, I did. Fenric grinned at me.

  “I’ll get a ride down to the port with Polo,” he said, “give me a chance to catch up on his news.” I sighed and kicked my foot out of the stirrup to let him mount behind. “Idiot,” he said in my ear as he mounted lightly then put a hand on my waist, “I’m set.” I took refuge in politeness.

  “Do you have any luggage?” I said.

  “Aye,” he said from behind me, “it’s at the port already.” I sighed. Of all the people I really didn’t want to know how stupid I’d been, Fenric was top of the heap. He was head of Azrael’s bodyguards and someone I was proud to be friends with.

  “What are you doing in Starshore?” I said casually as we headed down the road to the port, Magpie dancing despite the added weight. “Where’s Azrael?”

  “I was taking a break,” he said, “along the coast at Sapphire Bay. Ross knew so sent Archie to get me. Azrael’s still in Malion.”

  “Oh,” I said, “I didn’t realise.”

  “Aye,” he said, “didn’t notice because you were too busy running away, eh Polo?” I was rather disgruntled at that and turned my head to argue over my shoulder.

  “Running away from Azrael? He kept saying he needed to get over me, if you don’t mind. So I said I could make it easier by leaving Malion.” One couldn’t keep secrets about the extent of one’s sexual involvement with the Crown Prince when talking to the head of his bodyguards. They weren’t judgemental. When it came to numbers of sexual partners of every sex, most of them were as extreme as I was.

  “Leaving Malion working out well for you so far?” Fenric said. I bit my tongue. “Archie told me.” I figured he would.

  “Glad you had something to talk about on the way here,” I said, “I try to be amusing, enough to keep everyone entertained.” He cuffed me across the back of the head, only lightly, but enough for me to feel even more of an idiot than I did already.

  “Come on,” he said, “Ross said you need your shots.” I had three trained warhorses already inoculated, one a present and two I’d bought for my short career at the Military Guild. According to the army paperwork, I needed the shots advised for the tropical north. We visited the port’s hospital on the way down to the harbour. I had vaccinations against a hodgepodge of diseases I hadn’t heard of. I was blase about needles, having had so many during my hospital stays that they didn’t bother me any more, and at least the Army of the North paid for it.

  I wanted to get going before anyone else found me. It was mortifying enough with Fenric, Ross and the others, not to mention the sailors and the captain. Everyone shaking their heads. The last thing I needed was Mother or Father to turn up and lecture me too.

&nbs
p; Once back on the Lady of Starshore the captain motored us out of the port against the tide.

  ****

  Chapter 15 – Mad-But-Not?

  As we sailed due north up the Great Star Lake, the enormity of my idiocy sank in all over again. I had signed my life away for three years, in a cause I wasn’t sure of, in an army I didn’t want to belong to. I felt lost and barely spoke, still not smoking or drinking, then I stopped sparring, sex, and even masturbation. I couldn’t eat and stared at the water for hours. I stopped doing my katas and sulked by the rail instead, moving away and locking myself in my stateroom if anyone tried to talk or tempt me with appetising treats like bacon or steak sandwiches.

  After a few days of that Ross made the captain head into the nearest port, where he and Fenric took me to a doctor. They said they wanted to come in with me, be sure there wasn’t something I wasn’t telling them. I said that was fine.

  “You already know most of it,” I said with a shrug. “Think of it as background for your memoirs.”

  I told the doctor the whole story without mentioning names, my friend who fell in love with me and my parents deciding to stage their on-again-off-again circus in the middle of my life, how I went a bit crazy and signed myself up for the army.

  “Ah,” said the doctor, “so you decided to get drunk and ruin your life to show his friend and your parents that you were an adult?” I winced. It did look that way. Ross coughed while Fenric did his best impassive face. “He’s not ill,” the doctor told the others, with a wink at me, “he’s just an idiot.” Ross laughed aloud at that and even Fenric smiled.