Polo Shawcross: Dragon Soldier

by Lee Abrey

  “Yes,” I said, “you did.”

  “I’m sorry.” He gave me back the pipe.

  “Aye,” I said, “so am I. The stupidest part is that it doesn’t matter any more.”

  “You sure?” he said, and I nodded.

  “Azrael,” I said, “are you over me?”

  “I hope so,” he said, in such a heartfelt tone that I laughed. “You never loved me, Polo. Not like I wanted you to.” I was about to interrupt but he shushed me. “No,” he said, “let me speak. I loved you completely, for literally years.” He sighed. I snorted.

  “It felt like obsession from here,” I said, “I don’t think you know what love is.” I took another hit on the pipe, poking it to make it burn right down to ash with a special silver pick that slid out of the base. Waste not, want not, as Grandmama Daeva always told me. “You had a crush on me,” I said through the smoke, “that’s all. It wasn’t based on anything in reality. You hung some fantasy on me. It’s like those girls who write to you saying how much they love you, when they only saw you once from a distance or they’ve never seen you. They’re really in love with the idea of a prince, or with being a princess.”

  “That’s true,” he said, and chuckled. “You would never have had me as your princess.” I snorted.

  “Idiot,” I said, but it was affectionate.

  “But I did love you, Polo. For you. Because I did get to know that Polo.” I felt suddenly bereft.

  “And you don’t any more?” He smiled and put his hand on my thigh again, just for a moment.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I feel I always will, but it’s not desperate like it used to be.” I nodded.

  “Good,” I said. “You used to scare me.” He laughed.

  “It’s so good to talk to you,” he said. “I missed you. You always tell me the truth. Even if I don’t want to hear it.”

  “So,” I said, “if I say alright, then I’m out of the army?”

  “Aye,” he said, sounding expectant. I tapped the pipe out.

  “Then let’s go,” I said. He laughed.

  “Such a graceful surrender,” he said. I stood up, stretching, then winced. I could feel the arrow holes and stitches. The day had been too close for comfort. The shock was wearing off and I hurt all over again, badly. And I’d let a Sriaman go. What was I thinking? I wasn’t only old, I was demented.

  “Where are we going?” I said.

  “I want to do a short tour here,” he said, “literally a few days, then back to Sendren and Peterhaven.”

  Back at the base, I presented the chit, signed some papers, grabbed my gear, and arranged for my horses to be released to a groom from Azrael’s party. I hunted around to say goodbye to a few people then that was it, I was out.

  ****

  Chapter 44 – Joy in Every Crevice

  Loaded into a small convoy of coaches, we went an hour south to a big market town where the hotels were up to standard. Fenric confided it was bugger-all to do with standards and everything to do with keeping His Royal Highness as far away from Sriamans as possible. It suited me, a town where the army didn’t run everything and the girls weren’t the type who ignored you unless you looked like a soldier.

  While we waited in the bar the innkeep rustled up a late supper. Ross caught me up on news from Starshore. Archie wasn’t with them. After they’d spent the first year back in Starshore apart while Belinda was teaching in the country there, he and Belinda were now married and he’d given up bodyguarding.

  “He’s still on our reserve staff,” Ross told me, “Belinda says you’ll understand. She doesn’t want to hate you if he dies saving you.” I winced.

  “Aye,” I said, “I do understand.”

  “You know your parents separated again?” he said.

  “Aye,” I said, “they both wrote to make sure I knew everyone’s side.” I shook my head and smiled. “Now I remember why I joined the army.” We had a light supper, a smoke, then went to our rooms.

  Sleepy when I went upstairs, I then felt restless and limped down to the bar, thinking a late drink might help me sleep. I was the only customer and the barmaid, a fetching lass with a mop of curly red hair, didn’t treat me as anything more than another man. Still, she let me seduce her.

  “What can I do you for, soldier?” I laughed.

  “Not a soldier any more, I’m free.” The barmaid laughed too.

  “And here’s me thinking you looked the expensive kind.”

  “Pfft,” I said, smiling, “I’m cheap, honest.” She gave me a look. I took the hint and stopped being silly. “I fancy a drink but don’t want to get drunk. Any suggestions?”

  “Can’t sleep?” she said.

  “Aye, my first night out.” I held up my bandaged hand. “My last day was interesting.” She nodded, eyes sympathetic.

  A pity tumble? I wasn’t proud. I held her gaze a moment and tried to look noble without laying it on too thick. Then I looked down and pretended my experiences were weighing on my soul. Actually, I was thinking about her lips. There was a very nice freckle, just above and to one side of her pink upper lip. I wanted to kiss it. I wondered if she had freckles all over. Was she a natural redhead?

  “How about a cocoa?” said the barmaid. I looked up, raising my eyebrows.

  “Let me rephrase that,” I said, “I need at least some alcohol but want to be able to climb the stairs afterwards, even with a wounded knee. Mildly relaxing, not completely debilitating.” She laughed.

  “Cocoa with half a slug of bourbon on the side,” she said.

  “Excellent. Hit me.” She giggled.

  “You southerners,” she said, and turned with a swing of her hips, “so forward.” Women, I don’t pretend to know what they’re thinking. I do know it might change from moment to moment.

  As I finished my drinks, the barmaid finished her shift and came upstairs with me. Her soft tawny skin was dusted everywhere with freckles, she giggled a lot, showing fetching dimples, and was a natural redhead. She kept me busy until dawn, which was exactly how I wanted it. I was alive, and celebrating the fact. Sleep was for the dead.

  However, eventually, sometime after dawn, we did sleep.

  ****

  Someone banging on the door woke us. Naked, I staggered to open it.

  “Huh?”

  “Morning,” said Azrael, looking at me. “Galaia’s tits, Polo,” he said, trying to see who the woman was in the bed behind me, “where did you get a girl from? Did the Birthday Dragon pay an early visit and drop her down the chimney?” I blocked his view. It was too early for witty freaking repartee.

  “Wha’?” I said, my eyes still half-shut. “Wha’y’want?”

  “Just came to see if you wanted a spar,” he said. I laughed, said no, shut the door in his face and went back to bed, back to warm, scented, freckled flesh.

  Unfortunately, soon after that the barmaid needed some sleep before her next shift and went off to her own bed. I got up and headed for the bathhouse before joining the others in time for breakfast, where I ignored the teasing about my magical girl who appeared from nowhere.

  “Polo can pull them through walls,” said Fenric, grinning. “You’ve still got the knack then.” I smiled, took a mouthful of coffee, and pretended to be deaf. It was what the servants said they did when listening to the Blood. Pretend to be deaf and invisible, and an astonishing amount of the time, people would forget you were there. Some people wouldn’t let me forget they were there.

  “All they have to do to get rid of him,” said Azrael, looking at me, “is say the magic words.” He mimicked a girl’s voice, “Polo, we need to talk,” he said, then batted his eyelashes and looked demure, “about us.” They all laughed. I smiled and didn’t bring up the times Azrael had said it to me.

  Back then, I was cruel to him in reply, firm in my rejection, thinking it was for the best. I said there was no us. He hadn’t listened.

  ****

  The royal retinue continued their whirlwind tour of the front lines. Azra
el wanted to see it for himself, and see why the greatest army in the world hadn’t driven the Sriamans all the way back up the landmass.

  “Because we’re not that good,” I said. “Don’t get me wrong, we’re the best battle army on the planet, especially with Dragon on our side, but the Sriamans are no longer an army as such, they’re a guerrilla force. It’s a fact of warfare that you can’t defeat a guerrilla force with armies. The generals are trying to fight as if they were fighting each other, not Sriamans.”

  “Aye,” said Fenric, “they don’t often stand and fight. If they did, we’d own the north again. I’ve been saying for years, we want to hit them the way they hit us.”

  “Fenric’s right,” I said, “fortified towns and bases are all very well, but the Sriaman warbands come in, ignore them, and attack villages or farms. We should take the war to the rest of Sriama. Make it uncomfortable. We shouldn’t only hit back at them across the border. I don’t think we have to kill their civilians but we do need to make them want the war to be over. None of this striking then pulling back to a fixed front. We should be striking hard, keep them moving, don’t let them camp and recover.”

  “What about going past the mountains,” said Azrael, “and attacking Sriama from the coast?” Several of us grinned and cheered. I was quite happy for him to do as he liked, providing I didn’t have to go back to war again.

  “Watch out,” I said, “or they’ll make you a hero.” He rolled his eyes, and we were suddenly just us again.

  Azrael, the bodyguards, and me, all of us arguing about how Azrael should rule the world, like it had been since we turned sixteen two days apart, when the Birthday Dragon brought me someone else’s life and triggered a series of events that would lead to me joining the Army of the North.

  I was in pieces, shattered by experience, but that was alright. Calmly philosophical now that I was alive and out of the army I was sure I could put my scattered pieces back together.

  “Did you know men are bribing their way right through the guild?” I said. I’d never stopped conversation like that before. “The Military Guild,” I added, in case they hadn’t understood. “Officers are paying to graduate without passing exams.” Fenric was the first one who spoke.

  “So they don’t serve?” he said, looking puzzled. I shook my head.

  “They still pay to get out of serving, aye, or to get out of the front line, but they’re paying to get all the way through then going on active frontline duty.” I told them stories I’d heard, and about the deal I was offered.

  “I was offered an honorary degree for funding the new building,” I said, “and start in the army as a captain, despite not having studied past second term first year. I mean, I’ve read a lot of the books but they don’t know that.” Ross whistled.

  “You’re talking more than just a few?” said Azrael.

  “Aye, I said, “it wasn’t unusual, all the non-com’s knew the officers were often completely inept. I mean, more than usual.” They all laughed, except Azrael, who smiled. It was only then I remembered the bodyguards had all been officers, commissioned ones. I shrugged. “You all taught me,” I said, “I know you’re good. Azrael, do you remember Porky Portland?” Azrael looked blank. “Amazing cat’s eyes, white opal petals? Was a third year when we were first?”

  “Oh,” said Azrael, “I remember. Aye, wasn’t he from Bronlea?” I nodded.

  “That’s the one. He was my commanding officer for a while. Now get this, he couldn’t read a map or use a compass.” I shook my head. “Men like to kill officers like that.”

  “Really kill them?” said Azrael. I nodded.

  “To stop them killing us. He nearly killed me more than once, killed several from the squad. But he’s still alive, at least last I heard, promoted as far as captain and with a front line platoon under his command.”

  ****

  West back along the border to the was a pleasant excursion. No Sriamans to fight any more. I floated on ‘out of the army’ euphoria. My horses enjoyed themselves but they always did. Providing the weather wasn’t extreme and we were out and about, they just liked being. As Thet advised, I tried to be like them, enjoying being-in-body and always in the moment. Cramming joy into every crevice.

  It was almost as if the last three years hadn’t happened. Apart from that first morning, I joined Azrael and his retinue in keeping very military hours. We all worked out, trained, and tended mostly to business. I had finally hit a point in my life where I could have a drink then stop, but still smoked more than average. I noticed the other veterans were the same. Fenric said it for all of us,

  “Getting to sleep took too long without mindweed.”

  To get back to Sendren first we hired a riverboat, making for the west coast and Blackrock, the northernmost old kingdom there. In a coastal harbour was a Sendrenese yacht flying Panswell colours, with the King of Panswell’s permission, a ruse for Azrael’s protection. Panswell was Sendren’s neighbour to the northwest, a very small kingdom, one already committed to joining Azrael’s new alliance.

  The Royal Artist, or Mad Cousin Hiram as the family usually referred to him, was still with us. He told me he was doing well mentally and was sketching furiously. I hesitate to say, like a madman, but certainly every waking hour. I have several of the sketches and some of the paintings that resulted.

  One of my favourites is a sketch in pastels. Azrael and I are with most of the bodyguards, all of us shirtless, leaning on the rail and looking into the sun, our eyes narrowed against the glare. Safe on the water, we were all enjoying not having to wear armour. Several men are pointing with pipes and I’m holding one in one hand, the other locked onto the rigging. Though you can’t see it, we were looking at a whale that came close to the yacht.

  Anyone can see Azrael and I have been marked by the same beast, our dragon scars marking our bodies. From the artist’s viewpoint, I’m right behind Azrael. Though I was tanning up, a pale gold, I’d been inside armour for three years, and Azrael’s slightly olive skin was darker, hair still coal-black and blue eyes shining with their stars. My hair was very blonde, my eyes were glinting bright green and copper. Despite being within days of the same age, I look older. Harder too, and notwithstanding the scar on Azrael’s cheek, I’m the one who looks marked. Most of us were veterans. Scars ridged our bodies. By then I was getting quite a collection. I sometimes had trouble remembering where they all came from.

  Hiram titled the sketch, The Darkness Behind The Light. It was quite easy to interpret that as meaning I was somehow the Darkness. Hiram gave it to me with an apology, that he had thought I was a bad influence or somehow evil, it simply fitted the sketch in several ways.

  “I nearly called it Survivors,” he said, frowning, “but it wasn’t right.” He looked at me. “Do you hate it? As a name, I mean.”

  “I like it,” I said, smiling, as I studied the picture, “it’s not bad or good, it just is. As Thet said, ‘there is Darkness and there is Light so there is Shadow, none evil by nature’.” Hiram sighed with relief. I smiled. “And I really like the picture, too.”

  “That’s exactly it, Polo,” he said, “you must have it.”

  “I’ll pay you for it,” I said, “I like it enough to have tried to buy it anyway.”

  “Thank you,” he said, “and can I be artist-in-residence in Starshore next year?” I thought about it.

  “Why not?” I said, and offered my hand. We shook. “You’re not staying Royal Artist?”

  “It’s very inhibiting,” said Hiram. He lowered his voice. “Don’t tell Azrael I gave that picture to you, he wants me to destroy it.” I frowned at the idea.

  “I like it, Hiram. I’ll keep it safe. Why doesn’t he like it?”

  “Says everyone looks like a bunch of gays,” said Hiram. I laughed, then gave the picture another critical look.

  “Doesn’t look that way to me,” I said. “Unless having only men in a picture is gay?”

  “His Highness is perhaps over-sensitive,” said Hiram,
a tiny smile on his lips. I didn’t say anything, because it was true. Nobody except Azrael ever thought we looked gay.

  I’ve always liked The Darkness Behind The Light. It summed up how I felt as a servant of Haka and Zol. At least, that’s what I wrote in my journal at the time.

  As a soldier, I served Darkness and Shadow so Light could shine. It was what we did. The followers of Zol did not lie to themselves. The rulers of the kingdoms could stand for Light because their soldiers were like Zol the Faceless God, who travelled the Shadows and faced the Darkness for them. Once we stopped believing there was purpose to our worship, if we stopped remembering that whether Darkness, Shadow, or Light, any one could be misused, we were simply killers.

  ****

  I was in a state of euphoria, not merely from the surfeit of drugs and pleasure over being out of the army. I couldn’t believe I was alive. Alive and sailing with old friends down the west coast and then down the Star Cut to the Great Star Lake. I kept thinking the dream would stop any minute. I’d wake up back on the front trying not to die.

  Despite the sensation of waking sleep, I slept remarkably well. I did dream. In one, I was on patrol and lost, somehow unhorsed and on foot in a forest, Sriamans in every tree. Just as they all noticed me, I woke up with a start. At first I was panicked, thinking I’d dozed off on duty.

  Instead I was in a stateroom, the bed a comfortable one with soft bedclothes, and fittings fit for the prince whose yacht I was on. It was alright. I ran a hand over my hair. I could breathe, it was alright. I wasn’t in the army any more, it was alright.

  Rolling out of bed, I pulled on enough clothes to go topside for a smoke, because there was no way I was going back into that nightmare.

  The moon was nearly full and something in me responded on a visceral level. The very water of the planet responded to the moon. The water goddesses Krolen and Jent both loved to rise up and dance. A glorious ribbon of reflected silver stretched across the black water, the moon white-gold in a glittering purple sky. I watched the coloured stars mirrored in the water and sucked in the sweet smoke.