Dragon Fate

by J. D. Hallowell

  He had chosen his garments carefully. Both pairs of trousers he owned were of the same sort, the standard britches worn by most working people in Corice. He had three shirts, the fine one given to him by Roland, one tunic that was fairly new, and one that, though still serviceable, was patched and stained. He had worn his best pants, and had opted for the better of the two tunics. He had rejected the patched and stained tunic because he didn’t want to look like a beggar, and had passed on the finer shirt because he didn’t want to look like a wealthy traveler, either.

  Though it only took him about half an hour to reach the village gates, because of his late start the morning sun was quite high in the sky. The gates stood open, but there were two guards on duty. The guards eyed him somewhat suspiciously as he approached. “Where are you going on such a fine day, and on foot?” one of the guards asked him.

  The gate-guard’s tone hadn’t been exactly friendly. Delno didn’t see any reason to cower from the man, so he straightened his shoulders and said, “I am going into the village to replenish my supplies.” Almost as an afterthought he added, “I am on foot because I trust my horse to my friends in camp more than I trust it to strangers.”

  The guard didn’t appear to like being addressed in that manner and said, “You’d do well to keep a civil tongue when speaking to guardsmen. What’s your name and where are you from?”

  “I am from Larimar, and my name is Delno Okonan, formerly Lieutenant Okonan of the Corisian Army, now retired, and you would do well to take your own advice concerning your tongue.”

  The other guard stepped forward and said, “Apologies, sir, he didn’t mean any harm, he was just doing his job. I thought you looked familiar, sir; I was at Stone Bridge.” He paused and whispered to his friend who turned red from embarrassment.

  Delno was surprised that he hadn’t recognized the second man. He smiled and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you sooner. Parnell, isn’t it?”

  The man was genuinely pleased that Delno had remembered his name. “Yes, sir, I was in the squad that was sent to relieve you and ended up fighting at your side. You stopped one of the enemy from running me through with a spear when I was already down with a sword cut to my leg.” He turned to the other guard and said, “If the lieutenant hadn’t been the man he is, I wouldn’t be here to tell the tale. I owe him my life!”

  Delno said, “Nonsense, man, if I remember correctly, you took a sword stroke that was meant for me. I just did my best to return the favor. It was you who saved my life, and, I believe I put you in for a commendation for that.”

  Parnell’s companion was, by this time standing with his mouth open, staring at both men wide-eyed.

  Parnell said, “That you did sir, and I got a promotion out of it and am eligible for a small pension when I finish my time here.”

  Parnell and Delno both just looked at each other in silence for a long moment. Then Delno said, “I’m glad you’re still alive, and I’m even more pleased that you are doing well. I wish every one who was with us on that bridge could have been decorated. There were so many acts of bravery among all of you men that some of them got forgotten. Every man who was there is a hero many times over.”

  Again they looked at each other. Delno’s eyes were shiny and Parnell had a tear trickling down his cheek. Finally, they both came to attention in unison and saluted each other.

  The first guardsman then said, “I beg your pardon sir, but we’re on the edge of the wilderness here. Vagabonds and robbers aren’t unusual in these parts, and we have to ask those questions of everyone, and you in work clothes and wearing a rough beard. I should have done better by you.”

  Delno reached up and rubbed his cheek and realized that he had been so preoccupied, first with his lack of progress, then with getting to the village, he had not even remembered to shave. He was wearing six days worth of whiskers. “No harm done. I suppose it’s necessary out here, and I suppose I do look a bit like a vagabond.” They all laughed a little.

  Then Delno thought for a moment and said, “I skipped breakfast in camp to get an early start, and because I’ve eaten camp food since leaving Larimar. Is there a shop close by where I might buy a pastry, or at least some bread with butter?”

  Both men must have eaten their share of camp food as well, because they smiled at his complaint and told him where he could get both. He bid them good day and walked through the gate.

  Parnell called out to him before he got too far away, “Sir, if you’re still in town after I get off duty at two o’clock, I’d be honored if you’d let me buy a round and drink a toast to the men on the bridge.”

  Delno replied, “Only if you let me buy the second round.”

  Parnell answered, “Done! I’ll go to the Hog’s Head Inn when I’m off duty and look for you.”

  Delno knew that it was an extravagant waste of time, but he also knew how much it would mean to the man, and he knew how much it would mean to him. He waved his assent and then continued on his way.

  The village was larger than he thought it would be. Of course, being situated at the junction of two trade roads would make it a prosperous community when the caravans were traveling. He quickly located the bakery the guards had told him about and bought a couple of sweet rolls. He then left the shop, munching the sticky breads while he walked.

  He wandered around town checking the shops and stalls that were selling all manner of trade-goods. He found the pan lid he’d wanted, and then replenished his supply of herbs and dry goods. He bought some hard bread. It wasn’t as good as the softer breads, but it would keep for several days on the trail and be a welcome addition to his diet of mostly meat.

  By the time he had finished shopping, it was near enough to two o’clock that, after getting directions, he began to make his way to the Hog’s Head. When he entered the tavern, he saw that Parnell hadn’t arrived yet, so he stood at the bar and ordered a glass of beer. There were quite a few men in the place; most looked like traders of one sort or another. He just stood at the bar and listened to what he could hear of the conversations going on around him.

  One man was telling his companion that the mountain passes had remained blocked by snow longer than normal this year because of the extremely cold winter. His companion agreed and said that if it happened again next spring, it would play bloody hell with trading. Another group was discussing the prices of trade goods in the city of Larimar. Still another group was discussing brothels in the various towns and cities they planned to visit. While he was somewhat amused to hear them, no one was discussing road conditions and possible dangers on his chosen route.

  He was thinking about mingling and asking a few questions when Parnell entered the tavern. Seeing Delno, the soldier smiled and waved, then joined him at the bar. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, looking at Delno’s half empty glass of beer. Then he turned and ordered two drinks for them. When the drinks arrived, they each took up a glass, and since custom gave the buyer the right to make the toast, Parnell said loudly, “To the men of the First Corps, living and dead, who held the Stone Bridge of Highland Pass.”

  Not noticing that several men suddenly went silent at a nearby table, Delno said, “Heroes, one and all,” and touched his glass to Parnell’s. Then both men drained their drinks.

  Delno called the barkeep to order another round, but before he could say anything, one of the group who had watched him and Parnell spoke up. “Heroes, one and all,” he mocked. “Lucky, bloody, cowards if you ask me.” By his manner of dress, Delno surmised that he was from Bourne, though he was obviously too young to have been in the army during the war; he was no more than seventeen. He was also rather drunk.

  Both Parnell and Delno turned toward the speaker. “Cowards?” Delno asked. “You’d call brave soldiers who held their position against ten times their number, ‘cowards’?” Then he continued, “Lad, you should look around and notice where you are, then you should go somewhere and sleep off the drink before you make someone angry.”

  One of
the other men at the table, older and not so drunk, tried to get the boy to sit down and be quiet, pulling on his sleeve. The boy wasn’t interested in being quiet and jerked his arm free so violently that, in his drunken state, he fell backwards and ended up sitting down hard enough to bite his tongue and draw blood.

  The whole thing might have blown over except that three more men from Bourne walked in at that moment, and one of them was apparently the boy’s older brother, and rather hot headed. He looked at his brother who was unable to speak, and so just pointed at Delno. The elder brother took the gesture and the boy’s bloody mouth to mean that Delno had hit the lad and started forward. Things might have still been smoothed over because the man who had tried to quiet the boy quickly explained what had actually happened, and the older brother started to relax. Unfortunately, the younger boy regained his voice but not his senses and told his brother about the toast.

  The older brother, himself still not much more than a boy, stalked up to Delno and said, “So, you think that those bastards on that bridge were heroes, huh?”

  Parnell spoke up, “We were on that bridge, boy. The lieutenant here was given a medal of valor for his bravery.”

  “My father died on that bridge,” the young man responded.

  Delno said, “A lot of good men died on that bridge, son. Both groups fought valiantly, and fiercely; being on different sides doesn’t change that.”

  The young man responded, “Don’t speak of my father and his companions in the same breath as those Corisians who died like the dogs they were.” His hand was on his belt knife.

  Delno’s words came through clenched teeth, “You’ve reached your limit youngster; you have no idea how far this can go. You’re not in Bourne now; you’re in Corice, and you’d do well to remember that.”

  The Bournese who had first tried to avert trouble grabbed the young man by the arm and said, “It’s time we leave, Karl.”

  Karl would have none of it. He shoved the man away and pulled his knife and said to Delno, “You’re wearing enough blades, hero, pull one of them, and we’ll settle this.”

  Everyone in the room except Parnell and Karl’s younger brother backed away. In Bourne, if a man is old enough to make a serious challenge, he’s old enough to fight the duel, so even his countrymen refused to intercede.

  Delno shrugged. He stepped into the middle of the room where the tables had been hastily pulled aside to make space for the duel. The barkeep made a feeble attempt to get them to move this argument outside, but gave up when one of the men from Bourne waved for him to be quiet.

  Karl was agitated by Delno’s reluctance to pull his own blade. He began taunting his opponent. “What’s the matter, hero, afraid to pull your blade and fight? Or are you just showing the same bravery that you showed on the bridge?”

  As always happened to him when a situation turned deadly, Delno wasn’t excited. He could remain calm through the thick of the toughest battle, and then he would shake like a leaf in the wind afterward. He was in that calm place now. He responded to Karl’s taunts, “Oh, eager to die, boy? The men from Bourne seemed eager to die that day, too.”

  “You, shut up,” Karl said through teeth clenched so tight it was a wonder that they didn’t break.

  Realizing he had struck the right nerve, Delno continued taunting him, but still didn’t draw a weapon, “They had us outnumbered more than ten to one, and they kept throwing themselves at us.”

  Again Karl said, “Shut up.”

  Delno taunted him further, “They kept throwing themselves at us, and we kept cutting them down like wheat at harvest.”

  Karl’s response was a nothing more than an animalistic growl.

  “The bridge beneath our feet was slick with their blood and still they kept coming, and they kept dying.”

  Karl could contain himself no longer. He roared like a wounded bull and lunged at Delno with his knife, trying to gut him like a fish. This was exactly what Delno had been waiting for. He stepped slightly to the side and pivoted, allowing the knife to go by; it passed so close to his belly that it nearly found its mark, but that, too, was planned. As the knife missed by a fraction of an inch, Delno turned and allowed his hand to travel down the youth’s arm until it naturally came to rest at the juncture between hand and wrist. Then, gripping the knife hand above the blade, he pivoted and pulled. The boy lost all forward momentum and was forced to turn and stop; he was, however, off balance and bent forward. Delno then took the younger man’s knife hand in both of his own hands and pulled hard. Karl nearly flew back the way he had come, and as he did so, Delno held onto his wrist and allowed the boy’s momentum to cause him to flip over his own arm. The boy landed heavily on his back on the floor. Delno quickly stepped over him, still holding his hand and wrist, and used that leverage to roll the lad onto his stomach. Then he placed his leg under the youth’s arm, and, taking the knife from him, put the tip of the blade to the back of the young man’s neck.

  He looked at the other men from Bourne and said, “Will first blood end this, or do I have to kill this boy?”

  The man who had tried to avoid trouble said, “First blood will settle it. We’ll handle it after that.” All of the other men in the party nodded in agreement.

  Delno briefly thought about nicking the lad’s neck, but then changed his mind. He quickly reached back with the blade and drove it an inch into the boy’s right buttock. He then released his hold and stepped back.

  Before Karl could dishonor himself by attacking his opponent again, his companions grabbed him and restrained him. Delno turned to the man who had answered him, and, handing him the knife, said, “Give this back to him after he’s calmed down.”

  Two of the Bournese escorted Karl and his younger brother out of the tavern while the others helped move the tables and chairs. Once the furniture was arranged the way it had been before the fight, the men approached Delno and Parnell. The one who had tried to avoid trouble in the first place said, “I’m Jon, and those two hot heads are my brother’s sons. I came in here to retrieve the younger one, Sam, before he got himself into trouble. I guess I didn’t do such a good job.”

  “Older boys can be like that sometimes,” Delno responded. “They want to prove that they’re men and end up proving that they have a ways to go. No real harm done.”

  “Still,” Jon said, “you’d have been well within your rights if you had killed Karl, but you didn’t. For that I’m grateful. I wouldn’t have been able to face his mother if he’d died in some stupid brawl.”

  Delno met the man’s gaze for a moment, then said, “I’ve seen more than enough killing to last me a lifetime. He lost his father and wants to somehow make sense of it. He’s looking for someone to blame, someone to hold responsible. Hopefully he’ll learn something from this.”

  Jon thought about Delno’s words for a moment and simply said, “Hopefully,” before nodding his head and walking away.

  Parnell shook his head and said, “I guess that we tend to forget that those were men we were fighting. Men with families and jobs and such, just like us.”

  Delno only nodded, and then waved the barkeep over and ordered two more glasses of beer. This time, he and Parnell toasted the men of both sides, living and dead, who had served honorably.

  Nearly five hours had passed since the sun reached its zenith when he walked back into camp. He had little to show for his trip other than his replenished supplies. His time spent at the tavern had produced no news of note about the road ahead, and the other events while there had left him introspective almost to the point of depression.

  Geneva had picked up on his mood long before he even left the tavern, but had not interrupted his brooding, hoping the walk from town would put him in better spirits. Now that he was back at camp, she said, “Care to talk about what’s bothering you?”

  “There’s not much to talk about,” he replied, “I let some young man, a boy really, goad me into a fight over something I should have put behind me two years ago.”

>   She sensed that he wasn’t finished but didn’t prompt him, knowing that he would talk about it in his own time.

  After a few minutes he said, “I seem to be destined to define my life with my blade. Everything I have done that is considered to be of worth I’ve done with a sword in my hand. The ‘Hero of Stone Bridge’—Hah! I was scared nearly to the point of wetting myself that day.”

  “So you were afraid that day?” she asked.

  “I was terrified,” he responded, “I had to fight the urge to turn tail and run all during the battle.”

  “So, are you saying that you are a coward?” she asked.

  “Well, I certainly didn’t feel like much of a hero,” he responded sarcastically.

  “I may still be very young, Dear One, but I do know that the absence of fear is insanity, not bravery. Facing your fear and doing what must be done in spite of it is the mark of a brave man.”

  He was quiet for a long time. She waited patiently without pressing him to go on. Finally he said, “I don’t want my life defined only by the strength of my sword arm.”

  Geneva stared at him for a moment, then said, “I love you, Dear One, and I will help you define your life in any way you see fit.”

  Delno simply placed his arms around her neck and hugged her tightly.

  Chapter 24

  The next morning Geneva left to hunt while he was cleaning and stowing his gear in preparation for travel. She returned within an hour to find him shaving. She had fed somewhat lightly, and she observed that an early start would be better, and said she could hunt again before nightfall, reasoning that since their travel routine was changing, her feeding routine would have to change also. Delno couldn’t fault her logic.