The Dragon's Prophecy

by David Noel

  “Please understand, I do NOT say this lightly,” she continued, looking earnestly into his face, “but I feel that we must commit to stand together, or we will die separately.”

  Brendan returned her look. This was a big step for her, it had not been that long ago when she was trying to ditch him and take off on her own. He nodded.

  “I’m your man; I’ll stand by your side till the end.” He felt it was his duty to carry out Sir Gerard’s directives to watch over his family and she needed a commitment from him to lean on, so he gave it. It felt surprisingly good to give it.

  “I’m your woman; we’ll stand together, come what may,” she replied firmly.

  Electricity ran up Brendan’s back at these words. He had assumed that she meant to stand side by side during this adventure. He had meant that he was her man like a fellow soldier, like her strong right arm on this mission, like a squire following his knight into battle. She sounded like she meant far more. Part of him loved the thought that she was “his woman”, but part of him was scared speechless at the implication of her words. He could tell by the way her face seemed to relax that she felt some of her fears subside, at least a little.

  “You know, your words could be interpreted to mean you are asking for a more extended arrangement…”

  “I know. Are you still willing to commit?”

  Brendan knew her situation and he had no illusions about why Sir Gerard had brought him back to the castle.

  “I’m not worthy.”

  “Yes, you are, are you willing to commit?”

  Brendan thought about Clovis and some of the other young men looking for the chance to marry up, he thought about Portia and who she had come to be for him.

  “I’m still not the best choice, but I’m willing to commit if you’re still interested in having me.”

  “You are the best choice and I am willing.”

  “I’m a witness to your agreement,” said Father Cardic from his position in the front. “Now keep talking, the two of you still have a lot to learn about each other.”

  Portia laughed, “Yes Father,” she turned to Brendan, “Last night when we talked about Electra, I shared with you how God gives us the right to choose, but with that right comes the right to choose sin. We can’t blame God when someone chooses to do something evil. The only way that God could prevent all evil would be for him to take away all choice. He would have to make us all like Heron’s machines, only able to do what each lever and pulley allowed us to do. We wouldn’t be human, I don’t know that we would even be animals, we would only be machines.”

  “I remember the conversation,” he said quietly. What she said made logical sense but his heart still hurt deeply over the loss of his sister. He couldn’t blame God but that didn’t make him feel any better, if anything it just made him hate the Vikings even more.

  “I didn’t tell you about Cyrus because I just didn’t have it in me last night, but I want to talk about him now and I want to learn from you as well. Let me tell you about the little brother that I adored…”

  Chapter 36

  “Knowledge is the key to victory, leave no pathway unchecked, no question unasked, no stone unturned when seeking to understand your enemy, his strength, and his plans.”

  The Centurion Handbook of Combat – Winning the Victory: Chapter 1

  They rode on for several miles through forest and hills until they came up over one last hill and looked down into the valley where the village of Wicklin sat. The sight took their breath away.

  Below them was a scene of mass destruction. A handful of people were moving amongst the damaged and destroyed buildings trying to clear the debris and find the wounded. Homes were burned to the ground as was the grain mill where it had sat astride the river, even the watchtower was knocked over so that it lay like a broken snake across the road. Only the old stone church was still intact, but even it had suffered some damage from fire.

  The priest pushed past Brendan and Portia and spurred his horse to a gallop toward the village. The squire and handmaiden spurred their own horses to catch up.

  "What happened?" The priest called as soon as he was into the village proper. He swung down off his horse as a dozen different villagers converged on him and began telling their stories all at the same time. Portia also dismounted and began listening to the villagers tell her what had happened. She asked questions and they responded, they showed her injuries they had sustained and property that had been damaged. These were her people and she felt compassion flowing through her. For his part, Brendan remained upon his horse and sat listening to everything that was said. Eventually, the talking began to slow down and the priest immediately threw himself into the work of helping the injured who were currently being housed in the church.

  Portia turned to speak to Brendan but found that he was no longer listening. He had tethered his horse to the pommel of her horse and was walking along the banks of the river. She ran over to him, exasperated at his callousness toward the tragedy of the villagers. As she came close, he called out to her without even looking up.

  "Please stop where you are and don't come any closer."

  "What? Why?" She asked sharply, her resurging fear putting an edge on her voice that Brendan either failed to notice or chose not to acknowledge.

  "I am making observations of the ground. The soil is soft over here near the riverbank and there are a lot of interesting tracks."

  "Do you see dragon tracks?" Portia asked, her voice catching.

  "No, why should I see dragon tracks?" Brendan answered coolly without looking up.

  "Because the villagers all said that they saw Tauschung moving around the village!" The handmaiden snapped, her anxiety over the death and destruction coming through in her tone.

  "No, that’s not correct. Most of the villagers talked about their houses catching on fire. Some thought they saw men running around in the shadows, a few thought that they saw something big moving in the darkness. You were the one who brought up Tauschung."

  "What else could possibly be big enough to knock over a watchtower and set most the town on fire with its fiery breath?" Portia said as if her evidence and logic ended the debate.

  "A band of Hungarian raiders," Brendan replied calmly. "Here are the prints of at least a dozen men wearing war boots, which are clearly different from the work shoes worn by the peasants. The watchtower is not strong, it is too tall for the width of its base and can only hold up one watchman at a time. It could easily be pulled over by a dozen men with ropes who do not want to leave anyone with a convenient watchtower that might be used to spy upon their current whereabouts. The Hungarians like to use flaming arrows to burn anything that they can't kill or steal so they certainly used flaming arrows here to destroy the village after they left."

  "If Hungarians did this then why didn't they take anything?" Asked Portia trying to find a hole in his argument.

  "How do we know they didn't? Many people are missing right now and the villagers are still trying to find all of the wounded buried in the rubble. Others almost certainly ran into the woods to escape or have been taken captive. Livestock may be dead in the fields, fled to the woods in the chaos, or been taken by raiders. It will be days before the villagers have accounted for all of the people and livestock and only then will they know for sure who was taken captive or what livestock has been stolen. Besides if this is a raiding party sent out by Akros before his main force crosses the river, they must travel light and fast and only take the food or horses that they need to keep them moving on their mission."

  "There is more at work here than just Hungarian raiders. How did they know to attack at this time when my sister was coming in this direction? I’m sure that Tauschung is behind this."

  "Why are you so insistent that this must be the work of a mythical dragon that may or may not exist?” Brendan asked in exasperation. “The timing of the raiders' arrival may be pure coincidence, or it may be due to some darker plan, but we don’t have enough evidence to say t
hat yet. We DO know that they are in the area and we knew that before your sister disappeared. We don't even know that your sister came in this direction, we know only that she left by the postern gate and that she made a map of this area."

  Portia was unsure how to put her convictions into words. Somehow it was all wrapped together into her family history.

  "Look," she said trying to find her way through her jumbled thoughts, feelings, and beliefs. "I know that you doubt the existence of dragons. You haven't laughed in my face about Tauschung simply because you don’t want to hurt my feelings. I know that dragons exist because I believe my father’s story.”

  “He told you this story about a big red dragon that could breathe fire? Or did someone else tell the story about him?” Brendan would believe Sir Gerard, but he also knew how these kinds of stories could spread and grow all out of proportion when told and retold by others.

  “It was laying waste to all of the farms and villages for miles around until he found it and killed it. When I was young, one of the village elders came on the 10th anniversary of its death and thanked my father for saving his village. The villagers gave my father a gift of a beautiful tapestry that it had taken the women of the village 10 years to make. After the elder left I asked my father about it and he told me the story of how he had killed Feuertod and showed me a great bronze urn that contained all the dragon’s teeth. They are said to be very dangerous and he felt like they needed to be protected. My father is not a man to dwell on past victories, especially those that Satan can use to puff up his pride, so he never told me the story again, but I know that it’s true. His one regret was that he was never able to find the lair and destroy its mate or any eggs that it may have laid. Red dragons are big and powerful, full of fire and strength and they destroy their enemies directly with flames and teeth and claws. But his mate was said to be a black dragon and black dragons are smaller and craftier; they use fear, jealousy, and hatred to destroy their enemies. They can whisper in your mind and play upon your fears and doubts. They can deceive your eyes and ears...", Portia came to a stop when she saw the thoughtful look on Brendan's face.

  The Handmaiden took a deep breath. Her mother had told her that she relied too much on her heart, that her heart could lead her astray. Portia did not want to admit it, but she had no proof that Tauschung was behind this, in fact, she had no proof that Tauschung existed at all, even her father had admitted that the dragon’s mate was only a rumor. Her mother had told her to use her head more and think things through, God had given her a brain and he expected her to use it. The problem was that Portia wasn’t really sure how to do this, following her feelings, taking blind steps of faith, and jumping to conclusions was pretty much how she handled all situations. She might not know how to use her brain, but Brendan did.

  "Very well," she said carefully, working hard to suppress her pride, "My mother says that I rely too much upon my heart and my feelings and not enough upon my intelligence. My intelligence says that you know far more than I do and can read the signs far better than me. I will follow your lead. Where do we go next? What does your intelligence tell you?"

  Brendan looked at her with a stunned expression, then he looked up to heaven and muttered several sentences that Portia couldn't make out. For all the handmaiden could tell he was praying to God, but from the angry expression on his face she figured that he was arguing with God about something. She was ready to jump in and defend the Lord but a gentle voice inside her head reminded her that God was perfectly capable of defending Himself in a situation such as this. She pursed her lips and waited patiently.

  Brendan shook his head and then looked back at her. "I had a similar conversation with your father. He told me that I trust too much in my own intelligence and that I needed to use my faith more. God has quite a sense of humor and He seems to be having a little chuckle at my expense."

  Portia nodded wisely at this as if she understood what he was talking about even though she had no clue. "Do you often get into arguments with God?" She asked.

  The squire smiled, "Yes, but I always lose. Moses and Jeremiah also argued with God so I’m in good company. It’s actually a step forward for me. For most of my life I didn’t talk to God at all because I didn’t really believe that He existed. Now I believe in Him enough to argue with Him. I’m making progress. I guess the point is that He gave us all of our abilities and He wants us to learn to use all of them, our hearts, our minds, and our faith.”

  "So, God led my sister into being kidnapped to make me use my intelligence and make you rely upon your faith?" Portia asked.

  "I don't think that God causes evil to teach us a lesson, but I do think that he sees opportunities to teach us lessons in the midst of evil. You are trusting in my intelligence to read the signs and lead the way; and I’m trusting in your faith to know the truth and hear His voice.”

  He paused thoughtfully before continuing, “I find it hard to believe in Tauschung but I find it easy to believe in you so I will keep an open mind about the dragon. If Tauschung does exist then I don't think that the arrival of the Hungarians here, at this moment in time, is a coincidence. They may be taking her to the dragon even as we speak. Even if Tauschung is not behind this and their arrival is purely a coincidence then we must assume that they’ve captured Marcia and taken her with them. If Marcia is not with them then she may still turn up safe but if she is with them then our chance to catch them and rescue her is getting smaller by the minute, we must set out immediately."

  Without further comment Brendan grabbed the pommel of Nightwind and leapt into the saddle, or at least that’s what he tried to do. His right leg didn’t quite clear the horse’s rear end on the first try and he nearly fell backward. He managed to kick his leg over the horse on his second attempt and settled into the saddle. It was far from the smooth, knightly manner of mounting a horse which he had been aiming for but at least he avoided falling off and completely embarrassing himself. Portia, for her part, leapt smoothly into the saddle and tried hard not to smile at Brendan.

  “I’ll get it one of these days,” he sighed.

  "Where do we go first?" Asked the handmaiden trying to get Brendan's mind off the horse and back on to the problem at hand. "The tracks look very muddled to me."

  "They are, but since there are only tracks approaching the village and none leaving it, we may assume that they rode in the river for a while to cover their trail. I think that, originally, they came with Akros’ army from the east and then split off. The question is, did they head downstream to the south east toward Akros, or upstream toward the north?"

  Brendan sat on his horse deep in thought. Portia considered briefly trying to find something more appropriate to wear in the village. She had gotten use to the smell of Brendan on the clothes, but they were still his unwashed work clothes. She needed clothes that would fit her better since these were too tight in those places where a young woman needed more room and they gave her too much room in those places where a young woman needed more support. All in all, they were a terrible fit that chafed her where she did not wish to be chafed and made her look even more like a boy than she already did. Wearing Brendan's cloak simply completed the stylistic disaster though at least it was warm and not too tight anywhere. She stuffed a few strands of blond hair under her coif. It was beginning to look very dirty and she didn't want it to show.

  "We should head north," Brendan announced abruptly and turned his horse in that direction, Portia spurred her horse and caught up to him so that she could ride next to him. “They wouldn’t head south because that would take them toward the castle and if Tauschung really is behind this then they wouldn’t be headed east toward Akros, so North is our best bet.”

  "Father Cardic would not approve of us riding off without him," Portia said in an offhand manner.

  "Father Cardic is desperately needed here," replied Brendan curtly. Portia glanced at him and saw a dark expression on his face.

  “Something is troubling you, what is it?” />
  “If Tauschung is NOT real then they are probably heading east back to Akros. If that’s the case, then I don’t think we can catch them since they’re all expert riders with a head start of several hours. I hate the thought that we are betting Marcia’s life on the existence of a legendary dragon, but it seems to be our best hope.”

  Portia reached out and took hold of Brendan’s hand as they rode along.

  “Don’t ask me how I know, but as soon as you said we should head north I knew that was the correct direction. It was like God confirmed your decision in my heart.”

  Brendan gave her hand a squeeze, “Thank you.”

  They continued riding beside the river for several miles until they came to a section of the forest covered foothills that extended across to the eastern side of the river. The road continued north through progressively larger and larger mountains that seem to mock the little human built road. Across the river the tree-covered foothills seemed to be even wilder. Brendan pulled out Marica’s notebook and began looking through it carefully.

  “Perhaps the dragon was manipulating her dreams the same way it was manipulating yours. It may have been trying to lead her out here to these caves in order to use her as bait to draw you and your family out of the castle. It somehow convinced her to take this journey on her own just as it convinced you that you needed to rescue her on your own. Maybe these caves marked on this map were the bait for her.”

  He pulled out the magnification tube and spent some time scanning the hills until Portia finally asked him what was wrong.

  "This is a marvel,” he said holding the tube out to Portia. He pointed to a cliff face in the distance where one of the larger foothills abutted one of the smaller mountains. “There is something about that cliff face that is wrong somehow, but I can’t figure it out for the life of me. Take a look and tell me what you think."