SENSE OF HONOR
Volume One from the Archives of Tides of War
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Knowing that there was a chance that spies were everywhere, all plans for their secret sojourn were quietly given. Only a few trusted messengers delivered the important parchments that Lord Tor needed dispersed throughout the kingdom before the battle was to begin in the upcoming days.
In the hustle and bustle that was taking place since his return to the castle, Jason noticed that General Kadoe was strangely missing. He had not been ordered to the front as many of the upper ranking officers had. His place was here at the castle protecting the throne of the king.
Only late in the night did the pristine general make his appearance, still performing his duties as if he had always been present at the castle. Never approaching the core of necessity, General Kadoe watched from the sidelines, keeping up the appearance of helpfulness, while in all actuality, he did nothing.
Knowing that the journey that they were taking would bring them further behind enemy lines, the cover of darkness gave Lord Tor and Jason the needed head start that they needed. So in the coming morning, when the battle began behind them and all needed distractions were in place, their swift attack could go on unabated. Hopefully they would eliminate the threat that assuredly could wipe out a devastating portion of their troops with just a flick of the wrist.
Along with a small guard, Katrina and Steel would depart on their dragon masters’ mounts, while the morning sun shinned on their backs. This would fool any hidden spies to think that the last of the high lords had left for the battle lines, not that they had already departed with the rising moon.
Within twelve hours, when the morning sun had started to reach into the sky, the battle would begin. Men and beasts would be throwing their lives to the wind, each side causing as much destruction that it could do to their enemy.
Both lords knew neither side would go unscathed. They just hoped quietly that their mission would be a success. If they failed, the kings’ men would be unable to withstand the attack that would be coming through the mountains.
With reluctance, Steel gave up Simeriah and took Goldbridge as his steed. Jason could tell that the young man did not enjoy the thought of entering battle. Even though Steel had served time in Ishtabar’s royal legions, he had yet to meet anyone in a life or death situation.
With very little training in arms and tactics, any man would have cause to be wary of the battle to come. Most soldiers never entered battle without months, if not years, of hard training under their belt. But time was not theirs to have. What Steel had learned under Jason’s tutelage had to be enough.
Even though the mount that he had now was filled with decade’s worth of battle experience, it would take all the courage that Steel could muster to stay in the saddle and not show any fear. That was something he was determined to do, to show that he belonged where his father had once commanded.
Steel realized that by riding Goldbridge. He would be guided by something that was valuable in any skirmish. A gigantic dragon, that just by sight alone, could cause fear in hundreds of men. Her size was not the only defense that they had. Fiery breath, hot enough to melt stone, and speed in the air made her a formidable opponent. Most of all Goldbridge held knowledge that any commander would favor. She knew what had to be done, and how to accomplish it.
On the other hand, Katrina did not show any signs of reluctance. Giving a stout, “Yes sir,” she took her orders, then accompanied it with a sharp salute. At that moment Jason could have sworn that he saw a light grow in her eyes when Lord Tor mentioned that she would be riding Britannia into battle.
Without a word Steel and Katrina strapped on the gold armor that was reserved for only dragon masters. This would be a flavorful ruse, not only to their opponents. But to the men bellow, who followed their instructions. If the foot soldiers realized that one of their own was issuing orders, trouble would be at hand. Both of them, no matter how nervous or overwhelmed they may become had a job to do, even if it were under false pretenses. But pretenses that had to be held until Jason and Tor could join that battle and resume their command.
Instructions were given to the young riders. Enforced most of all was to follow any comments given by the dragons, for they would know what to do in battle. Though their riders would be in command of the troops, they in turn, would take orders from the dragons. Years of experience would only aid the young warriors, not only leading the troops to a hopeful victory, but keep them alive as well.
Encircled by Goldbridge and Britannia, Simeriah sat on her haunches waiting for coming of the night. Heads close, the three dragons seemed to be conversing in a low tone. No one could hear exactly what the powerful beasts were saying. Even if one were close enough, they would not understand the ancient language of the dragons.
Listening intently, Simeriah would nod her head in agreement. The dark lightweight leather saddle she wore creaked over her scales. A wisp of smoke seeped out of her snout, circling her pointed right ear on its way up to the dark and cloudy sky.
Called in by Lord Tor, a mage of lower case quickly approached the trio of dragons. Large heads turned towards the small bony wizard. Their eyes glowing from the internal furnace that burned within them.
Shaking with fear, the mage slowly approached. A white beard, covering most of his face and reaching halfway down his floor length midnight blue robes, trembled. Sensing his nervousness to be around such fabled beasts of destruction, Goldbridge nudged Britannia with her snout. Then both dragons stepped away from Simeriah, so that the mage would continue his approach.
Simeriah looked down on the middle-aged magic user. In his eyes she could see fear, and knew that the mage did not want to stay long in her presence. Then again, not many humans ever did. Dragons were a frightening race, if not for their sheer size, then for the legends of terror that were associated with them.
Taking a few nervous steps forward, the wizard mustered up his courage, then without hesitation placed a small concealment spell upon Simeriah. Her color turned from its bright red, to that of dull brown, almost mud thick in color. The heat of her body still radiated outward with every beat of her heart, but her heated glow and flame lowered to an invisible hew. Finished, the mage quickly receded back into the depths of the castle to report his orders accomplished, and to compose himself before resuming his studies once again.
On the other hand, Lord Tor’s steed for the mission did not need the magical spell placed upon it, for its color was already a mud brown. Relative in all ways except for magical abilities and intelligence, the dragern he was no more than a prehistoric creature.
This is what probably made the dragern such a good beast of burden. Its strong stout body was structured to carry heavy weights. Along with a vast amount of stamina it could travel long distances in either flight or on land. In addition, its intelligence was so low, that it would follow where ever anyone would command it to go without hesitation.
Stepping from the castle, both warriors no longer wore the customary gold armor of a dragon master. Instead, each was dressed from head to toe in dark riding leather. With cowls that fit snuggly over their heads and the lower portion of their face. Making them look like thieves in the night, not the true warriors that they were.
Besides a dagger in his boot, and their swords hanging at their sides, only one other weapon was to come along on this dangerous journey. Created by one of the king’s trusty alchemists, one hollow tipped javelin, filled with a high explosive, was strapped to the right side of Simeriah’s saddle. This javelin was the only chance that they had to destroy their enemy’s powerful ally. While moving in to target range, the javelin could be thrown at a distance. Giving them both ample time to get away before the high explosive detonated.
Finally as night enveloped the castle, the time came to saddle up and to begin the journey to the valley of Kenosh. Lowering a wing, Simeriah let Jason step upon the strong membrane. He took hold of the horn of the saddle and pulled himself the rest of the way up. Slipping a foot into a stirrup, he swung his right leg over and settled himself in for a long ride.
On the other hand, Lord Tor was not having as easy a time getting upon his beast. As it shuffled from side to side uneasily, the dragern squealed its disapproval of Lord Tor’s weight. Large wings buffeted the ground repeatedly, sending a cloud of dirt to sweep across the courtyard. Only after Lord Tor slapped the beast hard on the head with the flat of his gloved hand did it quiet down.
“We will be over the battlefield before the sunrises. So we should still be undetected as we cross over the Oak Barrel River,” Lord Tor said to Jason, as he settled into the saddle. “I estimate that we should be at the foothold of the valley by the coming dusk.”
“Yes,” Jason replied, “And back at the battlefield by sunrise on the ‘morrow to join the battle.”
Lord Tor smiled and snapped the reigns, signaling for the dragern to move forward. Without needing a voice command, the dragern spread its wings, turning them slightly horizontally to catch the still winds.
Tightening his knees against the thin leather saddle, Jason could feel Simeriah’s titanic muscles flex beneath her large scales. She moved behind her smaller brethren to take advantage of the wind current it was creating by the rapid beatings of its wings.
Reaching down, Jason withdrew his sword. Sensing that dragons were near, the sword hummed loudly. Jason could feel it vibrate anxiously, ready to strike out at the beasts it was created to destroy.
Holding the handle tightly, Jason kept the blade away from Simeriah. She could hear the hum of the sword radiate in her ears. It made them twitch with its high vibrations. But she continued on, not stopping to see why Jason had pulled the sword free, trusting that he knew what he was doing.
With reigns in one hand, Jason pulled to the left. With a snap he signaled for her to move quickly forward, running alongside the dragern before it lifted off of the ground. “Tor!” Jason yelled, trying to get Lord Tor’s attention.
Looking over his shoulder, Lord Tor saw Jason approaching at a fast pace. At first he thought that his old friend wanted to put up a race. But as Jason came closer, he saw that Simeriah did not have her wings extended to take to the sky. They were tight against her body as her head hung low. He could hear the rumble of large paws pounding on the stones of the courtyard.
Then he saw the sword in Jason’s hand. Concerned, Lord Tor pulled back on the reigns to stop the dragern. But before the dumb beast realized that it was supposed to stop, Jason flashed by, his sword dropping low towards the dragern’s side.
Like a knife through butter, Jason slashed the saddles girth strap, releasing the saddle from the dragern’s back. With practiced skill, Jason’s glowing blade did not touch the armor-strong hide of the dragern. If it had, the beast would have been split open like a fruit.
As Simeriah passed, the dragern caught sight of the glowing blade as it glanced over its scales. Feeling the blade’s wanton vibration, the beast knew that the magical sword called for its blood. Feeling the saddle slip, the sudden thought that its side was sliced open to spill its internal organs to the cobblestones bellow, was enough to throw its prehistoric mind into what it believed to be its last moments of life. The dragern screamed in imaginable pain, wings flapping in every direction. Rising up on its haunches, the dragern fell onto its right side, spilling Lord Tor and the saddle across the courtyard’s cobblestones.
So not to be crushed under the dumb beast’s massive weight, Lord Tor quickly rolled out of the way. Ending his roll in a crouching position, Lord Tor looked over the dragern’s wreathing body. Only to see Simeriah lifted off from the ground as Jason sheathed his sword.
Once in the air, Jason directed Simeriah to turn and swoop back over the courtyard. Coming in low, Jason could see in the torch light that Lord Tor was unharmed. The dragern, however, still wreathed in its imaginary death throws.
Fists clenched, Lord Tor stood. Eyes burning, he watched as Jason smoothly passed overhead, leaving a wake of air behind that almost knocked Lord Tor off of his feet once again.
Raising a hand from his saddle, Jason waved downward. Hoping that Lord Tor would understand just why he had committed such an act. But there was no time to stay and find out. Turning back in the saddle, Jason snapped the reigns urging Simeriah into the night sky, heading off to their unsuspecting destination.
Looking from Jason’s retreating form, Lord Tor looked over at the dragern and watched for a moment as it squirmed on the stones of the courtyard. In its infinite stupidity, the dragern had not stopped wailing in the throes of death. Wings struggled to catch air, as its tail lashed about on the stones.
“Shut up!” Lord Tor yelled.
But too busy dying; the beast did not hear him.
Curling a fist, Lord Tor slammed it down upon the broad head of the dragern, knocking it into the realms of unconsciousness. Its body collapsed heavily, sending the courtyard into silence.
In the flickering torchlight, Steel watched the happenings from the rear of the courtyard. Feeling the confusing tension that blanketed the area, he looked towards Goldbridge.
She paid him no mind, as she lowered her head again to secretly converse with Britannia. At the same time, both dragons looked up towards the fading image in the clouds. They knew that Jason had just saved Lord Tor from a fate worse than death. A fate that could cause Jason his own undoing. But, if the god’s were on his side, he might just come out alive.
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