Chapter 47 Sariel
SARIEL
I ’m not sure it’s wise to trust Lord Endal,” Sariel’s lead marshal, Hugh Fenwick, said. “Rumors say his greed is unmatched, and he has eyes on his king’s crown.”
Sariel watched the black dragon land just shy of the forest and turn to face the soldiers on horseback giving chase.
“He’ll uphold his end of the bargain,” Sariel said, and clapped Hugh on the back. “Have a little faith.”
“I hold faith in our soldiers and in my king,” Hugh said. “All else, I distrust.”
No horse for Sariel, for he would not risk his life to an animal’s instincts in a battle against a rampaging dragon, no matter how well trained it might be. He drew his shining steel sword and lifted it high so the rows of soldiers behind him could see.
“The beast is tired and frightened,” he shouted to them. “Are you ready to carve its corpse?”
His soldiers cheered, but their cheer was half-hearted. Not even the radiance in his voice could chase away the fear of battling a dragon. Sariel did not let it worry him. No stubborn dragon from the south would interrupt his plans, already a decade in motion.
“With me, my brethren!” he cried. “Drown it in steel!”
Sariel led the charge, his sword held high like a banner.
Up ahead, knights circled the black dragon, explicitly ordered not to engage, only occupy its attention.
Fire blasted through their ranks and carved burning grooves across the field.
The dragon’s claws lashed out, often missing, but when it did not, it tore rider and horse apart.
What had been one hundred was already down to fifty, but they served their purpose.
The tired dragon, chased northward by the army of Anaon for two straight days, lashed out angrily and with little thought to its surroundings.
It was done fleeing. It wanted blood on its tongue.
Sariel’s army crashed into it, and the beast got what it desired. Its jaws crunched soldiers, whose armor meant little to its overwhelming might. Its every movement sent men flying, often with limbs snapped and legs twisted wrong.
“Be not afraid!” Sariel shouted, and this time he poured all his power into those words. They pierced the battlefield, and they lifted spirits that might have been broken and kept firm feet that might have turned to flee.
As for Sariel himself, he weaved closer to the dragon’s chest, seeking an opening.
Fire roared overhead, a panicked belch that charred two dozen soldiers in its wake.
The movement required the dragon to stretch out its head, exposing its neck directly above Sariel.
That opening was all he needed. He leaped into the air, far higher than any human could hope to.
His sword slipped between two scales to plunge into the soft flesh underneath.
It sank so deep Sariel hung there, clutching his sword, as the dragon shook and roared.
When it scratched at its neck, trying to dislodge him, Sariel pulled the sword free and then fell, but not before hacking at a claw for good measure. The steel bounced off after carving the faintest groove.
Sariel landed lightly on his feet, his sword twirling in his hand.
Above him, the black dragon loomed, its yellow eyes glaring down, overwhelmed with fury.
It hurt Sariel to see the majestic beast so driven by bloodlust, but it seemed every dragon eventually gave in to its baser instincts as its life stretched on for centuries.
It opened its mouth to breathe flame. No escaping it.
Sariel crossed his arms, bowed his head, and surrounded his entire body with a shield of radiance.
The fire washed across him, but it could not break through.
Even the heat was subdued, no greater than the warmth of a nearby campfire.
The dragon fire ended, and amid the blackened earth, Sariel stood tall.
His surviving soldiers, briefly lost to despair, were overwhelmed by the sudden miracle.
Some cheered. Others wept. Sariel knew stories would travel across Kaus, and he’d twist them to suit his needs in time, but for now, he pointed his sword at the baffled dragon, knowing this, too, would be remembered.
“Your rampage is at its end,” he bellowed.
The dragon retreated a step, and within the wildness that had overtaken its mind, Sariel saw a hint of recognition. The black dragon realized it faced one of the ever-living, and it was afraid. That fear only grew when nearby soldiers took up a shout.
“Lord Endal is here!”
Riders of the province of Angloss slammed the dragon’s other flank with their lances.
Weapons snapped, but for each that broke, another slid underneath the scales to bury into flesh.
Black blood flowed across the field, and soldiers of both armies followed, swarming over the dragon like ants.
They stabbed and hacked at whatever they could reach.
It was a death by a thousand cuts, and each drop of blood the dragon shed was one more closer to its death.
“Embrace your death, dragon,” Sariel shouted, still baiting its attention.
Furious and driven mad by the pain, it snapped for him, seeking to crush him within its jaws.
Sariel rolled aside, his speed pushed to its absolute limit, and then leaped.
His hand caught the hollow crevice that marked the dragon’s ear.
A pull, and his momentum carried him up atop the creature’s head.
He gripped his sword with both hands, propped its edge underneath a scale, and then rammed it forward with all his strength.
It sank in deep, and blood flowed out like a river.
The beast shuddered, and it roared out a pained, rattling cry.
Too much. It had lost too much blood and expended too much of its energy on the rampage leading into the battle.
It collapsed, its claws scraping enormous grooves in the dirt. Soldiers swarmed over it, slashing and chopping at its body until it was clear the beast was dead. Cheers followed, and the armies of Anaon and Angloss rushed one another to exchange greetings and cheers.
Sariel climbed down from the body, and his soldiers fell to their knees to mark his passing. He curled around the dragon to meet Lord Endal of Angloss, waiting at the front of his army. Sariel stopped and stood, saying nothing, so that it was the other noble who must first make introductions.
“I promised we would come,” a beaming Eder said, embracing Sariel. “And I am glad to see you survived the beast’s rampage prior to our arrival.”
“I never once doubted,” Sariel said, grinning at his brother as, all around them, soldiers clapped and hollered in joy.
Hours later, the two armies had set up camp, keeping a mandated distance away from the dragon’s body. Sariel and Eder stood before it, glad for the privacy.
“I thought Faron was with you, pretending to be one of your knights,” Sariel said as they watched the first hint of starlight fall upon the black scales.
“He was,” Eder admitted. “But even that took great convincing. He’s of the same opinion as Eist and Aylah. They think this grand endeavor is pointless and doomed to fail. In all our lives, Kaus has never been united under a single banner, and they believe it will remain that way.”
“That will make it all the sweeter when we prove them wrong,” Sariel said. “So what did Faron do? Abandon you when he heard you were to face a dragon?”
Eder laughed.
“Stars above, no. He left my side months ago. Fell in love with some carpenter woman he met at a tavern. He wished to invite you as a marriage witness but feared there was no way to justify inviting the king of Anaon to a lowly knight’s wedding.”
“Then I’m glad this crown has some advantages, for it spared me from needing an excuse to refuse,” Sariel said with a grin. The amusement did not last long. “But let him live his life. Let all our siblings remain distant, and at peace, so long as they do not interfere.”
“I have been given no reason to believe they will,” Eder said. He circled the dragon’s corpse, studying it. “And so long as neither of us becomes a cruel tyrant, it shall stay that way.”
The two left the beast’s head to stand somewhere much closer to its stomach.
“There is much to do,” Sariel said, observing the body, which was beautiful despite its bloodied stillness. “Even with your province’s allegiance, I rule but a third of Kaus. Your betrayal of your king will shock many, but that advantage will amount to little if we do not capitalize on it quickly.”
Eder placed a hand on the black scales. A smile lit his lovely face.
“My shifting of Angloss’s loyalty from King Vran to you and Anaon will be understood by all, for you were brave enough to ride out and face the dragon assaulting our lands, while King Vran cowered in his castle.
Hold faith, Sariel. This is but the start of the needed wars.
With our forces united, and you as king, no power in all the realm can stand against us.
Cowardly King Vran will be the first to learn that painful lesson. ”
Sariel hoped he was correct. The task they sought to accomplish was daunting, but it soothed his mind knowing he did not seek to achieve it alone. Still, wars for kingdoms and empires were in the future, and right now, they had the matter with the dragon to settle in the present.
“Shall we let its soul return to its egg?” he asked, knowing the same question was on his brother’s mind.
Eder shook his head.
“I have spoken with the beast before. Asruma is its name, and this is not the first time it has ravaged humanity for sport. The beast’s cruelty goes beyond what I can accept.
Over two thousand dead humans, and for what?
It was not even provoked. Its black soul sought cruelty, so let it die, and remain dead. ”
Sariel’s brother approached where the dragon’s second, secret heart remained slowly beating and slid his sword underneath one of the black scales. He pushed it within, so deeply his arm sank up to the elbow. Black blood poured across him, and the dragon’s corpse shuddered in a final, true death.
“A shame,” Eder said, pulling his arm free and shaking off what he could of the gore. “But at least something good will come of its passing.”
“And what is that?” Sariel asked. “It was a good excuse for our alliance, true, but we could have concocted dozens more if necessary.”
“No, not that,” Eder said, eyeing the dragon’s head. “A gift, if you would grant me the patience to build it.”
Three days later, Eder invited Sariel to his tent.
“As promised,” he said, and offered him a finely polished wooden box of surprising length. Sariel removed the top, and from within the padded cloth interior he retrieved a sword.
It was carved from the slain black dragon’s jaw, with the hilt beginning at what had been the hinge.
The grip was surprisingly soft, and its weight much lighter than expected.
The blade was long and sharpened on only one side.
Sariel dared to run a finger along it, and it immediately came back red with blood.
“How?” he asked. “Dragon bones are unbreakable.”
Eder hovered his hand over the edge, and after a whisper, silver light shone in the center of his palm. Slowly, carefully, he ran it along the dragon bone.
“I have carved these weapons with radiance,” his brother said. “Shaped them by that which all creation must obey.”
“Them?” Sariel asked. In answer, Eder reached underneath the table to retrieve a second box, and from within he lifted an identical sword carved from the opposite side of the jaw. He held the weapon above him, admiring his handiwork.
“Twin weapons,” he said. “Unbreakable. Unmatched. Nothing shall ruin their edge. They are a promise, dear brother. Of our resolve, and our collaboration.”
Sariel clacked his sword against Eder’s. Though it was bone against bone, the impact sounded more akin to steel against steel, so sharp were their edges scraping against each other.
“Such rare, exquisite weaponry,” he said. “They deserve names.”
“Then let us name the other’s blade,” Eder said. “What better way to signify their bond?”
Sariel agreed, and he thought a moment. What name to give Eder’s?
“We should immortalize our purpose, so it may never be forgotten,” he said. He tapped Eder’s sword once more. “I name yours Atonement, so that it may aid us in redressing humanity’s myriad failures.”
Eder’s smile revealed his approval before he spoke.
“A good name. And if I am to name yours by your purpose, I can think of only one name that is worthy.” He stroked the flat edge of the weapon, lovingly caressing the work of his hands and his radiance.
“Redemption.”