The Dragon's Prophecy Read online

  "Is anyone out there?" Came the impatient cry of a young girl from the back of the cavern. “I’m still in this pit!” Brendan shook his head in disbelief. For a moment, in the wake of killing the dragon, he had actually forgotten about Marcia.

  Brendan cleared his throat, "We'd better go find her," he said. He forced himself to turn and look at Portia, ready to apologize for doubting her but stopped when he saw the deep crimson of her face and neck. "Are you all right?" he asked in concern.

  "Yes, I'm fine," she responded, forcing herself, with great effort, to look into his eyes. "It is just all of the, uh, excitement from the battle."

  He studied her for a moment; her green eyes blazing out of her bright red face. She flashed a very odd sort of a smile at him, one that seemed to be both forced and sincere at the same time. There was a fiery sparkle in her eyes that made her whole face radiate with joy. Brendan concluded that whatever was going on was an emotional thing and that she would be just fine once she got her emotions back under control. He also had to admit to himself that she had never looked more beautiful or more alive than she did right now, in fact, he caught himself staring at her even as she was staring at him.

  “Still in the pit!” Yelled Marcia irritably. Brendan shook himself, first things first.

  "Where are you?" He called out hoarsely.

  "I'm near that blue, glowing hole in the wall but be careful, I'm in a pit and you'll fall in if you aren't looking for it because it’s hard to see."

  Forewarned, it took them only a moment to find Marcia. As they looked over the edge, they saw a disheveled but healthy twelve-year-old girl a dozen feet below them at the bottom of a smooth walled pit. Water was slowly leaking into the hole and it was already up to Marcia’s waist. Brendan pulled a small coil of rope out of his knapsack and used it to pull the young girl out of her prison.

  "What's with you two?" asked Marcia immediately upon being rescued.

  "What? Not even a 'thank you'?" Asked the squire, pretending to be taken aback.

  "What do you mean?" demanded the handmaiden sharply. "We just got done fighting a dragon to save your little hide."

  "Yes,” Marcia responded, standing up very straight and taking a very formal tone, “Thank you for saving my life, I am very grateful, I can never repay you both but please let me know what I can do to show my deepest appreciation for all that you have done to save me.”

  “Stop trying to show me up and embarrass me,” Portia replied without hesitation. “I love you, but I don’t like being around you. We are sisters, it shouldn’t be that way, we should enjoy each other’s company. Everyone already knows that you are brilliant, beautiful, and a thousand times more charming than I am. I don’t need you to make me look even dumber, uglier, and more awkward than I already am. You are mom and dad’s favorite, the darling of everyone in the castle. Please, you’ve already won the competition, just leave me alone.”

  Marcia was taken aback, “Me? What makes you think I’m the favorite? Mom and dad are Centurion warriors and you are already one of the best warriors in the castle. You are honest, courageous, dedicated, faithful, and willing to sacrifice your life to save people you don’t even know. You are the ideal Centurion Shieldmaiden. You are everything that our parents could possibly want in a child. You make me look fake, sneaky, gutless, and weak. YOU are the favorite, not me.”

  “If you both think the other one is the favorite then your parents are probably doing a pretty good job of not showing favoritism and neither one of you is the favorite,” Brendan suggested as the two girls looked at each other in disbelief.

  Marcia sighed, “Okay, I will do my best to not embarrass you, and be more supportive of you in the future. Now, back to what I was saying, what’s up with you two? You," she said pointing at Portia, "look just like that scullery maid right after momma caught her and one of the grooms fooling around in the hay loft. And you," she pointed at Brendan, "keep looking at her like she’s the most beautiful woman in the world even though she's dressed like that, smells like a barn, and you can't even tell she's a girl."

  Brendan glanced at Portia to see if she had noticed his admiring looks but she was busy staring at the floor of the cavern and turning even redder, if that was possible. She looked like she was about to either pass out or explode.

  "Actually," Brendan said in a conspiratorial tone, “you know how uncomfortable Portia is about accepting compliments. She made the shot that killed the dragon, so I was praising her abilities as an archer. The next thing I know she starts blushing like crazy and staring at the floor. I think I embarrassed her without meaning to.”

  "Uh huh," grunted Marcia with a dubious look on her face.

  Portia put her hand on his shoulder to draw his attention back to her. He watched as she forced herself to look him in the eye and speak.

  "I appreciate you more than you know. You trusted me when I didn't trust myself. You came ready to fight a dragon that you didn’t believe existed. You put your life in my hands because you knew I could make the shot. You may not have had faith in my stories, but you had faith in me and that means everything.”

  ​Portia wrapped her arms around Brendan and hugged him so hard that he was afraid she would leave bruises. Tingles shot through his entire body and he returned the hug, though a bit more tenderly. Portia couldn’t resist any longer and began kissing him with all her strength, which was considerable.

  “Not appropriate!” Barked Marcia. “First, you’re not even betrothed and second, I’m standing right here watching it all!”

  “Then go stand someplace else and look at something else,” Portia commanded.

  “Still not appropriate,” Marcia mumbled as she rolled her eyes and began examining the body of the dragon. “I can’t believe the two of you killed this thing all by yourselves. Must be a pretty wimpy dragon.” She paused for a moment and then ran over to Brendan’s shield. “Lordy, Lordy, look at this!” She crowed. She bent over the shield and began untying something from the back of it.

  Portia reluctantly stopped kissing Brendan and turned to see what Marcia was carrying on about. Wrapped around one of the arm straps on the back of the shield was a blue, silk scarf. The dragon’s claw had neatly penetrated it, just missing Brendan’s arm. As the shield was yanked out of the squire’s grip, the silk had become tightly twisted around the tip of the talon and held the shield in place.

  “This looks like some pretty girl’s favor! And who exactly does it belong to?” The younger girl asked, arching an eyebrow. “If you’re running around on my sister, I will make you regret it.”

  “Yes, who does it belong to?” Asked Portia, arching an eyebrow of her own.

  “You,” he replied. “Your father gave it to me. He keeps one of Lady Evelyn’s scarves wrapped around the arm strap of his shield. He said that it gives him strength and courage in battle by reminding him who he’s fighting for. He gave it to me in hopes that your scarf would inspire me in the same way while I was protecting you and your mother.”

  He finished unwrapping it and held it up so that the girls could see it. The embroidered letter P was clearly visible in the corner of the scarf.

  Portia felt a rush of emotion that she didn’t really understand. “I haven’t seen that scarf in ages. My father gave it to me back on my eighth birthday. I don’t ever wear pretty things, so it’s been sitting in the bottom of my trunk for years.” She felt thrilled that it had saved Brendan’s life, and saddened that she had forgotten about such a beautiful gift from her father. Tears came to her eyes. Where were all these emotions coming from? Clearly, being almost killed by a dragon made you an emotional wreck. Brendan just stood there, stoic as ever. She wanted to hit him and hug him at the same time.

  “Your father gave it to me when he told me to stay and watch over you; he knew something important was going to happen while he was away. He wanted to stay and protect you and your mother himself, but he knew that he had to go and defend the thousands of people who live in eastern Carinthia. He ma
de a very hard decision.”

  “But he made the right one,” Portia said with tears of pride now running down her face.

  “If you don’t mind, I would like to hold on to the scarf, at least until your father returns.” Brendan said quietly.

  Portia nodded, then suddenly added, “Actually, I want you to keep it.” She took the scarf and wrapped it around his neck and tucked the ends down into his hauberk next to his heart, “Will you do that for me?”

  “Of course.”

  Portia hugged him again with her head on his shoulder.

  “What I really need is my journal, I could be doing something useful like drawing pictures and taking notes about this creature instead of listening to the two of you carry on. Unfortunately, I lost it somewhere along the way.”

  “Actually, we found it in the stable. It’s outside with the horses.”

  “Really?” Her eyes lit up at Brendan’s words, “Thank you Lord, and thank you Jesus!” She started to sprint up the pile of rocks to the exit when she was stopped by a looming figure.

  "T’is good to see that everyone survived!" Boomed a voice.

  Brendan tried to grab his sword out of its scabbard, but Portia was still hanging on to him a bit too enthusiastically and he almost slung her to the rocky floor of the cavern trying to turn and face the new threat. He relaxed when he saw that it was Father Cardic.

  "What are you doing here? We left you to help the villagers!" Asked an exasperated Portia, who seemed to be miffed that her hug was interrupted. The old priest trotted over to them and hugged them both so fiercely that Brendan thought he was going to crack a rib. Did all these Frankish people practice bear hugging trees? They needed to learn the beauty of a good handshake.

  When Father Cardic finally released them, the squire saw Portia gasping for breath, and he shot her a look of concern. She waved that she would be okay, but it would obviously be a moment or two before she could talk again.

  "Hey, don't I get a hug too?" Asked Marcia. For a moment Brendan thought Father Cardic would snap her in two like a twig but he was far gentler with her than with the squire and the handmaiden.

  "So why are you here?" Brendan asked, "The villagers needed you."

  "Aye, so they do, but the first order of business would be to take care of the Hungarians and Tauschung before any more villages get attacked and even more people need my help. When I went to collect the two of you so we could continue our journey I found that you had already left." The old warrior priest shook his head, "I'm afraid that my language at that moment was not the sort that would make the Lord proud and I’ll need your forgiveness for the names I called you two. Anyway, after I recovered my temper, I set out to catch up with you. It seems that I’ve arrived a little too late to be of any use though."

  “I’m not sure that everything would have worked out the same way if you had been here," Brendan said, “So it’s probably for the best that you didn’t catch up with us.

  The priest nodded sagely, looking at the dragon, "Aye, it was God's will that the two of you faced Tauschung alone." He paused for a moment and looked at them thoughtfully then he continued, "Did Tauschung curse you before it died?"

  "No, Portia shot it in the throat and it couldn't make a sound," Brendan explained.

  Relief washed over Father Cardic's face, "Good! Good! A dragon's Deathcurse can only be uttered by a powerful dragon as it’s dying but such a curse can be potent and very difficult to deal with. God has blessed you in more ways than you know by preventing this. Now, have you looked around the rest of the dragon's lair yet?" He asked. They all shook their heads in the negative, so the Father led the search of the cavern.

  The four surveyed the rest of the cavern and found a great pile of human bones, some with scraps of armor still attached to them. Near it, to the west, was a great pile of gold and jewelry. On the east side of the bone pile they found the remains of seven large eggs. The eggshells were jet black on the outside but different colors on the inside and looked like they were originally about three feet in diameter. Unfortunately, the eggs had hatched, and the dragons were gone. They also found something else curious near the broken eggshells; bits and pieces of a dead dragon. It had been ripped apart leaving only bits of bone and tattered pieces of black, scaly hide. One of them had been eaten by the others.

  "It was to be expected," nodded the priest, "A clutch of dragon eggs will always include one dragon of each color no matter what color the parents were. There can only be one dragon of each color in a given region, so the parents kill the baby that is the same color as themselves to head off any future competition with their own offspring. If Feuertod had still been alive then he would have killed the red one as well. Still, six have survived, the red, the orange, the yellow, the green, the blue, and the violet have all escaped into the world and we will need to hunt them down before they kill others."

  The priest led them over to the pile of gold and jewelry. "Here is where Feuertod slept. Red dragons are the biggest and hardest to kill of all the dragons. They can breathe fire, hence the name 'Feuertod' which means 'fiery death' in one of the old German dialects," the priest explained to Brendan. "They love gold and precious jewelry; they collect it all and sleep on it." Father Cardic moved over to the pile of bones, "This is where Tauschung slept. Black dragons are the smallest of the dragons but they are also the most intelligent and devious of all, hence the name 'Tauschung' which means 'deception'. They can enter dreams and lead people to their destruction and they can radiate a fear that is so strong that it can drive a weak mind insane. They love to collect the bones of their enemies to sleep on."

  "How do you know so much about them?"

  "The Order has collected a great deal of information over the centuries about many such creatures. Dragons are of special interest because of how destructive they can be. Speaking of which, we had best pull its teeth and take them with us."

  "My dad said that the teeth of a dragon are very dangerous and need to be protected. Why is that?" Asked Portia with interest.

  "Well now lass, I don't claim to know the truth for sure, but the legends say that when dragon's teeth are planted in soil and watered with blood, undead warriors sprout up out of the spot. I can't say I believe it’s true, but I can't reject it as false either and it’s better not to risk it. While we’re about it, we might as well take some of the dragon hide. It can be fashioned into boots, gauntlets, and armor. It’s said that the hide of a red dragon is the toughest and best for armor, but all dragon hide is very tough, and each color has its own special properties that make it useful."

  Father Cardic showed them how to pull the teeth, a chore that took so much effort that Brendan was the only one who could do it. There was also a trick to skinning the dragon without getting any of the blood on you that the old priest knew about so Portia and Marcia went to work on that job with the use of Brendan's sword and a discarded hand ax that they found on the cavern floor. It was foul work handling bloody dragon parts and trying not to gag at the smell of the dragon itself (a smell that was not improved by cutting it open). The old priest carried in numerous loads of firewood from the nearby forest to burn up the body. Apparently, animals that ate dragon meat would be poisoned by it, but they would take days to die and would poison the woods around the cavern as they decomposed. Brendan wondered if this was a story made up by the priest just so that he would have an excuse to leave the cavern to get fresh air but Father Cardic seemed to know everything else about dragons, so the young squire let it pass.

  The one who surprised Brendan was Marcia who seemed to have no problem stepping in and helping to skin the dragon. It was the natural philosopher in her that made her curious about the anatomy of a dragon. Her biggest complaint wasn’t the smell or the mess, it was the fact that they would only allow her a few minutes here and there to make sketches and take notes. Portia had to do most of the actual cutting with Brendan’s sword since it was the only thing that they had that was sharp enough to cut the dragon hide, but M
arcia was enthusiastically swinging the ax to clean the meat off the back of the hide. She kept muttering things to herself like, “Mess with the Centurions and this is what you get,” and “I told you they would rescue me, looks like the ‘brat’ is getting the last laugh now you ugly lizard.” The other three stayed well clear of her until she was done with her job.

  Eventually there was wood stacked all the way around the stinking corpse of the dragon and large sections of the hide that had been peeled off were laid to one side. Brendan had the teeth piled up in an overturned helmet that he held in his hands. Father Cardic produced a tinderbox and, in just a few minutes, had started a small fire which he carefully fanned into a full flame.

  "Wave the sword in the fire, it’ll burn off the blood on the blade," he directed Portia. The priest picked up one of the many thigh bones that littered the floor and used it to hold sections of dragon hide over the flames to burn off the little scraps of meat that were still attached to it.

  "The fire doesn't seem to affect it, is all dragon hide fireproof?" Brendan asked.

  "So far as I know only the dragon hide of a red is truly fireproof, but I figure that if a black was a mate to a red it must be fairly fire resistant itself. It wouldn't do for your mate to roll over in his sleep and snore a blast of fire in your direction and burn you up," said Father Cardic with a smile. "The fact is that we don't know very much about blacks, they are very wily and usually manage to avoid being killed." The priest looked at Portia and Brendan thoughtfully, "I must admit that I am curious how the two of you managed to slay it. I can only assume that it set a trap for you, that would be a Black's way of dealing with you. How is it that it didn't kill you instantly when you came into the cavern?"