"I Will Do What is Necessary"
Again, Peder was given the
chance to soar above the clouds. This time, however, he didn't allow
himself to enjoy it quite as much, angry as he was.
Peace, young
Peder, said the voice of Valtiramiir. 'Tis not fitting
a man a your status to hold your anger inside.
He sighed.
“You're right.” The
red dragon chuckled.
Of course! The
wisdom of a dragon is not often wrong, she replied cheerfully.
“But it has been
wrong?”
Nonsense! I said
'not often', that does not mean we are not always
right. Peder laughed.
“I believe you!”
Suddenly, the she-dragon
turned serious.
Change of plans, Peder. It seems you may find a way to vent your anger. Keighvyn has alerted me of a group of riders trailing your thief.
Change of plans, Peder. It seems you may find a way to vent your anger. Keighvyn has alerted me of a group of riders trailing your thief.
“And the plan?” Peder
waited as she asked for an answer.
Catch him,
before they do.
“Aye!
Good plan.”
“Peder!” Both dragons
were flying side by side now. Jaron's call reached Peder's ears
despite the roaring wind. “Keighvyn and I will fly ahead. I have
a bad feeling about the riders. You are to take the thief. He is
not to reach them. Understood, soldier?”
“Aye, aye, Captain!”
He answered. Jaron's mouth twitched in a half-grin.
“Think you can handle
it?”
“You wait and see, Elf! Wait and see!” Peder saluted his captain with a fist to his
chest, as the dragons split.
Peder's grip on the
saddle horn tightened as he felt Valtiramiir begin to descend closer
to the trees.
There is a clearing
ahead. We will land there and confront this master-thief. Peder acknowledged her statement and stretched in the stirrups to see the lay of the
land before them. At their current height, he could see Keighvyn and
rider already a dot on the horizon. Soon, he caught sight of a gap
in the trees indicating the meadow.
He
loosened the strap on his sword.
Peder
was surprised at the delicacy in which Valtiramiir landed without a
sound. He would never cease to be amazed at these creatures.
Dragon
and man stood in the quiet, grassy meadow deep in the old forests of
Wyndor. Peder moved to the center, hand on the hilt of his sword. Resting on her haunches, Valtiramiir looked noble in the afternoon
light. At some distant sound, she became alert, then relaxed and
laid her head on her foreclaws. She spoke again, aloud, her voice
soft and low.
“This
is your fight, young Peder. I shall not interfere.”
“Aye,
Lady,” he grinned, looking at her over his shoulder. “But if
things go badly, you'll give my regards to the wife, eh?”
“To
be sure, if you were so blessed,” she answered with a low
chuckle.
Were
it not for the gentle sounds of forest life, Peder would have found
the wood eerily silent.
“He
is a troubled man, Peder,” remarked the red dragon suddenly.
“How
do you know?” He kept his eyes trained on the border of trees
lining the meadow.
“We
dragons smell more than gold, food, and human flesh. Emotions play a
large part of our world. Contrary to legend, perhaps we feel more
than even your kynd.” Now Peder turned to her, puzzled.
“Wait.
You mean you can actually smell emotions? Happiness? sadness?
fear?”
“Hmm,
yes. The smell of fear is usually strongest. However,
it is not just emotions we notice. To our eyes, Light or Darkness
radiates from each being we come into contact. You, for example,
Man-son, have a glow of Light that I can clearly see. This, I know,
comes from your service to Ichaldar.”
“Fascinating,”
Peder said, truly impressed. But his muscles tensed abruptly at the
sound of nearing hoof-beats and he turned to face the trees,
refraining from drawing his sword. “I would wish to know more,
when this business it finished,” he said, vaguely aware of the
quiet stillness in the air.
At that moment, the man
burst into the meadow at a trot, his horse blowing, nostrils flaring. Balking at the sudden sight of the dragon, the frightened beast
reared, throwing his rider and fleeing at a gallop, as far as his
exhausted legs would carry him.
Despite his jarring fall
to the ground, the man was on his feet, a dagger in hand. Peder had
to give him credit – he wasn't one to give up.
“We meet again, master
thief,” he called across the meadow. “I must say, I didn't
appreciate the gift you left me earlier today.” Gently, he rubbed
the tender spot on his scalp. The man did not reply, but stood
quietly in the shadows.
“Look,” said Peder.
“I'm willing to avoid a fight if you will give up the bundle. However,” he continued, his tone dead serious. “I will do what is
necessary to protect my kingdom. If that means I must take what
belongs to Gondoa over your dead body, so be it.”
Still, the man
did not speak. Peder realized he was looking at Valtiramiir, who
remained prone with her head on her foreclaws. Though she was still
as a stone, her eyes were wide and bright. Her voice reverberated in
Peder's mind.
Peder. This Man-son
has a faint Light surrounded by a Darkness threatening to overcome
it. You must help him break free from that which means to overtake
him.
The young Guard
considered her words and acknowledged with a slight nod. Moving away
from his dragon friend, he called out once again, assuring the man he
was safe from the red lady.
“My friend will not
interfere should you choose to fight. On the other hand, if you
manage to defeat me... I cannot promise you safety in the future.”
Half in the shadows, the
man released his cloak, somewhat reluctantly, and allowed it to fall
to the ground. He drew a second dagger with his left hand and held
it with the blade pointing behind.
“Very well,” Peder
muttered, dropping his cloak and drawing his sword. Eliadan, give
me strength.
The
man charged.
Both men met in the
middle of the meadow and the resounding clash of weapons echoed in
the quiet forest. Peder was surprised by the strength of the slender
man, though they stood equal in height. There was no doubt of the
sinewy power contained in the well-built, wiry frame of the man
before him. Peder suddenly realized he couldn't be but a couple
years older than himself.
Swinging his broadsword,
Peder's longer weapon connected with the man's two shorter blades,
crossed in a block. Locked in place, they held. Guard and thief. Blue eyes glared into the bright green of a man searching for
purpose. They broke and circled, weapons always at the ready. Peder
focused on the man's hands, deftly testing their grip on the twin
daggers. He knew from now on he must be careful. This man possessed
a steady grace in his carriage. A
grace, and yet, a cold, measured acceptance. It was the acceptance that puzzled Peder, something that made him believe the
man no longer cared what happened to him. So why did he fight?
Cautiously they fought,
each testing the other's skill.
Whirling his daggers, the
man rushed, thrusting a left, feinting right, and thrusting again. Calmly, Peder met each offensive attack, though he feared his heart
would leap from his chest for fear of making a serious mistake. Dodging a lunge, he blocked the follow-up and pressed forward,
forcing the other man to back up.
They continued for who
knew how long. Peder was beginning to tire and despite the other
man's show of stamina and endurance, he knew his opponent was wearing
down as well.
He
glanced at the spot Valtiramiir had occupied, but she was gone. He
didn't have time to dwell on this before his feet were swept from
under him. Landing hard on his back, he grunted and rolled to the
left just as a blade stabbed the ground.
Great story Sar! I really am enjoying it and getting into it! Come on now, keep it going! We are waiting for the next chapter! :)
ReplyDeleteIn His Grace,
Mom