The Bringer of War

Hector watched the twig spin lazily through the air before it joined the others in the pile. The squire was sitting on a smooth stone, trying to stay awake through his immense boredom. He felt a

bit guilty, as his master and the others were facing deadly peril, but it was tempered by the sting of Bruno’s refusal. If only the knight understood, Hector had joined the Templar order as a way of guaranteeing he would never have the crown, lineage be damned.

He liked to travel, to meet new people and try new things. Being monarch meant, by and large, staying put. Staring at the same walls, the same folk, day in and day out. Additionally, he had never been much for niceties and courtly politics. His eyes grew distant as he recalled the days he spent with his father and brothers, hunting in the forests, fishing in the rivers. Those days had seemed to last forever, and he never realized how much they meant to him until they were gone forever.

Gone forever. Like his family, like his chance for freedom. A brief notion of running away flashed through his mind, but he dismissed it readily. If nothing else, Sir Bruno had taught him about the bittersweet nectar of duty. Hector would not flee from responsibility, but if they could find someone else to be king...

“I’d be gone in an instant,” he muttered. “I hear Port Gar and Breslin are much cooler this time of year.”

He sent another twig spiraling through the humid night to land on the pile. He remembered hearing a tale of a Templar who had used just such a method to burn an enemy out of a tower, flinging sticks from cover to avoid being struck down by arrows. The thought disgusted him, because he knew that he would never have a chance to prove himself so clever...

Hector’s head whipped around behind him, eyes scanning the bright moonlit night. It was early for the others to be returning, they had to at least walk to the ruins and walk back, a distance of nearly three miles. His sword came free of its scabbard, and he silently cursed himself for craving adventure.

The squire kept himself low, in case there were archers about, an instinct that Bruno had literally beaten into him. The sound came again, a sort of soft rustling of the high wild grass that grew in patches where the canopy of leaves allowed sunlight to penetrate the forest floor. Deciding that he was probably dealing with an animal, he relaxed a bit. He cast a glance at the horses and his onager, who continued to stand about contentedly. Hector straightened up. If the horses were not worried, he figured that he shouldn’t be either.

Hector used his blade to part the high grasses. He beheld a diminutive, fuzzy creature feebly shuffling about in the high grass. A high pitched whine escaped its throat. It had the general shape of a dog or wolf, which had him instantly on alert. Wild animals were known for their protectiveness of their cubs, and he had no intention of being mauled by anything, whether Drog, wolf, or something more conventional.

Seeing that death was not about to spring upon him with razor sharp teeth, he dropped into a crouch and peered intently at the furry bundle. It appeared it was a wolf cub, though with a longer snout than he was used to seeing. A thought occurred to him that it might be a Drog cub, but he dismissed it immediately. The hounds they had faced earlier, that the others had left to slay, were covered with a patchwork of scales and fur poorly melded together. This cub appeared to be completely covered in a coat of sleek, black fur that reflected the moonlight. It looked up at him, its large brown eyes seeming to plead with him.

Hector, admittedly soft hearted, felt a pang in his chest. Reaching down, he scooped up the cub as it yipped in protest.

“Shh,” he said, running his hand over its back. The fur was as smooth as silk beneath his fingers. The cub was so small it fit neatly into his palm. “It’s all right.”

Carefully, he took the cub back to his meager, fire-less campsite. The cub still yipped at him, but had no real way to resist. Setting the cub down on the ground before his knapsack, he rummaged around until he found some jerked pork and a pair of hard tack biscuits. He used a broken tin cup he had been using to scrape rocks from the bottom of his boots to provide the hound with water, taken from his own skin.

“Here you go, boy,” he said, putting the repast before the cub. The dog seemed eager, but had trouble chewing the tough meat. Hector frowned, then was hit with an idea. He took a bit of the jerky in his mouth and chewed it thoroughly, adding a swill of water to create a slurry. This he poured into the bent tin cup and set before the cub.

“That’s it,” he said, a smile spreading across his freckled face “there you go.”

The cub eagerly lapped up the crude stew, until it was licking the tin cup itself. Hector created more of the sloppy mess and the cub lapped that up as well. He added a little pure water to the cup, allowing the puppy to slake its thirst.

Now with its belly full, the puppy walked towards him on unsteady legs. It put its wet, coal black nose against his leg and sniffed noisily. Hector reached down and started petting the cub, which turned to sniff his hand as well. He laughed as its pink tongue tickled his fingers.

“We should try and get you some sleep,” said Hector as the cub nuzzled his hand “after all, it’s after midnight...”

A new grin broke out on Hector’s face as he regarded the little cub.

“Midnight,” he said “I think that’s what I will call you. What do you think of that?”

Though he knew it was probably in his head, the squire swore that the cub gave him a profoundly thoughtful look. It yipped twice, then turned around in a circle and laid down, pressed up against his foot.

** *

Bruno bore the massive body of the Drog upon his shoulders, its head lolling limply. He strode up to the bonfire Guthrie and Toad had built, the flames making him sweat in his armor. With a grunt, he tossed the thing from his back into the fire, joining its mates in the inferno.

Nearby, Aven, who was again appearing as a human maid, was cradling the girl Kira that Crown had discovered. The assassin watched the scene glumly, and his eyes bade Bruno to speak to him.

“What is it, killer?” said Bruno, taking off his helmet and running a hand through his curly, sweat slick hair.

“The girl,” said Crown, frowning at the Jindi child.

“What about her?” said Bruno. “It’s not as if you have to care for her. We’ll drop her off in the first village we come across-”

“That is not what I mean, sir Knight,” said Crown with more patience than he usually gave Bruno. “What troubles me is this; The child has no food, no provisions of any kind, and near as we can tell has little memory of how she got here. The Drogs did not eat her-”

“She was hiding in the ruins,” said Bruno with a frown.

“Hiding from sight, yes,” said Crown “but not from scent. Much as it pains me, we should have found her bones within the stone.”

“The Allfather protected her,” said Bruno, turning away.

“I do not think she is under the caprice of noble gods,” said Crown to his back “far from it! Mark my words, there is something amiss about that girl.”

“Noted,” said Bruno stiffly, not turning to regard the assassin. He went to Aven’s side and put his arms akimbo. The faerie looked up at him, green eyes full of worry.

“Kira, sweetie,” she said to the girl “I have to talk to Bruno for a moment.”

She tried to extricate herself from the girl’s embrace, but the child clung to her with even greater vehemence.

“I’ll just be a moment,” said Aven helplessly. Kira shook her head and stubbornly refused to let go.

Bruno snapped his head around as Toad passed within inches of him. He had not heard the man’s approach, which troubled him more than a little. The little man came before Aven and Kira, his palms held outward and a smile on his face. As they watched, he turned his hands over and Bruno blinked in amazement. Suddenly, two handfuls of wildflowers had simply appeared in his grip. Kira’s face lit up, and she let go of Aven to take the flowers.

“How did you do that?” she said “do you have magic too?”

Toad shrugged, then reached behind her ear and made a plucking motion. When his hand came back it held a shiny copper coin in its grasp.

“Why don’t you answer me?” said Kira.

“Toad can’t speak, sunshine,” said Aven “not with words, at any rate. But if you pay close attention, maybe you’ll learn how he does his magic.”

Slowly, the faerie backed away from the scene and joined Bruno. She was giving an appreciative stare to Toad, which Bruno felt was quite appropriate.

“He’s full of surprises,” said Aven.

“Yes he is,” said Bruno. His expression became grim. “The assassin thinks that the child may be cursed somehow.”

“Cursed is not the word I would use,” said Aven with a worried sigh. “How much do you know of magic, beloved?”

Bruno flinched a bit at the honorific, but answered the question anyway.

“I know how to fight against it,” he said “I have....I have slain faerie folk, witches, even a man who claimed his powers came from demonic possession.”

“Typical Templar education,” she said, rolling her green eyes. “Allow me to enlighten you, sir knight. Magic is everywhere around us, in the trees, the rivers, even the air. Those of us who have been trained in its use can tap into it, then use the ancient words of power to shape it.”

“I can understand that, I suppose,” said Bruno, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

“Faerie folk draw upon it sparingly,” she said “using it only to augment our own natural energy. We do this because magic is a resource, like lumber, or water, or fish. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” said Bruno with a frown “it’s like over fishing a lake, or hunting too much game.”

“Right,” said Aven, an approving smile spreading on her face “if you take all the fish out of the lake, there is no way to make new fish. Such is the way of magic. There was a time, long before your Drakkens or Templars, that this land was ruled by sorcerer-kings. They drained so much of the earth’s energy, were so greedy in their quest for power, that nature does what it always does; Tries to balance itself out.”

She took his hand in her own, looking into the slightly paler flesh. Using a finger, she lightly traced the lines in his hand.

“That is where the dragons first came from,” said Aven “the land was trying to balance the equation. They became so terrible, so prolific, that the Faerie had to drive all the human sorcerers out. It was a bloody, brutal affair, and I admit that many humans who were blameless were slaughtered. That is why your folk so fear us, Templar. An ancient memory of a time when we raised arms against you.”

“I see,” said Bruno “this is fascinating, Aven, truly it is, but what has it to do with the girl?”

“Kira,” said Aven, her eyes filled with grim worry “smells of the old sorcery. Reeks of it. That is why the hounds did not tear her to shreds, beloved. They were bred to obey their magical masters.”

“So,” said Bruno, his jaw set hard “what would you have me do? Draw my sword and take her head from her shoulders?”

“NO!” said Aven, the winced and glanced over her shoulder. Kira and Toad were still sitting near each other. The little man was teaching her different shapes to create with a length of twine. He held the thread spanned between his fingers in what looked like a cat’s cradle pattern.

“No,” she said more softly, turning back to face Bruno “of course not. She is not to blame for what she is. I simply want you to be cautious with her. There is far more to her than meets the eye, and foisting her off upon some well meaning but ignorant peasant family is probably not the best course of action.”

Bruno silently chewed upon his thumb. There was much he wished to say to the faerie maid, his hopes for the future, the way he felt a pang in his chest whenever he gazed upon her. He wrestled with himself briefly and lost.

“Then what must I do?” he said quietly.

“I don’t know,” said Aven “perhaps my folk can help her develop her power safely. Much as I hate to admit it, though, they would likely kill her on sight.”

“On sight?” said Bruno, aghast.

“Our people have a very low tolerance for sorcery,” said Aven “because that is how it must be.”

The two of them froze as the moon was blotted out for a moment. They cast their eyes skyward just in time to see a terrible, winged shape soaring high over them, a jet silhouette against the gibbous moon. Bruno felt his sweat seem to freeze his body, and both he and Aven shivered uncontrollably as the beast flew on to the north.

“Was that....?” said Bruno, his speech leaving him.

“The Queen,” said Aven.

Toad and Guthrie also stood staring at the sky, their faces in shock. Crown had dove immediately into a dense thicket and cowered there even after the dragon was out of sight. Only one pair of eyes held no trace of fear.

Kira smiled.