The Dragon's Champion (12 page)

Erik looked
over, expecting to see his horse stomp the man into the dirt, but the animal
before him was not a horse. It was a wolf. The man suddenly twitched and arched
his back, then was still. The wolf looked back to Erik with intense eyes and a
wet, shiny maw. It was Dimwater’s wolf. Erik froze for an instant. A flurry of
thoughts swarmed his mind. Had the wolf come to finish him off? Was Dimwater
part of the assault on his home?

The wolf leapt
back toward Goliath. The two animals made quick work of their foe and then the
wolf dashed across the earthen bowl and ripped the last attacker away from
Braun. The man emitted a horrible scream as the wolf tore into the back of his
neck and flung him around like a rag doll. The man’s neck snapped with a
deafening crack, and then the man went limp. As quickly as the fight had
started, silence overtook the bowl.

Erik sat staring
at the wolf. Braun slumped to his knees, breathing heavily. Goliath came up
beside Erik and pawed at the dirt next to him. Erik absently reached up and
petted his horse’s leg, staring at the wolf all the while. The wolf gazed into
Erik’s eyes for just a moment before it leapt out of the bowl through the
briars, without even disturbing a single thorn of the massive entanglement.
Erik shuddered and then went over to Braun.

“Are you
alright, Braun?” Erik asked.

“Yes, I will be
fine. I will need you to fetch a small leather bag out of my saddle bag though.
I need to patch up a few places.”

Erik nodded and
rose to his feet and then he remembered that the first attacker had gotten him
as well. Slowly he slid his left hand to his abdomen, where the knife had
entered. There was warm liquid, but not as much as he expected. He then cupped
his right hand to his side where the hatchet had struck him and found no blood
at all.

“Let me look,”
Braun said. Erik removed his hands and let Braun look at him. Braun traced his
index finger over his side. “This side is fine, the chainmail withheld the
blow. Let me see your stomach.” Erik turned and Braun tenderly touched around
the stab wound. “You’re fine,” he said after a few seconds.

“But, I was
stabbed. There is blood too,” Erik protested.

“It isn’t so
bad, Erik,” Braun reassured. “The knife never touched you. A couple of your
links broke through your hauberk and dug into your skin, but that’s all. Go and
get my bag.”

Erik was
dumbfounded, but he did as he was told. He opened the saddle bag and felt
around. He pulled out a wrapped leather bag closed with a thong tied around the
opening. “Is this it?” Erik asked.

Braun nodded and
held out his hand. Erik brought him the bag. “Now, I need you to get a candle
so I can see what I am doing. You should find one in the other saddle bag.”

“Would you
rather I make a torch?” Erik asked.

“No,” Braun
said. His breathing was still heavy, but his words were getting softer. “Just
get the candle, like I asked. A torch would be too much light.”

Erik went to the
other saddle bag and retrieved a candle and some matches. He set the candle
down in front of Braun and lit it. The earthen bowl threw shadows around as the
light flickered. Erik looked up and his mouth fell open. Several large gashes
hung open on Braun’s left arm. Blood streamed steadily from the wounds. As Erik
followed the path of the blood he noticed that there were several gashes along
the side of Braun’s left thigh as well.

“Here, heat this
needle in the flame,” Braun instructed. Braun finished unrolling the leather
wrap and Erik saw many tools inside. Scissors, large needles, white thread,
gauze, scalpels, and even a small hand saw. “It’s a field surgeon’s kit,” Braun
said without looking up. “I’m going to sew these gashes closed after I stop the
bleeding.” Braun grabbed some gauze and held it to the worst of the gashes in
his shoulder. Erik was amazed that Braun didn’t even flinch. His face was as
calm as ever. “There is a white cloth bag near where the field surgeon’s kit
was. Go and grab it for me.”

Erik jumped up
and ran to get the white bag. He brought it back and loosened the black
drawstring for Braun. Braun casually dumped the contents into the dirt and
fumbled through the many small bottles, jars, and boxes. When he found a glass
jar with a green, powdery substance inside, he smiled and opened it.

“What is that?”
Erik asked in a whisper.

“It’s a mixture
your father makes. It will help stop the bleeding, and prevent infections.
Here, hold out your hand.” Braun dumped a copious amount of the powder into
Erik’s hand and then set the jar down. “All right, now when I take the first
gauze off, you rub it right into the wound.” Erik nodded and got his hand close
to the gash. Braun removed the gauze and Erik rubbed in the powder. Again, Erik
was surprised that Braun didn’t grimace or cry out. When Braun was satisfied he
grabbed a new piece of gauze and held it out for Erik. “Hold this while I sew.”
Braun took the needle out of the candle’s flame and threaded it with dark
thread. He then stitched his flesh together, sealing the green powder inside. When
he was done he bit the end of the thread and nodded to Erik. “Wrap the strip of
gauze around and tie it off.”

Erik did as he
was told and then Braun grabbed the glass jar again. “Now, we need to repeat
the process for each of these gashes.” Erik nodded and the two sat for close to
an hour dressing the more serious gashes. Sometimes Erik would point to a long
gash and suggest that it also be sewn, but Braun would just rub some of the
powder on it and call it good, saying that it wasn’t deep enough to warrant
stitches. After they were done Braun leaned back against the dirt rim of the
bowl and sighed. Erik put the kit and white bag back in their places and then
came to sit next to Braun.

“You lost a lot
of blood,” Erik commented.

“A thousand cuts
will kill you just as sure as a quick stab to the heart,” Braun replied
noncommittally.

“That is the way
of the Blacktongues,” a man’s voice called from the opposite side of the bowl.
Erik couldn’t see the man’s face, but Braun was back on his feet in an instant
with axe in hand.

“Identify
yourself or die,” Braun growled.

“Easy, Braun,
it’s Master Lepkin,” the voice replied. “May I come in?”

Braun didn’t
relax his stance. “Come slowly, and make sure I see your face before I even
catch a hint of a weapon.” Erik was tense. He couldn’t be certain that the
voice belonged to his mentor, but he hoped that it did. There was no one he
would rather see right now than Lepkin.

The briar bushes
gently moved aside and down came a man. Slowly, the man pulled back his dark
hood and stepped into the candlelight. Lepkin stood there, smiling knowingly at
the two of them as his eyes surveyed the scene around them. “Blacktongues
prefer to use their speed and dexterity to kill stronger opponents,” Lepkin
said as he looked around. “They would have continued slicing you down until you
were too weak to fight, then they would have finished you.”

“Master Lepkin,
it does my heart good to see you here,” Braun said with a nod of his head.

“Erik, your father
and mother are safe. The battle is over.” Lepkin walked over and rustled Erik’s
hair.

“Over?”
Braun asked, stunned. “Who was it?”

“Don’t know,”
Lepkin replied with a shrug. “I would suspect it had something to do with
Tukai, but the rest of the enemy pulled out shortly after I arrived.”

Braun gave a
knowing smile. “They were smart to do so.”

“Did Lady
Dimwater come with you?” Erik asked.

Master Lepkin
arched an eyebrow and regarded Erik curiously. “No, she didn’t. Why do you
ask?”

“Her wolf was
here,” Erik replied.

“It’s true,”
Braun confirmed. “As much as it hurts my pride to admit it, the wolf saved both
of our lives. These Blacktongues almost had us.”

“I see,” Lepkin
said as he stroked his chin. “Well, we shall have a chat with her later.”
Lepkin placed a hand on Erik. “You must come with me now.”

“What? Can’t I
go and see my father first?”

Lepkin shook his
head. “I’m afraid not.”

Braun stepped up
and let his left arm hang loosely around Erik’s shoulders. “Master Erik should
be allowed to go and see Lord Lokton. I was given the sole responsibility for
keeping Erik safe and I must return to Lord Lokton with him.”

“No,” Lepkin
said with a decisive shake of his head. “I spoke with Lord Lokton. There are
events already in motion and we must work quickly to avoid disaster. Erik goes
with me now. You will return to Lord Lokton and tell him that you handed Erik
off to me.”

“As you say,
Master Lepkin,” Braun relented.

“One more
thing,” Master Lepkin said. “Take Erik’s horse back with you.” Erik and Braun exchanged
glances for a moment. “Just do as I say.”

Braun nodded and
left as quickly as his wounds would let him. Erik and Master Lepkin climbed out
of the earthen bowl and carefully picked their way through the briars. They
walked on through the forest for a long time. Every once in a while Master
Lepkin would gently push Erik down toward the ground and place a finger over
his lips. After the danger had passed Lepkin would let Erik back up and they
continued walking deeper into the forest. Neither of them spoke for the space
of two hours. The only sound came from their breathing and the padded steps of
their feet on the dirt, or occasional twig. Finally they came to a copse of
dark trees and sat next to them. Lepkin held out a biscuit for Erik, but Erik
didn’t take it. He wasn’t hungry.

“I heard about
the warlock,” Master Lepkin said quietly.

“Who told you?”
Erik asked.

“That isn’t
important,” Lepkin replied. “I want to know how you managed to hurt the
warlock, when even Sir Duvall couldn’t touch him.” Lepkin turned hard eyes on
Erik, waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know,”
Erik said with a shrug. “I just remember being so angry at him for saying those
things he said.”

“Ah,” Lepkin
said with a nod. “So you were not afraid of him?”

“I was at first.”
The two sat for a while. Erik wondered what Lepkin was thinking about. He
seemed to be off in distant thoughts for a long time. “Do you know of the
prophecy that the warlock spoke of?” Erik asked after a while.

“Yes,” Lepkin
said with a nod. “It would appear that your house is doomed, boy.”

There was
something about the way Lepkin said “boy” that made him shiver. It reminded him
of the warlock, and the way that he had looked at him. He remembered the cold,
deadly hand in front of his face, as though Tukai had been searching his soul
with some sort of dark magic. Erik brought his knees up to his chest and
wrapped his arms around them.

“What are you
feeling now?” Lepkin asked.

“I am afraid,”
Erik answered.

“Afraid you will
kill your father?” Lepkin asked.

“Yes,” Erik
replied weakly. Tears filled his eyes.

“Afraid that you
will repay his kindness with death and evil, is that it?”

“Yes,” Erik
whispered. Tears slid down his cheeks now at the thought of it.

“First the omen,
and now the prophecy,” Lepkin whispered harshly. “Perhaps you are a cursed
boy.”

Erik nodded, but
said nothing.

Lepkin rose to
his feet and put his hands on his hips. “There is one way to solve this
problem,” he said hesitantly.

“What is it?”
Erik asked. He looked up through watery eyes at his mentor. “I’ll do anything
to spare my father pain.”

Lepkin nodded
solemnly and then pulled a knife from his belt. He threw it to the ground in
front of Erik. “The prophecy states that Lord Lokton’s son will kill him,
unless he is killed this night. You can spare your father’s life, but you must
act quickly, boy.”

Erik reached out
for the knife and drew it from the sheath. He watched the moonlight reflect off
the curved blade as he gripped the handle and held it up. “Is there no other
way?” Erik asked.

“There is no
other way,” Lepkin replied. “Evil rises all around and we need every good man
we have in the kingdom to fight it off. The loss of Lord Lokton would be a
crushing blow to this region of the kingdom.” Lepkin knelt down beside Erik and
put his mouth to his ear. “Think of it, boy,” Lepkin whispered harshly. “You
must choose between the two evils. Either you die, tonight, or your father dies
later. Which is worse? The death of a noble and just lord at the hands of his
traitorous son, or the death of an orphan boy that was not even important
enough for anyone to mark his day of birth.” Lepkin leaned back as Erik nodded.

“If I die
tonight, I could at least spare my father, and protect the kingdom,” he
whispered through streams of tears. He set the knife down and clumsily removed
his chainmail and leather hauberk.

“And you will be
remembered as an honorable boy, one who gave himself to save others. You would
like that, wouldn’t you?” Lepkin coaxed as he helped remove the armor.

Erik nodded.
Slowly he raised the dagger with his left hand and pointed the tip towards his
chest. “Will you tell my father that I love him?” Erik asked. He turned to
Lepkin and their eyes met.

“I will,” Lepkin
said.

“Thank you,”
Erik said. He reached out and patted Lepkin’s left shoulder. Lepkin winced and
pulled away. Erik scrunched up his face and looked at Lepkin’s arm. “Are you
hurt?” Erik asked.

“It is nothing,”
Lepkin reassured him. “Go on, boy, before it is too late.”

Erik hesitated.
Master Lepkin had never called him “boy” like this before. Something was wrong.
He thought about Lepkin’s shoulder. There was no blood that he could see, so
the wound couldn’t be very great. His mind raced back to Braun sewing himself
up without even flinching. Wouldn’t Lepkin be just as strong as Braun? No,
Lepkin was stronger than Braun, Erik knew. Erik jumped to his feet and held the
dagger out at Lepkin.