Fall of an Empire: Leon, II

The Second chapter of Leon. Again, this story will probably never be finished. Though i am brainstorming for another story. Which may also be left in hiatus.

Damn, school.

II

LEON

LEON STARED AT THE MAP OF THE LAND that stretched at the wooden table inside the King’s tent. He sat in the corner of the spacious tent, on some unopened crates, holding a brass cup of cool fermented milk in one hand, already half drunk, and chewing on his last portion of cold buttered bread. He sipped the milk, thick and cool and sweet in his throat, while his father’s squire helped him out of his greaves and sabatons, after having finished with the rest of his armor.

Around the map on the table, four men gathered around it. At the far end was his father, the only man already in a leather vest, as the others were still in their armor and capes. To his left was Anto Longsword, to the right was the First Legion's second-in-command, the Duke of Riverside, Kent Orsson, and across the king was the senior captain of the First Legion, Earl Gillian Ether of Fairwind City.

“No, it won’t be necessary, I believe,” Leon heard Duke Kent saying, “It will just take too much time. King Gallio is already sending us eagles every three days. And we do know that that king does not like too much of his time wasted.”

“I concur,” said General Anto, “The path is rough and who knows what would have changed since our last time coming here.”

“I agree with my Lord General. So, we should call our dragon scouts,” suggested Earl Gillian.

“It will again be a waste of time which we do not have. Besides, our dragons will be overwhelmed if a mountain drake comes,” denied the Duke. “You have seen how big that wild wyvern was, and that was only an adolescent wyvern. Who knows how big a real four-leg dragon can reach?”

"Well to hell with them!" yelled General Anto as he slammed a fist into the table. "If we don't scout properly we all will be swarmed by mountain drakes rushing from their nests."

"I still stand by my opinion. How much drakes could there be left in this side of The Divide?"

The King cleared his throat to get the war council's attention. "I'm afraid I must stand with The Longsword."

"But the time—!"

"I want no more of this,” declared King Arvin with a second’s dangerous glance, “we shall do as I say, and I say we scout. Earl Orsson, you must remember that King Gallio called us as an ally, and as an honorable ally we will arrive in our own time. Our pact restricts him from forcing us a schedule."

"Then I'll call the dragon riders, Your Grace,” volunteered General Anto. Then he continued, “Then I shall go hunting. Please pray me luck on my journey." He turned from the council after the King nodded his consent and strolled outside the tent, giving Leon a smile as he passed him.

The squire has finished with Leon's leg armor, so he jumped into his leather sandals, placing his empty cup on the crate. He drew the leather vest that was folded behind him, and worn it, then tightened it with his belt.

The council was still discussing about the tactics when Leon approached it. At the sight of him, King Arvin raised his open hand to silence the men, and faced Leon. “Son, please go outside and follow Anto. Go with him on the night hunt. In the meantime, we need to discuss some important matters.”

“As you wish, Father,” answered Leon. He turned, and went through the canvas sheets that led him outside.

The camp was large enough to accommodate all men that marched. Rows of red, green, and white canvas tents were neatly arranged beside dirt roads and paths in a square, and around them were tall fences from timber freshly harvested and raised by the soldiers. As some stayed guard, the others toiled on the ground, and now they are raising the watchtowers at all four of the camp’s ends. Beyond the gates, there was also a dry trench, but after that the expanse of the rocky valley was ahead. At either side were mountains, the peaks covered in snow, and in their back laid the mountain pass they just went through. Up front, there is the paved road that led to the Gates of Hart.

The sun was just setting, bright orange rays streamed behind the clouds, on to the wooden walls, casting shadows as far as the central field of the camp. At its center, Leon found Anto Longsword tying a small scroll of paper to a golden eagle’s neck. “River’s Bend,” he said gently in the eagle’s ear and right after that, he cast the bird off. It soared high to the sky, and disappeared into the clouds.

Just then he noticed Leon behind him, also gazing at the eagle. “Fascinating creatures, eagles,” he said to Leon. “Train them well and you can ask it for meat from a table in a feast or to peck a prisoner to death. Well, shame they can’t bring to you a woman these days.”

“My father said I’m going with you on the hunt,” said Leon.

“Well, in that case the more the merrier. Just don’t mess with my kills, boy,” replied Anto. He motioned for Leon to come with him.

“Take your spear, Leon,” he said to Leon once they arrived at the stables. The wooden shacks to one side of the camp stank of horses and fresh hay and manure, because that was where the horses that were not released in the steppes took shelter, and as this mountain crossing had little grass, there were many of them piled inside. Leon grabbed one spear, a one-handed one, and saddled his black stallion.

The stallion neighed excitedly when Leon came with the saddle. Leon led the horse, whom he had named Lucky, out of his den, then rode it to the gathering of hunters ready behind the front gates.

-o-

The moon had finally risen, a bright white circle of a full moon that illuminated the valley so that the hunters did not need torches to see their way. The night was clear, save for a cloud or two, and the sky was sprinkled with thousands of twinkling stars. It was perfect for hunting.

It was not that Leon hated riding horses—he loved it. He had been riding for as long as he remembered. However, he did not fancy going on long, slow marches beside the troops, and moreover, he hated the clumsy, heavy, and most importantly sweltering hot steel armor, where in a hot day his sweat might have been able to fill up a whole tankard.

He liked these excursions better, where he was free to run his horse into a gallop. He could feel the cold breeze of the night mountain air on his face, and feel the excitement of tailing a prey several kilometers from the camp. All of that, without the burden of dozens of kilograms of armor that could make him sweat through the night.

Currently, the mountain boar was near his sights. He has chased it for hours at hand, and here he finally cornered it, if only he can vault through this last tree trunk that bars his way.

Leon hopped off Lucky, raising his spear, his other hand grasping at the hilt of the dagger at his belt. He had split off with the rest of the hunters, after been given permission by General Anto to hunt the boar. It was a huge one, and it must have be a male from its size, and its tusks are longer than a man’s arm. Its grizzly, brown-grey coat could have been made into fur cloaks for ten people and its meat could feed ten tents for a whole day. When Leon approached him, ever closer, he could hear the snore vibrating through the night air. Clearly he had now taken a rest.

Leon inched forward, gently taking one step by one step, the spear still bared. Then, he jumped over the trunk.

It was not the boar after all—no short wonder the snores were louder than the pigs back in the mucks in River’s Bend.

It was a valley wyvern.

Leon dared not approach it, for now. It was even bigger up close than the last time he saw the wyvern, but apparently this one is the one that they had encountered in the mountain pass, as the gash on its snout could not be mistaken on this bright night, pale against gleaming grey scales. Numerous fresh, shallow scars were on its scales, its great yellow eyes were closed; the beast was soundly asleep.

He believed he was close enough to throw the spear, so he won't have to bet more of his life for the dragon more than he did for the boar he chased. He crouched on the coarse earth, calming himself. A little dragon could not chill me. A little dragon could not chill me. He let his heartbeat steady as he drew long breaths of fresh air, yet he knew that this one is bigger than the ones back in River’s Bend. He must not miss--it could cost him his life. Steadily he aimed the spear, drawing it back, ready to fire.

Its eye opened; golden and patches of emerald around a black slit of a lizard.

Come, the voice boomed again.

Leon was startled and he let loose, but just after he cursed the gods that made him startle, almost yelling it aloud if only he had not bit his tongue in time.

The spear missed, a glancing blow to the great beast’s wing that served only to completely wake the dragon from its deep slumber, and woke it up angry. Teeth bared and roaring an ear-splitting cry, it rose and turned to face Leon, its wings spread in a menacing arc.

Instinctively, Leon drew his dagger. At the same time, the dragon took flight, rippling the pale green grass beneath and moving the loose pebbles.

It stormed before Leon, and put all its huge might in the swift attack. Its long hind claws scratched Leon's left shoulder, freezing the arm in pain, so that he dropped the dagger. The dragon looked like to lifted its head for the kill pure white fangs bared and he stared at the hot darkness of the dragon’s throat, where the fearsome wave of liquid fire should about to end Leon’s short life. Leon, clumsy by the pain and pinned by the claws of the wyvern, will not be able to react fast enough...

Just the instant the dragon was going to breathe hell, he heard someone shout, “HERE!” and an arrow of fire was shot at the beast, which turned to face the opponent.

Leon was by the time breathing heavily. He had somehow managed to slip by the dragon’s weakened grip at the moment. Grasping the pain in his shoulder, to find it warm and wet, soaked with the sticky red liquid. The leather that he wore was no match for the claws that grazed it; it was all but shredded in its left side.

He looked up, and the hunter shot another arrow of fire, and another, and another very quickly. The valley wyvern clearly wanted no more of those, and it merely screeched and turned, and flew, and a great gust of air slapped at Leon’s cheeks.

Then he noticed the man, no—a woman, that towered over him on a horse. "Consider yourself lucky, my Prince," said the clear voice, filled with a touch of painful mockery. Then Leon recognized her, Ree Vine, also one of the hunters, and proudly the only female member. She hopped down off her young mare and offered Leon her hand, and he gratefully received it with his bloodied good hand. He was immediately pulled to his feet.

Ree moved toward the patch of ground where the dragon was. She picked up the spear off the ground. "Yours, I believe?" she asked, giving Leon the spear that had just missed the dragon. He received it without a word. It was not everyday Leon got to be saved by a woman; not even his mother, who had died of fever when Leon was very young, leaving him alone with his father and uncle. Besides, Leon was again thinking deeply about the dragon that almost killed him. For all he know, he and his family, the lions of Westervell, and all the legions, can be torched by that.

Behind Ree, the rest of the hunters appeared, drawn by the commotion, all of them hauling a game or two.

Anto Longsword appeared behind Leon, his horse was tied to Lucky. He sighed audibly. "I just noticed I had never warned you to be careful," he hissed. "Now I must explain all of this… whatever happened, the gods know, to the King.”

Ree spoke up. "He was almost burned by that dragon, General, great shame I can’t help the Prince before it scratched him," she explained to General Anto, pointing at the sky. "If you might excuse me, sir, I'll need to tie up my game."

The General helped Leon patch his wounds quickly, and then slung him on his horse. "Now, quickly, he said after Leon was secure, "We don't want everyone in camp to question—"

“Hey!” shouted one of the hunters to the far side, baring his spear and drawing his sword. “Who goes there?” All of the hunters saw it, the silhouette of a horseman above the hills, in front of the full moon.

Off to the other side of the hunting pack, one man groaned in pain and fell off his horse, which quickly took flight to the wilderness because of the shock, carrying the deer carcass tied to it along. The man seemed to have an arrow stuck between the chinks in his armor on his neck; a jagged arrow, by the look of the pain on his face. “Go,” was all the hunter managed to gather his strength for, before he fell unconscious, sprawled on the ground like the wyvern.

“AMBUSH!” yelled General Anto. More arrows whizzed past them, once or twice grazing one of the hunter’s armor. All of them quickly took reins of their horses and unsheathed their weapons—bows, spears, swords, and daggers. They cut the rope that tied the horses from their game, turned heading, and galloped straight for the camp, the gods alone know what army was at their necks.

"Wait," said Leon to the General, although his shoulder was proving a burden even to speak. "The fell hunter!" He looked behind, and saw several dozen horse riders were closing on the body, constantly firing a stream of arrows on the fleeing hunters.

"No time for the poor lad," said General Anto in a grave voice."Briar is going to have to stand his own, alive or not, if he's not prickled by a hundred arrows by now. Quick! Faster!"

By now the thrill of battle gave Leon the pump of adrenaline needed to sustain his pain. He still can't move the left arm, but at least he can control his horse better.

The riders behind them are closing in. Leon started to sweat profusely, of the fear and from the fatigue of riding. Every arrow seemed to whistle past closer and closer; at one time a horse whinnied painfully, an arrow on its flank, but Ree, which was riding it, managed to calm him down.

Finally, the log walls of the camp come to sight behind a rocky crag, with the watchtowers finished.  At the same time it appeared in the distance, the stream of arrows abruptly stopped, and it seems the ambushers have given up chase.

Still at full speed they arrived at the gates. General Anto declared who they were, and commanded the guard to raise the gate. Then they returned to gallop at full speed, right into the central field. Before the King's tent, they screeched to a halt, a puff of dust behind them on the dirt road.

King Arvin exited his tent upon hearing the commotion. Seeing the dozen hunters, the King started, "What happened? What did you catch?" Then he saw Leon's shoulder, noticed one hunter missing, and the arrow on Ree's horse. He turned to Leon, and quickly demanded, "My son, what happened?"

"No time to explain now, Brother," interjected General Anto, already dismounted, "We were ambushed. And we have all the reason to believe this camp could fall if we sleep."

To the hills, a horn sounded. The same sound came also from the other hills surrounding the camp. Right after that, orange lights from flames poured in from the hills, along with a warcry that split the night, giving the position of the thousands of infantry and horsemen that were charging at the valley.

The guardsmen at the watchtower ran to the center field. He stopped, winded, and fell to his knees before the King and General.

King Arvin beckoned the guard to stand up, and immediately he disclosed what he saw.

"Five thousand men, My Liege, and three thousand horsemen," said the guard without wasting a breath, "Fully armed and bearing the coat of arms of a sword impaling a crown, upon a black and blue field."

For a moment the King was speechless. "Newlane," King Arvin finally said upon hearing the enemy's coat of arms, his words were poison. "They have betrayed us. I should have known. To arms!"

All that Leon could think about by then was the dragon.

Finished on 31 July 2015.