Nineteen
1383 Words
“Come back here!” Dorrall screamed as more of his army defected.
“Let them go, Dorrall. They’re not soldiers,” Jaron said as he neared.
Dorrall turned around to see Jaron astride Gambler. The gray stallion shook its head and snorted. Gambler was tense but oddly calm. The ongoing chaos around them didn’t seem to affect the equine in the slightest.
“You!” Dorrall sneered. “Come to meet your fate?”
“You are not my fate, Dorrall,” Jaron shook his head. “Just a step on a long journey.”
The soldier charged. Jaron raised his sword and met Dorrall’s steel. The clash seemed to echo over the din. Jaron blocked a wild swing then raised his blade against a down cut. He dropped Gambler’s reins for better control of his sword.
The gray stallion maneuvered, turned and pivoted. It was as if the equine could read its rider’s mind. Gambler stepped in as Jaron thrust and backed as he parried. His head pounded.
In his mind’s eye, Jaron saw the boy and the father fighting in the meadow. He tried to shake away the image. Now wasn’t the time for distractions.
Jaron met an upper cut and pushed the blade away. Seeing an opening, he sunk the sword under Dorrall’s arm, between the cuirass and the brassard of the soldier’s armor.
Dorrall screamed and instinctively swung his sword. Jaron let go of his own weapon and ducked low over Gambler’s neck as the stallion backed away. Dorrall’s sword clattered on the ground as he slumped in the saddle. His offhand tried to grasp the sword lodged in his side as his labored breath rattled in his chest.
The soldier’s horse neighed and bolted the moment it sensed its rider’s struggle. Dorrall tumbled to the ground as the horse leapt forward. One of the soldier’s feet stuck in the stirrup. His body dragged behind as the horse disappeared into the chaos. Gambler’s ears flicked back and forth as it looked to the north and whinnied.
Jaron cast an eye across the field. He heard Ivy’s whistle as he spotted a dust cloud rising over the horizon. Reinforcements were on the way, but he didn’t know if they were his own or his enemy’s. Signaling Gambler forward, Jaron leaned over and snatched Dorrall’s disregarded sword as the stallion galloped past. He rode to the center of camp and a shallow rise. There he reined Gambler to a halt. The stallion reared and pawed the air with its forelegs.
“Dorrall’s troops!” Jaron yelled over the clanging swords. “Your leader has fallen and our reinforcements come. Retreat while you may and tell your Prince we are not his dogs!”
Gambler whinnied, balancing on his hind legs.
A cheer swept through the mercenary soldiers who heard him and others in the trees echoed it. Leaderless, Dorrall’s troops scattered as arrows taunted their retreat. The few that remained to continue the fight were quickly cut down.
Jaron sat on his horse as it returned to four legs. He watched the dust cloud rise and heard the thunder of hoof beats. Ivy circled, chirping.
Without a word, he calmly rode to the edge of camp, still gripping his borrowed sword. The General’s troops crested the hill and galloped toward them. They slowed as they reached the camp’s outskirts and Jaron bowed to the approaching soldiers.
“Jaron,” Dak rode closer. “How did you know it was us?”
Jaron held out his arm. Ivy landed on his wrist guard as he hadn’t put on his proper glove. The dragon chirped. She seemed very pleased with herself.
“Well done, my boy!” the General smiled. “It seems our haste was unnecessary.”
“Just proving the metal of your soldiers, General,” Jaron said and a chorus of cheers rose behind him. “The majority of the camp has been moved to a secure location beyond the forest.”
“Then let’s clean up what is left, gentlemen,” the General ordered. “We shall all rest well tonight.”
The soldiers gathered the remains of the camp and led the rest to the new site. They took care of their own, but left the dead of their enemies. Hopefully, the opposing force would send scouts and return for their dead, otherwise the bodies would be left to rot. It was rather distasteful, but it wasn’t as if they could waste their time burying all the bodies.
As the suns set, the camp toasted and celebrated victory over their traitor. Jaron played a lively tune on his lute for the soldiers as they danced around the large bonfire. Ivy perched on a log beside him, watching the men with glowing eyes. The dragon was fascinated but didn’t appear impressed with the drunken revelry. It was her first time being close to the noise she had learned to avoid.
“You do not have to play anymore,” an aged voice said, heavy with drink.
Jaron looked to see the General standing beside him. He nodded and said, “Sir.”
The old soldier sat beside him and was silent as Jaron continued to strum. A tum-tum-tum interrupted Jaron’s tune. Both looked to see Ivy experimentally tapping the paddle Gambler used to beat the drum. The dragon looked up and purred before pouncing on the paddle again. Now that she didn’t have to remain hidden, she was quite happy to be in camp.
“What an interesting creature,” the General commented then, with a wink, said, “seems music runs in the family.”
“So, it seems.” Jaron picked up his tune again.
“I’ve been talking to the men,” the General said. “They told me what you did.”
“I just stumbled onto the enemy.”
“You did more than that. You organized them to meet Dorrall’s forces, better than any captain.”
After a moment, Jaron said, “Dorrall’s troops were farmers and drunks. They were not soldiers.”
“And still, you do not brag,” the General smiled. “You are full of surprises, Jaron. On the outside, you seem nothing more than a wanderer, but when asked, you become a jester and a bard. Now you prove yourself a soldier and tactician.”
Jaron listened silently as he continued to play.
“You are a man of many talents and many faces. How many do you have?”
“I have only one face, but as to talents, I am also a decent sailor and dragon trainer.”
The General shook with hoarse chuckles.
“A band of traveling performers adopted me when I was ten,” Jaron continued. “My memories before that are confusing and incomplete. I don’t really know where I was born.”
“Is that why you wander?”
“No,” Jaron sighed. “I wander because I touched something very precious and now, I cannot go back.”
“And what precious thing is that?”
“The very heartbeat of Nuwa. I can neither return to the life I lived before, nor hope to hold it again. A man can only see paradise once, if he is lucky.”
“You are a remarkable poet, Jaron. That is why I am making you one of my captains.”
“What?” Jaron looked at him in surprise, missing a cord.
“You will be in command of your own squad of soldiers, and you’ll have a captain’s commission.”
“General, there are men who have been here far longer than I, better trained. Who would follow the orders of a jester?”
“Several of the men have already requested to be under your command, including Dak. You have the instinct of a leader, Jaron,” the General stood. “It would be a waste not to put it to use. And captains do not entertain soldiers.”
“Perhaps one may, if it pleases him to play,” Jaron said.
The General smiled and said with a nod, “As you wish, Captain, but no more jester for you.”
Jaron nodded. He watched the General leave.
Just what had he gotten himself into?
- Writer
