"The Dragon´s Eye"

THE DRAGON'S EYE

He did not open his eyes but lay still and listened. Hearing nothing, he raised his head and looked around the copse of scrubby trees. Still nothing, so he rolled from his blankets and crept to the edge of his hidden camp.

A braid of her hair was tHe did not open his eyes but lay still and listened. Hearing nothing, he raised his head and looked around the copse of scrubby trees. Still nothing, so he rolled from his blankets and crept to the edge of his hidden camp.ied around his neck and he stroked it as he carefully scanned the steppe. There were no signs of pursuit but he knew time was running out. Princesses were supposed to be sacrosanct so her father would be relentless. Safety lay beyond the Dragon's Eye. He must attempt it today or resign himself to whatever fate the King decreed. He went to the horses tethered deep in the copse and spoke to each in turn. Although they had eaten much of the vegetation he still fed them oats from his hands, making sure the huge destrier got more than the others. Only then did he see to his own breakfast.

He did not remove the braid while preparing for the gauntlet he must run. First he donned the silk arrow-catcher, then the padded woolen tunic, the boiled leather cuirass, and finally the studded bucklers and greaves. The helm curtailed his vision so he donned a heavy leather cap instead.

He slid a dirk into each boot, a last resort that had once saved his life. He belted on the longsword, then strapped the broadsword over his shoulders, settling the hilt behind his right ear. His compound bow was very long and he needed both hands to string it, bracing one end against the base of a tree and placing his foot in the middle. He considered the armour-piercing arrows but their weight limited their range so he chose the competition arrows instead. They had greater range and accuracy than all but the heaviest crossbows and could still stop most men. He packed the remainder of his arsenal on his weapons horse and pulled on a cloak. He mounted the little mare, saving the destrier for battle and rode into the sunlight.

It was early yet but sweat was soon trickling down his back. Small clouds of dust rose from the hooves of his horses as he walked them south towards the towering Dragonbacks. He stopped short of the pass but in full view of anyone hidden inside. He carefully examined the rocky slopes before dismounting. He was relieved to see no signs that the King had guessed his escape route and sent men to await him. The pass would hold bandits but they were less formidable foes than the King's men.

Bandits might also be intimidated, accordingly he made his preparations very deliberate. He took off the cloak, folded it carefully and tied it onto the mare. He then walked the mare to the back of the string of horses and brought the destrier to the front. The big stallion began to stamp its feet. He stroked its nose to settle it. The broadsword could only be used on horseback so he drew it and looped its lanyard over the high pommel. He unslung his bow, nocked one arrow and put another between his teeth. He stroked the Princess' braid one final time before he picked up the reins, and led his horses slowly into the pass.

He kept his eyes moving constantly, looking not just for movement but for concealment terrain. He spied a narrow defile to the left. It was a good site for an ambush, filled with scrub and rocks. Crossbowmen were the greatest danger but none fired as he passed by the little gully. As it fell farther behind him the hair began to stand up on the back of his neck and he turned to look back several times.

The Eye itself was formed by spurs of rock that jutted into the pass from either side. They created a narrow cleft, a killing ground. As he approached it he heard the sound of charging men. He spun to face them as they came out of the narrow defile. There were only six men, not mounted, a diversion. He turned and dove to his left as one quarrel buzzed by his ear and another glanced off his shoulder armour. He aimed his two arrows at the crossbowmen who had stepped from behind the spurs to shoot their bolts. His rapid reaction surprised them. He did not wait to see the shots strike.

Spinning again he shot six arrows at the running men as rapidly as he could draw the bow. He could hear horses coming through the Eye and knew there was no more time for arrows. He dropped his bow and heaved himself into the saddle. He kicked the charger into a lumbering gallop while unhooking his broadsword and was nearly at full speed when he slammed into the tight pack of scruffy bandits. He swung his great sword on either side as the weight of the huge horse sent men and ponies tumbling. He rode well clear of the melee before turning for another pass.

Several bandits were down and confusion reigned amongst those who were left. A second attack should break them. He centered his charge on the one man who was still thinking. He had pulled one of the crossbows out of the dust. The bandit managed to cock it and fire once before being crushed under the hooves of the great destrier. The shot took the soldier high in the left shoulder. The force was brutal and only the high back of the saddle kept him on the horse. The second charge had done its damage however and by the time he regained control of his body the bandits were scattering.

He glanced back at the first group of bandits, two had survived his arrows but were fleeing. The bandits had stopped fighting as a unit and they were now caught in their own trap. They were no match for a Battlemaster on a warhorse. He ran them down one by one. Three fled into the defile and where chasing them would be suicide but no others escaped.

His first act after dispatching the wounded was to make sure the braid was still secure. Then he scanned the field of battle and allowed himself a small smile. This did not help conceal his trail from the King. Not many men could ride into an ambush and leave behind nearly twenty dead men. Posting a sign saying the Battlemaster travelled this way would be less obvious.

The Battlemaster began to assess the damage. It was hard to tend ones own wounds but he knew he must remove the quarrel immediately. It was not near any vital organs but it might permanently harm his muscles. He caught up his horses and retrieved his surgical kit. First he cut the bolt flush with his armour using specially designed clippers. Then he unstrapped and carefully eased off his shoulder guard. When he cut away the padded wool he was relieved to see the arrow catcher had done its job. The silk had not torn but had twisted around the head of the bolt. The silk had not only slowed the quarrel but allowed it to be pulled back out with minimal damage.

He took a swig of the brandy and after touching the long, dark braid for luck he gave a sharp tug on the silk around the entrance wound. The bolt slid out and he grunted as the world darkened. He shook his head to clear it and then poured some brandy into the wound. This time he screamed but still did not pass out.

When the sharp pain eased to a pounding ache he bound up the wound. He replaced his armour and mounted the mare. The sun was high in the sky and the Dragon's Eye was turning into an oven. He could be out of it in an hour and into the forest west of the Dragon Backs. He could gather a force there and return. He rode gently through the pass still alert but far less tense. He stroked the braid he had cut from the head of the Princess. She would be his and neither she nor the King could stop him.

He was still plotting as he rode out of the Dragon Backs and so he did not see the arrow. He did not even hear it until something smashed into his back and tumbled him clear of the saddle. The pain was tremendous and although he tried to get to his feet he only succeeded in rolling over. He could see the heavy head of the arrow protruding from his chest. He had been shot at close range by an assassin he still could not see. He tried to raise his hand to touch the braid but his wrist got caught on the point of the arrow and he did not have the strength to move it farther.

He was still struggling when the assassin warily entered his field of vision.

She was wearing russet and brown and carried her bow at the ready. She was tall and had very high cheekbones. Even with her head shaved she was more beautiful than he remembered. She approached and looked down at him, her face an impassive mask. She drew a dagger from her belt and knelt down beside him placing it against his right eye.

"You can keep my hair," she said, "I'll bury you with it."

The last thing the Battlemaster saw was the muscles of her arm tensing to drive in the blade.