Ironheart

Leon sweated. Heroes are always strong, and they never run away, he told himself. And that was a worry. He was scared and breathless.

“You’re bigger than me.” A sudden pale glance, starlit. She smiled. “Can you see over the top?”

He nodded foolishly, and again she laughed. He thought that perhaps he had never heard a lovelier sound. “Of course.”

“Well?”

He was more than a little unnerved. Breath came short, in shameful panic. At the same time, his heart leaped into his throat and stayed there. Does she know? He cast her a sideways glance. A dimple winked in her cheek, but she stood there, dark eyes wide, full of faith and innocence; real, and not an illusion. It was surely the weakness that was the illusion—

Leon snapped into focus with a shudder. “Disabuse yourself of such notions. ’Tis not yet dawn.” He was arguing with himself more than with her. He turned to face her, feeling his face flush. “There will be naught to see,” he said, surprising himself with his vehemence.

“Oh,” she said wistfully, as if dashed in her expectations. However, she was not demolished, for she stared at him with bright blackberry eyes, and went on. “I was rather looking forward to—well, this grand occasion…the wonder and excitement…it’s dull in the nursery…I have to make up my own adventures—” she talked rapidly as if to ward off his saying anything “—being a boy, of course, you don’t have to make up little pictures in your head of what it’ll be like when you’re all grow’d up.”

“I never said I didn’t dream, but the future is clouded, and there’s no way to foretell or change it.”

“Nonsense! Close your eyes. Tight. Imagine for yourself what it’ll be like when you’re a knight.”

Leon shrugged, stunned by this abrupt assault and uneasy about its possible consequences, but did as he was bid, his hand resting lightly, prudently, on the sword hilt.

A searing flash burned his eyes. The sharp crack of lightning—or deadly magic—barked beyond the castle walls, then bugles blared and he felt the pounding of heavy hooves through the ground.

It was a trap! Nay, it was sorcery, and everyone knew sorcery was an evil used by heathens of old. For all he knew, it was a trick to distract him from his watch. It wouldn’t have been the first time a child was used as bait in a trap. What can I do? he asked himself. His brain recoiled from the prospect of being the agent of assault, or worse, by failing his duty…

“No!” he protested with more determination than he felt. But the enchantment held him fast. There was no choice but to go with it.

Combat surrounded him, fire and smoke and the clamor of battle in all directions as far as he could see and hear. His helmet was gone and he could feel the gashes in his steel chain mail. His skin was torn in many places and blood covered his body. Flames spouted from the siege wagons, and some tents had caught fire. Rain kept the wagons from becoming an inferno, but the unburned canvas kept the rain from extinguishing the fire.

Then he saw the banner, the rampant lions outlined in gold against the bright red field, now trampled in the earth, torn by sword and dyed almost black in the blood of the young soldiers who followed it. He couldn’t tell whether it was rain or blood running into his eyes, but his vision blurred to nothing.

Caer Llion! Where are you?

He flinched suddenly at the touch of a slender hand and turned to see a small figure standing before him. This one was not armored like the knights, nor tall nor broad enough to be a soldier. This was no manly fighter, but a woman!

“You are hurt,” she said. A deep cowled hood shaded her face, and her elfin features seemed to glow and fade in the reflected light of the flames.

“The battle is lost,” he whispered fiercely, straining to control his disbelief. He gasped for breath.

“You and your men fought well.”

“And died well. I must claim vengeance.”

“You’ll get no vengeance riding alone into that nest.” The girl-woman took his arm and began to lead him away, though there was no way to tell which way to go. “And you, my golden knight, you have a destiny to fulfil. Hold on to me and you will live to fight again. I will protect you.”

He nodded his head, confused. How did this woman think she could do such a thing? He peered into the shadows of her still-raised hood. She let the hood slip back far enough for their eyes to meet clearly. Her eyes were brown, soft and deep, and he felt lost in them, lost in wondering what he had not seen.

The question seemed quite unimportant as his eyes saw more and more shadowy forms appearing, only to flee in all directions and be followed by great waves of horsemen and their riders. There were no individuals—only bodies, armed and unarmed, eager to slay and keep on slaying.

He squinted, not quite seeing their faces, and always the riders passed the two figures without seeing them. He heard the screams of men caught by lance or mace or hoof, but he felt the soft protection of magic, invisibility created by the girl-woman that now cloaked him.

A damp wind swirled around him, and he felt a slight chill. The air smelled of masonry. His reason told him he was on the battlements, but his irrational self said he must have tripped for a minute, then leaped forward a full decade or more.

“What is it? What did you see?”

Leon opened his eyes. He blinked and the vision was gone. The inky blackness of the night was giving way to a softer gray. Had the vision been an image of reality?

“Nothing much, and nothing certain,” he answered, turning on his heels, but the muscles in his legs trembled despite his determination to stand firm. “Except the prince is coming, and so is bad weather.”

“That’s important!”

“If my knowledge of ritual is accurate, at your age, you should still be abed, and not wandering around the battlements. These are not the most friendly of parts,” Leon replied, the edge of his voice as sharp as his sword.

“You try to frighten me,” the girl said in a voice that sounded like music tinkling on his ears. “But I am not afraid.”

He rounded on her angrily. “Are you questioning my courage?”

“Not your courage, never that. You can finish anything you start.” She looked Leon squarely in the eyes as she spoke. He sought some hidden message there, some gleam of witchcraft, but instead the raven-black depths showed him she was even more uneasy than he was himself. Now all those images seemed ridiculous and absurd. Some of the tension left his body.

There was a long silence. For a long moment Leon listened to the silence that had sprung up between them because it was an unquiet silence, one rife with sizzling tension, almost a contest of wills.

Then an urgent whisper, combined with a tug of his coat, quietly, shyly, tentatively, hopefully, and smiling that innocent smile. “I want only to see Father and the others.”

Leon laughed out loud. “Are you certain?”

“That’s all,” she affirmed, still smiling sweetly.

“How can I refuse to do a good deed?” he asked, hoping there was no tremor in his voice.

That angelic smile. “Would you…?”

He was a fool to do what a girl-child wanted him to do! Yet, her invitation was the only option he saw. Strange thing! He could see no honorable way to deny her. He dared not back out now. He did not want to go to that place—but what else might he do when he was the only one here to help her? he asked himself. It was almost as if he were no longer in command of his own body, that even had he wished to halt and turn back he could not have done so. This was where he was destined to be, what he was fated to do.

And that was magic, surely?

Rush into it and through, it’s the only way to face what you fear, he thought. Tightening his gut, he braced both hands against the wide tooth of a merlon and leaned out a crenel to see past an intervening wall buttress.

The side of the castle dropped sheer. Far down showed the footings of solid granite. Below that…

The earth and river and dark forest far, far below.

He groaned involuntarily. His palms on the merlon were slick with sweat, trembling. An icy ball of fear turned his insides to water. He wanted to go back, but forced himself to stand firm. Far away a cock crowed, calling forth the dawn. The air hung cold and wet about his face as he looked down.

It was no good. His breath rasped. His teeth danced. His sight hazed. His legs shook so violently his kneecaps drummed the stone wall. Stand here too long, and he’d pitch over the parapet like dice rattling out of a cup. Slowly, shuffling his leather boots, he crept away from the gaping space.

“What did you see? Lift me up so’s I can see it, too!” Her mouth open, her face all delighted smile, she danced for the battlements rising on the western end of the parapet.

Already spooked, Leon jumped at the girl’s blithe command. Deep shuddering twitched his body. Backing against the inner wall, he willed his heart to stop pounding. Surely it could only beat so fast before bursting. He blinked the night as clear as it would come. There was color in the world. It was dawn. He took deep breaths of clean, cold air.

“You’ll fall,” was all he could say.