The Return of the Dragonhawk

Chapter 13 -- Remember Who You Are

Will they come for me today? Alyx wondered, watching the first fingers of dawn stain the sky. Or will they leave me until the ravens tear my flesh from my bones?

Either way, I will die badly, and Harald will be disappointed in me.

But it no longer mattered. Harald was beyond caring about anything, because Harald was dead.

A muscle spasm tore through Alyx' chest. He pressed his back against the post and pushed himself more erect to ease the pressure on his wrists, lashed above his head. When the pain subsided sufficiently to allow thought, the deeper pain of remorse returned to his soul.

If I had only listened to Harald, he would still be alive.

*

"Beware," Harald said for the third time. He had drawn Alyx aside for a private conference. "They are too lightly guarded. This is bound to be a trap."

"No trap -- just overconfidence," Alyx insisted. "They cannot imagine that we would venture so close to the fortress." Harald was always inclined to err on the side of caution. Did that fear-ridden fool not realize how badly their people needed the contents of those supply wagons?

"I warrant Muktar's lot know exactly where we are," Harald said. "We are too many to be secure."

"A traitor in our midst?" Alyx asked, watching Harald's face intently. "Mayhap he stands before me now."

He was immediately ashamed of his words, and dropped his gaze before the hurt eyes that bored into his. He had always taken Harald's loyalty for granted until he chanced upon Tarot returning to camp on the afternoon following the escape of Muktar's brat. There was only one possible explanation for the fact that Tarot was wandering loose with his bridle tucked into his saddlebag. Alyx had put off confronting Harald with his discovery because if Harald admitted his complicity, it meant sending him into exile at the very least. Though he was no blood relation, he was all the family Alyx had left.

Harald faced his master's accusation without flinching. "I have served the Dragonkeepers since I was eight summers old."

"If you serve me," Alyx snarled, his hand on his sword, "then serve me without gainsaying my commands."

Harald reached for Alyx' shoulder. "I would not serve you truly if I did not tell you what I see."

"Leave off!" Alyx shouted, batting away his hand. "I will be master here! Follow me, or go your own way."

Harald took one step backwards -- a single step that transported him a thousand miles from Alyx' heart -- and bowed stiffly. "As you wish."

Alyx' mouth was full of conciliating words, but they froze before he could utter them. As always, Harald's counsel was prudent and wise, but the times were desperate. Alyx' pride could not fathom coming home with only a few wild berries and a rabbit to hordes of children who were crying with hunger.

Alyx gathered his troop of raiders with Harald silent at his side. Shortly after, he discovered that Harald's caution was justified. The wagon train's cargo was not food and weapons, but soldiers hiding under the tarpaulins.

Alyx was the first to fall, knocked senseless by a heavy shield. When his sight returned, the fray was all but over. Three of his staunchest warriors lay dead. The rest had fled, except Harald, who continued to defend his master against overwhelming odds. Dragonfyre stood over Alyx, ready to strike anyone who came too close.

Alyx rolled from under the stallion's belly and pulled himself onto his feet with the support of a wagon wheel. A dozen archers had their arrows trained on him and Dragonfyre, ready to let fly. "I yield," Alyx cried, reaching for his horse's bridle. Death seemed an attractive haven for himself, but he could not bear to sacrifice his great-hearted steed.