The Last Dragon

Chapter 1 - The Champion and the Chief

Her fingers tightened on the hilt of her sword. The worn leather compressed under her fingers. Her heart raced as metal struck metal. Light flashed; her shadowy hiding place was gone for the instant. The fireball spattered against the wood she ducked behind.

Ilia tugged on the worn leather strap holding her gorget in place. The leather neck protector was at least two sizes too big, but it was all she had. She peeked between the boards and into the arena. One knight was moving slower now, though his sword met each blow with a clash.

The smaller knight reached their arm out and grabbed the air, pulling back hard. The bigger knight landed on his back; his legs yanked by the spell. He hit with a grunt. A dust cloud rose, hiding him from sight. Ilia peered through the dust. Not even a glint from his shining armour was visible.

The smaller knight stepped into the dust and disappeared. The crowd was silent, waiting. The dust settled, falling slowly. The small knight stood over their opponent, their sword against his neck just below his helmet. The crowd burst into cheers and applause. Ilia waved her sword and hollered; her voice lost in the crowd.

The small knight pulled their helmet off and shook their long dark hair free. She met Ilia's gaze and smiled. Cheers erupted again as she raised her helmet in victory. She turned slowly around the arena, smiling and waving her helmet at the crowd, the slight breeze rustling her hair.

Ilia gripped her sword and dashed through the knights gathered along the arena edge with her. She pelted past the tents for the Knight-Mages, back to the training rings behind them. Apprentices and junior Knight-Mages filled most of the practice rings, training swords clashing as they practiced. Ilia took the smallest ring in the back, away from the others.

Her sword flashed as she swung it high and around. Now, down and back up, just like she did. Recover from his blow and a high strike to the head. What did she do next? Right, recover, and thrust. Ilia lunged, sword tip lashing out at where her opponent should be.

"That's good, but don't reach with your upper body. Lunge with a bigger step to close the distance. Your balance is more important than your reach."

Ilia's heartbeat pounded in her ears. The training grounds were silent, all eyes on the lady knight at the edge of Ilia's practice ring.

She spun and faced the knight, her fingers tightening on the sword hilt. She bowed her head. The leather gorget dug into her chin and pressed her neckband against her skin. "Thank you, Champion."

The woman laughed. "What do you call me in lessons?"

Ilia glanced up before dropping her gaze to the sand at her feet. "My apologies, Master."

The breeze picked up, blowing the woman's long dark hair into her face. She scowled and set her helmet on a post. She tossed her gauntlets aside and pulled a strip of green ribbon from under her armour. With deft fingers, the knight braided her hair. Her dusty hair hung neatly down her back, the ribbon braided in and holding it firm.

"This hair tie is amazing. It stays in place no matter what. Did you enchant it yourself?" The knight stepped beside Ilia and set a hand on the girl's shoulder.

Ilia barely felt the hand through the thick leather armour. "Yes, Master." She grinned up at her. "It was easy."

The knight smiled. "Now, I want to see that fighting set. Have you been practicing?" Those piercing violet eyes stared down at her. Through her, Ilia felt.

Ilia nodded. "Every chance I could. We've been busy in the Healing Wing with the knights needing help and all."

"Healing is your first responsibility, so never feel bad about putting it before sword practice. The world needs more healers and fewer reasons to fight. Show me what you've got."