Realm of Dragons

Erin shook her head and stayed there. Overhead, the sun wore on in its progress, the day sliding closer to evening. The knight stood there too, staying at his post.

“Why are you here?” he repeated.

“You want to know why I’m here?” Erin snapped, her temper finally giving way. “I’m here because all my life, all I’ve ever wanted to do was fight. I was playing with swords while my sisters were playing with dolls. And all of that counts for nothing, because my parents want to give me away in marriage!” She stood and moved to the knight. “You can get out of my way, or I’ll get you out of my way. I’ve already killed people once today.”

Infuriatingly, he didn’t step back; didn’t even draw his blade. “And what did that feel like?”

Erin wanted to tell him that it had been fine; that it had been easy.

“Awful,” she admitted.

“And?”

“Exciting.” That was the part she knew she should have been ashamed of, even afraid of. “I told myself that it needed doing, and it did, but it was more than that. I went there because I wanted to prove myself, and because I was angry with my parents. I’m here for the same reasons, and because… well, I like to fight.”

To her surprise, the knight stepped to one side.

“Finally,” he said. “We have some truth from you. Not all of it, but enough. Pass in peace.”

Erin stood, and her legs hurt now, so that even the path across the bridge became a test. Every step she took required effort, and she leaned on her staff-spear like a beggar in a market. She walked until she reached the fortress gates, which stood invitingly open, the space beyond empty.

Instantly, Erin found herself suspicious. She paused at the edge of the gate, looked up, and saw the openings there. She looked down, and saw the faint glimmer of wires on the floor. Stepping back, she picked up a rock and threw it in amongst the wires.

Darts fell down from the openings, razor sharp and heavy. If they hit her, they would kill her; Erin had no doubt about it. It was another test. That made Erin angry, and strangely, it wasn’t the thought of being killed that made her angry; it was the thought that they were trying to trick her, to test her, that they couldn’t see that she should be one of them. She’d thought that she was through the tests.

She would get through, though. The darts kept falling, and Erin found herself standing there, trying to understand it. It took her a minute to understand the rhythm of it, the pattern. Getting through without hitting any of the remaining wires would take timing and balance, and doing it without the darts striking her would take speed.

“It’s a test,” Erin told herself, trying to calm herself. “Just a test.”

She leapt through the opening, placing her feet with the speed of a dancer as she sped forward. Erin felt something brush by her shoulder, but she kept going, determined now, and knowing that to stop was to die. She flung herself through and rolled, coming up on the far side of the gate with her spear in her hand.

A man was waiting there, armored and carrying a longsword. He was white-haired, with a beard that came down almost to his waist, braided and tied back.

“I am Commander Harr, of the Knights of the Spur,” he said. “And you are Princess Erin, the one who wants to fight for us, be one of us.”

“You know who I am?” Erin asked, surprised.

A second figure stepped up beside the commander. Erin recognized the knight who had been at the bridge. Irritation flashed in Erin. There was a second entrance; of course there was. She’d rushed in the front way, but of course there would be another way.

“Why are you here, girl?” the commander asked.

“I want to join you,” Erin said.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “The third test is deadly. The knights only take the best.”

“I can handle it.”

“Your father would not be pleased if you were hurt,” he said. “I should turn you back.”

“They say that the knights will test anyone who wants to join,” Erin shot back. “Regardless of who they are.”

“That much is true,” the commander said. “It still does not make what you are doing wise. I will not go easy on you because of who you are.”

“I wouldn’t expect it,” Erin replied. Why would she want them to go easy? She wanted to prove herself.

“I didn’t go easy on your brother Rodry when he joined our number,” the commander said. “I think stories of it put off your other brothers.”

Erin suspected that it had more to do with who her brothers were. Vars wouldn’t risk his hide in an even contest like that, and Greave had no love of violence.

“I’m not my brothers,” Erin assured him.

“You’ve passed two tests.” He drew his blade. “I am the third.”

“I’m to fight you?” Erin asked.

“If you still wish to join our ranks. There is still time to walk away, to go home. Our life is not for everyone. Perhaps you should—”

“I’m ready,” Erin repeated.

In answer to that, the commander swung his blade at her. It was so fast and ferocious that Erin barely leapt back in time from it, and she knew that if she’d still been standing there, the stroke would have taken her head off her shoulders.

That brought fear with it. The old man really wasn’t holding back. Even with what her father might say or do if she died, he was still striking with ferocious power.

“All right,” she said, unsheathing the bladed head of her spear. Even as she did it, the commander struck again, and again.

Erin gave ground, trying to find an opening to strike back. Her spear darted out and bounced off the commander’s armor. She stepped back, half expecting him to acknowledge the blow.

He kicked her hard enough to send her sprawling. Erin cursed, rolled to her feet, and just managed to get her spear in the way of the next blow. Even that was enough to stagger her. She was getting angry now. What kind of test was this? What was the point of a test that was little more than a fight to the death?

It didn’t help that fear was building up in her again, because how could she hope to fight a man who was so well armored, who could survive almost any blow she struck?

“If that’s what you want,” Erin muttered to herself. She flung herself forward, striking again and again and again. The head of her spear was a striking snake, attacking again and again, trying to find the gaps in the commander’s armor.

Each time, though, he twisted just enough to let her blows strike solid plate, parried or cut so that Erin had to break off her attack. Then his leg swept around, and Erin found her feet kicked from under her. Her spear clattered from her hand, and now there was a sword coming for her, and she knew there was no way to avoid it.

Erin wanted to cry out, wanted to roll away or beg, but she didn’t; she forced herself not to do it. Instead, she lay there and looked up, and waited for the end that was coming. The blade swept down with brutal speed, and Erin found herself thinking about all the things she would miss when she was dead. She found herself thinking of her sisters, even maybe her brothers, and all the moments she wouldn’t be there for…

The blade stopped an inch from her neck.

Commander Harr took it away while Erin lay there panting, not understanding, her fear still there. She could push it down now, though. Commander Harr held out a hand and Erin took it, still not understanding even as he pulled her to her feet.

“Being a warrior isn’t just about skill,” he said. “We can teach skill. A Knight of the Spur needs to be honest with themselves and their fellows, needs to act decisively when they must, and needs to be able to face death head on when it comes.”

“What are you saying?” Erin asked. “I lost.”

“Everyone loses,” Commander Harr said. “Even I lost. It’s about how you lose, sometimes, and the parts of yourself that you show when you do. You showed that you are brave. Reckless, perhaps, but brave.”

“So…” Erin didn’t dare to hope it.