Page 58 of Enamored
“Please, not the king. And not Maxim.” Yet even as I prayed, I suspected the draco had attacked that area specifically, almost as if it had been told to do so.
With the Ice Men having a history of capturing dracos, it was possible King Canute had hired them to utilize a draco as a weapon. Although I didn’t see any of the fierce-looking warriors on the battlefield, I surmised they were nearby and able to command the draco.
The Knights of Brethren could keep the king safe and surrounded during a land battle. But how would they be able to shield him from a draco when they had no place to run or hide from its fierce, fiery breath?
My mind spun back to everything I knew about the flying lizards. Was there any way to stop them? In ancient times, what had the people done to protect themselves and their livestock from being decimated?
I scoured through my memories of all the history I’d learned, the tales I’d read, and I rapidly pulled to the forefront a story where villagers had shot flaming darts at an attacking dragon, scaring it away, giving themselves enough time to find safety. Would that work now?
We had to try.
My insides were twisting tight with the need to do something—anything—to stop the draco. As a flaming arrow shot upward from the northeast region of the battlefield, my pulse tripped over itself. Maxim was alive. And he’d come to the same conclusion.
“Shoot fire into the air to scare the draco,” I called to the nearest soldiers. “It will give us a chance to take refuge.”
But where? We were in the middle of the valley without a tree or stone to use as shelter. The nearest safe places were the Snowden Mountains to the north or the hills and cliffs to the south. I rapidly gauged the distance back to the ravine we’d recently traversed. It was too far, even by horse. The draco would easily catch up and incinerate us.
My attention caught the Atlas River. Though I couldn’t see the longboats, I knew they were moored there, the dragonheads upon their prows fierce and stately. With the threat of the draco, would the king and his army be able to retreat by boat?
At the very least we could douse ourselves, and the water would protect us from the draco’s fire. It would be frigid, but it was the only way. I prayed Maxim was even now instructing the Knights of Brethren to make their way across the battlefield.
“The river!” I shouted above the din. “We need to get to safety in the water!”
Several soldiers nodded, and a nearby commander took up the cry, shouting my new instructions. Within moments, soldiers raced toward the river while the archers continued to shoot fiery arrows into the sky toward the draco.
Halvard motioned urgently at me. “We must go now too.”
The draco glided overhead, just out of reach of the arrows. It was waiting for a break in the firestorm. And then it would attack again. We had minutes left. Halvard was right. We had to go.
As a groom handed us the reins to our mounts, my attention fell upon the tents behind him and the wounded men lying out in the open. These men had served Norvegia bravely. They deserved our compassion and aid.
Even as I scanned the camp for pallets, litters, or any means we could use for the transport, helplessness seeped into my soul. There were too many wounded, some severely. Dragging them to the river would likely result in more pain and injury. But leaving them behind would doom them to death.
“Your Highness.” Halvard grabbed the reins of my horse. “Please.”
“The tents.” As I stalked away, I unsheathed my knife at my belt. “We shall cut up the tents and use pieces to transport the wounded to the boats.”
The priest straightened from where he’d been praying over a moaning soldier.
Without waiting for his permission, I approached the nearest tent, stuck my knife into the thick oiled canvas, and tore it. I made another cut, then ripped the piece downward until it came loose. I tossed it toward the priest, who laid it out on the ground and shifted one of the wounded onto it.
We might not be able to evacuate all the men, but we could save as many as possible.
Halvard stepped up next to me. I half expected him to hoist my body over his broad shoulder and carry me away. Instead, he thrust his knife into the tent and slit it downward. Others began to do likewise, and within minutes, priests, tradesmen, and knights alike were hauling the wounded with them toward the river.
I labored without stopping, moving from tent to tent, shredding the material as fast as I could.
“The archers are running out of arrows!” came a shout from a commander. “We must get the princess to the river! Now!”
Before I could complete the slash I was working on, Halvard finished it and laid the canvas on the ground. “You’ve done all you can, Your Highness. Now you must think about the rest of the country. Norvegia needs a good and honest and self-sacrificing princess like yourself to stay alive and out of King Canute’s control.”
I was breathing hard from my exertion, and I wiped my cloak across the perspiration on my forehead. From what I could tell, most were on their way to the river. The remaining men lying about the camp were silent and still.
“Very well, Halvard.” I sheathed my knife. I wasn’t sure I agreed with his assessment, similar to Maxim’s, that Norvegia needed me, but I could leave now, knowing I’d done all I could to help.
A young page waited with our horses. His face was gritty from the dust of battle, the whites of his eyes wide with fright. Once in my saddle, I leaned down and held out an arm to the boy not more than ten years of age. “Come up with you now.” The boy started to shake his head, but I thrust out my arm again. “We have no time to argue. You must obey me at once.”
As he took hold of me and scrambled up into the saddle behind me, the shriek of the draco reverberated in the air. Fresh dread coursed through me. Our archers had exhausted their supply of arrows. Our respite was done. The race for our lives to the river had begun.
