Dragons of the Fallen Sun

Chapter Thirty-Three For Love of Mina

Galdar had not slept since the day of the battle. He kept watch all the long night, standing just inside the shadows of the caves where what remained of the forces of her Knights had taken refuge. He refused to relinquish his post to anyone, although several had offered to relieve him of his self-imposed duty. He shook his homed head to all proposals, sent the men away, and eventually they quit coming.

The men who had survived the battle lay in the caves, tired and frightened, speaking little. The wounded did their best to stifle their groans and cries, afraid that the noise would draw down the enemy upon them. Mostly they whispered a name, her name and wondered why she did not come to comfort them.

Those who died did so with her name on their lips.

Galdar was not watching for the enemy. That duty was being handled by others. Pickets crouched in the thick foliage on watch for any elven scout who might happen to stumble upon their hiding place. Two elves did so, early this morning. The pickets dealt with them swiftly and silently, breaking their necks and throwing the bodies into the deep and swift-flowing Thon-Thalas.

Galdar was furious when he found out that his men had actually captured the two elves alive before killing them.

“I wanted to question them, you dolts!” he cried in a rage, raising his hand to strike one of the scouts.

“Relax, Galdar,” Samuval admonished, placing his hand on the minotaur’s fur-covered arm. “What good would torturing them have done? The elves would only refuse to talk, and their screams would be heard for miles.”

“They would tell me what they have done with her,” Galdar said, lowering his arm, but glowering viciously at the scouts, who beat a hasty retreat. “They would tell me where she was being held. I would see to that.” He clenched and unclenched his fist.

“Mina left orders that no prisoners were to be taken, Galdar. She ordered that any elf we found was to be put immediately to death. You vowed to obey her orders. Would you be foresworn?”

Samuval asked.

“I’ll keep my vow.” Galdar growled and took up his post again. “I promised her, and I will keep my promise. Didn’t I keep it yesterday? I stood there and watched her taken captive by that bastard elven king. Captured alive by her most bitter enemy, led off in triumph to what terrible fate? To be made sport of, to be made a slave, to be tormented, killed. I promised her I would not interfere, and I kept my word. But I am sorry now that I did so,” he added with a bitter oath.

“Remember what she said, my friend,” Samuval said quietly.

“Remember her words. ‘They think they will make me their captive. But in so doing I will capture them, every single one.’ Remember that, and do not lose your faith.”

Galdar stood at the entrance to the cave all that morning. He saw the sun rise to its zenith, saw its angry eye glare through the shield, and he envied it fiercely, for the sun could see Mina and he could not.

He watched in wonder the fight with the green dragon, saw the sky rain blood and green scales. Galdar had no love for dragons, even those who fought on his side. An old minotaur adage, dating back from the time of their great hero, Kaz, maintained that dragons had only one side: their own. Galdar heard the dragon’s death roar, felt the ground shake from the beast’s fall, and wondered only what portent this held for them. For Mina.

Captain Samuval joined Galdar to watch the fight. He brought the minotaur food—rat, caught in the cave—and drink.

Galdar drank the water, but he refused the rat meat. The men had little enough to eat as it was. Others needed it more than he did.

Captain Samuval shrugged and ate the rat himself. Galdar continued his watch.

The hours passed. The wounded groaned quietly, died quietly. The sun started to fall, a blood-red sun, dropping behind its curtain of gauze. The sun was distorted and misshapen, looking like no sun Galdar had ever before seen. He shifted his gaze away.

He did not like seeing the sun through the shield, wondered how the elves could stand it.

His eyes closed in spite of himself. He was nodding off, drowsing on his feet, when Captain Samuval’s voice sounded right next to him, seemed to explode over the minotaur like a fireball.

“Would you look at that!”

Galdar’s eyes flared open. He fumbled for his sword. “What? Where?”

“The sun!” Captain Samuval said. “No, don’t look at it directly. It will blind you!” He shaded his eyes with his hand, peered out from beneath the shadow. “Damn!”

Galdar looked heavenward. The light was so bright it made his eyes water, and he had to look hurriedly away. He wiped the tears from his muzzle and squinted. The sun had burned away the gauze. It shone bright and fierce upon the world as if it were a new-made sun and was exulting in its power. He lowered his gaze, half-blinded.

Mina stood before him, bathed in the blood-red light of the new-born sun.

Galdar was about to raise a shout of joy, but she laid a finger on her lips, counseling silence. The minotaur settled for a huge grin. He did not tell her he was thankful to see her. She had promised she would return to them, and he did not want her to think he doubted. In truth, he had not doubted. Not in his heart. He jerked a thumb toward the horizon.

“What does it mean?” he asked.

“The shield is lowered,” Mina replied. She was pale and weary to the point of falling. She reached out her hand, and Galdar was honored and proud to support her with his arm, his right arm. “The spell is broken. As we speak, the forces of General Dogah, many thousands strong, are marching across the border of Silvanesti.”

Leaning on Galdar’ s strong arm, Mina entered the cave. The men would have cheered, but she cautioned them to silence.

The men gathered around her reached out their hands to touch her. Tired as she was, she said a word to each one of them, calling each by name. She would not eat or drink or rest until she had visited the wounded and asked the God to heal them. She prayed over everyone of the dead, as well, holding the cold hands in her own, her head bowed.

Then and only then would she drink water and sit down to rest. She summoned her Knights and officers to a council of war.

“We have only to continue a little while longer in hiding,” she told them. “My plan is to meet up with the armies of General Dogah and join them in the capture of Silvanost.”

“How soon can he be here?” Samuval asked.

“Dogah and his forces will be able to march rapidly,” Mina replied. “He will meet no resistance. The elven border patrol was pulled back to deal with us. Their army is in disarray. Their general is dead. The shield has fallen.”

“How, Mina?” Galdar asked and others echoed his wonder.

“Tell us how you brought down the shield?”

“I told the king the truth,” Mina said. “I told him that the shield was killing his people. Their king himself brought down the shield.”

The Knights laughed, enjoying the fine irony. They were in excellent spirits, cheered and heartened by Mina’s return and the miraculous lowering of the magical shield, which had for so long kept them from striking at their enemy.

Turning to ask Mina a question, Galdar saw that she had fallen asleep. Gently, he lifted her in his arms and carried her—she was a light as a child—to the bed he had made for her himself, a blanket spread over dried pine needles in a niche in the rock wall. He eased her down, covered her with a blanket. She never opened her eyes.

The minotaur settled himself near her, seated with his broad back against the rocky wall to guard her sleep.

Captain Samuval came to keep watch beside Galdar. The captain offered the minotaur more rat meat, and this time Galdar did not refuse.

“Why would the king lower the shield?” Galdar wondered, crunching the rat, bones and all. “Why would he bring down the elves’ only defense? It doesn’t make any sense. Elves are sneaky. Perhaps it is a trap.”

“No trap,” said Samuval. Bunching up a blanket, he shoved it beneath his head and stretched himself out on the cold cavern floor. “You will see, my friend. In a week’s time, we’ll be walking arm and arm down the streets of Silvanost.”

“But why would he do such a thing?” Galdar persisted.

“Why else?” Samuval said, yawning until his jaws cracked.

“You saw the way he looked at her. You saw her take him captive. He did it for love of her, of course.”

Galdar settled himself. He considered the answer, decided that his comrade was right. Before he slept, he whispered the words softly to the night.

“For love of Mina.”