Rick Shelley - Son of the Hero

As the dragon died-with a noisy death rattle that sounded like someone dropping a junkyard on a tin roof-the line that no mortal could kill a dragon and live through it also died a final death… or would if I somehow managed to get up and limp away. There would be a new old wives' tale. Only a mortal who has killed a dragon can kill one.

A big if: I wasn't at all sure that I would be able to get up and move away from the dead dragon. Only my continuing pain convinced me that I wasn't already dead. Unless death didn't end the pain-not a very comforting possibility. I got my hands and arms under me, and rested my head on an arm to keep my face out of the pool of blood. I was soaked, covered in blood and gore and goo and dust-stinking, rancid. Father and Vara seemed to call to me again, and I had to bite my lip to keep from saying, "I'm ready. Carry me off."

It wasn't just the pain, though a new throbbing in my head was so severe that it almost eclipsed the roster of other pains through my body and left leg. I was groggy with the pain, probably delirious-or near it. Retching, vomiting, came in cycles and kept me weak. There was also exhaustion and a sudden fear that I could never escape the smell of death, the stink of the dragon's blood and innards.

The smell of the goop I was lying in was what finally made me fight my way to my feet. The slippery footing made it harder than ever. I needed the elf sword as a crutch now, and that is one thing that it wasn't very good at. The damn think kept sticking into the ground. I swayed so wildly that I thought I was going to fall again. I don't know how much time passed before I even thought to look for the Etevar, his wizard, and his army. I can't even say how long my fight with the dragon lasted-probably not half as long as it's taken me to tell the story.

I stumbled away from the dragon, looking for dry, solid ground, trying to get out of the shadow of the damn thing before I collapsed again.

The two armies were still facing each other. Apparently, the war had taken a time out for my halftime entertainment with the dragon. With the dragon dead and me back on my feet-at least for the moment-the Varayan army started moving forward again, slowly, almost too slowly for it to be real.

My companions came back to me-all their faces as pale as Annick's normal complexion. Harkane had my horse. Gold was still nervous about getting close to the dragon, but he wasn't fighting the reins. Lesh and Ham-bert supported my weight while Harkane wiped as much of the sludge off me as he could with a large wad of rough cloth. Then he dried the hilt and blade of Dragon's Death.

"Are you all right?" Annick asked, her voice sounding almost fearful.

"No," came out as a hoarse croak. I coughed and spit. "I'm not in much better shape than that goddam dragon." It was a stupid question, but I didn't have the energy to point that out.

"Look, lord," Lesh said, nodding off to the southeast. He turned me so I could see the Dorthini reaction to my victory.

The Etevar's army was coming apart at the seams. Groups of soldiers, some large and some small, were breaking away, running. I guess that seeing their wizard and his dragon defeated was enough for those deserters. But it wasn't a general rout by any means. The Etevar was busy, rallying as many as he could. Warlords were trying to keep more detachments from running off, sometimes even whipping men back to face us.

"Mount up, lad," Parthet's voice said in my ear. "You've got to finish the job." I looked around, but Parthet was still on the battlements of the castle. The distant-whispering was still spooky.

I looked up at Parthet. His eyes were on me. "You've got to be kidding," I said.

"You have to, lad. It's the only way."

I couldn't. There was just no way. If it hadn't been for Lesh and Hambert at my sides, holding ninety-five percent of my weight, I couldn't even have stayed on my feet.

"It's your duty," Annick said, a blank look behind her eyes. She stared at me, past me, daring me to get angry with her again.

Hell, that was probably the only thing that could have got me moving.

I didn't have much strength to draw on, even for anger. I didn't see how I could possibly handle any more fighting. But I had to try. I looked around. Gold had calmed down a little more, but there was no way I was going to be able to mount alone.

"Lesh, I'm going to need help," I said. He nodded. "You may have to tie me in the saddle again."

"If we have to, lord," Lesh said. I wondered what I looked like. Even Lesh sounded as if he was about to lose control of his emotions. He boosted me into the saddle, and Harkane was on the other side to make sure that I didn't fall off there.

"We'll be right at your side, lord," Lesh said. Someone brought Lesh's horse over for him. I held on to the pommel of my saddle. Tie me in the saddle? My head started playing tricks again, something about El Cid winning a battle after his death, leading his army into battle-a corpse tied to his horse… or was that just another Charlton Heston movie?

"We're ready, lord," Lesh said. I opened my eyes and looked up. Most of the people I had led out of the castle were back, mounted and ready to go into action again. Annick didn't even look at me now. She had her sword out and she was staring at the Dorthini line.

"Uncle Parthet, if you've got any way to prop me up through this, you'd better get busy," I whispered, looking up toward the battlements. His face seemed to zoom in and he nodded… but the look on his face was grimmer than anything I had ever seen. His mouth was moving rapidly, but I couldn't hear anything. I hoped it was a potent spell he was weaving.

I looked back to our army. Barons Dieth and Resler were out in front with the cavalry. They were looking to me. Our battle plans hadn't made any allowances for halftime intermission, and there wasn't time for a huddle. I reached up past my shoulder to make sure that Dragon's Death was still in its clips, but I didn't draw the weapon.

It was time for the final scene, but for a moment I just sat there, hunched forward, my eyes on the back of Gold's neck-looking for the energy to do anything at all. I couldn't even have fallen on my sword right just then. Finally, after what might have been almost as long as it felt like, I straightened up and looked around.

"Let's do it," I said. If I could have come up with any alternative, I would have grabbed it in a second, but my mind was damn near blank-at least as far as useful ideas were concerned. All I could do was try to project one step ahead at a time. I clucked at Gold, and he started forward, toward the enemy. I led my troop on an oblique line so we could move into position in front of the center of our army. Keeping track of the Etevar and his wizard didn't take any effort at all now, even when I wasn't looking in their direction. As on that night in Fairy with the mountain trolls, I knew where my enemies were.

We trotted away from the dragon, back out into the afternoon sun. The sun was behind us now, in the eyes of the Dorthinis. Before I turned my troop directly toward the center of the Dorthini army, I gestured for the rest of the Varayan army to advance again.

I must have been burning with fever on top of all the injuries, with delirium hovering nearby. There can hardly be any other rational explanation for the fact that I got on my horse and rode at the enemy again despite the extent of my pain. I didn't even have it in me to wonder, What the hell am I doing here? It just wasn't important any longer. As far as I could tell, I was already so far gone that it didn't matter whether I lay down and waited or kept going until the congregation of Heroes yanked me off. But at least it made the pain fade a little.

You have your duty and I have mine.