Tales From The Emerald Isles: Hope Chest

1

Ash readied his sword. He had fought battles before. Many battles in fact. He had even faced and defeated a dragon. But, none had hurt him like this. He rubbed his eyes free of sweat, but he missed a bead that streamed down his brow and fell slowly from his eye like a tear. This all could have been avoided, he thought to himself. That boy. He knew. The hope chest was behind Marric. And, behind Marric was an army. Ash knew staying present in battle meant the difference between life and death. He was so much nearer to death now than he'd ever been before. He was the prince of Larutte. He was born to lead his people. He was mighty. But, so was she, he thought. His sword began to lower. It seemed heavier now.

"Open the chest Ash" Marric demanded

"I can't... Only Euan can open it."

His sword fell below his shoulder. As it did a blast of fire barreled toward him. Ash rolled out of the way. His ears ringing. If only he knew then the truth about the dragon. He never would have killed her. You've been such a fool, he thought.

Marric had seen an opportunity in what he called dragon attacks on the kingdom. He has always been good and spinning a tale, even as a boy. He would enchant Ash for hours with his tales of the heroic knights of old, and then haunt him with stories of ghosts and magical beings. Ash never knew where he got his ideas from, but he adored Marric's ability to strip away the everyday and make it fantastical. So, when Marric came to him with stories of a dragon devastating the people of their kingdom Ash was eager to challenge the beast, as had those knights in the tales told to him by Marric as a boy. However, Ash was not led by this alone. Ash was the heir to the throne of Larutte, and had been for many years now. He had studied war, and learned to govern. He loved the former, and hated the latter. He wanted to protect his people; he wanted to be loved by his father. That meant doing his duty. But duty is a heavy mantle for any young man to bear. His father wore the mantle well. It suited him. His broad shoulders and barrel chest were like the Ash tree for which he had named his son. King Alric had long brown hair dusted with white, piercing yet gentle almond shaped blue eyes, and a sharp nose. He was like an eagle soaring high in the sky and Ash often felt like his prey. Ash had the same piercing almond shaped blue eyes as his father, but he has his mother's nose, it was angular, but not as sharp as Alric's and he also had his mother's blonde hair, which he kept long, just like his father. Ash remembered looking into Marric's eyes as boys while he would tell his tales. Marric also had blue eyes, but they were flecked with grey, which in the right light made them look icy and cold, but most of the time they reminded him of his father's eyes. They had the same almond shape, and they beamed right down his sharp nose; the piercing gaze of a raptor locked on something of interest. Ash always looked forward to the nights when he and Marric would sneak away to their favorite nooks about the castle as he would tell his tales. What Ash loved most about these nights was that they took his mind off of his daily drills on duty and lectures from his father. Marric was his friend. But, they were more like brothers. At least until Marric turned sixteen. That was when he was conscripted into The Order of Clerics.

Ash's father always treated Marric rather harshly. He all but forbade Ash from playing with him. Marric was the bastard son of an Emerald Sister who was stationed within the castle as a physician for a time. She had conceived Marric out of wedlock and was found trying to abort him by another of the Emerald Sisters, this caused her to be expelled from the order on account of her promiscuity and her using the knowledge of the sisterhood for nefarious ends. According to Alric, Marric was not the sort of friend kept by princes. But, he never actually decreed he not spend time with the boy. Ash had a feeling that Marric's conscription was somehow his father's doing, but he had no proof. From that day forward Ash saw Marric scarcely, if at all. And when they did, he told him no stories of knights or ghosts or any sort of magical beings. He grew more and more serious and his eyes seemed to be in the right light all the more often.

So when Marric came to him with the tale of a dragon attacking villagers and stealing livestock, Ash was heartbroken for their loss; enraged over the attack on his people, but he was also, at least for a moment a little boy once more, enchanted by the fantastical tales of his dearest friend. But this time it was not some knight from the past in Marric's tale, it was Ash. He would be the valiant knight dodging fire and slaying dragons for his people. And, Marric knew just how to defeat the monstrous beast, and he promised to tell him, if Ash would in turn promise to bring him the ruby red heart of the scarlet dragon. And so, Ash agreed.

"Damn you Marric" the words slipped through his gritted teeth. He could hear the jangle of armor moving through the woods to his left. He's trying to flank me. Damn you Marric. May you rot in underworld for what you've done, thought Ash as he steadied his feet and reached for a small glass orb on his belt. I need to gain some control over this situation.

He threw the orb at the tree-line near where he heard the men moving into position. It exploded into an expanding cloud of dark smoke, its inky tendrils groping through the air, surrounding the base of the trees and reaching ever upward. The smoke appeared to Ash as eyes blinking on beat. He reflexively pulled his right shoulder back as the arrow flew passed his chest. He felt the bite of the second arrow in his left leg. He reached for it. It was in deep. He tried to pull it out. Dammit. He said to himself as he heard the hiss and crackle of fire coming toward him again. Instinctively he dove in the opposite direction, but he landed on the arrow and it snapped in his leg. He grouped for blindly for the tiny bit of shaft sticking out of his leg, fearing to drop his eyes for even a moment. Waves of pain fluttered through his body. He saw spots of light. Every slipping grip or solid connection with the shaft sent crashing rushes of pain through his body. He felt his eyes closing. Was this how she felt before I killed her, Ash questioned himself? The world flickered between his eye-lashes until it he lay unconscious upon the ground blood pooling about his leg. His final thoughts of a dying dragon.