All's Fair in War

Author's Note: Revised 4/27/05

Leon's eyes opened again as they had periodically over the past several hours. Each time he held a vain hope that the sight of a dark and bleak dungeon would not welcome him. Slowly the feeling in his arms would return as they recalled that they were hovering above him, shackled to chains hanging from the ceiling. It was then that the pain would return. It felt as though two knives were being plunged into his shoulders. Such was the extent of how tired his body had become while being hung from the roof like a prized kill. His torturers could be likened to hunters poking and prodding their prey as they poked him frequently with hot irons.

"Awake?" a voice from behind, said. "Good, that means you are ready for more." The ghostly voice of his tormentor then erupted into a holler. "Tell Ekir that the Christian knight is awake!"

Leon's head dropped. His thoughts turned to what new tortures they might have in store for him. Briefly he turned his head to his two "compatriots." Their stiff bodies hung motionless. Leon's attention then turned itself to the sound of heavy boots heading towards him. He had learned to recognize the sound of Ekir's boots. Ekir himself walked into Leon's field of vision. The embroidery on his black tunic denoted his rank. He had spoken to Leon many times over the past few hours. Ekir however was very angry with Leon. Their conversation have been very one sided. Ekir has been asking Leon questions, the same he had asked the others. Leon however has not answered him.

Ekir eyed Leon as if it were the first time he had seen him, again. "Do you think you are being honorable? Perhaps you fancy yourself a martyr? A saint?" Ekir took a deep breath. "We are past that now. I give you your last chance. Tell me how many men are at Sarn?" Ekir stared at Leon and waited a full minute before snapping his fingers. "Very well. Take him and ready him."

Two men undid his shackles and he was allowed to fall to the ground. As much as it hurt to fall, Leon felt relief as he once again felt the ground beneath him. The guards waited to see if he could stand on his own but Leon stumbled like a child. Picking him off the ground harshly, they dragged him from the dungeon.

"Order the men. At day break, we ride for Sarn."

Leon was taken into a courtyard where a massive amount of soldiers were preparing to march. He had slowly begun to regain the ability to walk. However his reeducation was cut short because the two guards that had been dragging him the whole time were now picking him up and setting him on his horse, Strider. The guards tied his hands and bound him to the front of Strider's mount. Strider was then led to the front of the mass of soldiers on horseback. Moving alongside him riding atop his own horse was Ekir. His fanciful tunic changed for garments more appropriate for battle.

"The man who escaped from your camp told me that one of your fellow men had an ingenious idea of making him dig his own grave. I shall remember that when the time comes for some of my own men to put some of yours to work. I will give you a fairer chance than your confederates gave my man." His hand gestured to a nearby soldier on horseback. "Do you see that man? He is my best archer. He can shoot and arrow at any target at ridiculous distances. He can even do it on horseback. My army as you no doubt have guessed will now ride to Sarn to reclaim it. I will let you ride ahead of us. Your chance for survival will depend on how long you can continue to ride to keep out of my archer's reach. You have not been fed and will not be given food or water. If you grow tired or your horse grows tired, you will slow down. If you slow down, you die. Do you have anything to say?"

Leon did not look at Ekir, he only began to speak softly, "Our Father, who art in heaven…"

"Position him," Ekir ordered.

The giant entrance to Tartery began to open slowly. Guards led Strider to a position right outside the entrance. One of the guards looked up at Leon.

"….deliver us from evil. Amen."

"Pray that Allah be merciful, Christian. Our archer enjoys hitting targets where they bleed slowly."

Leon looked ahead at the endless stretch of desert. As the first rays of sunlight hit upon the land, the guard's hand struck Strider's backside and instantly the horse reacted.

From within the city Ekir watched Leon's figure diminish in the distance. Within seconds he rallied forward his men and they began to ride off following Leon's direction. After both Leon and Ekir's army had disappeared, the guard stared at the horizon. Atop the silhouette of a far off hill he thought he saw figures in the distance. For just a moment it seemed as though an army might be hidden on the other side of the hill. But that was impossible; the only army within striking distance of Tartery was at Sarn. Or was it? Suddenly the alarm sounded. The guard looked again and saw that his eyes did not deceive him. An army began to ride in their direction.

"Close the…"

Smoke began to erupt from the shed where the entrance was controlled. The shack was suddenly engulfed in flames. A single man stepped out of the flames. The guard ran to meet him.

"What happened? Who did this?" the guard demanded. Before he could see the man's face, he felt the sting of his blade tear through the skin of his chest. Kronan grunted as he ran the guard through. In moments a crusader army was riding through the gates of Tartery with little opposition. Kronan watched the army clash with their enemies. Occasionally he dealt out a blow or two. However he remained where he was until finally he saw Casmir's horse approaching. Meeting him halfway Casmir greeted the stone-faced brute with a wide smile.

"You have done excellent, Kronan. Tartery is mine. In a few hours time either Mathias will rid me of Ekir or Ekir will rid me of Mathias. No matter the outcome, victory.

Leon had no sense of time. He knew only pain, exhaustion, and the unrelenting rays of sunlight that charred his body. His legs had grown numb to the rapid motion of Strider's gallop. No longer did he look forward. His face was buried in the strands of hair of Strider's head. Leon did not even bother to look backwards. He knew no fear from the archer's bow. If he should come into that devilish archer's reach, then so be it. He would ride on. In his mind Leon thought of nothing else but one word. Duty. His duty was to reach Sarn before Ekir's army did, no matter the cost. Slowly, he lifted his head up to peek ahead. He lost count of the times he looked forwards and saw only desert. This time however he saw miniscule in the distance the silhouette of the fortress of Sarn. Leon had no idea from where the strength came, but he raised himself up and nearly stood upon Strider's back, arms raised. For a brief second his mind pondered on what phrase to call out as an alarm. Leon found his warning call as an arrow plunged itself clean through his left hand.

He screamed.

The darkness in which Mathias sat was not a pure one. It was more like the shade one receives from sitting under a tree. The curtains of his tent's entrance were drawn so that little sunlight could enter. He concentrated better in the dark. Perhaps because his own thoughts were so dark that he felt he couldn't think them properly in the open rays of God's sunlight. He had sat in his chair staring at the map for hours. For him the map was like a board of Shatranj. In his mind he moved the armies like pawns in the game. Battles played out invisibly before his eyes. How the world would laugh if they knew that the secret to his "brilliant strategies" was to play a game. This particular was more difficult than others before. When it was just him and the Turks, or him and the Arabs, it was simple. This time however there is one more factor. Casmir and other crusading armies like his. The worst enemy is one that disguises itself as an ally. Hate began to surge within Mathias. Suddenly his eyes drifted away from the map and to the corner of his tent. The richly decorated chest was hypnotizing. Even more hypnotizing was its contents. His thoughts went from dark to pitch blackness as he allowed a thought to cross his mind.

What if…

Mathias struck the idea from his thoughts. Still gazing at the chest he remembered what his father had once told. "Knowledge is both a blessing and curse. And we are the most cursed of all. What we know was not meant to be known by men." Nevertheless, he, like his father, took the oath, the same oath taken by the few who are members of the Societas draconistarum. The Order of the Dragon.

As he looked on the chest he saw what others would surely discount as a hallucination. The head of the chest's dragon emblem turned and looked to Mathias. It's jaw opened wide and emitted a low growl. The growl was accompanied by voices, whispering. The voices became so loud that Mathias shut his eyes.

"Lord, lead me not into temptation. Deliver me from the evil. Let it not consume me."

"Lord Cronqvist!"

Mathias' eyes snapped open. One of his commanders stood at the threshold of his tent.

"My Lord, an army approaches. We are under siege."

Mathias jumped from his seat and hurried out of the tent. Outside, his men had worked hard at fortifying the weakened walls of Sarn. There was little hope however of the city withstanding a full assault. Hastily Mathias made his way to wall overlooking the entrance. As his commander had informed him, there was indeed an army riding towards them. The massive outline of the approaching army was contrasted by the approach of a single figure on horseback. Squinting his eyes, Mathias could make out the sun golden color of Leon's hair.

"Get me my horse."

"My Lord, surely you are not…'

Mathias did not wait for his commander to finish the sentence. He charged past him and hurriedly made his way to the stables.

"Lord Cronqvist! What do I tell the men?"

Mathias looked down to the commander from atop his horse. The image of the dragon flashed before his eyes. Again the thought, "What if…" And again Mathias dismissed the alternative as too costly for his soul.

"Tell them, fight bravely, for God waits for us with open arms!"

With that, Mathias commanded his horse forward at full gallop and rode out beyond the gates of Sarn. The commander did not watch him go but instead ran back to the wall to order the men. As he yelled out various orders a knight approached him.

"Sir, Lord Cronqvist has ridden out to save that knight. The gates must closed else the army will lay us to waste!"

"No. We must have faith. The gate does not close until Lord Cronqvist is inside. If he is ready to die for one man, we must be willing to do the same."

"But…"

The commander raised a hand to silence the knight. His attention turned to the field before them. Time seemed to slow down as he watched Mathias close in on Leon. At the same time the advancing army closed in on both of them.

One thought trekked across the commander's mind.

"Heaven help us all."