Chapter 26: He Conquers By Fortitude
Somehow, Elizabeth managed to remain standing. She was still gripping her knife, and could make out dark drops falling from the tip of the blade onto the soil.
Elizabeth felt herself being wrapped in a coat, and Darcy pressed himself against her, his arm around her shoulder. "He was the she-dragon's defender, and knight of the much-hated Arthur," he said, "yet showed you affection. We shall not leave him to the crows. Rest assured Princess, I'll see to him, and may even lay him down in that pit, beside the creature he so long defended. Princess, it's no ill to mourn that he is now fallen." He pressed her closer to him, and she leaned, letting silent tears flow.
Wickham walked over, unnaturally subdued, a little way beyond Sir Bennet's body. "You were right, Darcy. The blood flows only to where the ground rises, and will not spill over, instead just pooling here."
The sight caused a melancholy to sweep over Elizabeth. Darcy still held her close to him.
"Pooling fresh blood will awaken Querig dangerously quick," Wickham said quietly, but forcefully. "She has done what she had to; Elizabeth is unharmed. Even if we try to bury him now, just here, time is not our friend," he added, meaning clear.
The knife dropped to the ground with a dull thud, as Elizabeth shook herself out of her stupor. She reached to squeeze Darcy's hand. "He is right, I am well. You must fulfil your quest now, before it is too late."
Elizabeth and Wickham were alone once more.
They all three had come up the side of the mound. Darcy had leant over a rock and gazed down into the pit, his shoulders moving with each breath.
Darcy had gazed at her with a faraway expression. "Are you well?" Elizabeth had asked.
"Princess," the warrior said, "we may not meet again. So let me tell you one last time. You were that gentle yet fierce Briton from bygone days who once made me dream of ways to keep innocents beyond the reach of war. I know you have little remembrance of it. I see that man today through the haze of this creature's breath, and he looks a fool and a dreamer. If I manage to walk back to you…there will be those awakened who will crave vengeance for their memories, and it's a thing that will be easily found. I'd bid everyone to go in peace, even though I know peace shall not hold for long. I pledge you my love, and ask for your forgiveness in advance."
Elizabeth and Wickham had stood about aimlessly, before Wickham went to untie the goat quickly, bringing the wildly bleating creature to the pit. He drew his sword, peering into the pit.
Elizabeth joined him, also looking down, brows furrowed. "Do you…"
"Let's hope I shall not have to use it. This creature, however, I care nothing for and would just as soon throw it in there."
Down in the pit, neither the dragon's position nor posture had changed; if her senses were warning her of the proximity of strangers, and of one in particular making his way down the steep side of the pit, Querig gave no indication of it.
Elizabeth frowned; could it be the rise and fall of Querig's spine had become a little more pronounced? And was there a new urgency in the hooded eye as it opened and shut? Elizabeth could not be sure. Unconsciously shivering, she continued to gaze down at the creature, and the hawthorn bush that kept the dragon company. How was it a solitary bush was growing in a place like this? Could it not be that Merlin himself had allowed it to grow here? How had the dragon's breath not incinerated it yet?
Darcy was continuing his descent, his sword unsheathed, just like Wickham's. His gaze rarely strayed from the spot where the creature lay, as if he half expected her to rise suddenly, transformed into a formidable demon.
At one stage he slipped, and Elizabeth clasped her hand across her mouth to keep herself from screaming. Darcy dug his sword to avoid sliding some way down on his back. Stones and gravel went cascading down the slope, and, just like that, Querig snapped her head up, eyes no longer hooded.
Elizabeth gasped. Wickham gripped his sword, edging closer into the pit. "Who cares about honour," he muttered, "this creature must die."
Everything next both happened as if a dream, slow and frozen, as well like a gushing river, fast and thundering.
Darcy was safely on the ground. Querig turned her head in his direction, body rising like a wave. He raised his sword, still several paces away from the dragon. With something of the unexpectedness that had characterised Elizabeth's contest with her father, Darcy suddenly moved forward. He ran, jumping over the dragon's moving body without breaking stride, and hurried on as though anxious to reach the other side of the pit.
But his sword had moved with him in a swift, low arc in passing, and Elizabeth saw the dragon's head spin into the air and roll a little way before coming to rest on the stony ground.
It did not remain there long, however, for it was soon engulfed by the rich tide of blood that first parted around it, then buoyed it up till it swam glidingly across the floor of the pit. It came to a stop at the hawthorn, where it lodged, the throat up to the sky. The sight brought back to Elizabeth the head of the horrific creature that Wickham had severed in the monastery tunnel.
She forced herself to look away from the dragon, and watch instead the figure of Darcy, who had not stopped moving. He was now circling back, avoiding the ever-spreading pool, and then with his sword still unsheathed, began the climb out of the pit. Darcy took a surprisingly long time to climb out. When at last he appeared before them again, he looked overwhelmed and not in the least triumphant. Without a word, he sat down on the blackened ground right on the rim of the pit, and at last thrust his sword deep into the earth. Then he gazed emptily, not into the pit, but beyond, at the clouds and the pale hills in the distance.
"It's done," Wickham said in awe. He glanced at the goat. "You are the only unfortunate here that shall die for nought."
Elizabeth rushed to Darcy, kneeling into the ground beside him. He instinctively reached out to hold her, pulling her close to him.
"It's done," Wickham repeated, this time with worry in his voice. "There'll be many across the land would thank you if they were here. Why look so despondent?"
"Despondent?" Darcy turned away from Wickham and once more gazed at the clouds, pulling Elizabeth closer to him. Then he said: "I sit here, shaking not from weariness, but at the very thought of what my hands have done, and what's to come."
"No further task awaits you now!"
"Justice and vengeance await, George. And they'll soon hurry this way, for both are much delayed. I longed for Querig's end, thinking of atonement for my family, my kin, my people, my King's command, and most of all, Elizabeth's dear memories. Yet who knows what old hatreds will loosen across the land now? We must hope that the gods yet find a way to preserve the bonds between our peoples, yet custom and suspicion have always divided us. Who knows what will come when quick-tongued men make ancient grievances rhyme with fresh desire for land and conquest. It may be vengeance justly served, yet I'm enfeebled and try as I will, I find myself turning from the flames of hatred."
"The giant, once well buried, will now stir, you are saying," Wickham stated. "When soon he rises, as surely he will, we will all flee, fight, or perish. And country by country, this will become a new land, a Saxon land, with no more trace of any Brittonic time here than a flock or two of sheep wandering the hills untended. Or…there will be time anew, perhaps, no more Saxon and no Briton, but something new that the gods will bless us with. I am…I do not believe that I can face any more bloodshed."
Darcy did not speak.
"The shedragon's no more, and Arthur's shadow will fade with her. I dare say Lydia will be growing quickly more calm now the dragon's slain and her pull gone from Lydia gone."
"Why don't you go see to her, and should you find her much calmed, her strange fever passed, cut her free and bring her up here. She should see this place, her fallen father, and the broken she-dragon, all before our next steps," Darcy said tiredly.
When Wickham was gone, when they were left alone, Elizabeth and Darcy held each other and wept, wept for all they had lost, and all they had gained.