Fan Fiction ❯ Spirit of the Dragon ❯ Call to Arms ( Chapter 1 )

Part I: Prisoner of War

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Chapter One

He heard them long before the rest of the soldiers. The unmistakable pounding of distant drums echoed in Prince Acanthus' ears, beating in time with his anxious heart. There were three hundred men, he guessed. A third on horseback. No sorcerers. Thank the gods for that much…

His knuckles turned white as he gripped his sword hilt. No sign of them still. And yet the drums kept pounding… He felt the blood pulsing in his ears. When will they get here?! The Prince grew more agitated with each passing moment. Battles he could deal with. It was the anticipation…the horrible knowledge of the enemy's inevitable arrival, which always made him insane.

Janus caught his master's fear and pranced nervously. He tossed his black mane with a snort.

The wind picked up and the morning mist gave a sudden shift, sending a horrible chill down the Prince's spine. Why were they taking so long? Cold sweat trickled down his temples. His throat felt choked-up and dry.

Ba rum…ba rum…ba ba rum…bum bum…

Over and over the drums sounded. They latched onto his brain with their torturous rhythm. Taunting him with their apathy.

Just when Acanthus thought he could take no more, he sensed the beast stirring. It tugged at his soul. It tickled his mind.

Subtle reassurance. A feeling of equanimity.

It had only come to him once, this mysterious presence. And that had been a very long time ago…

"Milord, the Gardrothians approach." One of his squires pulled up next to him.

As if I did not know already…But instead of preparing himself, he closed his eyes and focused on that being within his mind. His head drooped and the hand clutching his weapon loosened. He could still hear the pounding but it became a dull throb in the back of his conscience. Each of his breaths were now controlled.

Who are you? Can you help me? Some resistance. Whatever it was seemed afraid. Please…guide me, spirit. It hesitated. Then it took a step foreword, as if testing the water of a stagnant pond.

"I can hear them!" Someone shouted.

Please, spirit! Help me! His urgency fueled the creature's confidence, and he felt sudden power flooding his limbs. It was as if his blood had been ignited. The warmth filled every region of his body.

His eyes remained closed, but on the horizon he could see the clouded mist dissipate. He could see the line of dark figures as they amassed at the base of the hill. And he saw their leader. His target. A hooded soldier who stood like a statue.

Acanthus' eyes shot open, and the men around him let out startled cries, for his eyes burned saffron as if they were on fire. The usual gray-green had evaporated into pools of livid amber.

"In the name of the Lioness!" He roared. With a kick to the side Janus took off; a flash of ebony against the verdant hills.

When his men had regained themselves they followed his lead. The hooves of a hundred horses sent up lumps of sodden earth. From behind it looked like a wave of green.

The Gardrothian leader cut passed Acanthus' men with cold accuracy. It was clear that he was on his way to the Prince. However, neither side would let up. Each had its own bellwether to protect.

The Prince fought on instinct. Slash. Stab. Slash. Stab. Next to him, one of his squires was thrown from the saddle. Acanthus frantically tugged on the reigns to keep from trampling the boy. When he glanced up to see who had caused this distraction, he found himself looking directly at the hooded menace. At last, a chance to face him…

Acanthus cursed as his remaining three squires dove in front of him, driving the warrior away. The beast growled within him. I know! I know! I must stop that man!

"Stand down!" He instructed his young guards. "I must face him alone!"

"But sire-" One protested.

Acanthus sent Janus into a gallop, forcing the boys out of his way. He rode hard towards his prime adversary, extending his sword to meet the man.

"Your conquest ends here, Gardrothian swine!"

The figure pulled back in time to miss the hit, but Acanthus' sword still caught the edge of his cloak and sent it flying into the wind, revealing a head of streaming dark hair which whipped against the leader's face. It was a young woman. He pulled Janus to a halt and stared in bewilderment. It was not this revelation alone, however, which captivated him so. It was the frightening intensity writhing within her icy blue eyes. They were so cold that they burned. There was nothing but pure hatred lanced in that gaze.

He dismounted and drew his sword somewhat awkwardly. Something told him she was much more deadly than her feminine features would suggest.

As he approached her, a thin smile drew across her lips. She raised a bloodstained scimitar in anticipation. Prince Acanthus knew then, that without this inner beast he never could have faced her. Its will gave him the courage to fight. He feared, though, that this blessing might become what it had that ill-fated day so many years ago; that it might swallow him whole and turn him into the monster he knew he could become…