Chapter 10: Heart of Gold

“Stop!” Iden shouted, the Paladins turning to look back at him. He had arrived just in time, one of the knights was pointing some kind of ornate spear at Isabelle, her massive body entangled in a shimmering net that looked as if it was woven from fine silk. They hadn’t been exaggerating their capabilities, they had defeated the dragon handily. Her burning eyes met his, but it was hard to gauge what she was feeling.

There were two knights with crossbows standing near the entrance to the cavern, and they dropped their weapons, their gauntleted hands moving to the swords on their hips. Another Paladin was standing to one side with a book, and there were two more wielding tower shields and spears. The last one had removed his helmet, the same one who was pointing the strange looking pike at Isabelle’s underbelly. He must be their leader.

“State your business,” the one without the helmet demanded, his companions bristling. He had brown hair that was cropped short for convenience, a strong jaw, and a pair of piercing, blue eyes. His skin was tanned and leathery, and he had a prominent scar on his cheek. His shining armor fit him like a glove, and he carried himself with more confidence than his companions. Iden’s instincts warned him that the knight was a seasoned warrior, not merely the son of some rich Lord who had been promoted beyond his station.

“I have business with that dragon,” Iden replied, one hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword as he gestured towards Isabelle with the other. “I’ll thank you to leave it be.”

The Paladins looked to their leader, confused, the man turning around to face the intruder. The twisted point of his pike left Isabelle’s underbelly, and he planted the haft against the ground, looking Iden up and down disdainfully.

“If you seek to claim the bounty, Hedge Knight, then you’ve arrived too late. This creature’s carcass is the property of the Paladin Order, and its hoard is bound for our treasury.”

“Yeah...” Iden muttered, sucking in a breath through his teeth as though he was about to deliver some bad news. He too had elected to go without a helmet. With so many adversaries, he needed all of the situational awareness that he could get. “That’s going to be a problem. This dragon is not what it appears to be, it’s a person, as intelligent as you or I. Moreso than I, in fact. It ... she, isn’t some kind of rampaging, wild animal. That was my assumption, too. She showed me mercy and compassion, those are not the traits of an evil creature. Whatever reasons that you might have for killing her, they’re not justified.”

“Dragons deceive,” the Paladin replied sternly. “They change their shape to go unnoticed, to spy and to evade the righteous. They might take the form of a lost child to gain your sympathy, only to turn on you in your moment of vulnerability. They lie and manipulate, spreading corruption wherever they go, bending mortal men to their will. If this wretched creature showed you mercy, then it was merely a means to an end, they have no compassion for those who they see as being beneath them.”

“And how do you know that?” Iden shot back, “have you ever had a conversation with a dragon?”

“Because it is written in the archives, and in the scriptures,” he explained. “The Order’s historical records go back hundreds of years, our information comes from the firsthand accounts of those who suffered under the heel of these beasts centuries ago. You are playing a dangerous game, sellsword. It is not wise to come between a Paladin and his holy purpose. Leave now, and you shall be spared.”

“If I were you, I’d just be on my way and write this one off as a loss,” Iden said as he gripped the hilt of his sword more tightly. “I don’t want this to come to blows.”

“Kill this vulture,” the Paladin muttered, waving his hand dismissively. “I have no patience for this, we have important work to do.”

The two knights who were posted by the entrance to the cave unsheathed their swords, Iden responding in kind, gripping the hilt with both hands as they squared off. He’d sell his own mother for a buckler right about now, but the only shield that he had brought on his expedition was the tower shield, and it wouldn’t serve any purpose in a fight like this. He had hoped that he might be able to avoid a confrontation if he could convince the Paladins of Isabelle’s innocence, but they might as well be deaf. Trying to dissuade a Paladin from their appointed task was like talking to a wall, though a wall was more liable to change its mind...

He took up a defensive posture, his eyes darting between the two helmeted figures as they began to close in on him, their heavy armor clanking with each step. They were aggressive, overconfident, no doubt certain they would prevail against this lowly mercenary in his dented garniture. His armor was inferior to theirs, both in terms of quality and coverage. They were clad in burnished steel from head to toe, but while it gave them formidable resilience, it also made them heavy and limited their range of motion.

Contrary to what some might believe, duels between swordsmen were not lengthy affairs. It often took a mere handful of moves to bring down an opponent, accomplished in a few blinks of an eye. What Iden lacked in armor, he would make up for with his decades of experience, experience that he could already tell that his enemies lacked.

Iden gripped the blade of his sword with one gauntleted hand, shortening the effective length of his weapon, a technique known as half-swording. It would give him more leverage, and it would allow him to deliver stronger and more accurate thrusts to the less heavily armored areas of his foes. Cutting and cleaving were virtually useless when facing off against an assailant who was wearing full plate armor.

The knight to his left raised his sword above his head as high as his heavy pauldron would allow, swinging it down towards Iden’s shoulder. Iden weathered the blow, his chainmail glove preventing the strike from driving the edge of his own blade into his palm, throwing the Paladin off-balance as he deflected it. Before the knight had a chance to steady himself, Iden maneuvered the point of his sword, his two-handed grip giving him exceptional control. He threw all of his strength into a thrust, the sharp edge slipping into the joint in the Paladin’s armor between the helmet and the breastplate, the mail beneath providing little protection against the tapered blade.

The Paladin loosed a pained gurgle, dropping his weapon and falling to his knees, spurts of crimson blood staining his white breastplate as he made a futile attempt to stem the bleeding. The other Paladins watched in stunned silence, the expression on their leader’s face changing from one of disdain, to one of concern.

The second knight loosed a war cry and charged at Iden, set on avenging his fallen brother, but he was easily side-stepped. His momentum carried him a few steps further than he had likely intended, and when he wheeled around to face his opponent, Iden was already upon him. He swung his sword like an axe, gripping the blade with both hands, striking the Paladin’s helmet with the pommel. The blow rang it like a bell, knocking the knight off-kilter, and the first strike was followed by a second that was just as vicious.

The knight swung his sword at Iden’s belly, but it was easily parried, leaving him wide-open. Iden stepped in, punching the Paladin with his armored fist, his neck snapping back. A helmet was of little use if the head inside of it was being rattled around like a pair of dice in a cup.

Dazed, the knight began to lose his balance, Iden helping him along with a savage kick to the chest that knocked him onto his back. Before he could struggle to his feet, Iden aimed the point of his sword at the slot in his visor, gripping the crossguard for leverage with one hand as he pushed the blade through it. The knight ceased his struggling abruptly, Iden planting a boot on his chest as he strained to withdraw his sword.

“Murderer!” the leader of the Paladins bellowed, waving back the three who remained as he stepped forward. He brandished the long pike with the gnarled point, gesturing with it, Iden meeting his furious gaze. “You dare to defy the will of the Gods? You dare to rob these righteous men of their victory? They overcame a dragon today in service of their order, only to be slain by a brigand!”

“I told you to fuck off!” Iden shouted back, his voice echoing through the cave. “I’ll kill the lot of you if I have to.”

He was startled as a few of the torches that ringed the cavern came to life, casting more flickering light on the scene.

“My Lord!” the Paladin who had the leather-bound tome clasped in his hands called out. “The spell is wearing off, we have precious little time before the dragon regains its magic!”

So that was it, the Paladins had somehow interfered with Isabelle’s magic. That was why she hadn’t simply barbecued the intruders like a choice cut of meat, and why so many of the torches were now dim.

“I’ll deal with this scoundrel myself,” the ‘Lord’ said, handing off his odd pike to one of his companions and drawing his sword from its scabbard.

“Just leave,” Iden growled, “I’ll even let you recover your dead. I’ve killed many a Lord in my time, this won’t end well for you.”

It was somewhat of a bluff. The younger Paladins had been inexperienced and overconfident, but this one was different. Iden could see it in the way that he carried himself, the way that he handled his sword, the way that he moved in his suit of armor. It was one thing to face off against an idiot in a fancy raiment that had never suffered so much as a scuff, but quite another to fight an experienced warrior who knew how to move and fight. If they were closely matched when it came to their sword fighting skills, then it might well be the quality of their armor that decided the outcome, and the Paladin had Iden hopelessly outmatched in that regard.

“Those were good men,” the knight snarled, the two beginning to circle one another. “Their souls will meet on the shores of Paradise, but yours ... yours will be damned, and I will be the one who damns it.”

“It’s no fault of mine that you won’t listen to reason,” Iden snapped. “You call me a murderer, but you’re trying to kill an innocent person who has done you no wrong.”

“That dragon may have lived a hundred human lifetimes,” the Paladin replied. “You have no idea what deeds it has done, nor what evil it might do in the future.”

“So you’re willing to murder people based on what they ‘might’ do?” Iden asked.

“Even if a fox had not eaten any chickens that I knew of, I would not lead it to a hen house.”

The knight surprised him, lunging with the tip of his short sword, aiming for his throat. Iden reacted just in time, parrying the blow, the Paladin scarcely flinching. It had been a probing strike, his enemy was testing his defenses, his reflexes.

“I underestimated you once, sellsword, and it cost me the lives of two of my men. I will not make that same mistake again.”

He took advantage of Iden’s uncertainty, charging at him, throwing his weight into a powerful elbow strike. Iden blocked it, but the Paladin followed it up with a swift pommel strike to his unarmored face, collapsing his nose. The two men grappled for a moment, their armor clashing, too close together to make effective use of their swords.

The knight threw Iden back, the two of them squaring off again, the blood from his nose staining both of their breastplates. It wasn’t the first time that Iden had broken it, and he fought through the pain, purple bruises already spreading beneath his eyes. He had to take the initiative. If the knight kept him on the defensive, then he would have no chance of winning. What he wouldn’t have given for any other weapon than a sword right now. War hammers, maces, spears. Almost anything was better than a sword when it came to fighting someone wearing armor, but both he and the Paladin had come equipped to fight dragons, not their fellow man.

He stepped forward, gripping the Paladin’s blade in his hand, pulling it up and away from him as he drove his own sword towards his unarmored underarm. The knight responded in kind, gripping Iden’s blade just above the crossguard and forcing it down, bringing his knee up towards his groin. His codpiece mercifully absorbed the impact, but the strike was still enough to send him reeling. The Paladin took advantage to deliver another swift punch to his face, Iden dodging out of range, taking up a defensive stance. There was no such thing as honor in a fight for one’s life, even amongst the Paladins.

Iden had to take control of the encounter, he wasn’t as young as he once was, and he would tire before long. He charged in, locking the knight in a sword fight, their steel flashing as they parried and riposted. They danced back and forth, exchanging blows, each trying to disarm the other. Again it devolved into a brawl as the two men closed, grappling with their weapons, knees and elbows impacting metal. Iden was hit in the chest with his adversary’s pommel, the impact winding him even through the armor. The Paladin tried to trip him, but Iden recovered, gripping his blade in the half-swording stance and attempting to drive the point towards his throat.

His opponent deflected the sword with his own and then leaned in to punch Iden in the face with his gauntleted fist. Iden stumbled back, dazed, trying to blink away the bleariness in his eyes as his ruined nose began to gush blood again. He moved back, the knight keeping the pressure on him, Iden scarcely able to keep up. Iden gripped his sword by the blade with both hands, swinging the weapon like a hammer, aiming for the Paladin’s exposed head. Again it was deflected, the knight very nearly succeeding in disarming him.

There was just no way through that damned armor. Unlike his own, there were no breaks in it besides for the throat and the underarms, and the Paladin was skilled enough to keep those protected. He couldn’t even stab the man in the foot, he was wearing sabatons.

They were both distracted as more of the torches that ringed the room burst into flames, the Paladin with the book of spells looking around nervously.

“My Lord!” he began, their leader cutting him off impatiently.

“I know, Gregory, I know! I’ve almost finished with this cur. Robert, take the damned spear and finish off the dragon in my stead, we’re out of time.”

Iden looked past the Paladin frantically as the one who he had referred to as Robert moved towards Isabelle. It was the knight that he had passed the strange pike to before engaging Iden. He remembered what the Paladin had told him down in the foothills, that there was only one weapon capable of piercing a dragon’s hide, a pike with a tip made from dragonhorn.

Iden felt a new surge of adrenaline course through his veins, a kind of panic overtaking him. He too was out of time, he had to finish this right now, or both he and Isabelle would meet their end in this cavern. He lunged, beating the Paladin with his sword with a series of vicious overhead blows. It did little damage, but it forced the knight to retreat, putting him on the defensive.

“Iden!” he heard Isabelle call out to him, her voice strained as though it too was fighting against the gossamer net. There was an odd gurgling quality to her booming speech, almost like her mouth was full of water. “This is all that I can do!”

As he began to wonder what she meant, an orange glow caught his eye. He looked down at the blade of his sword, the steel burning steadily brighter, as though it had just been pulled from the fires of a forge. It burst into flames, startling him so much that he almost dropped it, globs of molten metal dripping to the floor below. It was so hot that he had to hold it at arm’s length, but fortunately, the hilt was not heating up in the same way that the blade was. He wasn’t going to be half-swording with this thing.

It was Isabelle’s magic. Just as she had lit the torches, she had used her power over fire to enchant his blade.

The Paladin eyed it warily, keeping his gaze fixed on Iden as he called to his comrade.

“Gregory, do something about this!”

The knight leafed through his book of spells frantically, his eyes scanning the pages, his expression increasingly panicked.

“What incantation?” he yelled back. “I don’t ... the archivists didn’t ... I only know the spell for silencing the dragon!”

“Then cast it again! The bloody thing has almost regained its full strength!”

Iden wasn’t about to wait around for them to cast more of their spells, wielding his flaming sword as he lunged at the Paladin Commander. The knight blocked his blade but was showered with globs of molten metal, bonding with his armor as they cooled. None of it landed on his face, but it gave Iden an idea. He whipped his sword, spraying the Paladin with more burning flecks of metal, and he raised his arms to protect his eyes.

Iden darted in, slashing at his breastplate experimentally. His suspicions were confirmed, the intense heat of his blade rending the immaculate steel, leaving a blackened tear in its wake. It was going straight through, Isabelle had given him the tool that he needed to gain the upper hand.

He gave the Paladin no time to adapt, driving the burning blade straight through his thigh, the cuisse armor providing no more protection than tanned leather. Iden smelled burning flesh, the knight bellowing as he dropped to one knee, smoke rising from the wound. Iden withdrew his sword, noting that there wasn’t a drop of blood. The intense heat had cauterized it.

The knight tried to rise to his feet, but faltered, falling back to the ground.

“Yield!” Iden demanded, raising his sword as he prepared to deliver a killing blow. “Tell your men to stand down right now!”

“Slay the dragon before it’s too late!” the Paladin shouted. “Carry out the mission!”

Iden drove his blade into the kneeling knight’s neck, burying it up to the hilt, the flaming sword passing through flesh and bone like butter. The Paladin’s eyes lost their focus, a wisp of smoke rising from his mouth as his jaw hung agape, dead so quickly that he scarcely had time to react. Iden withdrew the sword, the Commander’s body slumping to the ground at his feet.

The three remaining Paladins had been transfixed by the fight, but now the one who was wielding the pike turned and made for Isabelle, intent on carrying out his Commander’s final order. Iden raced to intercept him, but he felt like he was in a nightmare, running in slow motion as he watched the knight raise the weapon like a javelin.

Isabelle opened her mouth, her head upside-down relative to the floor, boiling water pouring between her long fangs. She spewed a plume of steam, unable to even turn her head in the direction of her assailant. The Paladin drove the pointed tip of his weapon at her chest, but her forelimb was in the way, the tight mesh trapping it tight against her body. She roared in pain as it penetrated her scales, drawing crimson blood, the knight pulling back for a second attempt.

The steam that billowed from her maw took on a darker hue, the last of the water evaporating, a fiery glow illuminating her iridescent scales and reflecting off the pile of gold that she was sprawled on top of. Whatever magic the Paladins had employed had worn off, and Isabelle vomited a cloud of flames, the fire licking across her own body as she was engulfed in the blaze. A wall of black fumes obscured her, Iden skidding to a halt as he felt the heat of it on his face, even from halfway across the chamber.

Robert retreated, the flames too hot to brave, staggering away from her as he took refuge behind his tower shield. The thundering of her footsteps told Iden that she had escaped her bonds before he had even seen her, the great beast emerging from the flames, flapping her wings and waving her horned head back and forth as she threw off the last vestiges of the silvery net. Fragments of it burned as they wafted through the air, floating like embers from a campfire.

She turned her glowing, reptilian eyes towards Robert, the knight’s helmet emerging to peek over his shield. Iden expected him to turn tail, but instead, he raised his dragonhorn pike and charged at her.