“No more than you, I’m afraid-perhaps not even that much, at that. Just what the nursemaid told me when I was a lad,” the red-haired knight replied. “They’re big, scaly, scary, and they eat bad little boys for lunch.”
He chuckled, and Edwin smiled, but Derek continued to brood. Aran sighed and shook his head. He swirled the brandy in the glass. Brandy sloshed onto his fingers. “Confound it, Derek! What do you want me to say? I didn’t even know they existed before tonight. I certainly don’t know how to kill one of the blasted beasts! Huma needed the dragonlance, if you believe the stories. You don’t have any of those lying about in the armory, I trust?”
Derek glared at him, didn’t respond. Aran scowled and sucked brandy from his knuckles.
“The Hooded Knight only needed his sword,” Edwin said quietly.
“Damn it, both of you!” Derek yelled suddenly. “The Hooded Knight is a fairy story! And so is Huma!”
“And what are the dragons, brother?” Edwin asked. “Fairy story? Real? You’re not so sure anymore, are you?”
Aran had heard this argument before, many times. Edwin believed the old stories. His heroes were Huma and Vinas Solamnus and Berthel Brightblade. Derek had always ridiculed his brother for this. Derek believed only in himself. Aran knew the argument could last long into the night. He opted for a strategic retreat.
“I’m afraid the ride here wore me out,” Aran said, and feigned a yawn. “I’ll retire now, by your leave, my lord.”
Derek waved him away, his flinty gaze still on Edwin. Aran made an apologetic face at the younger knight, then rose and left. He shut the door as quietly as possible, but it still boomed like a thunderbolt in the cavernous silence.
*****
After Aran’s departure, the two brothers sat in stony silence. Edwin endured his brother’s glare as long as he could, then looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. “I-I’m sorry, Derek. I didn’t mean-”
“Yes, you did,” Derek said coldly. “I’m a fool for not believing every song a bard ever played. Is that it?”
Edwin cringed. “Brother, please …”
“No, no.” Derek sneered, waving his hand. “You’re right, of course. There are dragons among the enemy. You’d best run along, find the Hammer of Kharas and forge yourself some lances, so you can save the world.”
“Stop it, Derek!” Edwin pushed his chair back and stood, his finger shaking as he pointed at his brother. “I’ve had enough of your mockery. I’m not a child any more. I don’t want to be Huma, Derek. I just want to believe in something. Can’t you see that?”
Derek stared at Edwin, his eyes dark, his hands balling into fists under the table. This time, though, Edwin met his brother’s glower with defiance. Derek’s gaze turned to glittering ice, and he shook his head. “Very well, believe in something,” he said. “Believe in the dragons. And, since they’re coming, we must send a man on to Vingaard to warn the knights there.”
“Aye, that’s good thinking,” Edwin agreed. He stopped suddenly as he realized what his brother was saying. “No, Derek. Surely you wouldn’t-”
“I mean it, Edwin. I want you to go.”
“But this is my home! I can’t just leave-”
“If the dragons come, you’ll have no home,” Derek continued. “We will die, one and all, like they did at Castle Archuran. The Crownguard name must not fall. You have a wife, safe in Vingaard. I do not. You must sire an heir, so the family may carry on.” He paused, his lips becoming a firm line. “And you must go before Lord Gunthar and accuse him of having part in my death, and those of my men.”
Edwin slammed his fist on the table. “So that’s what this is truly about!” he yelled, his trembling voice ringing all the way up to the rafters. “If you can’t be Lord Knight, you mean to shame Gunthar out of it as well! You’ve played this damned game for power so long, you can’t see anything else! Not even your own honor!”
Derek was not accustomed to such defiance. He stared at his brother in amazement.