Dragon & Dreamer | ONC 2023 honourable mention

10 - Not a game

Melish's group pressed north as fast as they could, driven by a sense of urgency increasing with each day and every message they picked up in a guesthouse. They left their own information for others who followed in their wake. On this journey, Liha discovered firsthand the vast information network spanning the land of Kelèn. A network connecting traders and beggars, noblemen like Katim, and women living on the edge like Naiin. Even his young friend Dánirah had been incorporated into this web, buzzing with information.

Soon, the reports about mercenaries raiding the northern reaches of Kelèn became common knowledge, though, murmured about in the marketplace and discussed over a pint of ale in the pub. One day, north of Salar, they crossed their first group of refugees.

Berim reined in his horse and ushered it into the meadow beside the road. "Let them pass." He signalled the other warriors to join him.

In the group of bedraggled people walking past, Liha counted seven children and women, one carrying an infant. Their clothes were torn and bloodied, and some wore bandages. The view cut into his heart. He lowered his gaze when the eyes of an ancient woman found his. She could have been his grandmother with the silver-streaked hair bound into a bun, the gnarled fingers cramped around the knob of her walking stick, and the clear grey eyes blazing like a fire in a storm. A boy not much younger than himself walked beside her, carrying a bag that must be too heavy for his slender frame.

The woman nodded at Melish. "So it's true, the king sends us his troops. Much good it will do."

Melish sighed. "Not to you, grandmother, but we might save others from your fate. When and where did this happen?"

"Five nights ago, three days' walk west of here."

Liha exchanged a glance with Berim. The mercenaries had raided another village in his northern homeland. He felt sick.

Melish ordered his men to share provisions with the group and sent them on, despite the eldest boy's request to join them. "Let me ride with you." He had stepped up to Liha's mare and took hold of his stirrup.

"You'll have to ask Melish." Liha believed he saw an echo of his own pain in the stranger's eyes.

Melish studied the boy through squinted eyes and shook his head. "Unlike Liha here, you still have a family to care for. This should be your priority. Be strong for them and lead them to safety."

The grandmother nodded her approval of Melish's words. But the disappointment in the boy's eyes followed Liha well into the day. He felt like he carried an additional burden now, and the encounter strengthened his determination to do what he could to end this war.

Perhaps Berim guessed what was on his mind when he prepared for their daily training session before dinner. Over the last few days, his lessons had become shorter and fiercer. Liha didn't mind. The faster he learned, the better he was prepared to fight. This day's events confirmed that his mission wasn't about his family, but about dozens or hundreds like them, people who lived a hard and honest life until they became victims of the invading brigands—for no apparent reason but their inability to defend themselves. Still, they had ridden long and hard, and he craved dinner and sleep.

So, when Berim took his fighting stance, he pulled a face. "Must we, tonight?"

"Do you want to be prepared for that fight or not?" Berim placed his hands on his hips. "It is up to you."

Liha groaned and picked up his sword. "Yes, I want to. I'm just exhausted."

"So am I, and chances are, you will be as exhausted the day we ride into battle. War is not a nobleman's pastime."

Liha lowered his gaze. "I know, and it's not a game either. Let's begin."

For the first time, he held his own and nicked Berim's arm with his blade that night. "Berim, I'm sorry." He dropped his sword and rushed to see the damage.