A Knight of Langtree: Sanjo

The old knight pulled long gray hair from his face, combining it with his left hand to the strands his right hand had pulled free from the neck of his armor. With a strip of thin leather, he tied the hair back in a ponytail, then his fingers reflexively went to a scar now visible at his collar. Just a touch was enough to spin the reel and play a quick flashback in his mind. The scar was from the back of his brother’s weapon biting his flesh as it stopped a killing stroke from another. With a sigh, he lifted his sheathed katana and slung it over his shoulder, fastening the small buckle on the red leather strap so the hilt loomed over his left shoulder. Turning to leave the room, he noticed Mei, his wife, was awake and staring at him from the dim light of the rising sun that had been pouring through the bottom slats of the window blind.

“Sorry if I woke you…” he said quietly, though it had been many years since either of them had truly felt concern for the other. She feigned a smile, then pretended to go back to sleep, but he noticed something seemed odd about the look in her eyes. Sanjo was not one to give in to emotions, and even had he been, there were none left between them.

Nevertheless, it was nearly sunrise, and his host would soon amass at the airship docks. So he turned the wick of their dressing room oil lamp down until it snuffed itself out with a puff of smoke and exited the room, closing the door slowly behind him to reduce the sound. He passed the doors to the bed chambers of all three of his sons. Hitoshizuku, his eldest, the son who was the result of a celebration for the end of the war with the Silvaari some 120 years prior. Mejiro, the middle child, whose conception was questionable but had to have been at some brief respite during the height of the conflict with Telmbrook. Last there was Shishuku, his youngest son, and bastard with a half-fae whore if you had heard it whispered in hushed tones from any gossip in Langtree. Onward down the staircase, through the great hall, the parlor, and then the foyer out onto the cobblestones of the courtyard of Gintosama Manor. From there it was a stone’s throw to the hedgerow lined street that separated one row of the great manor homes of all the great lords of Langtree from another. The same road that would lead him down to Market Row, through which he would reach the docks.

There had been reports of a dragon attacking caravans along the route between Sequoia Hollow and the Odd Pair farmstead, near the northern edge of the southern desert. This was a matter of importance to Langtree because Sequoia Hollow provided all of Langtree’s imported timber, along with the realm’s favorite beverage, Sweet Root Tea. As such, coming to their aid was non-negotiable. The task would be a joint effort between Sanjo’s PyroKnights and the GeoKnights, another sect of the Order of the Elements. The council determined that the PyroKnights would be valuable for the defensive part of their strategy, as this was the typical fire-breathing variety of dragon. The GeoKnights would be responsible for the assault on the dragon, turning the very desert itself against the beast. While it was not typical for Sanjo, the general of Langtree’s armies, to lead such an expedition, his captains were already engaged in the war effort.

Arriving then at the docks, he looked out to the horizon, and the river and sprawling lands far below the floating city. He had gotten here first, as intended. Soon after came Captain Sarraf, one of three captains of the GeoKnights. While Sanjo hadn’t had any dealings with Sarraf, he was a subordinate to the Major in charge of the GeoKnights — Senenmut, who had been Sanjo’s rival, and whose father had been Sanjo’s father’s rival since the earliest days of DeAhmn. All the same, he saluted Sanjo and then stood there waiting for the rest of the men to arrive.

The airship in front of them was neither among the smallest of Langtree’s fleet nor one of its great war vessels. On its stern was the name “Sky Serpent,” scrawled in a calligraphy style common to old DeAhmn. Most of Langtree’s fleet had been built in the days when DeAhmn was still one nation on the ground. They were weapons of a war the Dradites had waged with Silvanir many years ago. The ship was suspended off the side of the floating landmass by two long steel arms, the space between them just enough for the ship to fit with very little room. Affixed to the port and starboard sides of the ship were large hooks that sat over the steel arms of the dock to keep the ship in place when it was docked.

As the sun crept up over the Spindelhimburs mountain range and the light spread across both Langtree and the lands below, the last of Sanjo and Sarraf’s men arrived for the assignment. First light indeed, he thought, motioning the troops onto the ship.

“Now that you’re all here, let’s get underway. We will brief you on the strategy once we’re closer to the target.” Sanjo wasn’t known as a great orator. Generally, his sword did his talking for him. His men were accustomed to that, but the GeoKnights would just have to get used to it. Their liege lord, Senenmut Hassan II, was a windbag as far as Sanjo was concerned. He was more inclined to sit his council seat than be a knight — let alone lead them. None of that mattered. Perhaps they would learn a thing or two on this mission.

When the knights had all boarded the ship, Sanjo went up to the main deck with the ship’s pilot. He nodded to the man, an AeroKnight, as the majority of airship pilots were. The idea was that an AeroKnight with a strong tether to their affinity had a chance of landing a ship safely with control of the winds, should the magic powering the propellers and air bladder fail. This became common practice after the war with Telmbrook had begun, as destroying the parts that made the ship fly was a common tactic of the enemy.

It wasn’t long before the moisture in the air had all but evaporated. The southern desert stretched beneath them, a vast ocean of sand as far as the eye could see. From the ground it was treacherous, but from the airship, it was easily navigable. The pilot had been given the approximate location of a sandstone cavern that extended below the tides of sand. The report given to the council claimed the rangers of the Hollow had tracked it back here. There was no sign outside that anyone had ever been here, though that meant little in the desert. Tracks never last long in the shifting sands.

“Put us down a decent distance from the cave mouth. If things go poorly, I don’t want the ship to suffer fire blasts,” Sanjo commanded plainly.

Arman Sarraf shifted uncomfortably, correcting his posture as Sanjo gave the command — as if awaiting his orders.

“Prepare the knights. It’s best we make our approach as soon as possible after we land. The rangers of Sequoia Hollow noted it sleeps in daylight.” He narrowed his eyes at Sarraf. “Now.”

The man hurried off to get the unit ready.

On the ground, his men lined up near the gangway. The three PyroKnights he brought were green, rankless knights. Flame wards were one of the first things one learned while honing their fire affinity, so Sanjo wasn’t overly concerned. There were eight GeoKnights. That group was who he had to worry about. If they failed to execute or froze up, they would all die here.

“If we’re not back by sundown… head back to Langtree and report,” Sanjo gave his final command to the pilot before stepping to the end of the gangway. “Knights of Langtree, on me…”

The war party hadn’t traveled half a kilometer before they were into their water skins. Sanjo used the back of his hand to wipe sweat from his brow and looked over the party. They had all already stopped sweating; there wasn’t much moisture left to sweat. In fact, this climate made the air so dry that drawing too strong a breath felt like scratching down the throat — as if the air was sand itself.

“Don’t drink any more water until we get there, or the heat will kill you before the dragon has the chance. We’ll take twenty to collect ourselves and drink in the shade of the cave mouth when we arrive.” Sanjo’s voice rasped. The worst orders to give were the ones he didn’t want to follow himself.

Not thirty minutes later, they arrived at the sandstone structure. It looked like a pile of giant sandstone dominoes tossed aside by an even larger child. All the same, there was a cave entrance, and it provided shade, though even within the cave the band could not escape the sand.

“Stop, drink, keep your voices down… From here on out we move in silence.” He looked the group over, his eyes lingering on Sarraf, whose expression was odd and difficult to read. Probably the heat, he thought as he continued. “Once we find the beast, the four of us will create flame wards on each side of the dragon. When I give the signal, the rest of you are safe to engage.”

If he hadn’t been a bit sunstruck himself, he may have noticed several GeoKnights sharing a knowing look with Captain Sarraf.

Through dark and dusty corridors, they made their way down into the heart of the cave. It was only a few minutes before they began to hear it breathing, but for Sarraf, this time felt like hours. If not for the darkness, his anxious behavior would have given him away by now. Yet in the darkness his secret was kept, and they arrived at the main chamber.

Sanjo motioned Sarraf and his men to stand fast, then pointed in the dim light from cracks in the cave walls for the PyroKnights to take up positions on any of the four sides of the beast. He drew his katana, and the others did the same. Using an elemental affinity required a weapon — a means to focus power through something known instinctively to both body and mind.

Just then, without being seen, Sarraf pulled a dagger from his belt, using it to silently focus his earth affinity. He was willing the sandstone below the dragon to change shape, and as he did, it began to slowly crack. Then all at once the sandstone splintered beneath the dragon and rose in points, jabbing sharp into its abdomen.

The dragon’s eye slid wide open, gleaming golden in the dim light of the cave, and its mouth spread wide as it howled. It was as if every muscle in its body tightened at once, and then it was on its feet — the cave trembling against its weight and power. What started as a glow seen through the soft, unarmored neck of the dragon quickly became a funnel of flames seeping out between its twisted fangs. It seemed like daylight in the cave, and that heat… molten sand pooled on the sandstone floor where the first torrent sprayed.

It was aware of its assailants now, and quickly snapped up one PyroKnight, tipping its head back so she could tumble into its churning, tearing teeth before being swallowed.

Sanjo wheeled around, now seeing things in the light. Where had Sarraf and his knights gone? Only the female PyroKnight had been taken so far. He could see another of the green knights trapped beneath its massive tail and the third frantically trying to remember how to conjure the ward, but ultimately frozen in place.

“Get out of here! NOW!” Sanjo bellowed at the remaining PyroKnight, who then began running as if someone had turned his brain back on.

Then, with both hands gripping the hilt of his katana, he swung a massive arc of flame from nowhere against the dragon’s impervious scales. It did nothing, as expected, save for drawing the dragon’s focus to him so the young knight could escape. He could tell with a glance that the one trapped beneath the dragon’s tail, though now freed, was dead.

As the dragon opened its jaws wide and that now-familiar glow began to shine from its throat, Sanjo plunged his katana into the rock at his feet and a flame ward expanded from within it, consuming the dragon’s breath as it exited the creature.