“Thanks,” Anders said. While they were talking, they’d let their horses lag behind the others. Ivan had stopped his horse and the others to wait for them to catch up.
“Everything all right?” he asked, concerned.
“Yeah, Max was just telling me a funny joke,” Anders said.
Ivan shook his head and sighed, “You always have something to joke about, don’t you Max.” Then he turned his horse back around and continued on his way.
The crew rode hard and only got off to walk their horses twice that day. By the time the sun began to set behind them, they could see the Statue of Old Kings protruding from the coastline. At its base a large, sandy beach swept down the crescent-shaped coast. Lining the beach were the Rollo Island Navy warships.
“Look,” Red said, pointing to the statue.
“The warriors, they got the message!” Max exclaimed.
“I knew they would,” Red said proudly. “You can always rely on the Rollo Islanders.” He straightened his posture and puffed out his chest.
As they made their way across to the statue, Anders noticed something out of the corner of his eye moving swiftly across the plains.
“Wild horses,” he said pointing toward the herd galloping through the grass in the distance.
“Hey, we did see some,” Max said, happy to see them at a distance. Anders watched as the herd ran freely across the open land.
“It is truly a beautiful sight,” Ivan said, acknowledging their excitement at seeing the herd.
The night’s darkness had descended by the time their small group reached the beach beneath the statue. Red and his two comrades hopped off their horses and rushed to greet the Rollo war party’s leaders.
The Islanders embraced one another and one of the leaders said to them in a thick Rolloan accent, “I never thought I would see the day when my son would become a master horseman.”
“He most definitely isn’t a master,” Max said leaning over his saddle and looking around for a laugh. Instead the warriors gave him cold looks that told him they were not pleased with his comment.
“Tough crowd,” Max whispered to Anders, as he sat back into his saddle. Anders chuckled and shook his head, then dismounted to join the others.
“Chief Jorgen,” Ivan said, bowing his head slightly, showing Red’s father more respect than Max had.
“Welcome to our camp. We’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Come, we have much to discuss,” Red’s father said, taking Red under his arm and walking back toward their camp.
Chapter 10
Zahara
Despite their presence, Anders and Max were not invited into the tent where the Rollo Island leaders were discussing their next plan of action. Instead they went to set up their own campsite near the edge of the cluster of warrior tents. The size of the camp rivaled the size of most towns in Westland. Anders remembered reading in a book in Theodor’s library that in the Rollos’ culture anyone brave enough to fight was allowed to join the warriors. He passed men, women, and even children as he and Max walked across the sprawling camp. The youngest child looked to be about fourteen years old. Anders greatly respected the women who’d come on their journey. He did worry that the youngest of the children were too young to see battle and could possibly be a hindrance in a fight.
After Max and Anders set up a spot for themselves, they wandered through camp in search of food. Many fires blazed, most smelled of roasted meat. They joined in with a group who were handing slices of lamb cooked over a spit roast. Anders introduced himself and sat down to soak up the warmth of their fire. Max and Anders enjoyed the savory meat.
Anders struck up a conversation with a woman sitting next to them. She introduced herself as Britt. “I was surprised to see such young warriors with your party,” Anders said to her through a mouthful of lamb.
“It’s common in our culture to go on your first war party when you’re very young,” Britt replied, the thick Rolloan accent Anders’ had grown accustomed to from listening to Red was nearly absent in her speech. “Most of us have seen battle by the time we’re fourteen. I went on my first raid when I was thirteen,” she added proudly.
“Weren’t you scared?” Anders asked her, imagining what he would have felt going off to fight strangers to the death when he was only thirteen years old.
“Fear is something that we do not see in battle,” she said strongly. “It is the greatest honor for our people to die in the glory of battle. We do not fear death in battle; we welcome it.”
Anders was shocked at this thought. “Why is that?” he asked.
“If you fight hard and prove yourself to be a brave warrior and die in battle,” she said, “the spirit within your body will leave this world and join the spirits of others of our people who have gone before us. All of the finest foods are waiting in a giant feast when your spirit arrives at the Great Hall. A giant goat sits at the head of the table and its udders produce endless amounts of brew…” she trailed off smiling up into the night’s sky. “If you live your life as a brave warrior you will be granted a seat at the table. If you cower from battle or fear being killed in battle, then you will be damned for eternity and spend your afterlife wandering the endless skies outside the Great Hall’s gates, starving and thirsty, but never able to die from starvation or dehydration. That is why we don’t fear death in battle, it’s far worse to die afraid.”
Anders thought the feast and endless brew didn’t sound that bad. “That is pretty amazing,” he said and turned to Max. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah. The great hall sounds like somewhere I could spend an eternity,” he said jokingly.
Anders and Max thanked Britt and the others for their hospitality and walked back to their campsite.
“That whole not being afraid to die in battle thing is nuts,” Max said when they reached their campsite. “Do they really think that being killed in battle is the best way to die?”
Anders shrugged, “It could be an effective way to form a mindset for some people to be fearless in battle, even in the face of overwhelming odds.”
“I want to die old and in my sleep,” Max said. “Preferably next to a beautiful woman.”
“That sounds like a better way to go than being sliced open by a sword,” Anders said, settling into his blanket at their campsite.
“Yeah, that is much better,” Max mumbled as he closed his eyes with a grin across his face.
Anders was extremely tired from his lack of sleep the night before and then traveling all day, but he couldn’t stop thinking about his encounter with the young dragon. He decided to wait until Max was sound asleep and then go for another walk. Maybe the dragon would find him again. Anders wanted to feel the warming sensation the dragon gave him once more. He was desperate enough to wander away from camp to have a chance at finding it again.
He dozed in fits, nodding off to sleep and catching himself before he was all of the way out. He again stared up at the washed out stars hoping the attempt to find constellations he knew would keep him awake. He found himself thinking back to the girl from the competition again, Maija. He replayed their kiss again in his mind. Just then he heard a rustling in the grass nearby.
There isn’t any wind tonight.Maybe the dragon is letting me know that the coast is clear to come and meet with it, he hoped.
For the second time in as many nights, Anders slowly climbed out of his makeshift bed. He could tell from the quiet snoring that Max was asleep, so he snuck off into the tall grass toward the rustling sound.
