Recanna stood by the door, holding his pack.
“Be careful,” she said as he took the pack from her hands.
“I will,” Bant said, embracing her. “I’ll miss you.”
Ruth tugged at his pant leg.
“Promise you’re coming back?” she said.
“I promise,” Bant said, smiling. He wished he knew when that promise would be fulfilled. Hezekiah insisted they would be gone only as long as needed, but he also firmly refused to say how long that might be. Bant knew that his journey might last a season, or it might last years. He wished he could refuse the duty. However, after witnessing the miracle of Hezekiah being unharmed by the spear, he knew beyond question the man was a true messenger of God. Refusing Hezekiah would be like saying no to God himself.
Bant’s greatest fear was what might happen as a consequence of slaying the dragon. Yet over a month had passed with no sign of the king’s armies. Perhaps Hezekiah’s performance had been enough to scare them off forever.
With one last kiss Bant pulled away from Recanna’s arms, then walked outside. Hezekiah waited, his wagon loaded and ready, his ox-dog pawing impatiently at the ground, its breath fogging in the morning air. Bant shivered as the breeze played with his cloak. The bright sun just over the trees hinted at a warm day to come.
“It looks like a good day to travel,” Bant said, placing his pack on the wagon.
“Every day is a good day to do the Lord’s work,” Hezekiah replied.
Bant took his seat next to Hezekiah. “Have you decided our destination?” he asked.
“We shall head north, further into the heart of ignorance. The Lord will decide when we reach the site of his next church.”
Hezekiah flicked the reigns. The ox-dog gave a low bark and began dragging the heavy wagon forward. Bant looked back at his home, at this wife and children standing in the doorway. Their forms shimmered as his eyes filled with tears.
They passed through the now bare peach orchards. The air smelled of dry leaves. In the distance some of the village boys were rounding up a herd of goats for milking. Soon the women would turn their attention to the art of cheese making. Bant found himself reviewing all the things that still needed to be done in the village. The past month hadn’t been enough time to finish everything. The necessities were taken care of, but he knew Recanna would have liked to have the house freshly painted, the widow Tabe’s barn needed mucking, and the men could have certainly used his help with digging the second well.
Most of all, he hated leaving Recanna to care for the children alone. When next he saw Adam, no doubt the boy would be walking, perhaps even talking. He wanted to witness these things. He wanted to share his thoughts with Hezekiah but over the years he’d learned to anticipate the prophet’s consistent message. The greater he suffered in this world, the greater his reward in the next.
“This is all part of God’s plan,” Bant said, meaning it as an affirmation, though it struck his ears like a question.
“Everything is part of God’s plan,” Hezekiah said.
The ox-dog was slow but steady. Moment by moment the distance between Bant and his home grew.
They were five miles from Christdale, with the sun high in the sky, when they saw the earth-dragons. This time only two of the dragons rode on the great lizards, but they led scores of soldiers, a long, single file which blurred together in the distance like an enormous emerald serpent slithering among the autumn foliage.
“Hezekiah-”
“I see them, Bant Bitterwood,” the cleric answered.
“What do you think this means? What should we do?”
“Proceed with our journey,” Hezekiah said, and he did so, keeping the cart on the road, drawing ever closer to the advancing regiment.
As they drew within a few hundred yards, the dragons halted and formed into a line across the road three dragons deep, spears thrust forward. Behind the line, one of the mounted dragons drew up in his saddle. Bant recognized Mekalov, the dragon who had visited Christdale the previous month.
“Isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” Mekalov said.
“Stand aside,” Hezekiah said. “We go to spread the word of the Lord.”
“Spreading your manure is of no importance to us,” Mekalov answered, his eyes narrowed in anger. “We were charged with collecting the taxes of your village. Since you refused the king’s generous offer to keep half of your labors, we come with new terms: we will take anything the king may find of value and destroy everything else.”
“What?” Bant said, standing up on the wagon seat. “Are you mad?
“These are Albekizan’s orders. To call us mad is to call the king mad. Hold your tongue lest I cut it from your treacherous lips.”
“But-”
Mekalov raised his talon, silencing Bant. “Your protests are meaningless. Nothing you can say will spare your village.”
“So be it,” Hezekiah said. “Their souls are readied. Now, stand aside.”
“What?” Bant said. “You’re telling them it’s okay?”
The prophet tilted his head up to face Bant. His eyes remained hidden beneath the broad black rim of his hat. “Our work there is done. All have been saved. What true harm can come to those who have immortal life? Have faith, Bant Bitterwood. The Lord shall provide.”
Bant was speechless.
“Your submission is the only wise course,” Mekalov said. “Step down from the wagon. The ox-dog will be spared for he can be used to carry the tax back to the king. To insure his strength we shall keep him fed on human flesh. A beast like this… I would say he requires at least two human males to feed him on his journey ahead.”
“Dragon, I have no quarrel with you,” Hezekiah said. “But if you attempt to interfere with our journey, you shall surely die. Stand aside.”
“Why?” Bant asked, finding he was angrier with Hezekiah than afraid of the dragons. “Are our lives worth more than Recanna’s? It’s okay for my children to die as long as we live?”
“We shall discuss the matter later, Bant Bitterwood.”
“No, you won’t,” the dragon hissed, raising a huge battle-axe above his head. “Kill them!”
The dragons rushed forward in one wave. The ox-dog snarled and jumped at them, breaking their line in half. The sudden movement toppled Bant backward from the flat wagon seat into the jumbled cargo. Hezekiah’s strong hand reached beside Bant’s face, and the prophet’s fingers closed around the handle of his oversized axe.
The earth-dragons swarmed around the wagon. A spear bit into the wagon bed an inch from Bant’s throat. The wagon shuddered as Hezekiah leapt into the fray, bringing his axe down with a force that severed the nearest dragon’s arm. Two more dragons leapt on Hezekiah, grabbing his wrists. Hezekiah swung the dragons who held him like rag dolls as he viciously hacked a red path through the green swarm.
The wagon continued to bounce around as the ox-dog fought until one of the giant mounted lizards pounced into its side. The wagon tilted and Bitterwood clutched at the shifting cargo as he struggled to stay aboard.
Suddenly, Mekalov cried out a command and the dragons that surrounded Hezekiah jumped clear as the leader’s mount thundered ahead in a charge. Hezekiah struck first, burying his axe deep into the brow of the behemoth that crashed toward him. Momentum carried the monstrous lizard forward, with Mekalov leaning out from his saddle, slicing his broad, flat axe sideways with a savage shout, catching the black-robed cleric by the neck, severing his head from his shoulders.
Hezekiah’s body staggered backward as his head spun through the air. Instead of blood gushing from the stump of his neck, a beam of red light brighter than the sun shot to the heavens.
“WHEREFORE THE KING SAID UNTO ME, WHY IS THY COUNTENANCE SAD, SEEING THOUGH ART NOT SICK?” Hezekiah shouted, his booming voice emanating from his headless torso.