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“FIVE TO ONE!” grandfather roared slamming his goblet on the table. “This will not be a battle. They won’t even last five minutes.”
“Not even worthy of a proper name,” King Loren Lannister added. “Though the unusual foe definitely guarantees one.”
Grandfather waved his hand and I immediately moved to refill his goblet with arbor gold. I’m a squire not a cupbearer. In fact, my cousin Otto had laughed when grandfather ordered me to stay behind for such duties. Nontheless, here I am, in the command tent, and there he is, polishing grandfather’s armor under the sun. I sniggered at the thought.
“Cyran, fetch me a goblet,” father said as he entered the tent.
Silently I obeyed. Ser Theomore Tyrell, the master-at-arms at Highgarden, had told us time and time again that it was an honor to serve the royal family. He failed to mention that when they were your own family there it was less about honor and more about not getting a clout in the ear.
Prince Gawen continued the conversation. “Five to one are very favorable odds.” He took a seat and grabbed the wine from my hands. “Yet there are still the three dragons to deal with.”
“Three lizards you mean,” Prince Edmund replied, propping his feet on the great oaken table. “A single arrow is all it takes, little brother, and we have a fine number of archers. Surely at least one will hit home.”
“Here, here!” Lord Peake stood up. “A toast, my lords and kings, to the greatest victory of all. Today we speak of beasts, tomorrow we feast on their corpses.”
“To victory!”
I raised my own cup of watered wine along with the men. Tomorrow would be a day to remember. Tomorrow, we go down in history.
We awoke at first light and already the camp was buzzling with activity. From outside the green tent I could hear the voices of guards and the clinking of armor.
I turned to my cousin. “Did you have fun polishing armor?”
Otto grunted and attempted to throw his boot at me. He failed miserably, sending me into a fit of laughter.
“It had to be the most boring experience of my life,” he said. “Thank the Seven that when I’m a knight I’ll have squires to do that for me.”
“Aye, but you are no knight yet.” I pushed some of my black hair out of the way. Let’s hope that doesn’t bother me later.
“I will be soon,” he insisted. “I’ll prove myself today, you’ll see.”
I held my tongue. Otto was a skilled fighter and a great horseman, but neither him nor myself had ever seen real battle. Father said it was very unlikely that we’d gain our spurs so easily.
“What do you think of the battle today?” he asked, snatching me from my thoughts.
I looked up at him. Black hair, green eyes, freckled face; a Gardener through and through like myself. We were both fourteen, having been born only a few days apart. When we were younger, we used to joke that we were twins, but the years went by and he grew taller and my face became slimmer. Now we don’t look so similar, but we still had the same bright green eyes. Mayhaps I saw myself in them, for my answer was more a lie than anything else.
“I have a good feeling about it.”
The march started early in the morning with the sun still half covered by stalls of wheat. It grew all around us; golden plains spreading as far as the eye could see. It hadn’t rained in the last couple of days but the plants seemed unaffected.
“Better this way,” father had said, “benefits the horses and works in out favor.”
He rode in front of me, carrying a banner with the sigil of our house: a green hand upon a white field. Beside him rode grandfather, looking every inch the proud warrior of his youth atop his golden stallion. To his left was Otto, with a positive attitude and palpable excitement.
It didn’t take long for us to hear the enemy host, the clanking of armor and heaving of horses gave them away. On a plain such as this one we were all on even ground, so the army would be the decisive factor, and in that we had the upper hand.
Fear hit me all of a sudden. Men will die today. I may kill some, some may kill me. I pushed the thought back and guided my courser behind files of more experienced men and knights of the Order. They would be the ones to break the center and I didn’t want to interpose. I just wanted it all to be over so we could return to Highgarden all the sooner. I missed the hedge maze and the garden walks, the terraces and solars, grandmother’s sun room that smelled of figs and peonies. I missed my bed and breaking my fast on fresh bread rather than cold porridge. I missed, more than anything, the friends I’d left behind. Even Lyla, a cheerful, redheaded prostitute that had quickly become my favorite. Thinking of our last encounter together only added to my misery. All the more reason to get this over with.
With newfound determination I unsheathed my sword. The trumpets sounded and in a split second everything turned into an organized disaster.
“HIGHGARDEN!” I yelled urging my horse forward. Arrows whistled overhead. The sound of fifty-thousand hooves pounding the ground roared like thunder and shook my bones. My own heart found its way to my ears and took on an incessant beating that almost drowned out all other sounds.
It only took a minute for all those war cries to turn into desperate screams. A winged shadow descended from the sky and I couldn’t help but turn my attention to it. Black as sin with teeth longer than swords; a creature larger than many a castle. Its eyes met mine, they were blood red. In them, a man could see the deepest of the Seven Hells, and as its mouth opened black flames shot out, engulfing every single thing in its way. Very late did I realize that that thing was me.