Arrogance

This is a Fantasy short story.

“We are approximately here,” Esned said. His pointing finger tapped the map spread out on the ground for emphasis. “Those are the mountains to the west that lead to Dalartha.” He glanced at the snow capped mountains in the distance, returned his attention to the group crouched around the map.
“That’s a lot of forest to go through,” Brendan said, staring at the intricate map.
“That is obvious, Brendan. I don’t intend to trek through all that forest. It would mean numerous days spent under gloomy trees. We’ll follow the river through this open land skirting the woods.” He ran his finger along the proposed route. “It’s the long way, but preferable than unknown woods.”
Jandra studied the map silently, observing something that caught her attention. She pointed at a marked area on the map. “What about this?”
Her finger pointed at writing. Esned squinted nearsighted green eyes on the script. He read: HERE THERE ARE DRAGONS! He examined the squatting red-haired warrior, meeting her blue-eyed gaze. She waited for an answer.
“It is nothing. There are no dragons. The last dragon was killed a hundred years ago. Kastellon, the explorer, must have meant it as a joke. He did have a strange sense of humor. Or it might be a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Jandra’s eyebrow raised in disbelief. “It’s circled and written in crimson letters. There must be danger there, even if there aren’t any dragons.”
“Nonsense, madam. Kastellon probably wrote that because he didn’t want to waste time exploring the area. Some explorers wrote ‘Here be dragons.’ on maps when they couldn’t continue a search. I’ll admit his statement is different, but it’s the same thing.”
“I still think there is some danger in that area. We should go through the forest.”
He stood up, blue robes fluttered to the ground. “Now listen to me. Since I’m paying for this journey, you’ll follow my orders. I’m a scholar with no equal. I was educated in the greatest university in the world. And I don’t need to listen to the opinions of an uneducated, illiterate mercenary guide. So keep your stupid thoughts and ideas to yourself.”
Jandra stood up, hand gripped on her sword hilt in a white-knuckled grasp. She didn’t draw the weapon. Her cheeks were as red as her hair. The effrontery of the man was unbelievable; to think a person so well educated would flaunt it in everyone’s face as if it made him superior to anyone else. Brendan flinched expecting an explosion and the immediate death of Esned.
She spoke with controlled anger. “Listen you pompous mule. Maybe I didn’t go to a university, but I have a good education in life, which is at times more important than book learning. And I can read. I’ve read many of Kastellon’s works. A guide needs to know about more things than just weapons, survival and maps. Your knowledge doesn’t make you better than me or Brendan.
“Since you won’t listen, we’ll do it your way. I won’t be responsible for what happens.” She stalked away.
* * *
They rode beside a shallow river, the rocky foothills were to the east and the great, thick forest on the other bank. The summer day had a cool breeze blowing from the forest, hints of green things and unknown scents rode the wind. Sunlight dazzled the eyes, reflecting off the water. Jandra and Brendan rode together, trailed closely by two pack horses. Esned followed, a hundred feet behind, writing observations in his parchment journal as he rode. She would look around nervously from time to time, watching for any danger.
Suddenly, a piercing neigh of agony split the air followed by a loud, crunching thump and a low growl. Jandra flashed a quick look over her shoulder, grabbed Brendan’s lead rein and kicked her horse into a frantic gallop. The boy, surprised by the guide’s swiftness, hung on to his horse’s mane as they splashed through the river, up the bank and into the sheltering trees beyond. They stopped well back in the trees, but still in view of the river. Blowing hard, the horses settled quickly after the rash flight.
“Why did we do that?” he asked. “Where’s Master Esned? He couldn’t have known your thoughts. He’s going to be mad.”
Jandra, distracted, said, “I didn’t even hear it. The beast must’ve dove out of the sun, right on top if its prey. It knew it was down wind. I warned that arrogant fool.” She shook her head.
“Jandra!”
Brendan’s anxious shout got her attention. “What’s wrong?” She looked around grabbing the sword hilt.
“Nothing’s wrong. You were talking to yourself. I said we better find Master Esned.”
“I’m sorry, Brendan. Esned is beyond help.”
“I don’t understand. He . . . ”
She pointed across the river in answer and he looked. A large, young green dragon stood over the dead horse, bloody talons driven deep into the flesh. The beast’s wings were half spread and shivered excitedly. It swung its head back and forth, hissing a challenge of warning to other predators. Gold eyes glowed hungrily, searching for a challenger. From under the dragon and horse, Brendan could see a white hand protruding and part of a torn blue robe. Papers were scattered around the area.
He turned to Jandra, eyes wide with realization and tears. “He’s dead,” he whispered.
She tried to be comforting. “It was instantaneous. He didn’t feel a thing. Come. There’s nothing we can do.” She turned her horse and rode into the trees. He followed after a last look at the feeding dragon.
Later, riding under the safety of the trees, they stopped at a stream and let the horses drink. They had been silent, but now Brendan spoke.
“What am I going to do now? My family paid Esned a lot for my apprenticeship. They couldn’t afford another one. No other scholar would take me with less than a year served.” He slumped, dejected.
Jandra gazed on the forlorn boy. She sighed, made a decision.
“The world hasn’t come to an end. I think your family was cheated by that arrogant mule. You are bright and eager to learn. You’ll make an excellent warrior and guide.”
He looked up. “Me? But where would I find a teacher?”
“I’ve full guild master status. You would be my first apprentice, but I think we’ll get along fine.” She smiled.
“Thank you, mistress. Your . . . ”
She held up a hand. “First lesson, drop that mistress stuff. You’re my student, not my slave. Calling me Jandra will be enough.”
“Thank you,” he said again, elated.
They rode on, splashing across the stream. It was pleasant in the shade of the trees. The boy thought about events and broached a question.
“Where are we going, Jandra?”
They stopped and she turned in the saddle to look at him.
“We’re going to Dalartha. Esned had scholars waiting for him. They need to be told about his death. That will be your duty.”
“What about the dragons? Do we need to be careful?”
“Don’t worry. We’ve left the dangerous area marked on the map. We'll continue through the forest. Dragons can’t attack through the thick canopy. They’d break their wings and necks.”
“How long will it take us to get to Dalartha?”
“That’s hard to say. Perhaps a month and if we’re lucky, definitely by the end of summer.”
He sighed. “Good. That will give me time to think about what I’m going to say to Esned’s friends. I won’t enjoy facing them.”
She smiled, turned back in her saddle and kicked her horse into motion. Brendan followed behind the packhorses, concentrating on his story. Jandra’s voice drifted back to him.
“You’re a clever boy, Brendan. Leave everything to the imagination except the story.”


THE END