I woke up with a start, immediately assaulted by the smell of blood. An irrational fear took hold of me and I lurched forwards, but a hand grabbed my shoulder and held me still.

“Stay calm. You’re safe now” said Haylwic.

While I’d been unconscious, night had fallen, so it took me a moment to focus on the young householder, especially since his head was exactly between me and a torch that was used to light the way. Underneath me, I felt the coarse fur of a boar and realized I was inside my cart.

“My uncle is driving our cart. I offered to drive yours since neither of you were in a condition to do so” he said, answering my unspoken question.

When I heard the word ‘both,’ a wave of horror washed over me and I started looking around. Wallia was at the back of the cart, with his back turned to me. He was bent forward, his head so low that you could barely see the nape of his neck over his shoulders.

“Wallia…” I tried to call him, in a faint voice.

The boy did not respond and remained where he was.

I tried to get up, but my body refused, and I ended up falling painfully back onto the game.

“Leave him be, I don’t think he wants to talk to anyone. When they told him, he didn’t want to believe it and, frankly, I almost couldn’t believe it either. He got… very agitated. Then he sat there, and hasn’t said a word since” said the young head of the family, grimly.

“How long have I been asleep?” I asked.

“I couldn’t tell you. Several hours, but it’s hard to keep track of time once the sun has set. We shouldn’t be too far from the valley gates anyway.”

“So we’re going home” I said.

“Not all of us. Gunnar and the others can’t bring that… thing here. They said they would take it to the sanctuary and join us there when we arrive.”

“That… doesn’t seem like what his plan was when I left.”

“He sent another man on horseback to tell me” said Leodegar. He was still on horseback and riding alongside my cart.

“It was pretty obvious he wouldn’t be able to bring it all the way here. If he had thought about it a bit more, he might have realized it right away and wouldn’t have had to send someone to inform you” I said polemically.

“He even had to send a third one, who arrived while we were getting ready to leave. He had to gather more men and tell his son Theudobald to act as the clan leader tomorrow.”

“That’s quite unusual” I commented.

Normally, the clan leader was the first to exit the gates, followed by his lineage and then the rest of the clan. Once everyone had exited the gate, he would perform rituals, and then we would all go together to the gathering place.

“He wants to stay and oversee the work. It almost seems like he’s afraid someone might take it, as if such a thing were even remotely possible” said Leodegar.

“Is it really that big, Hildiric? It seems impossible to me that something living could be as big as he says,” Haylwic asked me.

Images of the dragon resurfaced in my mind, its teeth as long as daggers, its serpentine body covered in scales, and how it had destroyed a rock pillar by charging at it.

Charging to kill Aghiard.

I felt my stomach turn and my body stiffen. Leodegar shot a reproachful look at Haylwic.

“Damn it, boy, he’s almost dead and he saw his brother die. My brother almost died too!” said the man, who was nearly twice his age.

“Your brother almost died because he was caught with his pants down when the dragon arrived, just like most of those who lost their lives,” retorted the young head of the family. “Aghiard faced that monster head-on and even killed it, saving all our asses. They should write a song about him, like they do for heroes.”

What he said struck me deeply. Only then did I realize that he hadn’t just saved my life, but the lives of everyone in the clan. Perhaps the Wise Men could have done something with their spells to defeat that being, but if it had reached the valley, nothing and no one would have been able to stop it.

In my mind, I immediately pictured the thatched roofs on fire, the dragon approaching Heike and Berth… Haylwic was right, my brother had really saved us all.

Yet, this didn’t make me feel any better.

Aghiard was a hero, and perhaps I should have fought harder to keep the dragon’s body, at least to give my brother the recognition he deserved. But at that moment, I felt empty, on edge, and without anyone to lean on. Maybe my father would have thought it was the wisest decision; after all, fighting for the possession of that carcass and making my brother equal to the mythical heroes would have been a very direct challenge to Gunnar’s authority, almost as if to elevate my lineage above his. The more I thought about it, though, the guiltier I felt for not having fought harder.

At a certain point, the vegetation thinned out, allowing me to see the starry sky stretching behind the treetops. The moon was almost invisible, only a very thin crescent that wouldn’t be visible the next day. In contrast, the Great Path of the Gods was clearly visible, and not far away, the Eye of the Father God, fixed and immobile, watching the earth from time immemorial.

The world was constantly changing, men were born and died every day, yet the sky was always there, immutable and perfect in its cycles and movements. Only the Wise Men could understand those mysterious motions, incomprehensible to us common folk, yet I couldn’t help but wonder if the gods up there had seen what my brother had done and welcomed him among the stars, as they were said to have done for other mythical heroes.

Shortly after leaving the canopy of trees, at the edge of my peripheral vision, the two guard towers on either side of the gate and the top part of the log palisade appeared. This closed off the valley at its narrowest point, completing what was essentially a natural fortress.

We stopped for a while in front of the gate, where a rather animated discussion was taking place that I couldn’t quite catch, before moving on. We passed through the gate, under the wooden platform where guards armed with spears and bows were patrolling, and entered the valley.

“I’ll take you home, then I’ll return with my horse” said Haylwic.

“No. If I return laying down like a dying man, there’ll be a panic” I said.

“But you are almost dying” retorted the young householder.

Ignoring him, I sat up. It was extremely difficult because my whole body felt as stiff as a log, but somehow I managed. I dragged myself with my good arm to the platform and as I tried to leave the cart, I almost fell forward, but Haylwic grabbed me with a grunt and sat me down.

“You old folks and your stubbornness,” he complained.

“Come on, go home,” I told him.

“And risk you falling under the cart wheels? Come on, let’s not take all night,” he said, and I had no choice but to agree. After all, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

We left behind the circle of stakes where we had parted from the others and began the long climb up the valley slope. I wanted to take the reins and drive, but he pointed out that with only one arm it would be very difficult for me to control the vehicle, so he continued to hold them.

It was a long climb with the cart, and when we arrived in the village, everyone came to look at us. It was difficult to decipher their expressions in the dark, but from the constant murmurs, I could easily sense confusion and fear. We had returned much later than usual, and the fact that I was with someone else and my brother was not there made everyone even more uneasy. They needed me to say something, to give at least an explanation, but there were other people I needed to see first.

As expected, the largest crowd was right in front of my house. I tried to get down on my own, but when all my weight was on my legs, I almost fell, and Haylwic supported me again.

“What happened?” asked Magnerich, stepping away from the crowd.

“I’ll tell you, but first I need to go inside. Is my mother here too?” I asked.

Magnerich’s eyes glanced down to my injured arm, partially hidden by my coat, before he looked up at me again.

“She’s inside, and they need to show you something.”

Haylwic handed me over to Magnerich, and I could feel the difference between the two. I was considered a fairly large man, yet when the gigantic storekeeper took me, I was almost lifted off the ground.

“Well, then I’ll go home. May your wounds heal well and quickly,” Haylwic bid me farewell.

The young head of the family went to the back of the cart and untied the horse that was tied behind. He mounted it and made his way through the crowd, then disappeared into the darkness. Throughout all this, Wallia was still at the back, apparently never moving a muscle or making a sound.

“Can you bring Wallia inside?” I asked Hilda, Notburga’s eldest daughter.

The freckled-faced young woman nodded timidly and went to the back of the cart, but when she touched Wallia, he pushed her away and got down on his own, entering the house with long strides, probably more to escape the gaze of others than to seek anyone’s comfort.

I entered as well and inside I found my son, asleep on his straw mattress despite everything, and my mother, sitting right in front of the door to my room. The elderly woman immediately looked up and it seemed as if one glance was enough for her to understand what I wanted to say. I opened my mouth to speak regardless, but she immediately raised her hand.

“First, it’s better if you go inside.”

I was a bit taken aback, but I did as she said and, still supported by Magnerich, entered my room. Heike was lying on the bed and had a small bundle in her arms. Her hair was damp with sweat and her face was exhausted, yet she continued to look at the thing swaddled in cloth with joy. I felt my heart skip a beat and my gaze fixed on them, almost unable to believe what I was seeing, despite having just faced a dragon a few hours earlier.

“So, it’s born,” I whispered softly.

Heike heard me and gave me a big smile. Unlike my mother, she seemed not to have noticed my wounds much and probably hadn’t even realized the passage of time.

“It’s another boy,” she said, happy.

I cautiously approached and sat on a stool right next to her. She brought the newborn closer to me and I could see his small, red, wrinkled face through the cloths he was wrapped in. A few tufts of very fine black hair, little more than a light fuzz, stuck out from the top of his head.

“He’s beautiful,” I said, my voice cracking with emotion. The joy of having another son, and the pain because my brother would never see him.

The infant opened his eyes.

In those eyes, in hue and depth,  my own eyes were reflected.