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IV. THE COMMANDANT
The drums sounding outside were the only thing keeping Dann's heartbeat steady. They're even-tempoed, intentional, even as the sound leaves a horrible dread curling in his stomach.
His attendants finished adjusting his clothes and hair, though he handled his equipment himself. They departed with a deep bow, and Dann was left to stare at himself in his mirror, alone. How did it come to this? The floor was cold underneath his feet. Distantly he wondered if it was still snowing. The chill seeped into his bones and very little of it had to do with the weather.
Just last spring, the trees were blooming, and the sun shone, and he was walking and laughing with her. Now, in the fading winter light, he prepares to go to war.
Dann supposed with a sigh that his kingdom was always headed down this road. He was a fool, an oblivious fool, to think that one beautiful spring would last. He of all people should have known better that nothing lasts forever.
As he stepped from his room and made his way down the halls of the palace, he heard shouting. The battles for his nation have been ongoing for months now, and it had been a fierce uphill battle to keep their hard-earned ground. But now sentries were running down the ramparts, and hoofbeats clattered on stone in the courtyard. By the time Dann emerged outside, several of his men had already fallen.
He drew his sword, and he joined the waiting company with a nod. It didn’t matter anymore that he is king and they are commoners. They were all that's left.
His small force was able to secure the single breach in the courtyard's defenses, temporarily securing the wall. Dann took the opportunity to sprint to the nearest watchtower, one that still has soldiers shooting down at the invaders in it. He joined them, sheathing his sword in favor of his bow, and takes in the scene below.
It was carnage. His forces were holding, but only barely. The enemy simply had too many soldiers. His palace’s advantage of defensible walls was the only thing that had let them last this long. Dann forced himself to keep loosing volley after volley, even after his allies take enemy arrows and fall beside him. When he alone remains on the watchtower, he cursed under his breath, and turned his attention back to the ground troops behind him. There was nothing he can do for the outside force now.
You know that's not true.
Dann forced the thought from his mind, because it doesn't matter any more. If he'd chosen that path earlier, if he hadn't tried to hold out as long as possible waiting for help that never arrived, maybe, just maybe—but now, this late in the fight—
Once again, he wasn’t quick enough to save what he loved.
Dann rejoined the fighting on the ground. The wall was breached again, and clashing swords and dying screams rung out around him. He knew their chances were grim, but he would be damned before he goes down without a fight. And he knew that falling was his fate. Some things were simply inevitable.
Just as the last of his hope started to slip through his hands, just like her blood that awful spring—
A clamor went up on the other side of the wall.
A small group of men cut down enemy soldiers in a flurry of blows, from the opposite side of the breach. Dann froze, briefly stunned, as the swordsman leading them finished his deadly dance and his eyes met Dann's.
He’s a king.
That's what Dann's mind decided to fixate on, out there in the cold and bloody night. His sword was too ornate, and though he was dressed simply and practically, the quality of them screamed of nobility—but more than that, it was something in those eyes, determined and severe. Dann almost didn’t recognize him—but, he must be—
Dann held a hand up to his guards, and they hesitantly allowed the man to approach. Behind the new king, reinforcements joined the fight against the Shadows. It was like a spell had fallen over them all, the battle around them grinding to a halt as the two kings stared each other down.
Once, Dann had written to the other kings, begging to meet, praying a united coalition could save their land. But that felt like eons ago, the missive met only with excuses and silence. The others had their own problems, he knew that—how, then, is this one here now, with such a small group? How could he possibly make a difference now?
It's too late, Dann thought, desperately. You've come too late.
Echoing his thoughts, the other man said, still breathless from his fight, "My forces can’t stall for long. But if we get you out, there’s still hope."
"What?" Dann breathed. The words didn’t make sense. Hope? They’d long since run out of hope. The river had run dry, and his time was rapidly running out.
You can still save them.
That voice again. That burning, deep in his chest, that he'd tried to stifle. All of it coalescing in the fire in the man's eyes, the desperation in his voice.
Dann remembered the dreams—the visions, as if from another life. Another castle in ruins. A sword and an open gate. A flight through dark sands and blinding snow. This man before him—not just a king. The so-called Once and Future. Arthur.
These memories—memories Dann never experienced for himself—didnt’t fully make sense, not now. But Dann had been fighting for so long. Not just this battle, around him, for the soul of his kingdom, but within himself. With the change he’s supposed to represent. The stories his mother used to tell him when he was small, about magic and gods and shining gold—
Arthur stood beside him now. "If only we’d gotten here sooner," he said. "I'm sorry."
Dann, slowly sheathing his sword, closed his eyes. He forced himself to ignore the sounds of battle around him. "Thank you," Dann said. "For trying anyway."
"We won’t stop trying," the other king replied. Dann had the strangest feeling of dejá vù, but he couldn’t figure out why. “King Louis of the Rose Garden put out a call—all seven of us. We’ll find a way together.”
The barest ember of light flickered in the darkness of his despair. "You won’t have to face the rest alone,” Arthur vowed. “I swear it."
With a deep inhale, Dann opened his eyes. They were surrounded on all sides, and he knew that if he was to have any chance of escape, they had to go now. Instead of the hollow apology waiting on his tongue, Dann just nodded. He and Arthur clasped forearms, a brief and grounding gesture. Then, he raised his bow and nocked an arrow. Beside him, Arthur fell into a fighting stance, Excalibur before him.
Dann aimed for the growing gap in the wall, where the Shadows were just about to run in and bring them to ruin. He breathed deep, reached deep, and the air didn’t chill his lungs this time as the barest spark of power in him sputtered back to life after seasons upon seasons dormant.
Dann loosed the arrow on Arthur’s signal, easy as breathing, and a glimmering light erupted out in its wake. The golden sparks incinerated every Shadow it touched, though still they approached. But that brief gap—that’s all they needed as Arthur and their men surged forward.
The light—the magic—died away as quickly as it arrived, but the hope it brought was enough for Dann. That, and the man at his side. The promise of another chance to change things.
Dann’s last remaining men joined with Arthur’s force, and they charged the stunned Shadows. They will get out of here alive.
And if it was the last thing he did, Dann vowed that he would return.