The warmest night of my eleven years of living was the night when the indigo-blue sky threw up arrows as small as droplets of rain onto the frontal army sneaking behind the hills of ash which covered the whole Kasvoltran Moor with a sick yellow hug of the enemy. I remember so clearly that at that moment, Queen Mother gently grabbed Vukasin's hand, standing on her waist, and slowly put it on the mattress, which was the colour of dark hay. Vukasin turned to the other side of the mattress, muttering and babbling with the grogginess of a pleasant dream cut in half. Mother stood up; her legs were trembling, but her shoulders were as high as the tower of a bell. When our eyes met each other, she approached me with a sense of duty. She kissed my forehead, took the thick white blanket I had been trying to avoid and wrapped my belly so tight that I couldn't breathe.

       "It's gonna be a long and cold night." her voice came out distorted and rigid. "I'll find your father, and we'll go home." After she pulled herself up and took a navy blue clock, she grimaced at me before leaving the tent. The grin itself was not hopeful; furthermore, it had not got a glimpse of faith in it, yet I sincerely felt that a sort of feeling of my father bloomed inside. I left my mattress and nosed out of the tent. Soldiers marched to their horses, and the king's guard armoured themselves with long silver spears to be stuck to the heart of the foe. Vukasin pulled my shirt. I took his white hand, embraced him and pressed his chest to mine. "It's going to be just alright. We'll toss our glasses for the victory of Father tomorrow." His hair was dark as the ocean lay under the rain clouds, eyes as bright blue as the sky.

On the contrary, I got my father's blond features, sharp edge jaw and bony nose. My eyes were pine honey, and they were enchanting when they reflected the flames of the surroundings. I knew it because I had seen Father's eyes reflecting a full blaze of war.

         I was immobilized in the chaos, visiting each tent and waking every son and daughter of  Tigrisia, calling them with the winsome voice of death. My elder sister, Oksana, was eighteen at that time. She appeared in the corner of the pole where the horses were tied. She fetched a sigh, a mask of anger covering her vulnerable nature. She was plucking her long ginger braids and searching for someone with legs that became tangled with each other. I thought the one she was eagerly and desperately looking for was my mother. I leapt out of the tent and attempted to run to her. My heart was pounding so fast that its noisy sound became unbearable. I was about to get her, yet with his long dark curly hair messed up by the ash of the hill, the military leader Sir Vlad seized me and hauled me into the very tent I escaped from. He was the tallest man I ever knew, with his long chin and small green eyes and the black armour he wears with carvings of hawks. His skin was always pale; only that night, it shone like the moon.

         "Prince Jaromir, Danishmenthans passed the Dragon Chevaliers. King Dragar sent me to take you and your siblings to the valley beneath the Kashmir Mountains. Take only the very vital; need to be light enough to move fast."

        He looked at Vukasin, who was crying on the mattress. Vlad's eyes were wide open, and inside, I saw his heart bearing the whole Tigrisia. He kneeled in front of him and took his hands. It was the first and last time I saw him kneel. His cold lips told him to be strong. His eyes gained that initial sensation again when he gripped Vukasin by his shoulder and took us out. I heard the screaming noise of the sword, which he pulled out from its sheath. Oksana cheered when she saw us grab Sir Vlad's arm with her ruined posture. Vlad cut the ropes tying the horses to the pole. He abruptly hopped Vukasin onto the saddle and then helped Oksana to climb up. Finally, he turned to me, "My Prince." his voice had the power of a farewell. I clasped his hand, "Dear friend of mine..." He incredulously focused on the battlefield, which became luminous as daylight touched the ground.

        "I'll lead you to the caves. There, Supreme Monk will welcome you and take you to safety."

        "Won't you come with us?" I cried out. The future was uncharted, and I needed him to be beside me. Otherwise, I would be the one who stands firm. Most shamelessly, I was afraid of taking responsibility. His eyes turned to Oksana, who was gazing at him with absolute curiosity and concern. A reflection of Oksana's sorrow broke his firm face. "I'll return to the frontal army which the king leads." Oksana dismounted her horse. "That's not happenin'. You are comin' with us." At first, it didn't make any sense why Oksana wanted him to come with us. Then I thought she didn't trust me or feel secure enough under my protection. Of course, she wouldn't. I was just a boy who hadn't killed a man and hadn't fought in any war.

        The ravens started to caw. They were gliding above us, among the fog which was the colour of bone. The caws' startled echoes descended to the ground. Then, it was not ravens anymore who cawed. Among the foggy pathway, there were horsemen dragging a large flat wooden. On the inflexible, a vast man was lying. Beneath his silver armour, there were golden epaulettes. The strands of his hair blended into the clusters of the epaulettes. Both got wet by blood. He had two swords; his hands grabbed the familiar one, and the other was stabbed into his chest. I wanted to believe that he died griping his sword, but it was inevitable that the knights put it that way. Here was how the king of the north and south lands, protector of east and west Tigrisia, lord of the five sister Balkan nations, wise and supreme, fearless and compassionate King Dragar died, how I lost my father...

         Mother stumbled, faltered, shattered and finally, when four men carried the wood on their shoulders and put it right on the massive log in front of the king's tent, she fell onto her knees—weeping, yelping, snarling beneath her tightly locked teeth. Everything and everyone blurred with a sense of falling apart. The air got so heavy that it collapsed under my feet. Then, I found myself choking. I gave my first order and shouted inside. Open those eyes which are sealed by the glazed memory of victories. If you leave me alone, obeying mortality, YOU! The king of the gods, how will you face the angel of death whom you mocked numerous times? If you are the king of invincible, get up and fight. If I am further on the king of those, then I order you to get up and fight. He didn't get up. Vukasin sat next to the Queen Mother. He was punching the ground. "You pathetic weasels! Damned condors! I hate you. I'll kill you all! I'll kill every inch of you for what you have done!" Oksana hugged the Queen Mother. Her eyes were already reddened. I took the first step to the wood, then a second, then a third... I could see my father's empurpled skin and swollen veins. Only I accepted his death when he suddenly felt lighter like some huge elephant, as the ones the eastern kingdoms gifted us sucked his spirit out of him.

        As to Sir Vlad, he was terrorized. His sword slipped from his bare hands. His fractured lips got wet from the blood and pain leaking from the bruises on his face. He couldn't get any closer to the king's corpse and stood behind the Queen for a while. Oksana got up and embraced him. She rested her head on his chest and got lost in Sir Vlad's arms which were hugging a flower more than a girl. Abruptly, Sir Vlad pulled her away. He crouched near the king, nodded his head and whispered a few words to his dead ears. Then he grabbed the sword stuck on his chest and raised it above. "Son of Tigrisia, avenge our father, cut their heads and hear their misery, let that misery weep their women and children. This is not a war of two kings anymore; fight, kill and die for our vendetta!"

Soldiers from all around shouted together. Their words echoed, "Aye, aye!" Sir Vlad's intense eyes seek the hand of the military, Sir Rascez. He grabbed his jolt posture and told him a few words, which turned that purple face of Rascez into a warmer, stronger one. All of a sudden, Rascez gathered Vukasin and me and approached Oksana. She screamed. "No!" and ditched the knight's encouraging hand. She hit Sir Vlad's shoulders a few times. Each one was harder than the other. Sir Vlad took both of her wrists. Her lips were trembling. He was standing still with his foggy pale skin and tense mimic. At that moment, droplets of water escaped from those dark green eyes. He embraced Oksana forcefully, tightened her thin waist, and kissed her smooth neck. Oksana enveloped his shoulders and stroked his messy, curly hair. She kissed him back, warmed his cold fractured lips, pale skin, and lonely heart, then kissed his nose, chin and lips repeatedly... He was loving her as he would never love again. Both were crying, soaking each other's faces.

They wept and loved 'till the dawn.

         The sun's ambassador beams of orange light gushed out beneath the mountains. Sir Vlad buttoned up the last bits of his armour. A thick white blanket was covering the king's body. Queen Mother was sitting near it. Sir Vlad regretfully and shamefully stood at attention behind her. "Forgive me, my Queen." his voice was sharp and gloomy. Queen didn't look back at him. She faintly responded. "You do not need to apologize." He tilted his head and made a quick reverence. Then, he walked back to the army of the remaining. Two knights led his black horse, which primarily reflects the colour blue. He mounted that gorgeous animal, Goliat. The men mounted their own. I ran towards Goliath, carrying the king's sword... the passed king. I raised my fingers and presented the Silver Dragon to Sir Vlad. He gazed at me hopefully. "My prince, I cannot dare to touch my king's sword. Unfortunately, I am not worth it. Keep it close to you. Silver Dragon is faithful." He urged on the animal. His men followed. I, impassioned, shouted behind. "You are the most truehearted man I ever knew, Sir Vlad! You worth more!" 

That morning, the ravens cawed more... then they shushed...

         We waited eternally. We stayed for a sign, for a caw, for a light and a night. Oksana waited for a promise to be kept. Vukasin waited for an enemy to be slaughtered. I waited for an end. Yet, I learned that even death is not an end.

         Dark shades of figures appeared on the foggy pathway. Their number was sparse. A few men grabbing swords faced them to the pathway. I took Silver Dragon out. The faces got familiar as they approached. They were the ambassadors of the Queen. They hastily searched her. Mother stood up, her face full of dismay after she heard what they said. The war was lost, and raider Danishmenthans was coming for the royal family. Sir Rascez dragged us to the horses. We mounted. He looked at the Queen and waited for her approval. She came near. "Take care of my children," she said. I was shocked. Abruptly we moved. The horses' strong whinnyings and the hooves' noise distracted me. I couldn't believe we left her there surrounded by the foe. Your Highness got smaller and smaller as we went. Vukasin wept.

Sir Rascez was a firm, solid man. He lacked any sense of art and music but was a fine horseman, a skilful warrior. We rode our horses throughout the hills as Sir Vlad planned to do. We got into a silent valley. Many vultures didn't take long to glide in circles on us. Each step of the horses had echoed thousands of times, floating to the end of the valley, multiplying. All of a sudden, Sir Rascez stopped his horse. We did the same. However, the noises of horses' steps continued. Rascez pointed out a crossed curve beneath the cracked rocks of the mountains. I led the way. We hid and watched. Sir Rascez pulled his sword out. He stalked the front, then the back.

At last, his rough chin raised. Five horsemen were looking down to the valley. They gazed at Sir Razcez for a while, and then they could quickly grab their bows and took his life out with an arrow patting the wind like a feather. Their disappearance didn't take long. The slight figures became clear. Men were heavily dressed, with thick black furs hanging down their necks. Their eye contours were painted black, and their hair was braided and held by leather clasps. The well-built one approached, dismounted his horse, and grabbed his sword. It was curved as the one stabbed to Father.

         Sir Rascez attacked first. He hurled his sword down at the man's legs. The man defected. Sir Rascez aimed for the neck, but the man's sword broke Sir Razces'. He tossed his head to Razces; the knight was shattered, and he fell. The warrior finished him, cutting his head out. Then he looked right into the curve we hid in. I approached so near that I grabbed Silver Dragon even harder.

         Abruptly, a gleaming sword arose from his chest and tore up his thick black fur. His eyes got bloody, and he licked the dust. Here was our grieved hero, Sir Vlad, who stood with his soaked, wet hair leaking blood drops to the ground. His green eyes were dark as coal; he looked me in the eye, and the eyes were covered with a reflective, cruel kindness. He turned back. Another man approached from the sequel. It didn't take long for Sir Vlad to incise his belly. Next, the tall, slim man had a fox tail hat. His boots were made of ox horns. He kicked Sir Vlad's sword and threw it away. Sir Vlad managed to escape from the following hurlings. I couldn't bear it. I leapt out of the curve and dashed the Silver Dragon to him. He gripped it in the air. Then, he hurled it back at the slim man and slashed his arms, killing him in the heart. That time, I realized the Danishmen had war ethics. They didn't attack a lone man together.

         Another man was about to replace his dead fellow, yet a horse above reared. It was white snow, carrying his mysterious owner with a sense of honour. It descended to the valley. The man above had golden hair. At least, I thought they were made of gold then. His eyes were pure bright blue, which were conspicuous far away. He was built and elegant, had a stiff, sharp-shaped jaw and a stubble blond beard. He looked just like one of us but wore the same thick animal fur hanging down his neck. It was scarlet. When he dismounted his horse, he pointed his men to retreat. He took his sword from its sheath. He designated the fierce red sword to Sir Vlad.

         Shouted in gracefulness. "Warrior of Black Siver!" He could speak our tongue. "Come fight me." They met in the middle of the valley. The golden man raised his sword, "In the peace of my Kök Tengri and your Father in Heaven..." He untied his scarlet fur and threw it beneath. Sir Vlad tightened his teeth. "Our Lord waits for men like you in hell." The golden man squinted his disappointed eyes.

         The swords hit in the air. Sir Vlad circled the sword and aimed for the neck, yet the golden man tangled his sword to Vlad's and avoided the attack. He played on the legs. Sir Vlad quickly got loose. He grabbed the Silver Dragon in two hands and forced on the golden man's face, trying to break his defence. The golden man suddenly took his sword repeatedly, so Sir Vlad lost his balance and lurched back. He got his position once more and brushed the golden man's cheek. A slight red scar leaked thin blood. The golden man kneeled then, placed one of his legs back stretched to the front on his other leg, and stabbed Sir Vlad's right foot. Sir Vlad bit his lips to block the pain. He hit his elbow to the golden man's ear harshly. The fight continued for a long while. I had already spoiled our spot; consequently, Oksana and Vukasin held their breath next to me even though the thick fur men were so calm and straight. The golden man placed his sword, which had a notch at the middle of the tip, and faced Sir Vlad. He got a few steps back, jumped on Sir Vlad's arm, cut a deep bruise, and then dominated the high ground by standing around. He waited for Vlad, who was trying to stand still, to turn to him. Oksana cried out. I held her, and Vukasin held his punch tight.

         The golden man looked down at Vlad out of pity. "You are a lucky warrior. Distinct from yours, my god does not punish men who fight for their people."

         He cut Sir Vlad's throat.