What Lyle fears most is fire.

That day, the raining fire took away everything. His brothers, not all; but everyone who died, die in pain. He saw them all, charred. Their armour was burnt and bent. Their sword too, once proud steel turned to black rust and bent. The heat tore flesh from bone, and then turn the bone to a cinder. Lyle at the time was safe by his luck. His mount feared the fire, sending him back to the way they came. But Lyle's feet were stuck on the girdle; his horse dragged him almost to the forest border. Yet the dragon is still able to catch up to them. The dragon breathed fire and burn his left arm and his horse. The dragon bit half of the poor stallion and violently tore it in the air, while Lyle's feet still stuck on the girdle. He got thrown in the air and landed on the briar with full armour facing down. The briar though had found its way to his left arm.

The sound of his fallen brothers haunted him ever since. The poison in briar torments him even further.

He only could wake up three weeks later in his quarter. He wasn't the same Lyle Williams as before.

"Don't be hasty," said the Old Jack when he tried to get up. Lyle was as much as what he is right now. A raven torn of its feathers. Beaten, black and blue.

"Am I the only one who survived?" Lyle stared at the Old Man. His answer is a long silent and a sigh.

"Both yes and no. But you're my best hope of getting an answer," he replied.

"Where is Sir Galwerth?" Lyle stared at the black ceilings.

"We lost Galwerth, couldn't find his body. We lost most of our men too. Maybe some of them fall into the gorge. We could only bring back twenty wounded, among them, your men Joey and Mikhail, the fuck I know what happened to the rest."

"I don't know what happened. My horse dragged me."

"Yeah, you twisted your leg."

"How do you find us? The last thing I remembered is, I ran to a rock bed, and I fly to the bushes. And we rode hard to the north."

"We don't. We found you two days after, right under a tree. Gods are with you that the wizard finds you, treating your wounds and telling where that thing left you all. And you're the last one yet awake. I'm not expecting them will be sane enough to tell the tale, and to go back here as a man. So, before you asked anything else, swear before the gods that you'll tell me what happened."

Lyle could only answer, "Yes, Lord Commander."

As the Old Jack expected, Lyle told them the whole story. Almost half a week of riding, their meeting with the wizard, the brigands. But Lyle's eyes turned into hollow when he told how the dragon came for all of them.

"We're powerless. Even I was sure that Death had come for all of us but, I can't bear to look at how they died," he said. "And I know, I too, should die back there."

His words were hollow of life, but the Old Jack clasped his shoulders and said, "Your duty is to Northwind." He stared right into his soul. "Your duty is to the realm, the people, and the lord you served. I don't want my lieutenant run around, brandishing his sword and die like a fly. Remember that you must live! Remember your duty!"

The eyes of the dragon may sow fear. But Lyle saw the eyes of the Old Lord Commander of Northwind. It was pain, anger, and anguish, but more than that, fierce love of a father.

Then a soft knock on the door. Scholar Rithdan came in.

"Ah, I see that you've awakened. Very good! But pardon me, my lord," he said, and he whispered something to his ears. The Old Lord Commander's perplexion changed after hearing the words whispered.

Lyle can tell that it was no good news. What news is worse than coming winter? Winter is when birds holed up in warmth inside their nests. But not the raven, not the loyal pigeon. The Old Jack looked at Lyle for one last time, shouted before he hurried out of the small chamber along with Scholar Rithdan, "When you died, that's when you're free of your oath you took. Die with honour. No one but Death himself who could take it away."