The Ravenous Siege (Epic of Haven Trilogy Book 2)

by R. G. Triplett

  "RIDERS BELOW!" MARCUM SHOUTED TO his archers there atop the battlements. "Mind your aim, men, and save your pointed darts for the enemy alone!" The air popped and whirred with the sounds of loosed bows and deadly arrows. The guardsmen watched and waited, kissing flints and breathing desperate prayers as their captain rode into the storm.

  The twin dragons, which had been circling above the army as a flying shield and a deadly omen, unexpectedly broke away and dove straight for the rocky, treeless ground below them. In the light of the green-lit torches, their black scales appeared distorted, reflecting a poisonous byzantium underneath its inky sheen. Their massive bodies rolled in mirrored movement, collapsing their enormous wings against their serpentine frames. The ground rose fast to meet them, and then in an instant the air was assaulted again as two pairs of black, reptilian wings caught the wind. The dragons leveled their bodies for a focused assault.

  "Ride hard! Do not give way to fear, brothers! Ride hard!" Armas shouted, doing his best to bolster his own wavering resolve.

  The dragons glided a mere ten hands above the terrain in a sickly silence that whispered of imminent death and a fiery fury. Arrows bounced and pinged off of their hardened backs, and the cavalrymen pointed their silver blades with desperate hope.

  "Hold the lines, move forward together!" Armas shouted to the uneven stripe of his thousand riders.

  The company of men was not half a league from the twin monsters, and at the pace of their flight the collision would be much too soon for any riders to reach the Raven Army before the beasts could wheel around and attack again from behind. The lines held, and the heavy horses snorted and heaved with wild passion as the dragons closed the space between them with a malevolent glee in their evil green eyes.

  "Hold!" Armas shouted again.

  Riders of Haven. A duo of sickly, deep, booming voices was heard inside the minds of Armas and his men.

  "Do not listen to this devilry!" Armas shouted to his men as his chest panged with a new sort of fear at the thought of speaking dragons.

  Men of the dead tree, the voices continued in a vile and terrifying harmony. Why must you cling to such folly? Labor for pious superstitions?

  The gap between the dragons and the riders was nearly gone. Armas shakily raised his horn to his lips to signal his men.

  Do not die so needlessly, fools, when salvation is yet offered this day. The dragons' voices were mesmerizing. Their deep, growling malice threatened to paralyze whatever hints of bravery the men of Haven dared to hold to.

  The blast of the captain's trumpet woke the foggy minds of his men. "BREAK! BREAK NOW!" he shouted down the lines. Armas let out a relieved breath as the riders heard him and complied, breaking their formation and cutting hard to the right and to the left, barely missing the yellowed fangs and black, pointed talons of the twin dragons.

  Armas signaled once again to his men, and the main strength of his cavalry rode as hard and as deliberately as they could towards the marching host of the Raven Army. He and five score of his fiercest riders wheeled about to face the dragons, hoping to provide distraction enough for ruin to be brought upon the advancing horde.

  "Spread yourselves, and secure your shields! Parley may not be their intention this time around," Armas shouted.

  The dragons slowed their advance and began to climb into the sky, twisting and turning together in mirrored symmetry. Before anyone could give much thought to what they might be doing, the dragons descended again to the ground and seized two enormous boulders that had long ago made their home here in the fields beyond the walls. Their monstrous talons gripped the rocks effortlessly and pulled them free from the earth below. The dragons pounded their massive wings against the black air as they rose again in a slow, deliberate arc towards the walled city.

  "What are they doing, Captain?" one the riders asked nervously as his chest heaved in and out.

  "They are displaying their power," Armas said with despair.

  The movement of the dragons was so symmetrical and deliberate that it appeared almost choreographed. When they had reached a precise point of their ascent, they swung the massive stones with immeasurable power towards the North Wall. As they let the boulders go, they set the ancient pieces of mountain ablaze in a wash of their sickly, green fire. The flaming boulders hurled straight for the North Gate of Haven.

  "Take cover!" Marcum shouted to his men.

  But the men were not swift enough, and the impact sent both archers and archway crumbling into fiery rubble. Every rider with Armas, now nearly a league away, felt the reverberation of the destruction.

  The dragons ascended again, hardly visible in the darkness, rising, twisting and billowing vile smoke. Their green eyes pierced through the dim, foggy air just enough to give away their position, and Armas could see that they were now shifting directions in order to unleash their wrath upon the riders.

  "We must charge them," Armas said. "We must keep them from the rest of the cavalry. CHARGE!"

  The hundred heavy horsemen spurred their mounts and took up their long spears, preparing to engage the beasts that were supposed to only exist in the stories of old. As they rode hard towards the monsters, they knew full well that this ride, on this dark day, might very well be their last.

  Bend your knees, and put down your blades! The dual voices of the dragons roared inside the minds of the men of Haven. Why scrape and toil over twigs and timber when the gift of sight is yet offered to all? Surely you would at least turn your ears to the terms of the Queen before you die in a causeless offering of burnt, foolish flesh? The dragons seemed to sing their last words in the bone-chilling blend of their venomous voices.

  "Do not listen to their lies!" Armas shouted as the sounds of armor clashing began to come to life behind him. "Our brothers have reached the legions! Buy them time!"

  The main strength of the cavalry crashed on two fronts into the vanguard of the marching Raven Army. The black-plumed warlords blew their soul-chilling horns and the ashen faced, green-eyed men let loose their raven-fletched arrows into the company of Haven's riders.

  Screams and grunts, clashes and clanks woke the darkness in a cacophony of battle. The first wave of riders were cut down in a sudden collapse of strength as nearly two hundred of their horses were felled by the black arrows of the dark bowmen. Those that survived the falls from their horses were thrown into a sea of madness, trying desperately to cut themselves free from the black tide that surrounded them. The riders that were still mounted continued to kick and slash their way through the initial ranks of the enemy horde, trampling hundreds under the weight of the horses' heavy hooves, but the endless sea of muted steel and black-helmed enemies seemed to grow.

  Armas and his men rode hard, the silver points of their heavy spears reflecting in the firelight before them. The dragons flew now in mirrored terror once again. The ground passed swiftly and silently beneath their leathery wings as they glided toward an inevitable collision.

  Her offer is a gift to your weary bones, but our wrath be will be no such gift to the weak-minded men who choose it, the dragons implored.

  "We by the THREE who is SEVEN!" Armas shouted in defiance, his men nervously echoing his words.

  FOOLS! The dragons' voices erupted in an angered crescendo. Shiny, stupid fools!

  ROARRAAHH! Green fire poured out of their fanged mouths in terrible unison. The riders broke hard, willing their horses to cut right and left to avoid the fiery blaze, but the heat of the vile, green fire was too much, too fast, and nearly a dozen of Armas' men were consumed in a wash of screams and scorches. The riders that did manage to escape the dragons' fury wheeled their horses fast around. They hurled their spears with desperate force, hoping to catch a chink in the inky, scaled armor that protected the terrible monsters. Their aim was sure, but to their dismay neither blade nor spear was able to penetrate the scales of the winged terrors.

  The dragons roared in angered protest, then laughed in a maniacal duet of dark and haunting rage. Spears? What
use are spears and blades and bows against the son and daughter of Aerebus? ROARRAHH! The sky went bright in sickly illumination at their green, violent upheaval of fire. Bend your knees or we will break them from your bodies!

  "Break the line! Ride fast and split the twins!" Armas shouted to his diminishing company as the dragons arched in mirrored movements higher into the dark sky. "Erik!" he ordered one of his corporals. "Go west, and I will go east ... ride! Now!"

  Armas spurred his mount, and half of his men followed suit, riding hard to the east in hopes of distracting the two beasts long enough for the remaining archers and cavalry to do their worst upon the marching Raven Army.

  Erik paused just a moment longer than he knew was prudent and watched as his captain rode. "You heard the captain. To the west, now!" The smaller company took off in valiant haste, while the dragons maneuvered themselves into a swift and terrible decent. "Here they come!" the corporal shouted.

  The dragons did not take the bait. Instead of splitting their strength and attacking the riders on two fronts, they set their evil, green eyes directly upon Erik's riders. All hail the mighty corporal! came the mocking voices of the dragons. Though he knew now that this charge was indeed futile, Erik did not falter in his resolve.

  Armas halted his men where they were and wheeled around to watch the scene unfold. "Damn it all!" he shouted.

  The noise of bows being loosed could be heard on two fronts now. The arrows of Haven sounded crisp and long, whirring against the air as they flew though the black, morning sky in search of vengeance. From the north came the arrows of the Raven Army; the sound was forced and short and finished with the unmistakable sound of spilled blood and punctured flesh as the riders fell off their mounts.

  The twin beasts caught and held the current of wind propelling their massive, leathery wings. Enough of your running now … our amusement has dimmed. This is your final mercy, men of the dead tree. Bend your knees and take her promise!

  Erik looked back behind him while he desperately rode. The eyes of his fellow riders and their horses were bulging wide in sheer terror as they did their best to escape the doom that closed in upon them. His throat went completely dry, and his voice cracked under the strain of his emotions as he bounced in the rhythm of the pounding hooves and the rocky terrain.

  "We, by the THREE who is-" his hoarse voice was stolen from him as the two dragons slammed their taloned feet into the company of men with incensed rage, crushing spine and steed as they leveled the group of riders to the ground. The monsters worked in tandem, slashing with their arms and biting with their yellow fangs, severing limb and head and horse. When the carnage was dealt to their satisfaction, they stepped back in mirrored unison before lighting the bloodied, mangled heap in a wash of green fire.

  "No!" Armas whispered from across the field of battle. The few riders with him brought their mounts closer to the captain, their faces stunned at the merciless butchering of their brother guardsmen.

  "What hope have we with horse and blade when dragons rule the air and scorch the ground?" A young, red-haired cavalryman spoke up with somber practicality, the fight drained from his eyes.

  "Maybe we should accept their mercy and meet this woman who commands dragons to do her parley," another suggested to the remaining riders.

  Armas knew they were probably right, that accepting this Raven Queen's offer was the only way to save their lives, and yet he could not bring himself to trust that any promises offered by these fearsome creatures would be a true mercy to anyone.

  "Captain?" The red-haired rider spoke up. "Captain, what say you? Do we bend the knee and accept the mercy, or go on dying in a heap of burnt blood and broken bone?"

  Armas looked across the outlying field, his eyes staring unbelievably at the slaughter before him. The longbows of his archers continued to rain down upon the still-marching mass of a Raven horde, and the remaining few hundred of his heavy horsemen were still slashing and fighting their way with flagging strength into the enemy ranks.

  The twin dragons perched arrogantly atop the heap of horses and guardsmen, green fire billowing out from around their monstrous forms in a cloud of vile flame.

  "There is no mercy this day, men," Armas replied. "And I fear the morrow will fail us as well. No. We must find a way to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. And if it means that we who were once bright citizens of a shining city are now nothing more than the outliers and exiles we have all once scorned ... well then … may it be so."

  Armas kicked his horse and rode hard and deliberately to the center of the outlying field. The dragons, nearly a league away, fixed their venomous, green-eyed gaze upon the lone rider there in the middle of the battle. Their massive feet shook the ground as they positioned their ink-scaled bodies to charge this brazen fool.

  Captain of the dead tree, why must you order so much death and so much bloodshed? The dragons bellowed inside Armas' mind, and their haunting voices seemed to get louder as he approached them. Do you come now to finally put aside your pride and bow to the Raven Queen?

  The cries of falling men, the snorts of warring steeds, and the clank and thud of biting blades still roiled on to the north as Armas' company fought and defended themselves against the black tide. He surveyed the field, his bowels churning at the carnage. The main strength of his host had been diminished to less than two hundred of the thousand cavalrymen he had led onto this bloody, black field of war.

  "This is a dark day for you, once-bright fields and forests. I name you Melania, for your soil is watered black with the blood of men and ravens, tainted and burnt by the fire of dragons," Armas whispered to the wind.

  GAROOM. GAROOM. The dragons' feet pounded upon the black earth, awaiting an answer from the captain.

  Armas raised his horn to his lips and with defeat in his eyes and desperation in his lungs, he sounded the retreat. The sad notes cut through the chaos of the battle and the men clad in the soiled garments of green and silver raised their bloodied heads in shock. As they parried blow after blow of the sharpened steel, they beheld their captain, alone, with his horn to his lips.

  The signal sounded again, and the few men who still lived wheeled their horses around and shouted to their fellow riders, "RETREAT!" Within seconds the lines broke and the heavy horses rode hard and weary towards their captain. The raven-fletched bolts of the crossbows whirred and whizzed through the air, doing their worst to further diminish the strength of the retreating cavalry of Haven.

  Armas remained stalwart atop his steed, watching and waiting for his company to meet him there so that they might face the impending doom together. Though he may have wished to evade his own demise, he would not ride to his safety and watch the massacre of the men who had fought so bravely alongside him all this time. He signaled to his smaller company that still waited to the east, and in reluctant obedience the remaining thirty departed the field and rode towards the North Gate.

  ROARRAH! came the violent, raging voices of the twin dragons as the dark sky woke in another wash of their evil green fury. The ground to the south was rumbling with the retreating sound of pounding hooves, while the sky to the east began to fill with the massive forms of the winged monsters.

  "Come on, men!" Armas said behind gritted teeth. "Come on now."

  WHOOSH. WHOOSH. WHOOSH.

  The leathery wings of the invading monsters beat the air in an ominous cadence of coming ruin as the remaining riders approached their captain. The space around Armas was suddenly filled with the blood-soaked and breathless forms of his weary horsemen; exhaustion and confusion were written plainly upon their faces.

  "Retreat, Captain?" came the heaving voice of a white-bearded officer.

  "Johnrey, we have fought while we could, and now we must fall back and turn our blades to the task of rescue," Armas explained.

  "But Captain, there is still yet fight in our tired bones and bite in our broken blades," Johnrey argued.

  "Then we must use that fight with a new purpose now, for t
he citizens that our brothers have died defending will surely perish if we stay here upon this black field of war," he replied. "Ride for the gate, and prepare both yourselves and our people for exile. The city will fall," Armas said with ominous certainty. "Our city will fall to this Raven Army of the un-light."

  Johnrey was not pleased with this kind of talking, but knew his captain to be a brave and wise man, and he felt the reverberations of nearly four thousand black boots marching in union behind him. With protest in his heart but respect upon his face, he agreed to the orders. "Aye, Captain, we will save our people."

  "Ride then!" Armas ordered. "Ride hard and ride now!"

  The captain spurred his horse and his company followed suit. One hundred and fifty brave horsemen of Haven rode with desperation for the gate that lay between the two massive watch fires.

  "RIDE!" Armas called again.

  As the ground rolled out before them, twin pairs of dragons' eyes appeared between their position and the city wall. The men did not adjust their trajectory, for they knew a collision with the beasts was unavoidable.

  "Watch for their fire!" the captain yelled to his men.

  The two dragons glided effortlessly as their black, leathery wings silently spanned the dim sky. Their gaze was hungry and their yellow fangs were stained red with the blood of horse and hero. They rushed over the ground in a stealthy blur, coming to deliver their final assault.

  Arrows flew at the dragons from the lingering archers from atop the ramparts of wall that was still intact, but they flew in vain. Shields were raised and spears were pointed as the cavalry rode hard towards the city, bracing themselves for the impact.

  Know you this day that it was your pride that brought forth your doom … foolish men of the dead tree.

  The voices seemed even angrier, more full of hate and vengeance and contempt.

  Perish then, if you must, for the reign of the Raven Queen shall know no border.

  Armas pointed his sword at the beasts and stared the closer of the two right in the eye. The dragon caught his look, and a sickly, self-satisfied grin distorted his features for just a moment.