Dawn of the Dragon

by Shawn E. Crapo

  Arrows twanged from the Northmen's ranks, dropping the scattering soldiers all over the sand. Soon, the beach was littered with the bodies of T'kar's forces, and their weapons were free for the taking. Dearg's army would be well-equipped.

  "Take everything you can carry," Igrid said. "Their weapons are ours now."

  The Northmen dismounted, searching the bodies for everything that was useful. Igrid walked among them, skewering those enemies that were left twitching in the throes of death. She finished off three of them before she stopped over the body of a man whose armor marked him as an officer. She smiled, crouching next to him. He trembled as she raised her blade, point down, to thrust it into his body.

  "Wait," he pleaded. "Let me go. I'll tell you everything."

  Igrid cocked her head. "Everything?" she said. "But there is nothing I want to know."

  "The wyverns," the officer stammered. "The Fomorians… all gathering for a major assault."

  "Interesting," Igrid said. "And why should I spare you for this information?"

  The officer mumbled something unintelligible, and Igrid leaned in closer to hear. He suddenly grabbed her hair as he drew a dagger from his belt. But Igrid was quicker. She grabbed his dagger arm, forcing him to the ground, smashing his nose with her head. As the blood ran, he coughed and choked, and Igrid stood.

  "Thank you for your information," she said. "It will be useful. You, however, will not."

  She finished him off with a quick slash, wiping off her blade and stuffing it back into its scabbard. Svengaar approached, eyeing the dead man.

  "What was that about?" he asked.

  "He says T'kar is preparing for a major assault," she explained. "Wyverns, giants and the like."

  "Wyverns?" Svengaar echoed fearfully. "That is not good."

  "No," Igrid agreed. "But at least we will be prepared. We must relay this information to Dearg. I hope he was successful with the Riverfolk."

  Svengaar nodded. "If so, they'll be armed to the teeth. We have taken all of the weapons we can."

  "Good," Igrid said. "Mount up. We ride on."

  "Are we prepared?" T'kar asked as Captain Jarka approached the throne.

  "The troops are ready, Sire," Jarka replied. "With the size of our forces, the march will take a day's time."

  "Good," T'kar said. "Lilit will prepare the wyverns. They will mount their attack at dusk. Malthor will accompany us and will be in control of the Fomorians. He will answer directly to you."

  Jarka bowed his head. "Will the lovely Lilit accompany us?"

  "Of course," T'kar said, grinning. "It is time for her to prove herself in battle. Randar will be ready soon, and will speak on our behalf once the wyverns have weakened their defenses."

  "And how is Randar?" Jarka asked.

  "He has healed quickly, thanks to Lilit."

  "Good," Jarka said. "I look forward to watching him wield his silver tongue."

  T'kar growled with laughter. "Of course it will simply be a ruse until our forces are in place. The archers will travel separately and cover our front flanks. They will scour the forests for our mysterious intruders and clear the way."

  "I will send them immediately, Sire."

  T'kar stood, strapping on his sword belt. It had been a long while since he had worn his blades, and their comforting weight gave him strength. He looked forward to smashing the rebellion, and holding his enemy's head high above him in victory. The thought of it made his smile.

  "This upstart will fall tonight," T'kar said. "We will bask in the glory of Kathorgo, Lord of the Abyss."

  "They will not stand a chance," Jarka replied, grinning.

  "Will you be alright to ride, my friend?" Malthor asked as he helped Randar onto his horse.

  "I am fine, Malthor," Randar replied. "I've had much worse."

  Malthor mounted his own horse and the two of them rode to the front of the line of soldiers to await Captain Jarka and the king.

  "I worry about you in battle," Malthor said. "With your wound, you will not be able to fight as well, I imagine."

  "My wound is fine," Randar said. "I can barely feel any pain at all. Worry about that nice jacket you're wearing."

  Malthor laughed, looking down at the riding coat Randar had given him. It was knee-length, leather, and sleeveless. He had tied leather straps around his biceps to accentuate them, and the combination was stunning to both of them. With Malthor's dark, flowing curls and deep-set eyes, he was a fearsome sight, indeed.

  "I look forward to seeing the king in battle," Malthor said. "He is fearsome enough as it is."

  Randar smiled. "I think you'll find it impressive," he said. "Mercy is not his strong suit; even less so than Captain Jarka."

  "I also look forward to seeing the Fomorians in action."

  "They too are fearsome," Randar said. "They will be effective in breaking down the Riverfolk's defenses. Then we will pour into their village like boiling oil."

  Malthor felt his excitement grow as he pictured the army bursting through the gates and slaughtering the villagers. From what he remembered, the Riverfolk were sedentary folk who were too frightened of the wild to even hunt anymore. Taking them out would be easy. He wasn't sure about their allies, though. He had never seen Highlanders fight, but had heard tales of their ferocity.

  "My lord," a soldier said from the ground.

  Malthor looked down to see a blade being handed up at him. He took it hesitantly.

  "The king wishes you to be armed," the soldier said. "Call it an order, if you will. I chose the best weapon for you based on your size."

  "Thank you, soldier," Malthor said.

  He looked over at Randar, who gave him a nod after glancing at his new weapon.

  "Excellent choice, sergeant," Randar said.

  The soldier nodded and returned to the gathering of leaders. Randar patted Malthor on the back in encouragement.

  "Fear not," he said. "You won't need it. It's just a precaution. I'll make sure you are safe."

  "I'm not afraid," Malthor said. "I've just never used a sword before. I prefer to blast things apart with my magic."

  Randar laughed. "That's all well and good. But I'm quite sure you will enjoy doing it with a blade just as well."

  Malthor grinned. It was going to be a great battle.

  The smell of roast pork filled the entire village. The townsfolk had gotten together to prepare food for the entire army, and even the Highlanders had come to join the defensive gathering. Now, fully rested and energized, Dearg and his group, along with Liam and Morrigan, stood at the wall, keeping watch on the lands to their south.

  Dearg fully expected another attack, as the previous day's assault had seemed like a precursor to a full onslaught. "Testing the waters" was the phrase he remembered from his childhood. T'kar had sent an undead army to test their defenses, as well as their skills in open battle. Since he had already sent the wyverns to scout their territory, it was the next logical step.

  It was what he would do.

  Now that everyone was together, they would be prepared. With the walls fully constructed, their defenses were in place. And even if those defenses were crushed, they could easily fall back into the caves and return to the Highlands. There would be no following them, and the western cliffs were guarded as well.

  Morrigan had made her way over to Dearg with a full bowl of roast pork, and handed him the meal with a pint of ale. He smiled and took it hungrily, stuffing his mouth full of the salty and juicy delicacy. It was delicious.

  "How is it?" Morrigan asked.

  She didn't need an answer. Dearg grunted, his mouth full, raising his mug. Morrigan grinned, seeing that Fleek and Ivar were enjoying their food as well.

  "Pig is a lot tastier than it looks," Ivar said. "I wouldn't think such a filthy animal would be so…"

  "Salty," Fleek said, his mouth dripping with fat and ale.

  "Don't worry, Fleek," Morrigan said with a smile. "It'll keep your blood flowing."

  "My chest hurts," Ivar s
aid. "I can feel my heart getting fatter as we speak."

  Dearg laughed, nearly spitting out his food. He grabbed a hot potato from a young girl who carried a basket of them around to the soldiers. Ivar stood and chased her down, grabbing two from her basket and shaking a fist at her.

  "Yer only s'posed to have one," the girl said.

  "Says who?"

  "Says me," she replied, kicking him in the shin.

  He hopped back on one foot, cursing, and plopped back down on his crate with both potatoes.

  "I don't care what Dearg says," he jested, rubbing his shin. "I like potatoes."

  "This is a good gathering," Morrigan said. "The people are getting along better than expected."

  "They have a common enemy," Dearg said.

  Morrigan shook her head. "I think it's more than that," she said. "I think they truly feel a kinship like no other. Even the other Northmen you brought feel at home."

  "Well, they should," Ivar said. "They likely won't be able to return to the tribes."

  Dearg was about to agree when he noticed movement off to the west. He stopped chewing, set down his bowl, and stood to squint into the distance. Near the forest, a ranger stepped out to give a signal, and Dearg waved back. The ranger's signal had been passive, as if an ally approached.

  But who could it be?

  "What is it?" Ivar asked, joining Dearg. "I can't see that far."

  "Men on horseback," Dearg said. "Many of them."

  "Northmen!" a lookout shouted from a nearby outcropping.

  Dearg's eyes popped open wide. This was surprising. Had Svengaar changed his mind?

  "Our tribe isn't that big," he said.

  He and Ivar looked at each other, then rushed down the stairs to the ground.

  "Open the gates!" Dearg shouted, mounting his horse.

  "How did this happen?" Ivar asked. "The other tribes would never unite under Svengaar."

  Dearg knew the answer, and it made him smile. "Igrid," he said. "She's a bit more persuasive than the Jarl."

  "Ah, yes," Ivar replied as they spurred their horses on.

  They rode swiftly, keeping their eyes on the land to the south. They fully expected T'kar's forces to be marching their way, but as of yet there was nothing. They were safe for the moment. With the tribes joining in, their forces may yet have a chance; especially with the large number of horses they had acquired.

  Not surprisingly, Dearg saw Igrid at their lead, her sword held down at her side, and her left hand held up in greeting. Dearg laughed out loud, and he could hear Ivar hooting beside him. As they neared, they slowed their horses. Dearg could see Jarls Svengaar and Wulfgar on either side of the shieldmaiden, but there was no sign of Ubbe.

  "Igrid," Dearg said, reaching out to clasp her hand. "You've come. And you've brought the tribes."

  "Where is Ubbe?" Ivar asked.

  "He is in Valhalla," Igrid said. "He chose to challenge my claim as queen."

  "Queen?"

  Svengaar rode forward, reaching out to clasp Dearg's hand. Dearg took it, happy to see that Svengaar had come. Olav, Sigurd, and Hafdan had come as well.

  "Igrid has claimed the helm over all the tribes," Svengaar explained. "Ubbe wouldn't accept her claim, and now he is with the gods."

  "Enough of this," Igrid said. "We came to fight, not to talk. Where do you want us?"

  Dearg threw his head back in laughter. "Wherever you think you would make the most mischief."

  "Stranger approaching," someone said from the group.

  Dearg looked toward the forest, where a lone figure was running toward them quickly. It was an Alvar warrior, and his appearance drew strange looks from the Northmen. Svengaar turned to Dearg with a look of awe on his old face.

  "Where did—" he stammered.

  "The Alvar have allied themselves with us," Dearg said. "I met a ranger who works with them. He and they have formed a fighting force together and now they fight with us."

  Svengaar was speechless, and Wulfgar grunted somewhat indifferently.

  "He looks like a woman," the Jarl said. "A pretty one, too."

  The Northmen broke out in laughter as the Alvar stopped near Dearg.

  "The scouts say T'kar's army is gathering near the fortress," the Alvar said. "More troops coming from the south as well."

  "Is there any sign of the wyverns?" Dearg asked.

  "Not yet, but we will keep watch on the skies and ensure they never arrive."

  "Good," Dearg said. "I'll send the rest of the rangers to take places on our side of the river. We'll give them a nasty surprise when they arrive. Await two blasts of Baleron's horn, then unleash everything you have."

  The Alvar nodded and turned to leave. Dearg smiled at the rest of the group as they stared.

  "Impressive," Igrid said. "Less than a week and you've already put together your own army. Alvar, even."

  "How did you convince them to fight for you?" Wulfgar asked.

  "It was Baleron who did that," Dearg explained. "And this is not all of them. There are other Alvar in the forests to the south. They have not yet joined us, but they will."

  "Good," Igrid said. "We will need every sword available. We've also brought more weapons from T'kar's troops themselves."

  "Excellent," Dearg said. "Follow me. The party's alive and well."

  "Is that your tribe?" Alric asked Freyja as they watched the large group return with Dearg at their lead.

  "Some of them," Freyja replied. "Most of them, no. They must be the other tribes."

  "Who is the woman at their lead?"

  "That is Igrid, my tribe's shieldmaiden."

  "Ah," Alric said, bobbing his head. "What is a shieldmaiden?"

  She turned to him, holding her arms out and smiling. He laughed, nodding his head.

  "Got it," he said. "Your people are interesting. I suppose Morrigan is the same as you, or her. She is one of the few women among us who fight."

  "That's a shame," Freyja said. "Your women are strong and brave."

  Alric turned and leaned back against the top of the wall, looking toward the village, where the commoners were gathering to receive their weapons.

  "They may have the chance to prove themselves," Alric said. "I just hope everyone can remain as brave as they are now."

  "What is he doing?" Freyja asked, seeing Odhran standing outside the gates, making hand signals to someone neither of them could see.

  Alric turned back, looking at the ranger with a strange expression. "I have no idea," he said. "It must be a ranger thing."

  Odhran turned and looked up at them. "The road is clear for now, but T'kar's forces are gathering. They are waiting for more soldiers who are coming from the south."

  "How do they know?" Alric called down.

  "The Alvar are swift and unseen," Odhran said. "The rest of the rangers need to gather and take our side of the river."

  "Who are you talking to, anyway?" Alric asked.

  Odhran grinned, shrugging. "You can't see them?"

  Alric waved him away with a grin, turning around again to lean against the wall. "He thinks he's funny."

  Baleron had gathered the rest of the rangers and commanded them to take up spots in the forest opposite the Alvar position. He instructed them to fire once he sounded his horn, and they dispersed with their new orders. Baleron and Odhran remained behind. Dearg brought the Northmen through the gates, and the Highlanders and Riverfolk greeted them gladly.

  With the three groups together, they now had an impressive army, and could stand against a full assault. The only question was when the assault would begin. Thankfully, Odhran and Baleron could communicate with the hidden rangers; a feat that was impressive to everyone else.

  Freyja was glad to see Igrid again, and the two embraced. The fact that Igrid was now the queen of the tribes was a new development, and the young shieldmaiden was surprised, yet not surprised at the same time. Igrid, however, was impressed that Dearg had chosen Freyja as one of his elite troops.

  "Knight of the
Dragon, eh?" Igrid said. "Had I known he would steal you away like that, I might have kept you in my service."

  Freyja laughed, but led Igrid to the others who gathered around the fire. Liam and Caillain conversed with Dearg, who stood atop a large crate so he could hear any suggestions the warriors had.

  "Igrid says the tribes intercepted a large group of soldiers heading north along the shore," he said.

  "That means the shore is vulnerable," Caillain said. "And what of your villages? Who is guarding them in case T'kar decides to send more forces that way?"

  "Half of my tribe remained," Wulfgar said. "And Igrid's shieldmaidens have taken up defenses."

  "Can they repel an invasion?"

  "Trust me," Igrid said, smiling. "My girls can hold their own."

  Caillain looked at her and Freyja and shrugged. "I can see that," he said, holding up his mug.

  "Don't worry about the villages," Igrid said. "They'll be safe. The question is whether our forces here can withstand an assault. How secure are these walls?"

  "They would never withstand a siege," Caillain said. Bertram nodded in agreement. "The idea, I suppose is to prevent them from doing so. We will have to meet them at a place of our choosing."

  "That means taking the initiative," Dearg said. "Which is why we are watching the river. The Alvar have scouts placed along the river itself. They are relaying everything north through hand signals. When the first soldiers are spotted, they will be taken out before they have a chance to attack. Then we ride out to meet them."

  "How do we know T'kar will send forces ahead of his own group?"

  "That is T'kar's way," Baleron said. "He will send out expendable troops beforehand to expose any ambushes."

  "Then perhaps we shouldn't ambush them," Bertram said. "Lest we ruin the surprise."

  "It's inevitable," Baleron said. "Once an ambush is triggered, the rangers will return, and they will do so in full visibility. The Alvar will stay to take care of the wyverns when they arrive."

  "Why is that?" Skulgrid asked.

  "The Alvar can spot the wyverns in the darkness," Baleron explained. "We cannot."

  "Well that's a handy trick," Wulfgar said.

  "I want the horsemen to ride around the west side of the forest," Dearg said. "There you will wait until you hear four blasts of Baleron's horn, then come around behind T'kar's position. Two blasts will signal the rangers first, remember that."