Siege of Draestl

by Randall Seeley

  But there were so many Draebek. They kept appearing and charged the Templar and his fallen Seeker. Wayd tried to join them, but more Draebek surrounded him so he couldn’t. Instead he watched as Arthron was surrounded. The Templar fought effectively, a dozen or more Draebek dead at his feet, but eventually he began to tire. His parries began coming a second too late, his strikes were inches off their mark. He slowed.

  Then he screamed in pain as a Draebek axe scored a hit through his armor.

  “Arthron!” Wayd yelled as he parried an attack from a Draebek.

  Arthron yelled as he spun and stabbed the Draebek in the neck. But then he screamed again as a sword struck him in the leg. Another sword stabbed him in the side.

  “Help him!” Wayd pleaded as he ducked for his own life. But no one could help him. Malithan was fighting two Draebek, and more were coming. Gauden had moved back to his staff, keeping half a dozen Draebek at bay and preventing them from flanking them. Owen kept Wayd’s back protected. But they were all slowing. They were surrounded. The Draebek seemed like a never-ending stream of enemies.

  All he could do was watch. Arthron stumbled over, and the Draebek rushed him.

  “No!” Wayd yelled. He couldn’t watch Arthron die. The Templar had been with him since they had started their journey together and was a close friend. Kalaia was trying to scramble to her feet, but exhaustion was taking over and she stumbled back to the ground.

  Wayd prepared himself to watch his friends die. The closest Draebek raised their weapons to deliver final blows. Wayd closed his eyes to avoid this memory from being indelibly imprinted in his memory. Dear Creator, please make it painless.

  Then there were screams. But they weren’t from Templar Arthron or Seeker Kalaia. It sounds like they are coming from the Draebek! Wayd opened his eyes to see Draebek scrambling to the shadows in an attempt to find protection. It was such an unexpected sight that for a moment Wayd wondered if he was dreaming. Why would they run for cover?

  And that’s when Wayd saw them. Arrows and crossbow bolts fell from the sky like rain. He instinctively ducked away, but they weren’t directed anywhere near him or his friends. Instead, Draebek fell.

  Then there were shouts. “For Ardonor! For Draestl!” The arrows ceased, then further down the street appeared several dozen Draestl Dragons, Lieutenant Gregor at their head. They looked haggard and wounded—their armor was dented and stained red—and every step looked like it required energy they didn’t have. But they moved with purpose, and as they charged forward as one, they had the look of an unstoppable force.

  Most of the Draebek had already fallen, but those who still stood turned to face the new foes, and Gregor’s force crashed into them. The surge of the rush wrapped around Wayd, and he regained his instincts as Draebek and Dragons coalesced. Suddenly he found himself behind the Draebek. He struck from their backside, and Draebek fell. It was over in a matter of minutes, and then the only thing they could hear was the moan of the dying and their own heavy breathing.

  Arthron.

  Wayd turned to where his friend and protector lay. Seeker Kalaia was kneeling by his side, trying to comfort him. Wayd rushed to him. Arthron lay on the ground, his breathing coming in raspy breaths, and his face contorted in pain. There was blood everywhere. At first Wayd feared the worst, but then he heard Arthron’s voice cut through the air.

  “I’m fine,” he said. But it didn’t sound like he was fine. His voice was thick with pain. “Just need help to my feet.”

  “Look,” Gauden said as he pointed to Arthron’s side.

  Wayd hadn’t noticed it at first, but he saw that Arthron’s draestl armor was split in two, and blood was flowing freely from what looked like a fatal wound.

  Arthron tried sitting up but fell back. One of the Draestl Dragon soldiers dropped to the ground and pulled out a medical kit. “Just lie back, Templar,” he said as he inspected the wound. “This one needs attention immediately or you’ll bleed out! Help me get this armor off.”

  “Leave it on,” Arthron commanded. Wayd and Gauden dropped to the ground beside him. Arthron was waving people’s hands away, but as Wayd moved closer and grabbed the bottom of the breastplate, he easily brushed Arthron’s hand away. The Templar had little energy remaining. He looked at his friend and they locked eyes. Though Arthron’s eyes were still lit with his familiar fire of focus, it was undoubtedly fainter. Wayd knew that look. Had seen it in eyes before. If he doesn’t get treated soon, he’ll die.

  “Let us help you, Arthron, we have a little bit of time,” Wayd pleaded as the Templar continued to try to struggle to his feet. “Look,” Wayd said as he gestured to where Malithan and Gregor were discussing their situation. Other soldiers moved into lookout positions to ensure they were protected from future attacks. He noticed that several were constantly staring at the skies, with crossbows at the ready. Looking for dragons, he thought with a shudder. “We’re safe for the time being. Let us patch you up, then we’ll be on our way.”

  Wayd wasn’t sure if Arthron listened because he wanted to, or simply because he ran out of energy, but Arthron clenched his teeth and then fell backwards, lying still.

  Gauden and Wayd grabbed Arthron’s armor and pulled it over his head. As soon as the armor was removed, it was as if they unblocked a dam, and the wound in Arthron’s side bled profusely. Wayd had never seen so much blood.

  “Dear Creator!” Seeker Kalaia exclaimed.

  “Apply pressure,” the medic told Wayd as a thick cloth was pushed into his hand. “I didn’t realize it was so bad. If we don’t staunch the flow, he’ll bleed out in seconds. I’m not quite ready. Now!”

  Wayd pushed the cloth against Arthron’s side as instructed. The Templar immediately grunted and flinched, then his eyes rolled up as if he was about to faint.

  “You too,” the medic told Gauden, who took another cloth and crouched down next to Wayd. Together they pushed against the wound that spread along the entire length of Arthron’s side. Dear Creator, please live.

  “Come on Arthron,” Gauden encouraged softly.

  “All right,” the medic said as he moved next to him. In one hand he had a wet cloth, and the other thread and needle. “I need to clean the wound to prevent infection, then I’ll sew it up. On my command, move away so I can get to work. One, two, three, now!”

  Wayd remove his cloth and stepped away. As soon as the pressure was relieved, blood rushed out and Wayd had to turn away. The medic started cleaning the wound the best he could and then began sewing it shut.

  Wayd locked eyes with Kalaia. Her aged face looked concerned. She looked exhausted. But when Wayd locked eyes with her, she smiled softly. Then she moved to him and set a hand on his shoulder. “Arthron will be fine,” Kalaia said softly. “Once his wound is bound, I’ll give him some Templar wine. He’ll recover.”

  Wayd appreciated how Kalaia always tried to soothe him. She had been that way since he had first met her. She reminds me of Mother.

  “It’s finished,” the medic said as he stepped back. “I’d like to do a better job, but considering the circumstances…”

  Arthron was on his back, still writhing in pain. He looked an absolute mess. His tattered shirt was torn and soaked with blood, and the wound itself still looked ghastly. The skin was red from irritation, and the binding was jagged and rough.

  “That’s going to leave a nasty scar,” Gauden said.

  “The ladies will love it,” Owen said softly. Wayd hadn’t noticed his friend and was grateful to see him standing firm. He still winced with each breath, but otherwise looked like he had escaped with only minor injuries.

  “Prepare his armor, he’ll need it back on,” Kalaia instructed.

  The medic shook his head and held up his hands. “No!” the medic said empathically. “The movement may kill him. He cannot—”

  “Trust me,” Kalaia interrupted. Then she reached into her cloak and brought out a vial that was filled with purple swirling liquid. The Templar’s wine. She dropped to Arthron’s
side and unstopped the vial, then tipped it to his mouth and poured it down.

  At first Arthron fought it, but as the liquid touched his lips, he drank the contents in full. After a few moments, he stopped writhing in agony, and eventually sat up under his own power.

  “Let me get some of that,” Owen whispered in admiration. Wayd was equally impressed. What is in that?

  “Help me with my armor,” Arthron instructed. Though his face looked much better, his voice betrayed his weakness. The medic looked stunned.

  Gauden obeyed and grabbed the battered armor. He gave a questioning look as he gestured at the damaged side, but when Arthron waved impatiently, he lifted it over the Templar’s head and helped put it on. When it was finished, Arthron stood up weakly, grabbing Kalaia’s hand for balance. Wayd knew Arthron wasn’t going to be able to fight for some time, but at least he would recover.

  The Templar looked down at his armor and shook his head. “They have draestl weapons. They’re not only skilled in dralchoms, but they also have draestl weapons! A dragon’s fire can’t penetrate this armor, but a draestl blade…”

  Wayd shuddered.

  Malithan and Gregor approached. “Thank the Creator you’ll be all right,” Malithan said as he regarded Arthron. Arthron grunted in return.

  Then Malithan turned to the others. “I’ve informed Gregor of our plans. He’s agreed.”

  “To everything?” Wayd asked. Malithan turned to Wayd and they locked eyes. Malithan knew exactly what Wayd was referring to. Will Gregor ride off to his death?

  “Everything,” Malithan stated. By the pained look in his eyes, Wayd knew he was telling the truth. But it was confirmed a moment later when Gregor cleared his throat.

  Everyone turned to look at him.

  “I will choose only volunteers to accompany me. Then we’ll stay. We’ll fight. We’ll provide a distraction long enough for the rest to flee,” Gregor said.

  Everyone nodded. Wayd locked eyes with Gregor, and the lieutenant must have realized what he was thinking. “Just do your part, Prince Scot,” Gregor said. “You are the true distraction. The sooner you pull away their forces, the sooner we can flee. Who knows, maybe even a few of my patrol may survive.”

  Wayd didn’t say anything because he knew Gregor’s force would be massacred. But he did feel the weight of responsibility fall onto his shoulders. Gregor was right. This entire plan depended on his ability to deceive Thraegar Thornclaw. And the lives at risk were much greater than Gregor’s patrol.

  Dear Creator.

  “Then we are ready,” Malithan declared. “Let’s get to the castle and begin relaying command. We attack as soon as we arrive.”

  No one said anything as they turned to follow Gregor toward the castle. Wayd knew it was because they all realized just how desperate their plan was.

  7

  The Western Wall

  The more we studied dragons, the more we understood their limitations. Despite their enhanced attributes derived from their innate human characteristics and the unique abilities they obtained by becoming a dragon, they had weaknesses. Discovering these weaknesses changed dralchemy forever. Not only could dralchemy stop the curse, but it could also exploit those weaknesses.

  Gregor led them carefully and quietly amongst streets clogged with destruction. Gregor warned that Draebek surrounded them, so stealth was necessary until they reached the castle. Everyone eagerly obeyed, but it was difficult navigating the debris. Especially with the wounded.

  Wayd watched Gregor as they followed him. He seemed reserved yet calm. He knew what his destiny was, and he accepted it stoically. Malithan kept glancing at Gregor and shaking his head softly. He’s being sent to his death. But it must be done. Wayd knew he was a driving force behind this decision, but it was Malithan’s in the end. I wonder if I could ever send a friend to die.

  They heard the sound of battle a short distance ahead and Gregor signaled to stop. “We are here,” he said quietly as he cautiously glanced around the corner of a building. “Just ahead is the courtyard that leads to the main gate of the castle. We have barricades at all of the courtyard’s entry points. We’re trying to hold as long as we can until everyone in Old Draestl makes it to the castle.”

  “A well thought-out plan,” Malithan said proudly.

  Gregor nodded at the compliment and continued. “When we came to find you, we were barely holding the barricades, and the Draebek, well, they just kept coming. In fact, if we hadn’t seen the Draebek patrol break off and head in your direction, we probably would have retreated back to the castle at that time and you would have been abandoned.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Owen said quietly.

  Gregor ignored him. “I’m going to repeat. We were barely holding the line when we left. Our forces may have already retreated.”

  Wayd shuddered.

  “So we may be on the wrong side of the line?” Gauden asked matter-of-factly.

  Gregor nodded. “I wanted you to know what risk lies before us, but we’ll do our best to deal with it. Our plan is to rush through and either join the line, or try to fight our way to the castle. Understood?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Then we move,” Gregor instructed, and he turned and beckoned them forward.

  Wayd tightened his grip on his sword and followed the others into the courtyard. As soon as they turned the corner, Wayd gagged as he was hit with a wave of acrid air that was a mixture of sulfur and burnt flesh. The sounds of battle rose to deafening levels.

  They beheld a scene of absolute carnage. The courtyard in front of the castle was the largest in the city—designed to be a gathering point for citywide events—and it was packed wall to wall in an intense battle. Rubble and bodies from both sides were littered everywhere. Whatever barricades had been erected were completely abandoned, and the defenders were being pushed back against the walls of the castle. There were hundreds locked in battle, weapons rising and falling as opponents and comrades fell. Screams sounded from both sides as contestants died.

  Dragons roamed the battle at will, leaving destruction in their wake. Wayd watched as Templars and Seekers broke from the defenders’ line and attacked the dragons quickly before they could wreak havoc. As soon as a dragon was killed, the line would reform.

  Ballistae and catapults from the castle fired heavily into the Draebek. Loud booms sounded as rocks filled with Illusionists’ enchantments exploded on impact, incinerating the Draebek they hit. As dragons rose to attack the castle walls, the defenders fired ballistae to bring them down.

  Though the scene was nightmarish, the castle was actually holding. But for how much longer?

  “Any ideas on how to get through that?” Owen asked as he pointed to the Draebek.

  Owen was right, they were on the wrong side of the line and there were hundreds of Draebek between them and safety.

  “We’ll stay to the shadows as best we can and then make a run for it when an opportunity presents itself,” Gregor suggested. “We’ll start there,” he said, pointing off to one side where it looked to be the weakest in the Draebek line.

  It sounded like suicide, but Wayd didn’t have a better plan, so he followed.

  They crept along the perimeter of the courtyard and Wayd did his best to avoid looking at the battle. It was only a matter of time before they were overrun. He felt anxiety building, so he started counting his steps to distract his mind. One. Two.

  A sudden bang was followed by shouts from ahead. Draebek shouts.

  Wayd looked up and saw a group of Draebek turning as several shouted in their direction. A group broke off and started moving toward them.

  “Curse me, we’ve been spotted,” Gauden said. Without waiting, he fired several bolts into the Draebek and two fell as the rest began to charge.

  “Charge!” Malithan yelled.

  Wayd followed the others and took a deep breath to steady his emotions. He realized how tired he was as he raised his sword, but forced himself forward anyway. I can do this. I can— />
  Explosions erupted in front of them and the Draebek flew into the air. Wayd stopped in astonishment, shocked that the dozens of Draebek that had turned on them were suddenly gone. Another explosion sounded and more Draebek flew into the air.

  Suddenly there was a clear path to the castle. He heard shouts.

  “For Ardonor! For the Alderidon Wolves! For the Draestl Dragons!”

  The shouts were coming from the castle.

  Wayd felt a surge of adrenaline and raised a fist into the air. There were cheers from the defenders and more ballistae fired to keep the path clear.

  “Let’s go!” Malithan yelled, and they ran forward.

  Wayd had never run faster in his life. Explosions blasted on all sides as the siege weapons from above kept the Draebek from overwhelming them. It was only a couple hundred feet, but it felt like miles. He sprinted, ducking by instinct every time a blast sounded. They were almost there.

  Suddenly, a blast hit the ground right in front of him and heat overwhelmed him. He stumbled backward and fell to the ground.

  “Wayd, watch out!” Gauden yelled.

  Wayd looked up and saw a massive dragon landing before him, its mouth open and fresh steam emanating from the fireball it had just blasted. It turned its head toward Wayd.

  Wayd pulled himself up from the ground and stared it down. He was too close to safety. This dragon would not stop him.

  “Die!” he yelled, and he charged.

  The dragon spun its tail around and it hit Wayd in the chest, sending him spiraling to the ground. He lost the grip on his sword, and when he crashed into the ground, he felt like his body had shattered. He tried to pick himself up, but couldn’t. He had to catch his breath.

  The dragon stepped forward and blue fire flicked across its tongue.

  He saw Owen and the others step between him and the dragon but he knew they would suffer a similar fate. They needed a Templar. He glanced to Arthron, who still looked too weak to provide assistance. They needed someone to save them. Someone to—