Siege of Draestl

by Randall Seeley

  “Prince Wayd, remember to move with stealth. The dragons above are scouts,” Gregor said, pointing into the air.

  Owen looked up and saw a dragon hovering as it observed their movement from above. What I would do to have scouts in the air…the advantage of it…

  “Understood,” Wayd said.

  “Then you’ll move into position?” Gregor said.

  “As soon as the first command is given, my team,” Wayd said as he gestured to those around him, “will fall back and head for the stables, then we’ll wait for the second signal.”

  Gregor nodded. “And then we move on your command,” Gregor said to Owen. Owen nodded.

  “Then we wait. The men are ready. I am ready,” Gregor added the last under his breath.

  “Thank you, Gregor,” Wayd said.

  As soon as the words were out, Owen felt a pang of guilt spread through him. Not now. Don’t start thanking and apologizing and all that…

  Gregor turned to him and nodded softly.

  Owen looked back at Wayd. “Best of luck again, my friend,” he said.

  “Best of luck, Owen,” Wayd said. “Oh, and stay alive.”

  It was the only command Owen ever wanted to obey.

  “There!” one of the men shouted.

  Owen looked up and swallowed hard as he saw a fiery arrow rise into the air. A second appeared a moment later, followed by a third.

  “Good luck,” Wayd said. Then he turned to move out of sight with his men. Owen was about to respond, but was distracted by Gregor—who looked impatiently for the signal.

  “Oh, for the Creator’s sake, Gregor, just give the command yourself!” Owen said. Then he immediately regretted being crass with Gregor.

  “It’s the Wolves who are supposed to lead this charge,” Gregor said patiently in return.

  Owen cursed again. “Right,” Owen said, feeling chastised and stupid at the same time. This was my plan, after all, can’t I execute it?

  “Where’s my bloody banner?” he asked. He hated how when he got nervous that he started to swear uncontrollably, then swore at himself for thinking about that in a moment like this.

  Gregor pointed patiently to Owen’s side. It was at his waist.

  Owen cursed again, then grabbed a pole, hoisted the flag onto it, and thrust it into the air.

  “Raise the portcullis!” he yelled. He was surprised with the strength in his voice.

  There was the sound of clanking chains as the portcullis was raised and the sound of battle greeted them from the courtyard.

  Owen felt a knot form in his stomach as the stench of death overwhelmed them. He took a deep breath to calm himself—and nearly gagged as he sucked in the rancid air—and then kicked his feet into his horse’s side. His horse started moving forward.

  “Ready!” Gregor yelled at his side.

  Owen winced. Dear Creator…how did I…

  “For the Wolves! Charge!” Gregor yelled.

  Owen glared at him—that was supposed to be his line—but when Gregor nodded and pointed, Owen realized why. The raising of the portcullis had inspired the Draebek force, and they had broken their way through the defenders.

  “Charge!” Owen yelled, and they rushed forward.

  He brought his sword down at the first Draebek, a bloodlust dwarf who swung a massive axe at him. Owen’s draestl blade sliced cleanly through the Draebek’s armor and he fell to the ground, only to be trampled underfoot a moment later by the Alderidon Wolves.

  They charged as one, surging into the Draebek in the courtyard. Screams sounded as the fresh warriors engaged.

  The portcullis dropped behind them with a loud bang, and Owen suddenly felt isolated. There were Draebek everywhere. Dragons flew overhead, blasting at will. Ballistae fired to keep them at bay, but they were everywhere. There were too many dragons. Too many Draebek.

  “For Alderidon! For Old Draestl! For the Wolves!” men sounded.

  Someone was pulled from his saddle right next to Owen and disappeared amongst the blades below. Owen didn’t see who it was, only that it was another friend…lost.

  He felt a surge of anger fill him.

  He felt determination.

  “For the Wolves!” he screamed while raising the banner high into the air.

  The motion seemed to pause the battlefield as everyone from both sides looked at the banner. Then recognition spread across the face of the Draebek.

  “It’s the Wolves!” one shouted. “It’s Waydsyn Scot!” another shouted.

  Then horns sounded. Draebek horns. They sent chills that crawled down Owen’s skin.

  Suddenly, dragons began appearing. Materializing in the sky as if they appeared from nowhere.

  A single red dragon with a formidable rider appeared, holding a horn to his mouth as he blew into it. More dragons formed at his side. They created a wall of dragons.

  Owen realized they were coming for him. For the banner. For what they assumed was Waydsyn Scot.

  He realized that his plan was working. A grin spread across his face so wide, he nearly started laughing. But then he realized he was only several dozen feet away from the castle.

  What kind of distraction is this?

  More dragons appeared. There were dozens. No, hundreds.

  And at their head, blowing into his horn to summon the others, was Thraegar Thornclaw.

  A feeling of overwhelming failure overcame him. It was all for naught. They failed.

  Then the sky erupted with fire.

  Malithan watched as random dragon attacks began to circle the battlements as they fired three fiery arrows into the sky.

  “Good, they are taking notice,” he said calmly as he watched them circle. “Are the Wolves moving into place?”

  As if in answer, he felt the rumbling of the portcullis as it began to rise. He felt a surge of anxiousness as the plan commenced. This has to work. He knew what would be the consequence if it didn’t.

  “Is everything ready?” he asked Templar Kilth.

  “Yes, sir,” Templar Kilth said. “The catapults and ballistae are filled with dragonsbane-doused blankets. The plan will be to fire those first, then our archers will shoot fiery arrows into them, and the Seekers will do their part.”

  “Good. On my command, fire out the debris into the dragons. The distraction from the dragonsbane will be enough to clear a path for one final shot. Kilth, make sure our best shot is on the ballista aimed at the courtyard wall. Taking out the dragons is important, but the Wolves won’t stand a chance if we don’t stop the Draebek army from overwhelming them in the courtyard. I need your best shot to guarantee that doesn’t happen. We need to take out that wall.”

  “Hopkins can do it,” Kilth said. “I’ll let them know. On your command,” the Templar said, and then he rushed off.

  Malithan watched the exchange with Hopkins. He was an older man, nearing his fifties from Malithan’s best guess, and Malithan was sure he had a family back in Draestl. He was from the Eagles, so Malithan didn’t know him personally, but from what he had heard, Hopkins was a good man. And our fate is on him.

  “Is everyone ready?” Malithan asked as they ducked below another volley of fire.

  The men nodded.

  “On my command, rain fire down onto these bloody fools.”

  “For Draestl!” came the reply.

  Malithan watched as the men readied the ballistae. Then he looked out. He saw Thraegar Thornclaw, safely behind the other dragons, circling. He was looking for Wayd. Malithan knew it.

  Suddenly, the dragons grew hysterical. Malithan watched as Thraegar took a horn from his side and began blowing into it, drawing dragons toward them. They came at once, flying toward them in a flash.

  “What is going on?” Kilth asked. “They are gathering?”

  Malithan looked down to the courtyard below and saw Owen and the Wolves charge into the center. Owen was raising the Wolves banner in the air.

  “A distraction indeed,” Malithan said proudly. He realized that Owen had thoroug
hly convinced Thraegar that they were the Wolves. And Thraegar had taken the bait.

  Malithan was amazed as more dragons arrived.

  “There are hundreds of them!” Kilth exclaimed, unable to hide the fear in his voice.

  It was an awesome sight. And Malithan couldn’t thank the Creator enough for their luck. I just pray this plan works.

  “On my mark,” he said. He knew he had to time it right. Had to ensure that the dragons were gathered close enough to maximize damage.

  Thraegar stopped circling and turned toward Malithan. It was as if the Draebek knew Malithan was looking at him. They locked eyes.

  Malithan smiled. Then he raised his hand into the air.

  “Now!” he screamed. And said a soft prayer that this would work.

  The ballistae fired.

  “Fire the arrows!” Malithan added as the ballista shot spread in the air.

  Archers with ignited arrows fired after the dragonsbane-infused debris.

  “Seekers strike!” Kilth yelled.

  As one, the dozen remaining Seekers on the wall stepped forward, pushed their black staffs in front of them, and spun them in a circle. Runes flashed with light, and an outward burst exploded from them.

  As the Seeker power and fire from the arrows reached the debris, there was a loud explosion and the air burst into a conflagration that engulfed the sky.

  Dragons roared in pain, and then began firing fire in random directions. Several pitched over, sending their riders falling to their death. The dragonsbane continued to expand outward, smothering the dragons and either killing them or injuring them enough that they crashed to the ground.

  Thraegar looked over in shock and Malithan locked eyes with him again. Thraegar yelled something that Malithan couldn’t make out. All Malithan did was smile. He couldn’t believe the plan was working. He couldn’t believe that they had just destroyed half of the dragons in Thraegar’s army.

  “Knock down the wall,” Malithan commanded.

  He watched as Hopkins positioned his ballista. Out of the corner of Malithan’s eye, he saw Thraegar approaching slowly. The dragonsbane was disseminating. There was a clear shot now. Thraegar knew what they were doing.

  “Quickly. Thraegar is coming,” Malithan hissed. This has to work!

  Hopkins finished positioning the ballista and two other men helped arm it. Then Hopkins stood to the side, took his bearings, and then stepped back.

  “Fire when ready,” Malithan said. Thraegar was close now. Too close. Malithan looked back. The dragonsbane most definitely had disintegrated. Thraegar was close enough to fire. Though there were only a handful of dragons left, they were all moving into position, ignoring Owen below, but instead focused on the battlements. On him. Thraegar knew exactly what they were going to do, and he was instructing the dragons to destroy the ballistae.

  Malithan was about to yell at Hopkins to fire when the ballista triggered and the bolts and debris flew free. Please hit, please hit!

  Then he had to jump back as the ballista exploded in front of him. Dragon fire exploded into the other ballista. One after another, the ballistae and catapults ignited in flames. He turned and saw Thraegar smiling. He looked back at the smoldering ballista and saw Hopkins lying dead.

  But the bolts had flown free. Dozens of dragons were dead. They had a chance. He moved to the edge and saw the bolts flying toward the courtyard wall.

  Dear Creator, please guide those bolts.

  He knew it was a desperate plea, but he continued to pray. He closed his eyes, trying to find a place of solitude.

  Then he heard an explosion.

  Dragons began falling from the sky.

  Owen watched them in awe as the brilliant flash of exploding light spread throughout the sky and then the dragons died. But then he realized he was in their path.

  “Watch out!” he yelled. Only to remember a moment later when the first dragon transformed from a dragon into a human that when dragons died, they transformed back to their original form.

  Gross, he thought as dozens of bodies fell to the ground.

  “Dear Creator!” Gregor said to his side. “Look!”

  Owen looked to where Gregor was focusing and felt his heart stop. In front of him, in the front gate to the courtyard, were dozens—if not hundreds—of Draebek pouring through. They were angry, and focused on him.

  No, the banner.

  He realized that not only had the banner drawn the dragons, but it had also drawn an increased focus from the oncoming enemy.

  “We are never going to get out of here!” someone yelled from the side.

  Owen agreed with him, but knew that his men were looking to him. They need a leader right now.

  He said a curse under his breath, raised the banner into the air, and yelled, “For Ardonor! For the Wolves! For Draestl!”

  His horse raised its hooves emphatically, and the Wolves pressed forward, crashing into the approaching enemy.

  Then the gate to the courtyard exploded.

  Owen felt the impact on his horse and had to pull on the reins to keep from being tossed. The roar was deafening. It wasn’t from the projectiles itself, but it was from what they hit. The courtyard wall.

  It was as if it was in slow motion as Owen watched the wall teeter, then fall first in on itself, and then outward toward anything in its path. Draebek screamed as bricks fell toward them and crushed them beneath their weight. The entire wall slid like an avalanche and kept falling as it covered the Draebek beneath it. Owen remembered the avalanche he had set off in Gaud’s Pass a year ago. This nearly rivaled that.

  As the dust settled, it revealed that the entire area was blocked. There was no way for the Draebek army to reinforce those in the courtyard. He was shocked that nearly all of the new invaders were suddenly gone in one fortuitous moment. The ones that remained in the courtyard looked dazed and confused.

  “Curse me! Malithan is brilliant!” Owen exclaimed as he struck the closest Draebek.

  “Malithan is a good man,” Gregor said as he blocked an attack and then struck a killing blow. “And now it’s time for us to do our work. Look!” he said, pointing at the sky.

  Owen looked up and saw what Gregor was pointing at. Thraegar Thornclaw, on a dragon. The dragon looked disoriented—what did Malithan shoot at them to cause the sky to ignite? But even from this distance he could tell how angry Thraegar Thornclaw was. The dwarf kept turning from the battlements to the forces.

  “We need to get his attention on us,” Gregor said.

  In response, Owen hoisted the Alderidon Wolves flag high in the air.

  “For the Wolves! For the Scots!” Owen yelled, and then kicked his horse into a gallop.

  They rushed out of the courtyard and started making their way toward the western walls. He glanced back and saw Thraegar sitting for a moment. Then a moment later Thraegar began to follow, and the remaining dragons above fell into place behind him.

  “We need to hurry,” Owen exclaimed as he looked over his shoulder. He had to turn back around to keep his horse from crashing into a wall—the horse was well trained, but Owen was riding him so hard that their speed was slightly out of control, and the streets were clogged with debris. But he couldn’t help from wanting to push even faster. He watched as Malithan shot several more bolts from the ballistae at the dragons, but they fell harmlessly away. The dragons were out of range, but closing the gap to them.

  “Faster men, faster!” Gregor yelled.

  Though they had stopped the army from coming behind their flanks, they had not anticipated the air assault, and Owen doubted the plan. But it was in motion, and he had to execute.

  Fire bolts came raining down on them as dragons swept low to strike. Men screamed for a second before they were incinerated. Owen tried not to look at the carnage and destruction as they passed, but couldn’t help it as he weaved in and out of the crumbled buildings as he dodged an incessant barrage of dragon fire bolts. Must keep moving. Must keep—

  Another explosion so
unded to his side, and where a horse and rider had been a moment earlier was now just a pile of charred remains. The heat of the flames burned Owen’s cheeks. He gritted his teeth and kicked his boots into his horse’s flanks. He kept the Alderidon Wolves flag high in the air. The plan is working, the plan is—

  The western wall broke into view. The wall was completely knocked down, and bodies lay everywhere. The remaining Draestl Dragons forces were exhausted and huddled behind what lone protection they had, and the Draebek force pushed hard against them.

  Owen led his forces straight into their midst. The Dragons gave a cheer, and the Draebek fell back as the new army crashed into them. Men screamed as they raised their weapons and fought. They, too, had seen the dragons approaching and knew they had little to no time remaining. They put aside exhaustion and fear, and fought like the Wolves and Dragons that their companies were called.

  Owen could feel the adrenaline within him pounding. He fought on the back of his horse, striking blow after blow and causing Draebek to fall. He could see freedom on the other side of the Draebek army. They were thinning here. Maybe we can break through.

  Explosions erupted around him as the dragons arrived. He heard his men scream. He was tossed from his horse. One moment he was on it, the next he was face first on the broken cobblestone ground.

  He tried to pick himself up but his arms shook as his adrenaline vanished and fatigue washed over him. He turned to his side to look at where his horse was. Only a charred heap remained.

  He tried to find the others. To find Gregor. To find any of the Wolves. But his head pounded. He rolled onto his back and looked at the sky. Dragons came rushing toward them, their mouths open wide, filled with a glow of fiery death. There were too many of them.

  His exhaustion began to fully take over, and despite his best efforts to resist it, he felt himself give up. Curse me for a fool, he thought as he saw Thraegar’s dragon open its maw. He was coming straight for Owen.

  I just pray that Wayd is able to make it to safety.

  Owen closed his eyes and waited to die.

  8

  A Perfect Distraction