Siege of Draestl

by Randall Seeley

  The group started down the road, covered on both sides by thick trees that acted like a chute to funnel them down. The sound of crunching rocks was constant, and Owen couldn’t help but look around, searching for Draebek to come rushing from somewhere. From anywhere.

  But they didn’t come.

  He felt his confidence growing as they walked along the path. Malithan called for a break once, and they rested long enough to take drinks and recover as much as they could. Those on stretchers were doing the worst—though Owen would argue that the men in the rotation of carrying the stretchers were doing the worst. He made sure he stayed well clear of that group, as he didn’t want to get sucked into having to carry practically dead weight. The memories of having to build bridges in half-frozen water with Wayd at his side made his stomach turn.

  The thought of Wayd made him wonder where his friend was. Wayd should have joined up with them by now. He feared the worst, since Wayd was nowhere in sight. But he shook his head. Wayd was resourceful, and he had Gauden with him. Even if something bad has happened, they’ll figure it out. He had to believe that. If he dies, it was my fault. This whole plan was my bloody idea.

  The group was suddenly called to a stop, and Owen wondered why. They had just started again about fifteen minutes earlier, so it couldn’t have been for another stop. There were some unsettled murmurs from people around him, so he felt his heartbeat accelerate. Curse me…what is happening?

  He pushed his way through the soldiers and families and made his way to Malithan, who was stopped and looking at the ground. The concerned look on Malithan’s face was unsettling. Owen feared the worst.

  “What is it?” Owen asked.

  Malithan knelt on the ground and touched something. Owen looked at Arthron, who looked just as nervous.

  “What is it?” Owen asked Arthron this time.

  “Blood,” Arthron whispered. “It began a few steps back, it’s here,” he said, pointing to where Malithan crouched, “and then there is a pool of it a dozen yards ahead. It’s like someone bled out.”

  Owen felt his stomach knot. “The scouts!” he exclaimed.

  Arthron shrugged his shoulders at the same time that Malithan stood. “There is no question that it’s blood, but we can’t speculate on who—or what—it’s from,” Malithan said convincingly. “It could be an animal’s, after all. We are in a forest.”

  Owen saw the reaction the words had on the crowd—as most of the survivors had gathered around them, as curious as Owen had been. I probably didn’t help the situation, marching over here demanding what was wrong. He saw how Malithan’s confidence helped ease the crowd’s concerns.

  “But we will be extra vigilant. Let’s keep moving. We are about an hour from Draestl.” Then Malithan began walking again.

  Owen was impressed with Malithan’s leadership. He always had been. Not only because Malithan was a good leader, but because Malithan didn’t want to be a leader in the first place. Owen didn’t agree with the reasons why Malithan didn’t want to be a leader. A scholar? Really? Who would want to spend their lives studying…but it was admirable that despite having to do something Malithan didn’t want to do, that he did it. And he did it well. Kind of like what Wayd keeps telling me I need to do.

  He saw Malithan turn back and look at him, and Owen realized he was the only one not moving. Malithan smiled as Owen ran to catch up with him.

  “Stuck in a thought?” Malithan asked.

  Owen knew he was blushing. “Not really,” he said in return, hoping that Malithan would lose interest.

  Then he stepped in something sticky and wet. He looked down, and knew immediately that it wasn’t water. Malithan saw it too and uncharacteristically cursed.

  “What is it?” Owen asked.

  “Blood again,” Malithan whispered. “Something happened here. I fear the worst, but there is no point in inciting fear. We’re so close. We just need to keep moving. We just need to—”

  Something dropped from the sky and landed a few feet in front of them with a thump. Owen recognized it before it landed and felt the pit in his stomach grow so much, he nearly threw up.

  It was one of the scouts. Or rather—what remained of him.

  “To arms!” Malithan yelled.

  But it was too late.

  Dozens of arrows filled the night sky, and men, women, and children fell. Suddenly the moonlight was covered by large shapes, and the sounds of armor-clad enemies crashed to the ground.

  Owen looked around as dragons landed all around them. “They knew we were coming. They knew it!” he exclaimed. He knew that he should keep the desperation and fear out of his voice, but he couldn’t help it. They knew.

  Draebek dismounted dragons, and others poured from the trees. They were surrounded.

  He turned to Malithan and saw his leader was just as discouraged. Just as exhausted. But he clenched his sword tight. He was going to fight to the death. Just like Jacon Strath. Way better men than me.

  He turned around to the nearest Draebek and spat at him.

  The Draebek raised his axe, threatening to move forward, but someone called for him to stop.

  Then a dragon from above landed. Owen recognized it from before. Moonlight glistened off the red and black dragon, and the figure above held an axe in his hand that looked as if it was designed to cut through a building.

  Thraegar Thornclaw.

  His booming voice cut through the battlefield and the fighting momentarily stopped.

  “You are surrounded!” Thraegar yelled. His voice was commanding. Chilling. “And the only way for you to survive is by my mercy. Should I extend it?”

  Owen was about to accept the offer, but Malithan raised his sword instead.

  But then women and children began to cry for mercy.

  “Please!” one mother called, who was holding a baby in her arms.

  “Don’t hurt us anymore. Please!” a child yelled.

  The pleading continued. Owen’s heart ached at the fear in their voices. He watched as they cowered, and felt embarrassed that he wanted to join them in their cries for mercy.

  But Thraegar laughed. “I would have extended mercy. I did extend mercy. But Waydsyn Scot refused. And I gave him a promise! Do you remember what it was?”

  “Curse me,” Malithan said quietly. “He’s going to slaughter us.”

  Owen’s heart was beating so loudly he could barely hear, but he could tell by the ferocity in Thraegar’s voice that the dwarf was beyond reason.

  “My promise was to murder every single one of you! The best part is that I have Waydsyn Scot. He’s mine. And he will watch the whole thing!”

  Owen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Have Wayd? No…he has to be lying. You can’t have Wayd. Wayd is…

  “Now is the time for all of you to die!” Thraegar yelled.

  The dwarves rushed them and Owen raised his sword to attempt to stay alive as long as he could. But the dwarves were everywhere. Men, women, and children fell. Their screams forever haunting. Owen tried to defend them, but there were too many Draebek. Too many dragons.

  But despite the hopelessness, he fought. Malithan, Arthron, and Kalaia at his side.

  Suddenly there was a loud booming noise, like thunder rolling forward. It was so deafening it seemed to come from above, but after a moment it grew closer and louder. He realized it was coming from the direction of Draestl. Owen faced it, and saw a sea of horses in the distance, each with a knight in full armor.

  “The cavalry of Draestl!” Malithan exclaimed. At its head was General Fadden, his banner riding high. “He brought the whole cavalry!”

  Owen couldn’t believe their fortune as Draebek turned as one and focused their attention at the approaching cavalry. They moved into defensive positions, but the survivors were suddenly inspired.

  “Attack!” Malithan screamed.

  Soldiers, women, and children grabbed whatever weapon they could and followed after the Draebek, striking them from behind. The Draebek tried to protect
their flank, but the cavalry were too close. The Draebek were suddenly surrounded.

  The first wave of cavalry crashed into the nearest Draebek and cut them down with lances. Draebek screamed as they were impaled or trampled, and then the cavalry broke just as a second wave came crashing into them. The Draebek turned to flee, completely outmatched by the cavalry, but the Wolves were in their path.

  “For Draestl! For the Wolves!” the men yelled, and they fought with as much vigor as they could muster.

  Dragons took flight and began blasting fire in all directions. Men and cavalry died, but in their place more cavalry appeared. General Fadden brought the entire army! And they kept coming. Draebek fell.

  Eventually Thraegar yelled for his forces to retreat. Owen saw him starting to rise into the air and Owen ran after him, raising his sword in the air.

  “I’m coming for Wayd! Do you hear me?” he yelled frantically.

  Thraegar ignored him as he rose into the air. Draebek continued to fall around Owen, but he ignored them, focusing on Thraegar instead. He yelled after him again.

  “Do you hear me?! I’m coming for Wayd. You can’t stop me!” Owen yelled.

  Thraegar turned back around and they locked eyes, and Owen’s knees nearly buckled. He had never felt so scared in his life. What am I doing threatening Thraegar Thornclaw? The Draebek could cut me in two!

  But he knew why. He would not let his friend die.

  He heard Malithan calling for him. He saw the cavalry dismounting and helping the survivors. He knew that for a moment, they were finally safe. That they had finally won a victory. And that soon they would be in the safety of the city.

  He heard Malithan talking to General Fadden about preparations. About how this was just a portion of the Draebek army. That they needed to prepare as quickly as possible. He heard all of it, but he chose to ignore it as he watched Thraegar’s dragon disappear into the night sky.

  He had only one thought on his mind.

  Wayd was captured.

  Wayd, I’m coming for you. And I will free you. At any cost.

  10

  Aftermath

  It was rare that anyone befriended the Draebek. They were an exclusive race that kept to their own clans, so it left little room to allow anyone else into their midst. The fact that we used them as slaves to mine draestl didn’t help in that regard. But there were a few among us who developed relationships with them. And what they found is that underneath the layers of hardness was a very caring and loving people who were desperate for freedom and security.

  It was dawn by the time Wayd had a chance to sit down. It felt good to finally rest, but the little comfort it provided was interrupted by the cold morning. The chill air pierced through his cloak, and he found himself longing for his armor. But instead he wore his tunic, trousers, and the cloak he typically wore over his armor. Without the heavy plate armor, the cloak practically drowned him, but he didn’t care—he needed it for warmth.

  He was surprised that he was allowed to walk around freely. Draebek gave them their space, though several looked at them skeptically before moving back to their task at hand. Wayd had suggested leaving, since no one was really guarding them, but Gauden had pointed out that many of the sidelong glances they received were Draebek waiting to catch them violating Grindhold law. If they attempted or even appeared to be abandoning the person who granted them Grindhold law without that person’s permission, the protection would be lifted, and they would be left to the mercy of Thraegar Thornclaw.

  He had only sat for a few minutes when Gauden stood up. “Let’s continue to move,” he said softly, trying to avoid any attention. “We need to find Korin as quickly as possible. Though Grindhold law is binding,” he continued, “I’d feel much safer if we’re close to Korin so that a Draebek doesn’t conveniently forget.”

  This wasn’t the first time Gauden had expressed his concern for their safety. Wayd didn’t understand much of Grindhold law and was hoping to learn more about it, but there was so much commotion after their capture that they hadn’t had time to discuss it. Thraegar had rushed off after a scouting report, and Korin had followed with the majority of the army, leaving Wayd and Gauden alone. And without Korin around to remind the Draebek that we were granted immunity…

  That was the reason they removed all of their armor and weapons and gave them to Korin before he had left. If they didn’t appear a threat, it would be more difficult to have a misunderstanding. Wayd felt like he was in even more danger without his armor or weapon, but he trusted Gauden. But it doesn’t mean I like this.

  Wayd followed Gauden as they walked through the remains of Old Draestl. He couldn’t believe the amount of devastation. He knew it was bad—having sprinted through it the day before—but seeing it after the battle made him realize just how bad it was. The outer walls were decimated, towers crumbled, and most buildings were significantly damaged and lay either in ruin or on the verge of collapsing.

  The Draebek worked hard to remove the dead. Any Draebek corpse had its armor removed and placed in a pile that continued to grow, while the bodies they brought to a massive bier they were building in the center of the destruction.

  “It’s a burial rite they do,” Gauden explained as he saw Wayd watching the process. “Draebek believe that death is temporary until they have the opportunity to begin anew. They follow this ritual religiously so that the dead can be reborn.”

  “They believe in reincarnation?” Wayd asked. He had heard of the concept before in his studies so he was familiar with the idea, but he had never seen anyone actually practicing it.

  Gauden nodded. “It’s deeply engrained in them. It’s one of the reasons they fight so fiercely. They don’t believe they actually die. They believe death is another step on their progressive journey because it gives them the chance to start again. And each time they are born they become stronger and wiser, so they embrace the opportunity to die. In effect, they believe they are immortal.”

  Wayd shuddered at the thought of Thraegar Thornclaw being immortal. Curse me.

  “Once they gather their dead, they’ll bury the armor—so that the power of their might will rejoin the earth—and they’ll burn the corpse. By burning the corpse, the spirit is set free to be born again,” Gauden explained.

  Wayd was surprised at the reverence in Gauden’s voice, and he raised an eyebrow at his friend. “How long were you with the Draebek?”

  “Long enough,” Gauden answered. Then he pointed to a group of Draebek that were handling dead defenders. “Watch what they do with our dead. It gives you a glimpse of who we are dealing with.”

  The first thing Wayd noticed was that these Draebek were dressed differently. Rather than being garbed in the heavy draestl armor most of the warriors wore, these wore delicate robes that looked as soft as silk. The robes had intricate engravings of the sun, stars, and moons, and they wore elaborate headdresses that had beads, figures, and shapes dangling from them.

  One of them took a vial of something and dropped it onto a corpse. The corpse immediately flashed a brilliant white so bright, Wayd had to look away. When he looked back, the corpse was gone.

  “What was that?” Wayd asked, amazed as he watched a Draebek move to another corpse and put a drop from the vial on it. This corpse also disappeared after a brilliant flash.

  If it was another time, Gauden would have let off a booming laugh, instead it was a soft chuckle. “Sorcery? Magic? Something that is difficult to explain.”

  “Sorcery?” Wayd asked in wonderment, and with a healthy dose of skepticism.

  “Who knows, exactly? But, it’s something unexplained by the laws we are familiar with,” Gauden answered. “I personally believe it’s some kind of dralchom. The Order of the Dragon is the only place that comes even close to creating similar events that are difficult to explain. That,” he said as he pointed at another corpse that disappeared after a brilliant flash, “falls under that type of description. I’ve never been around their dralchemists to know for sur
e—and the Draebek are incredibly tight-lipped about their dralchoms, I might add—so I have to make my own conclusions. And I conclude—sorcery.”

  Though Wayd wasn’t one to believe in sorcery, he had no other way to explain what was happening as he watched the liquid drop on another corpse. The entire corpse—armor and all—would vanish. “Who are they?” he asked as he gestured at one of the strangely clothed individuals. “They look different.”

  “Ah, yes,” Gauden said, and this time he did have a booming laugh. “I forget how ignorant you are of the Draebek.” Several of the Draebek turned and regarded him, but he just smiled at them and waved them away. One of the Draebek stepped forward to challenge and Gauden exclaimed “Grindhold law” and he went back to work. Then Gauden continued.

  “Those are the Draebek shaman,” Gauden explained. “They are the religious force behind the Draebek and operate completely different from the clans. Draebek clans are organized by family and have little interaction with each other—unless it’s war. But Shamans—no matter what clan you are a part of—are welcomed by any clan, and held in the highest regard. That one,” Gauden said, pointing to an elderly woman who was standing near the bier, “is Shadmay Silverclaw. If there was a leader of the Shaman, she would be it. Some say she revealed the Draebek prophecy herself!”

  “The one that unifies the Draebek under the white dragon?” Wayd asked.

  Gauden nodded. “That exact one. Shadmay is held in such high regard among the Draebek that many want her to be the one to unify them. And trust me, they would follow. When I was among the Draebek, I never once heard a negative word about Shadmay Silverclaw. The Draebek honor and revere her. The fact that she is here and assisting with the battle…” Gauden stopped and visibly shuddered.

  “What is it?” Wayd asked.

  “It’s unsettling that Thraegar has her support. I always thought the shaman would stay neutral when the clans were being united. But if she supports him…”

  Wayd didn’t like how the conversation had trailed off. He had so many questions, but he could tell that Gauden was lost in his thoughts. Instead, Wayd turned back to observing the shaman. Their clothing itself was a spectacle because of its uniqueness, but he was also fascinated by watching Draebek reverently move out of the shaman’s way. They respected the shaman in the same way Wayd would respect Priest Danson back home. To think that the Draebek were religious was odd. He had always viewed them as barbaric beasts obsessed with draestl. But seeing them reverently respect their dead, carefully taking the armor to fulfill their own view of religion, and dealing with the enemy dead in such a humane manner was fascinating.