Siege of Draestl

by Randall Seeley

  “Well?” she asked. “Are you going to introduce yourself in return or do I need to have Gauden do it?”

  Wayd coughed and tried to break the trance.

  “Wayd? Seriously?” Gauden said, and gave him a slight shove.

  It woke him from his stupor. “Ugh, sorry. Wayd, I mean, Waydsyn Scot, son of Darthyn Scot, Chief Judge of Ardonor and brother to the king, which makes me a Prince of Ardonor. But the title I’m most proud of is Captain of the Alderidon Wolves.”

  As he said the last title, he thought of his men, and emotions began to overflow him. “Those same Wolves,” he continued, “that defeated Thraegar in Gaud’s pass. Those same Wolves who withstood the Draebek today, and who will defeat them tomorrow!”

  Gauden glared at him, and Wayd wondered if he had overstepped his bounds, but he couldn’t help himself. Despite this temporary reprieve, they were in the middle of a war, and it was his fault. He ignored Gauden’s glare, and tried to muster the best look of defiance he could. He hoped he didn’t look like a petulant brat.

  “I’m sorry, Waydsyn Scot, Captain of the Alderidon Wolves,” Shadmay said in return.

  Wayd’s emotions evaporated. Sorry? It was anything but what he was expecting. When he looked in her eyes, he realized she was sincere.

  “Sorry?!” he exclaimed. He hoped he didn’t sound as shocked as he felt. “For this?” he gestured at the war. “Isn’t this what you want?”

  “Bloodshed, no,” Shadmay said. “Come with us, I’ll tell you a story as we accompany you to your tent. We have a busy day tomorrow and we need rest. The events of this evening will have consequences we must prepare for.”

  She began to walk and the three of them followed. It was as if he was compelled to.

  “The Draebek have been abused for much of our history,” Shadmay began. “It is for this reason that Gauden has helped us. He wanted to help liberate us.”

  Wayd looked at his friend again, who did his best to avoid any eye contact whatsoever. There was definitely more to the story than Gauden had let on. Gauden doesn’t have just a circumstantial relationship with the Draebek. He’s part of their society!

  “It is because of this abuse that I was so grateful when I received the prophecy. Waydsyn,” Shadmay said, but then stopped when she realized he wasn’t listening all the way. He stopped alongside her and she grabbed his hand for emphasis. “Look at me, Waydsyn Scot. And try to have empathy. Imagine if you were used for centuries in the most brutal manner. Constantly set at war so that you’d develop insufferable hatred toward one another. Then suddenly let free? What are we to do when free? We are addicted to draestl and bred to kill one another. No, even in freedom we are a ruined people.”

  Wayd was surprised at how she described her people. He found himself wanting to argue with her and to point out the differences that he had seen today. What about the shaman? What about the kindness in her eyes? What about the way they treated the dead?

  “The prophecy gave us something to unite behind,” Shadmay continued. “And trust me, Waydsyn, the prophecy isn’t a fabrication. It’s real. And it finally gave our people hope. Can you imagine what your life would be like without hope?”

  She let silence linger, and Wayd tried to imagine what his life would be like without hope. He couldn’t. For he always had hope. Even in the toughest times in his life. Even now I have hope. He realized that hope was engrained in him from birth. That there was always a potential solution to whatever problem appeared. That whenever he was overwhelmed, there would always be some other way to succeed. He wondered what it would be like to live without hope, and realized that it would be miserable. Feelings of empathy flooded him.

  “Can you imagine it, Waydsyn Scot?” Shadmay reiterated.

  “Please call me Wayd,” he corrected.

  She smiled softly and then began walking again. “Don’t judge a people because they are trying to find hope,” she said. “We are trying to survive, and we finally have the ability and chance to. I know with all my heart that Thraegar Thornclaw is the unifier of the clans. And he will fulfill the prophecy that will, in the end, free our people.”

  “I just wish it didn’t have to go through our people,” Wayd said. “Is it fair, or just, to gain hope for one people at the expense of another?”

  Shadmay smiled softly, but didn’t answer. Instead she looked away, and Wayd could have sworn he saw a look of sadness cross her face.

  They walked in silence for a time and Wayd thought about what she had said. It wasn’t fair that the Draebek were in this position, but it also wasn’t right that they massacred his people to get out of it.

  “Do you think there is another way?” he said after a time.

  Shadmay didn’t answer, and they continued to walk in silence. He wondered if he had offended her, as she continued to look distraught. At one moment she excused herself from his side and stepped back toward Korin and said something that he couldn’t hear. He looked at Gauden to see if the guide could overhear, but Gauden was still distracted. He looked guilty. He should.

  She returned to his side a few minutes later and they walked in silence before stopping at a large tent with several guards outside. Wayd regarded it with amusement, realizing that Shadmay must have led them to her tent instead of his own. The tent was massive, rivaling even that of Thraegar’s.

  A sudden whinny to his side caught Wayd’s attention. His heart beat faster as he could have sworn he recognized it. Quickening?

  He looked next to the tent and saw Quickening tethered to a pole near the entrance. A trough of hay and water stood next to him, and Quickening took a large drink before whinnying again as his horse saw its master.

  “Quickening!” Wayd said as he rushed forward.

  The guards became more alert, but Shadmay gestured for them to relax.

  Wayd approached Quickening and inspected him for injury. His armor and saddle were resting beside him, and upon inspection, he looked like he was taken very good care of. He couldn’t help but feel joy at the reunion with his animal. “I’m so glad you are alive,” Wayd whispered to him, and then pet his mane.

  He turned back to Shadmay and saw her beaming. “We, too, love our friends,” she remarked. “The Draebek and human aren’t so very different. Now come,” she said as she stepped into the tent.

  As Wayd followed her into the tent, he was hit with warm air. There was a fire in one corner, with heated stones emanating a welcoming steam as water was pressed onto them. Thick carpets were strewn across the ground to provide extra warmth, and a Draebek—that Wayd assumed was a steward—beckoned them inside and told them to take off their shoes.

  Warm baths were prepared to the side, and Wayd realized there were two of them. Alongside, two beds. He looked at Gauden, and then back at Shadmay.

  “Is this…” he started, but stopped because he didn’t want to sound presumptuous.

  “Yes,” Shadmay said. “This is where you’ll stay. Please, bathe, and rest. We’ll have food brought to you shortly.”

  Wayd was amazed. I guess Grindhold law has some benefits! Then he realized that Shadmay was staring at him. He swallowed hard and tried to look away, but couldn’t. It was as if she was compelling him to regard her. He was grateful when she broke the silence, because he was about to start confessing, and he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d say.

  “What you said is true, Waydsyn Scot,” Shadmay said. “And wise for one so young, but something I expect from a Prince of Ardonor. Gaining hope should be something that is freely given, not something unwillingly taken from another. I will give this much thought tonight. Have a great night’s rest.”

  And with that she turned, and Korin followed her. There was a brief exchange with Gauden, Shadmay hugged him again and Korin extended his hand, and then both of the Draebek exited.

  Wayd looked at Gauden, then back at the tent, and couldn’t help but smile. The steward came up to them and asked if they needed anything before dismissing himself, and a moment later Gauden and Wayd were
alone.

  “The Draebek aren’t what they seem,” Gauden said softly. Wayd realized it was the first time they had spoken in some time. And Gauden looked incredibly guilty.

  But Wayd wasn’t in the mood to talk. He had many questions for Gauden, but there was only one thing he could think of. That he agreed with Gauden. He had never seen this side of them before. They were kind. They were hospitable. Much of what he had been told as a child and learned since was blatantly false.

  “I agree, Gauden,” he replied. He was glad he said it, because Gauden let out a sigh of relief. “Tell me about it another time,” he said as he gestured toward the baths. “Those aren’t going to stay hot forever.”

  Gauden let out a booming laugh and made his way toward them.

  Wayd bathed, dressed in clothes that a Draebek tailor had brought him—and surprisingly fit perfect—and then ate what amounted to a feast before he finally lay down. He was exhausted both from the battle the day before, and the long march today. But he was emotionally exhausted as well. Many friends had died over the last two days, and he wanted to be angry at the circumstances. But instead of being angry, he wondered if all of this was in vain. Did the Draebek have to fight? Did Ardonor have to defend? Why was this happening?

  As he finally drifted off to sleep, he kept wondering if there was another way.

  13

  Dawn Of War

  One thing I learned in the arena was that it wasn’t necessarily the best physical fighter who would always win. More often, it was whoever was better at disrupting their opponent’s plans. The same can be said of war. Preparing is vital, but adapting when plans change is often what decides victory.

  Owen Delmsmith paced back and forth in front of the remaining members of the Alderidon Wolves. They looked as battered as he felt, and he wondered why any of them had gotten out of bed this morning—especially since General Fadden had given them the choice. But one look at his determined men would answer that question. He was here for them, the ones that had died, and because Wayd and Gauden were still missing.

  But just because he was with his men didn’t mean he wasn’t in pain. As soon as they had arrived at Draestl last night, medics had swarmed them and demanded to inspect every inch of him. At first he thought it was because the medic inspecting him was a pretty nurse, but, unfortunately, it was because she was doing her job. He unconsciously touched a wound on his chest where she had stitched him up. Did she really have to pull so bloody tight?

  But he was grateful for the help. He hadn’t realized how battered his body was after the full day of fighting, and he was convinced that there wasn’t an inch free of bruises. He felt the most pain on his side where he was first stabbed right at the start of the battle. He remembered asking Wayd if it was crooked and how Wayd had told him it looked fine. He doubted him wholeheartedly now considering the medics had asked him if he had stitched it himself, while drunk! Drunk? I wish I had been drunk…curse you, Malithan!

  He risked touching his side and it still felt tender and tight. Every time he moved it felt like it was about to rip, and the rest of his muscles screamed in protest and pain. All he really wanted to do was curl up in a ball and go back to sleep. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

  He looked at the Alderidon Wolves. There were only about half of them left, but all of them were just as determined as he was to avenge their friends and save their leader. He was proud to be with them. They were currently standing in the central courtyard inside the main gate of Draestl. The portcullis was down and the drawbridge raised. But, despite the safety of the walls, Owen could feel the Draebek presence on the other side. He had slept pretty awful last night—despite the heavy dralchoms he was given—so at one point he went to the battlements and observed the enemy for himself. He was surprised at how many of them there were. There were tens of thousands. He shuddered as he remembered how vastly outnumbered they were.

  That was why the Wolves were ready in the courtyard despite General Fadden telling them to take the day off. Owen knew they would be needed today. He had seen Draestl’s defenses, and though Malithan had been busy preparing the siege engines with some of his crazy ideas, Owen knew that Draestl didn’t stand a chance. He thought about the battle at Old Draestl and shuddered. He had thought they were prepared then too. All of them had. And they were defeated in a matter of minutes.

  It’s going to take a miracle for us to survive this day.

  But the size of the Draebek army didn’t really matter to him. What mattered was the opportunity to avenge those who had died, and to save his friends. He was going to fight whether General Fadden let him or not.

  He heard someone approaching and saw Seeker Kalaia and Templar Arthron descending a nearby set of stairs that led to the battlements. From the glares on their faces, he knew that their request was denied. But he figured he’d ask them about it anyway.

  “Were you able to smooth talk your way by General Fadden to get our wishes across?” he asked, and followed it with his usual grin that he knew was charming.

  Seeker Kalaia raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to woo me into giving you information I would freely give you, Owen?” she asked disdainfully.

  Owen swallowed. “No, of course not.”

  “So you were trying to woo me?” Arthron asked.

  “No!” Owen defended, then realized they were both teasing him when they smiled. “But seriously,” he said after he realized they weren’t going to stop smiling at him. “Did he agree? Did you pull your ‘we’re from the Order of the Dragon so you better listen to us’ card?” he asked, putting air quotes around the last phrase.

  Arthron raised a skeptical eyebrow, and his smile vanished. “They refused, and though I don’t like it, I understand why. General Fadden won’t open the gates for anything. Have you seen the size of the Draebek army? It dwarfs the force we fought yesterday. I hate to admit it, but I agree with him. Wayd and Gauden are on their own.”

  Owen cursed, and cursed again when Kalaia gave him a disapproving glare. He felt so helpless. How can I help them?

  “I’ll try again,” Owen said in frustration. Then he smiled. “I know! I’ll tell him that I’ll let my father know about this if he doesn’t let us go!”

  “You’re going to tattle on him?” Arthron asked.

  Owen started to explain that wasn’t what he meant, but as he thought about it, he realized that was exactly what he was implying. “Well,” he said after a minute. “Do you think it will work?”

  Seeker Kalaia rolled her eyes.

  “We will have to find another way,” Arthron said. “But there’s more, Owen, and you aren’t going to like it. General Fadden insisted that the Wolves avoid battle today, no matter what happens.”

  Owen started to object, but Arthron held up his hand. “I told him I agree with you, Owen, and he finally obliged us to stay mustered here in the courtyard. But we are to engage only upon his command. He thinks we are wasting valuable rest time.”

  “We will be needed today,” Owen said. He realized that he said it matter-of-factly, and that was because he knew it was inevitable. “The force out there…” He trailed off and shuddered.

  “I know,” Arthron said.

  “So we wait?” Owen asked.

  Arthron nodded.

  “Then we wait,” Owen said. Then he began pacing again.

  Malithan walked the battlements, his heart pounding in anxiousness as he waited for the battle to begin. He looked out at the enemy tents and was amazed at the sheer number of them. They were neatly pitched in rows that seemed to go on for miles, all outside of their siege weapons’ range. The army before him was terrifying, and he realized how mistaken he had been. He had assumed the force at Old Draestl was their entire army, but that was merely a fraction of the horde before him. It was so large that he wondered if they could survive. He was convinced they’d be safe once they got to Draestl. Now he knew it was only a matter of time before they were completely overrun.

  He made his way to another si
ege engine, and his muscles screamed in protest as he did. He knew he should probably be resting, but he barely slept last night because of his anxiety for today. Despite his body being battered from the day before, and his emotions completely drained at losing so many of his friends, all he could do was lie on his bed and think about what he had learned.

  Dragonsbane. He couldn’t stop thinking about dragonsbane. And how when you combined it with siege explosives… He thought back to the memory of seeing the dragons drop from the sky and smiled.

  He took out his spyglass and inspected the dragon pens he had spotted the night before. With the light of dawn, he could make them out clearly. There were hundreds of them. It erased the last few shreds of doubt he had. Though he knew how to stop dragons with siege engines, he wasn’t sure he could. Watching the dragons walk around their camp as if they were as common as a horse made him think back to the first time he had seen a dragon. It was the dragon that had killed Jessthry. He found himself longing for her companionship. It had been almost two years since her death and he missed her deeply. She was what had completed him. Now he had lost her, and his men.

  All he had left was his mind. A mind he knew was better suited for the Universities of Talar. But he had forsaken all of his studies for Jessthry. He looked out at the mass of Draebek and tried to find one in particular. Thraegar Thornclaw. It was because of him that Jessthry was gone. And in a twist of irony, Malithan knew he was only spared that day so that he could warn the rest of the world that Thraegar was coming. Malithan swallowed hard as he remembered that day, and felt renewed commitment forming within. He was committed to doing this. And he would use his mind to defend Draestl.