Siege of Draestl

by Randall Seeley

  Shadmay gave him an understanding smile. “No worries, Prince Wayd. I will explain. Shaman have a gift of penetrating someone’s thoughts and placing vivid pictures that reveal a piece of what will happen in the next day.”

  Wayd stiffened. He risked a glance at Gauden and saw his friend just as surprised. His mind started racing. Vivid pictures? Like…dreams?

  He had to ask. “How do you do that?”

  “Through dreams,” Shadmay answered. She looked directly at him and gave another understanding smile again.

  Wayd swallowed harder. It’s as if she’s reading my mind.

  “And you tell them what is going to happen?” he said as he replayed what she had said, and the dreams he had the night before, through his mind.

  “In a way,” Shadmay answered. “We have the gift of prophecy, but we also use our gift to guide others to fulfill their own destiny. Many times we’re asked to fill our soldiers’ minds with dreams of victory to help them sleep and have confidence the next day. We also reiterate plans our leadership has outlined so that it is executed perfectly.”

  “Wait a minute. You…brainwash them?” Gauden asked. Wayd looked at his friend and suddenly saw doubt.

  He could understand why Gauden was confused, and Wayd suddenly started to doubt himself. Were these dreams nothing more than attempts to get us to do something rash? Something foolish?

  Shadmay smiled. “We don’t have the power to take someone’s agency from them. We merely guide them. Other races may try to take away agency—like the Bloodheim—but we believe agency is one of life’s greatest gifts and power, so we only influence that agency. But I might ask you, if you find yourself fighting a war you cannot win, would you become desperate enough to believe in a dream?”

  Wayd knew that he would. That was typically the role dreams played.

  “Like today,” Korin said. “Did you see those maps?” he asked.

  Wayd looked back at them and felt his hope disappear at the sheer number of markers. “Not all of them, though I know that you have us surrounded.”

  “Not just surrounded,” Korin said softly, and there was another emotion that Wayd couldn’t recognize. “Thraegar is going to trick you. He is distracting your defenses right now by focusing their attention on him. All the while, transports are moving above the defenses. When he gives the signal, thousands of Draebek will drop from the sky above. Draestl will be destroyed in minutes.”

  Wayd felt sick. The troops that appeared on top of the castle. They were literally on top of the castle. Above the castle! In the air! He prayed that someone would discover the Draebek’s plan before the massacre commenced.

  Then he looked at Korin. The Draebek was staring at him intently, as if waiting to see how he would react. Wayd wanted to react, but knew it was too risky. But Korin wouldn’t stop looking at him. Staring at him. He looked at Shadmay, and she too was staring intently at him. Something was off. He had to know what. Finally, he quietly asked, “Why are you telling me this?”

  Shadmay smiled, and Korin nodded. “Sometimes, the best thing for your people isn’t the current path they are on. Sometimes, things need to change.”

  Wayd looked at Gauden, and Gauden back at him. He knew his friend was having the same thought.

  Shadmay sent the dreams to us, and Korin is trying to help us execute the dreams.

  But why?

  Sudden hope filled Wayd. They want us to win…

  “What’s your name?” Owen asked as he moved toward the siege engine closest to him. It was a ballista and would work perfect for what he intended.

  “Denikar Smith,” the man replied. Owen thought he was talking to a seasoned vet, but when the man turned around, Owen realized that he probably had a few years on him. This is probably his first battle!

  “You nervous?” Owen asked. He didn’t really care, and could tell the man was nervous by the way he kept shifting his weight back and forth. He really just needed him out of the way.

  He looked at the ballista and saw that it was loaded. Good, now to make sure it’s full of that bloody dralchom.

  “Uh, no, well, uh, yes, sir,” Smith said. Owen looked at him and realized that he was very anxious.

  “I’m nervous too, Smith,” he said. I wish all of us were somewhere else. Anywhere else. He shook his head to clear it. “Is this full of dralchombane?”

  Smith raised an eyebrow. “Not sure I know what that is, sir, but we applied the dragonsbane as instructed.”

  Dragonsbane, not dralchombane, you idiot, Owen swore as he reprimanded himself. Smith flinched, and Owen realized the man thought he was mad at him, so he smiled softly at him. “I’m upset I couldn’t even remember a bloody dralchom. Dralchombane? Bleh. But good, I’m glad it’s filled with dragonsbane. We’re going to use it.”

  Smith raised an eyebrow. “We’re supposed to wait for Captain Hangdor’s command.”

  Owen gave the boy a glare. He was about to scold the man, but stopped and tried to think how Denikar was feeling. It wasn’t too difficult because he thought about how he was feeling. Anxious, afraid, and uncertain.

  “Listen, uh, Smith,” Owen said as he recalled his name. “You see that out there?” Owen asked as he pointed toward the enemy.

  “Yes,” Smith said. “In fact, Captain Hangdor told me he’d pay me a gold mark for every single dragon I shoot down!”

  The words were music to Owen’s ears. A wager? From Malithan? He never imagined Malithan would do something like that, but it gave him a bond with the man. So he smiled.

  “Malithan gave me a wager as well,” Owen explained. “He bet me I couldn’t hit Thraegar.”

  Smith’s smile vanished as he registered what Owen had said. Then his face grew pale. “Hit him…right now? Before they give word?”

  “A sneak attack. He doesn’t think I can do it, so I want to prove him wrong.”

  Smith swallowed hard. “How much did you bet?”

  Owen smiled his most mischievous smile. “One hundred gold crowns.”

  Smith whistled.

  “And I’ll be able to do it. I’m the best ballista marksman in the world.”

  “You are Owen Delmsmith, the general’s son,” Smith said suspiciously.

  Owen was torn if the doubt was an insult or a compliment. Not like I try at this military thing anyway! He cursed. “Just move out of the way so I can blast Thraegar from the sky.”

  Smith moved to the side and Owen stepped forward. He moved into position and carefully began moving the ballista so that Thraegar was in its line of sight. He tried to do it as subtly as possible because he knew if any Draebek saw the slightest movement, that the attack would begin. Owen had to strike before they knew so that they would have a few moments of surprise.

  He realized after he pointed the ballista in the general direction of Thraegar that he had no idea how to fire it. There was a lever, and it looked like it was already loaded, but he didn’t know if he pushed the lever or pulled on it. He also didn’t know if he was aiming it correctly. I should have paid attention in training!

  “Have you done this before?” Smith asked him from the side skeptically.

  Owen glared at the boy and tried to remember what his first name was so he could scold him like his mother would when he was being obnoxious. But then he realized Smith wasn’t doubting him. He was asking a sincere question.

  “Um,” he tried to think of an elaborate excuse, but the only thing he could think of is that seconds were slipping away and his chance to blast Thraegar had almost passed. “No. I mean…I’ve fired a crossbow before, but there is a trigger on that. This thing?” He sat back and gestured at the entire ballista. “I honestly have no idea what I’m doing.”

  Smith smiled and moved forward. “Take this lever here to move the ballista into position. Then once it’s in position, push it down to lock. Use the scope here to aim,” he said as he pointed at a small protrusion that Owen realized was like a spyglass. “After you aim, grab this lever,” he pointed to a different leve
r that Owen hadn’t even noticed, “which is the firing trigger. Pull that toward you and it will release the drawstring and fire the bolt. This bolt’s tip is hallowed out and filled with dragonsbane and explosives. Captain Hangdor created them, and they work. I saw one in practice yesterday. They will blow up on impact and the shot inside will spread at least ten to fifteen feet wide. If you hit their leader, you should be able to take down all three of the dragons around him too. And from this angle, they won’t even see it coming. Look,” Smith said as he pointed at Thraegar and the others. “They are focused on General Fadden. But you better hurry, because their conversation looks about over.”

  Owen wasn’t sure if he should reprimand the boy for giving him a lecture, or embrace him for explaining it so thoroughly. He decided on neither and instead began acting. “So like this?” he asked as he finished moving the ballista into place. After Smith said yes, Owen pushed the lever down to lock it into place. He was grateful he hadn’t tried to fire it before, as he remembered what happened if you shot a ballista without bracing it for the backlash.

  He looked into the ballista’s sight and saw Thraegar, yelling angrily at Malithan and General Fadden. He probably could have made out what they were saying, he was only a few dozen feet away after all, but he concentrated his attention on aiming the ballista. He thought it was in a pretty good spot, but he suddenly doubted everything. If he missed…

  “It’s a good aim,” Denikar Smith said encouragingly.

  “Do you even know how to do it?” Owen snapped back. He immediately regretted it, but he was anxious and he didn’t want to be patronized.

  The boy didn’t let it faze him. “Yes, sir. I’m the best, so I would know. Captain Hangdor is going to have an empty purse after dealing with us.”

  The wide grin that spread across Smith’s face vitalized Owen. It reminded him of himself, and that always made him smile. He looked through the scope and saw Thraegar’s face. He couldn’t wait until the bolt exploded into him.

  Then he exhaled slowly to steady his breath and began inching his hand closer to the trigger. It felt like he was moving unnecessarily slow, but he didn’t want to catch anyone’s attention. He was lucky nobody had noticed so far. He moved closer. Inch by inch. Eventually his fingers touched the handle, and then his hand wrapped around it.

  “It will be a good shot,” Denikar confirmed.

  Owen smiled. He looked through the scope one more time for good measure, and saw that Thraegar had stopped yelling. Instead they had stopped talking at all, and it looked as if Thraegar was about to turn around. Suddenly Owen wondered if they had struck a truce. Did Thraegar end up having mercy on us? But then he looked at Malithan, and the man looked upset. He looked at General Fadden, and he looked just as upset, and afraid.

  No, the negotiations must have come to an end. Owen wished he had paid better attention so that he didn’t have to interpret their body language, but he hadn’t. Besides, I’m pretty good at interpreting body language.

  He made a decision. He was going to act. Now. Before the moment passed.

  Here goes bloody nothing.

  He pulled the trigger, then released his breath. He prayed that the first time he shot a ballista was a good one.

  “It’s a good shot!” Smith yelled again.

  Owen realized he had closed his eyes, and opened them slowly. It was as if it was happening in slow motion. He watched as the ballista bolt sailed through the air. He heard shouts, and knew it was coming from the battlements and the Draebek on the opposite side. He watched as Thraegar Thornclaw pointed, then tried to move his dragon.

  But he was too late. Despite Thraegar’s best attempt to dodge, the bolt flew true. It hit Thraegar’s dragon square in his chest with brutal force.

  At first nothing happened, and Owen figured he had just made the biggest mistake in his life. But then a deafening boom sounded, followed by fire and purple smoke that electrified the air. Then screams. They were bestial. Demonic. Enraged.

  Owen knew the screams were from dragons, and he stammered back and nearly fell off the ballista as the smoke cleared and he saw the beasts—or what was left of them—momentarily suspended in the air.

  The dragonsbane had decimated them. Boils covered the scales of the dragons, and there were parts of the dragons completely missing. It was as if a corrosive material was poured over them and immediately ate them alive.

  One of the Draebek riders was incinerated in the blast. The other riders watched in shock, unable to do anything as the only thing keeping them in the air was slowly disintegrating between their legs.

  Thraegar’s dragon was the first to stop thrashing. Then it fell. Thraegar held on to the reins tightly as they careened out of the sky. He climbed out of his harness, stood on it, and then jumped.

  The other dragons began falling at the same time. One of the riders wasn’t as lucky as Thraegar and couldn’t get out of his harness. Instead, as his dragon thrashed, it flew into the other dragon and the rider was smashed between.

  The final dragon disappeared and the rider fell with it.

  In a moment, they were gone. And everyone stood in a stupor.

  “Owen Delmsmith! What have you done!” General Fadden yelled as they looked at the aftermath. “They were making peace agreements with us!”

  Owen didn’t register what he had said as he watched the dragons fall to their death. That concoction Malithan whipped up is powerful stuff! But then he heard what General Fadden had yelled. Peace talks? Not possible…

  He thought to what he knew was true. That it was all a distraction. Fear spread through him. There will only be a momentary lull before they attack.

  “Above us!” Owen yelled as he pointed to the air.

  As if it was an act from the Creator itself, gusts of wind cleared the sky above and dozens of dragons appeared, filled with transports of Draebek. It was the first time more than a small area had cleared, and Owen swallowed hard as he saw the full magnitude of what was above them. There were hundreds of transport dragons. And they were ready to strike. He took a deep breath to try to steady his voice, then turned to Malithan.

  “Do you see their true plan?”

  Malithan regarded them in fear. General Fadden looked outraged. “We were being manipulated into waiting. They have flanked us. We are—”

  “Let’s blast them!” Owen yelled.

  The yell startled Malithan and General Fadden, but then both of them nodded.

  Malithan turned, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled, “Fire above! Fire above!”

  The men on the walls responded quickly, readjusting their aim to the dragons above them. Owen could tell from the yelling above that the Draebek were readying to attack. But the ballista were already armed.

  “Fire!” Malithan yelled.

  “Fire at will!” General Fadden yelled.

  Ballista roared to life and Owen shielded his eyes as they erupted all around him. The sound was deafening, and the bright lights that followed blinding.

  Then there were screams.

  He opened his eyes and looked above, and it appeared as if the skies were on fire. Dragonsbane-infused bolts smashed into dragons and transports alike, and exploded.

  Dragons and Draebek fell from the sky.

  “Again!” Malithan yelled. “Reload and fire at will!”

  Another barrage filled the skies, and more Draebek fell.

  Owen felt overwhelming joy fill him. He couldn’t believe that he had saved them. He couldn’t believe that they now stood a chance.

  He turned back toward Smith, who was firing the ballista with frenzied accuracy, a look of maniacal glee etched across his face.

  Then his face fell as he saw the force beyond. They had been so focused on the force above that he had momentarily forgotten the hundreds of dragons that were out of range. He watched in horror as they formed as one. And he recognized someone at the head.

  Thraegar Thornclaw. He was enraged. He stood on the back of a dragon, one hand holding on
to the reins and the other gripping his axe that he thrust into the air. He was yelling something that Owen couldn’t make out, but Owen knew it was commands to other dragons, as they swarmed to Thraegar like a bee to honey.

  They swept forward like a tidal wave of death. Their mouths opened in unison, and orange and blue fire filled within, casting a brilliant glow across the sky. The fires built as they flew toward the wall as one deadly force.

  “Get off the walls!” Owen yelled. Flashbacks to what had happened to Old Draestl came back to him. He knew they didn’t have a chance. “Get off the walls!” he yelled again.

  Malithan turned to him, and realized what was happening. “Redirect! Redirect ballista to the approaching dragons. Redirect!”

  But the dragons were already there.

  A loud blast sounded as hundreds of dragons fired at once, and a roar of flames blasted toward them.

  Owen turned and jumped. He knew he was going to fall twenty feet from the wall, but he stood a better chance at surviving the fall than trying to stand in place. The flames scorched him as they surrounded him. He heard screams—the screams of his friends—as he fell out of the sky.

  Malithan watched in horror as the blast came at him. He paused, paralyzed from action as he tried to process what had happened. He had spent so much time ensuring they were prepared so that they had even a remote chance of surviving the enemy horde. And the thought that they may succeed had strengthened as his preparations destroyed the dragons from above.

  But in a moment all of that changed. Instead, a new wall of dragons had appeared, and fire was coming for them. He knew he should jump like Owen did, but he couldn’t abandon his post. He couldn’t abandon his friends.

  They were decimated in a moment. The fire struck the siege engines first, then the people all around him. Malithan watched as Denikar Smith was incinerated as flames engulfed him and his ballista. The ballista that had almost defeated Thraegar Thornclaw. The ballista that had almost saved their lives and won the war.