Siege of Draestl

by Randall Seeley

He remembered what General Fadden had yelled. That they were about to make a peace agreement. But Malithan knew better. There would be no agreement made, and seeing the dragons from above, he now recognized it for what it was. Thraegar Thornclaw had never intended to make a peace agreement. His mind was already decided. And just like at Old Draestl, he was going to massacre them all.

  The heat from the fire approached him, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the intense pain that was inevitably coming.

  Then a blinding light flashed around him. He opened his eyes and saw a black staff hitting the ground in front of him and saw that the white glow was coming from the many runes etched into the staff. Seeker Kalaia stood, her eyes focused and both hands grasping the staff with effort. A ball of light emanated around them, forming a sphere that surrounded them. It spread wide, pooling out like a spill of water. It seemed to swallow the people nearby into its grasp. First Malithan, then General Fadden, then others.

  As the fire hit the sphere, it passed harmlessly around them, then disappeared.

  As soon as the fire passed, Seeker Kalaia collapsed, and the sphere of protection evaporated.

  Malithan was dumbfounded. He touched his chest, expecting to feel charred remains, but he felt his armor. It was hot to the touch, but he was alive. He looked around. The only wall that still stood was the battlement that they were on. The rest of the walls were destroyed. Melted by the force of the dragon fire.

  He stared in shock, realizing that in an instant, all of his well-planned efforts were defeated. The ballistae were gone. The dragonsbane was gone. Most of the men on the walls were gone.

  They were defeated. He was defeated.

  Then he saw Seeker Kalaia.

  She lay on the ground. Still. Too still.

  He dropped to his knee and touched her neck, searching for a pulse.

  “Kalaia!” Arthron yelled. The Templar looked furious. “Move aside, Malithan. Is she alive? The fool woman charging up here and performing the one move that is bound to kill her! Kalaia!”

  The Templar fell to her side and pushed Malithan out of the way.

  But it was after Malithan had already felt a pulse. She was alive.

  “Dear Creator!” Arthron yelled in happiness. He cupped her in his arms and pulled her to him. Then he looked at Malithan.

  Malithan had always viewed Arthron as a reasonable man in complete control of his emotions, but he stepped back in fear of what he saw. Uncontrolled rage was burning in Arthron’s eyes. It was as if a fire was forming within that was trying to burst outward.

  “Arthron,” he carefully said.

  Arthron took a deep breath. “Kill them all,” he said as he gestured to the Draebek. “I will take Kalaia to safety and then I will return. Malithan,” he said, and they locked eyes. “Do not let the Draebek free.”

  Then Arthron disappeared with Kalaia.

  Malithan took a deep breath and tried to make sense of what had just happened.

  But more screams sounded. He saw General Fadden gesturing toward another wave of dragon attackers. They were coming.

  It was time. “Get off the walls! We need to get down below. Engage at once!” he yelled.

  The walls exploded around him, and he moved toward the stairs. The rest of the survivors from the battlements followed after him. He unsheathed his sword, and ran down into the chaos below.

  As Owen fell from the wall, he started to regret his decision as he remembered just how high it was. It wasn’t twenty feet. It was more like a hundred feet. He scolded himself for being dramatic, but it was a long fall. And the ground was approaching quickly. Very quickly.

  Suddenly Arthron was there with his hands outstretched before him. Owen crashed into him and both of them went tumbling to the ground. Owen waited for his bones to break from the fall, but he felt nothing more than a brief discomfort. He opened his eyes, and saw Arthron climbing to his feet.

  “What in the name?” Arthron exclaimed, but then shut his mouth as the walls suddenly exploded around them.

  Stones and fire erupted through the walls as if they were shot from a catapult. Arthron grabbed Owen and together they turned and ran as the walls collapsed around them.

  Some of the soldiers near them weren’t as lucky, and they were killed by the destruction’s debris. Owen ran, fearing for his life if he didn’t.

  Soon they were clear of the wall as it exploded all around him. Owen watched as Arthron looked at him, ensured he was okay, and then turned and ran up the only part of the wall that was still standing.

  Owen saw a glow at the top of the lone wall and then more fire erupted around the glow. Then both fire and glow vanished.

  Arthron appeared a moment later, holding what looked like the body of Seeker Kalaia, before he ran away from the impending battle. Owen prayed that she was still alive. Malithan, General Fadden, and a few others appeared on top of the stairs after him. They ran down just as the rest of the wall exploded under a new barrage of fire.

  Owen tried to locate Denikar Smith, but there was no sign of him. No, he thought sadly.

  Malithan and General Fadden barely made it down the stairs before the entire building collapsed. They ran to where Owen was, and were met with the rest of the survivors inside the walls.

  A moment later hundreds of Draebek poured over the decimated walls. Each wore black draestl armor that covered their entire form, and they held draestl swords, axes, and hammers at the ready. They rushed forward like an angry sea.

  Dragons dropped to the ground beside them, opened their maws, and began blasting fire in every direction.

  “Charge!” General Fadden yelled.

  “For Draestl!” Malithan yelled.

  “For the Alderidon Wolves!” Owen yelled as he raised his sword into the air.

  They met the enemy horde and the sound of steel clashing steel filled the air, followed a moment later by the screams of the dying.

  Dragons roared, men and Draebek screamed, all fell.

  15

  The White Dragon

  Sometimes failure is the only way to teach someone a valuable lesson. It’s something a leader would rather avoid, but sometimes, it is only through personal experience that you can actually learn. A great leader will do whatever it takes to provide those kinds of opportunities. Even if they come with great cost.

  Wayd kept looking at Korin and then back to Shadmay. Looking for any additional sign. Hoping for any additional counsel they’d provide that proved that what he was thinking was what was actually occurring. Could we really have allies within the Draebek?

  But it was hard not to doubt the entire thing. Why would Korin and Shadmay help them? Why would they try to instill doubt within the Draebek? Why would they try to end the war? Why would they betray their own people?

  He knew that there were unity problems—he had witnessed it firsthand and it was still apparent as he watched the interactions between the three clans. Even now that the battle had started and the clans were being forced to work together, there was little interaction between them, and whenever there was interaction, it was always forced and unpleasant.

  But despite the unity problems, it still didn’t make sense. The Draebek—even if they hated one another—had to hate the people of Ardonor more. Right?

  There had to be something else going on. Some other explanation. And the only thing that Wayd could attribute it to was yesterday’s duel. It was during that exchange that Korin had changed. And the way the Draebek was behaving today was odd.

  Wayd wished he could talk to Gauden about it, but the guide was lost in his own thoughts. Wayd instead felt trapped. He didn’t know what to do, only that there would potentially be a moment in the very near future when he would need to act. And the entire battle depended on his actions.

  He thought back to the dream, and instead of trying to dismiss it as fears, this time he tried to remember every single detail as clearly as possible.

  He had to find the Horn of Grind. He had been searching for it since he ente
red the tent and had yet to find it, but he knew the horn was integral. Korin had explained that somehow the Horn of Grind, when sounded, would manifest the white dragon. That was the only time the horn would sound, he remembered. So if I find the Horn, then I can get Thraegar to sound it.

  He wondered how that would help. Thraegar had already sounded it, so how would getting him to sound it again help cause friction within the clans? But then he remembered Korin’s reaction when he had asked Korin if Thraegar had sounded the horn. Korin had avoided answering his question directly.

  Perhaps because he hasn’t sounded it yet.

  His hope grew as he reasoned the possibility. Korin had said that Thraegar was obsessed with finding the white dragon, and how he had come into possession of the Horn of Grind. The story should have concluded with confirmation of finding the white dragon, but Korin had never said anything about actually finding it. What if they had never found it? What if Thraegar had just made it seem like he had found it?

  If Thraegar had found the white dragon, then trying to disrupt the unity of the Draebek was futile because the prophecy would have already been fulfilled. But if he hadn’t found the white dragon yet, and Wayd forced him to sound the Horn of Grind…

  It suddenly all made sense. Thraegar hasn’t sounded the horn, or if he has, he hasn’t found the white dragon.

  Wayd felt his heart begin to race. This could be it. He was still unsettled in why Korin and Shadmay would put these thoughts into his mind, but they had to have a reason.

  But why did Wayd have to do it? Why couldn’t Korin do it? Why was the dream always about Wayd challenging Thraegar?

  And how could he get an audience with Thraegar?

  The dream had occurred in the command tent, and they had conveniently been brought there. But Thraegar was off fighting the war. When is he going to arrive?

  A runner entered the tent and relayed information. He was obviously distraught. Korin and Shadmay joined the commanders to hear the report. Wayd followed and tried to remain inconspicuous.

  “One of the defenders fired a ballista,” the runner said. “It must have been filled with dragonsbane. Thraegar didn’t have a chance to react.”

  Wayd couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “The bolt hit his dragon and exploded. The dragonsbane ignited and killed the dragons in a matter of seconds!”

  Wayd replayed what he heard. At first he was thrilled. Thraegar Thornclaw is dead? But then he thought of the dream and the hope that it had instilled. The words that Korin and Shadmay had softly alluded to. He needed Thraegar here, in the command tent, in order to have a chance of igniting a riot. But he’s dead?

  His heart began pounding and he found it difficult to breathe. He tried to think of what to do. If Thraegar isn’t here to play his role in the dream…

  “The commanders were killed, one was incinerated in the blast, the other was smashed between two dragons. Thornclaw fell clear,” the messenger continued.

  “Is he alive?” Korin asked in a concerned tone. Wayd was surprised. Aren’t you trying to sabotage him?

  Wayd looked at Korin to try to find a trace of deceit, but there was none. Korin was deeply concerned.

  Shadmay closed her eyes for a moment, all emotion vanishing from her face as she focused. Then a moment later, she opened them. “He’s alive, Korin, and barely wounded. But he’s coming. You’re the front runner, correct?”

  The messenger nodded. “It was a miracle!” he exclaimed. “He fell from the sky but an unmanned dragon came out of nowhere to catch him. It dove as soon as Thraegar’s dragon was hit, and caught him before he hit the ground. We had never seen anything so miraculous!”

  Wayd’s excitement changed to fright. His hope was replaced with fear. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Thraegar was shot from the sky only to be saved by a miracle?

  “Thraegar rose from the ground, and led a strong attack against the walls. The walls were destroyed, and right now our forces are destroying any left in the city. The defenders are scattering among the buildings, and we’re defeating them quickly,” the messenger reported, his voice proud.

  Wayd felt defeated. The war was going to be over before he even had a chance to influence it. Emotions built in him as he thought of the defenders. They are defeated? He thought of General Fadden, of Malithan, of the Wolves, of Owen. No!

  “Why are you here then?” Korin asked. “Just to share a report?”

  The messenger nodded softly. He was obviously filled with emotion, so proud of how the battle had unfolded. But then he stopped and pointed directly at Wayd.

  “Thraegar is coming back to get him,” the messenger stated. There was no doubt that the messenger was referring to Wayd. Wayd took a deep breath.

  “Why?” Shadmay asked.

  “Because Thraegar wants Wayd at his side so he can witness the fall of Draestl,” the messenger answered.

  Wayd felt the pit in his stomach expand.

  It widened as Thraegar appeared in the doorway. His shiny armor was covered with soot and grime, and parts of his armor were dented. He looked tired, but his eyes flashed with brilliant anger, and he walked with purpose. He looked as regal as a prince on coronation day.

  He stepped into the command tent and all arose and saluted him.

  He ignored the compliments and cheers, and settled his gaze on Wayd. His gaze penetrated through Wayd’s feeble attempts of bravado.

  “It is time to watch your people die,” Thraegar spat. It wasn’t a request. It was a command.

  Wayd swallowed hard and his mind raced. He knew he had to act. To do something. But he didn’t know what to do.

  Owen yelled as he was surrounded by Draebek. The sound of clashing steel and screams of battle became so loud, it was momentarily overwhelming. But then the realization of what was happening settled, and their instincts took over.

  Owen brought his sword above his head as an axe came for him, and his arms shook with exhaustion as the axe crashed into it. His arms reverberated from the blow, and he had to concentrate to keep hold of his sword.

  Then a hammer swung at him from the side. It crashed into his plate armor and sent him spinning to the ground. He felt his armor bend—the force of the blow was barely hindered—and his breath left him as he crashed to the ground.

  He realized that the hammer had saved his life, for a third axe had swung from behind him and would have cleanly decapitated him if he hadn’t fallen.

  Thank goodness I’ve always been such a valiant servant to the Creator!

  He rolled to the side as another axe struck the ground beside him and he tried to get to his feet, but there were too many of them.

  He heard shouts and saw Malithan dashing in and out of enemy Draebek, doing his best to make it to him. But he was barely avoiding being struck himself. He saw General Fadden. The general was still with the main force and commanded them to push forward, but there were too many Draebek.

  He prayed that someone would come to help him as he dodged another strike, rolling to the side again. But a hammer came down on top of him. The strike was slightly off and crashed into his shoulder, and he could have sworn he felt his bones break. He screamed out in pain, and rolled away again. He had to get away. Had to get to his—

  There was a scream as something large landed next to him. He knew instantly what it was. But seeing it confirmed his suspicion. Large feet with thorns coming out of the toes, scaly legs thick with muscles, a large torso that was the size of several men. A jagged tail with dozens of spikes protruding across its surface. And a lizard head that had a forked tongue that flicked out and tasted the acrid air.

  A dragon.

  The Draebek near him cleared a path as the dragon reared its angry head into the air, then walked toward him. It opened its mouth and fire grew within its bosom. Owen knew that he was going to die, and he wished for the first time in his life that he had done something better with the life he had been given.

  Templar Arthron lay Kalaia on a table o
f the inn that had become a makeshift hospital. He had already done what he could, and forced his last vial of order wine down her mouth, but it would take time for the dralchom to run its course, and it was time that he was afraid she didn’t have.

  He looked around to try to find someone to help. There were dozens of doctors and nurses running around frantically treating the wounded, but they continued to come like a flood.

  There were too many of them. Arthron looked down at Kalaia and willed her to live. He had been with her for decades, and he loved her as deeply as he could love anyone. Please, Kalaia. Please live.

  He couldn’t believe what she had done. He knew about the gifts of Seekers. Of their ability to expend their energy as a way to protect those within a certain radius of their staff. But he also knew that doing so almost always rendered the Seeker unconscious. And most of the time resulted in their death.

  She had made that sacrifice to save the leaders of Draestl. It was a worthy cause, but one he wasn’t sure she should have made. They shouldn’t even be here. We should be with Wayd.

  He felt rage build. He tried to stem it, to keep it from overflowing, but he was too angry. Angry about what happened to Jacon Strath. Angry that he had lost sight of Wayd. Angry that Kalaia was on the verge of death. Angry that there wasn’t a doctor nearby.

  He reached out and grabbed the tunic of a doctor as he walked by. The doctor stopped, stunned that someone would grab him, and they locked eyes. Arthron recognized fear in the other’s eyes. He knew why. When he got like this…

  “My companion needs help,” Arthron stated as calmly as he could. But he knew the words sounded as forced as they felt.

  “My,” the doctor began before recognizing that he was speaking to a Templar, “Lord. Yes, I will get others to help her at once. But as you can see,” he said as he gestured across the broader inn, “we are over capacity. And we have to treat those with more life-threatening injuries first. It may take a moment.”