D& D - Mystara 02 Dragonking of Mystara

by Thorarinn Gunnarsson

  "Perhaps, but not necessarily," Sir George explained, leaning back in his chair. "I have to admit, with no actual king, this is the worst possible time for Thelvyn to leave Braejr. Granted, if Thelvyn does become king, he's going to be more reluctant to leave than ever. At the same time, this might simply be the natural progression of the dragons' plans and have nothing to do with the situation here."

  "The Dragonlord won't leave us now, will he?" the mayor asked fearfully.

  "I have no intention whatsoever of leaving," Thelvyn declared emphatically. "Going into the north would only divide our defenses, more so than the dragons might realize. I believe our best response is to try to lure them here. If we do have a battle ahead of us, I want it to happen here in the fields outside the city. We can concentrate our forces on the walls, where the wizards can be of assistance."

  "Then are you saying war is inevitable?" Alessa inquired.

  "Not entirely, although there's not much else I can do," Thelvyn said. "I've already ordered our forces to draw back from the frontier. This might be taken as their response. Now we'll continue drawing our forces into the middle Highlands, back toward Braejr. That's a purely defensive attitude, and it's about as far as we can go. It tells the dragons that we won't tight unless they insist on it. That leaves the final decision about going to war entirely up to them, and I suspect that they'll be reluctant to go that far."

  "It will be difficult for them to make that decision," Sir George agreed. "The Nation of Dragons has never chosen to go to war. Defending themselves is one thing, but deliberately pursuing war is another. They know if they ravage the Highlands or destroy Braejr, all the other nations in this part of the world are going to react very negatively. Dragons aren't very popular as it is."

  "Of course, all this must be weighed against their great fear of the Dragonlord," Sellianda added. "The ire of the rest of the world is irrelevant as long as they destroy him. They can deal with any other problems later."

  Thelvyn nodded. "All we can do is to give them every reason to leave us alone, then see how they react. At this time, I want to send orders to the north that our forces are to begin to withdraw to Braejr one regiment at a time. And I want to send word to the dukes that I expect that the dragons will not be ravaging their lands, at least for the most part. They're going to be coming for me."

  Alessa bowed her head. "The orders will be relayed to our wizards in the north at once."

  The sorceress left for the Academy to take care of the messages at once, and most of the others departed to attend to preparing the city for battle. That left Thelvyn alone with Sellianda and Sir George.

  "I wanted to discuss something with you in private," Thelvyn said. "I've realized that if the dragons are primarily interested in me, then perhaps I can lead them away

  from the Highlands."

  "I do not believe that it would be as simple as that," Sellianda explained. "The dragons have specific complaints with the Flaem, not the least being the theft of their treasure. If Alessa Vyledaar cannot find it, I'm not sure anything we do will appease them. The only alternative is to defeat them in battle, and the Flaem need you for that."

  "I have to agree," Sir George added. "You could probably get the dragons to follow you, but I suspect that they'll be coming through Braejr first."

  "I suppose you're right," Thelvyn agreed uncertainly. "I just can't help the feeling this war is largely my responsibility."

  "I seem to recall that you've done everything in your power to avoid it," Sir George reminded him. "Jherridan and his wizard were determined to begin their little war with the dragons. No one would listen to you until it was too late, and now you're the only one left to handle the problem."

  "In a very real sense, this is their fault," Sellianda added. "They were so caught up with themselves and their schemes that they came to believe that any means justified the end they considered so worthy. I hope the Flaem have learned something from this. As the elves would say, they are entirely too small a dog to bark so loudly."

  "So now it's time to get busy, I suppose," Sir George commented.

  "I was under the impression that I already was rather busy," Thelvyn said as he led the others toward the door. "I need to have a candid talk with the ambassadors from Darokin, Rockhome, and Alfheim to see if anyone wants to

  help us fight the dragons."

  *****

  Marthaen settled himself beneath the trees on a high hilltop, where he could look down across the forest to the road more than two miles in the distance. As far away as that seemed, his dragon's vision was sharp enough to easily see every wagon and every rider as they passed slowly on their way from the frontier to the central Highlands. The sky was clear and the morning bright, almost too warm for the taste of a northern dragon. He remembered that his sister Kharendaen had somehow managed to endure this for the sake of her duty for the last five years.

  He wasn't concerned about being seen; the Flaem knew fully well that they were being spied upon almost constantly, and they hadn't allowed that to concern them greatly. When Marthaen had heard the first reports of this latest withdrawal, he had wanted to see it for himself. He desperately needed to make sense of the situation so he could make the right decision about whether or not the dragons would go to war. He realized this was perhaps the most critical time his people had faced in centuries, and a wrong choice now could have disastrous consequences. He was also only too well aware that dragons had a long-standing reputation of for making bad choices, despite their legendary wisdom.

  The Dragonlord was trying to send him a message, and apparently it was that the Flaem were no longer interested in a fight. Marthaen understood the message well, but the only thing he liked about this situation was that he could end it anytime he wished by simply going to the Dragonlord and asking to negotiate—but only if he could convince the dragons to continue to follow his lead. His people had lived in great fear and uncertainty since the Dragonlord's return, and their instinct was to destroy anything they feared. If the dragons were absolutely determined to fight the Dragonlord, then he would have to lead the way. They faced an enemy who could easily destroy them all. Before he could allow that, he would have to find some way to defeat the Dragonlord.

  Marthaen understood how the other dragons felt. He himself felt trapped by his own obligations, and his instinct as a dragon was to respond with impatience and fury. His duty was to protect the dragons from their enemies, and yet he also had the duty to lead them if they wanted to fight. He also felt obliged to the Great One; he didn't believe that the guardian of the dragons was gone forever. Instead he felt the presence of the Immortal in the background, still quietly directing his clerics. The Dragonlord somehow appeared to be a part of his plans. If so, Marthaen had no wish to interfere with the wishes of the Great One. The matter had been hopelessly complicated when the Immortals had directed the Dragonlord to protect the Flaem even if they were wrong. Kharendaen had told him that, and even she did not understand why.

  The thing that worried Marthaen most was that the dragons simply didn't seem to understand the true scope of the power of the enemy they proposed to fight. In his few battles against dragons, the Dragonlord had always made every effort not to kill or seriously harm his enemies. Marthaen suspected that the dragons mistook his compassion as a sign of weakness. Marthaen knew better. He had seen the Dragonlord fight the renegades in Darmouk, and he had a much better idea of the true powers that Thelvyn commanded. No matter what, he had to be certain the dragons never tried to fight the Dragonlord on his own terms, forcing him to abandon his past compassion. Marthaen believed that the dragons had forced the first Dragonlord to fight them, resulting in their own near destruction. He wanted to be certain that they did not repeat such a foolish mistake.

  Nor could he easily forget that he owed the Dragonlord for Kharendaen's life, a debt that he did not wish to repay with treachery.

  Marthaen watched for a short time as a line of mounted catapults passed in slow procession, the ho
rses nickering and raising a cloud of dust. Ever since he had heard of the attack in which the Flaemish king had been slain, he couldn't forget that the Fire Wizards, misguided fools that they were, had nearly succeeded in killing the Dragonlord. He believed that he knew how to keep faith with all sides, heeding the fears and desires of the dragons while maintaining the trust of the Immortals and the Dragonlord himself. The time had come for him to return to Windreach and summon the dragon kings to meet with him in parliament to decide what they should do.

  *****

  The funeral of Jherridan Maarsten was to take place that afternoon. Because there were so many other concerns during this time of crisis, he was to be laid to rest in a small tomb in the center of the city. Befitting his position as the first king of the Flaem in their new world, he would later be given a larger, more ornate tomb and monument.

  The people of Braejr were beginning to slip toward panic, for it seemed to them that their very world was falling apart. Not only had they had to part with their first king, but now the rumor was flying through the city that the dragons were invading, preparing for a great battle that would take place right there at Braejr. It was becoming increasingly difficult for Thelvyn to remain firm in his plans; he wasn't a politician or even a warrior, but a protector. If he could have fought the dragons somewhere else, he would have.

  Matters were only worse the next morning. Every hour of preparation was now vital, and yet not enough was being accomplished because of the fear that held the citizens of Braejr in its thrall. Thelvyn realized that the fault was partly his own, and the time had come to do something about it. He asked Alessa to remain with him at the palace, since she would be having new proclamations and orders to carry when she left. He called for his other advisors to join him in the king's private chamber. Lastly he summoned Taeryn.

  "What are you planning to do?" Alessa asked, waiting attentively beside the chair where Thelvyn sat.

  "I think I'm going to make Taeryn very happy," he said simply.

  Solveig arrived almost at once, having already been on her way, and both Sir George and Taeryn arrived together a few minutes later. Thelvyn glanced up as they entered. "Taeryn, would you happen to know how to go about turning someone

  into a king?"

  The valet paused a moment to let the implications of what Thelvyn had said sink in. Then his face broke into a huge smile. "When Jherridan became king, there were a great many celebrations and receptions. They probably aren't strictly necessary, although you might want to consider some type of public celebration to make the people feel better. Otherwise, I recall that Kalestraan looked in the books of Flaemish law and came back with some papers that Jherridan signed, and that was that."

  "I think I've found those papers," Thelvyn said. "Why don't you run off to see the mayor and ask him what type of celebration we could manage."

  "I will," Taeryn agreed eagerly, then paused at the door. "What time should I say the ceremony will begin?"

  "I was hoping to take care of the formalities tomorrow morning. I'll leave the rest up to him."

  Crossing his arms, Thelvyn sank back in his chair. Becoming the Dragonlord had been a simple matter compared to this, perhaps because he had been so caught up in the quest to find the armor. He might have been fearful of the destiny he had been shown, but it had never seemed as if it were his decision to make. Agreeing to become the king, on the other hand, had been entirely his own decision, without the guidance of any Immortals or prophecies, and it was very much against his wishes.

  "I know how much you dislike this," Sir George said as he took one of the seats in front of the desk. "There just weren't many alternatives."

  "I know," Thelvyn agreed. "The only alternative I liked was making you king, but then I realized I'd never be able to get you to let go of it once you had it."

  Solveig laughed out loud in a way that made the old knight turn around and glare at her. Then he shrugged. "Taeryn is a bit more clever than most people think. He knows how important it is for the people of Braejr to know that they have a champion at a time like this."

  "Which is also why the announcement needs to be made right away," Thelvyn said. "Alessa, I suppose it must be up to the wizards to consult the law and find out just what we

  need to do. I seem to have all the papers Taeryn described."

  "It would be best if we could consult them," she said. "I'm sure we can have everything prepared by tomorrow morning. The most important thing just now is to make that announcement. The dukes are beginning to fret about the lack of clear leadership the past few days. This should make it easier for them to lend the support we need from them."

  "I've also been wondering if there is some way of getting the news to the dragons," Sir George added. "If so, the announcement that the Dragonlord is about to become King of the Highlands will give them something to think about—something they instinctively respect, I might add."

  "I suppose that this will give me greater advantage in trying to solicit help from other lands," Thelvyn said. "I'm beginning to feel like Jherridan, constantly wheedling support from others for a hopeless war."

  "Is it too early to ask about our chances of getting any help?" Solveig inquired.

  Thelvyn shook his head. "Actually, it's not so much a question of whether or not help will be sent, but if it can get here in time. Needless to say, the dwarves will send all the strength they can spare, and I'm sure we can count on Darokin. Alfheim may or may not see fit to send help. Even Sellianda agrees they're just as likely to sit in their woods and pick their pointed litde ears."

  News of the announcement that Thelvyn Fox-Eyes was to assume the title of King of the Realm fanned through the city like the spring wind. The effect was immediate. The sense of fear and despair, the feeling that going to war with the dragons was hopeless, seemed to lift at once. Suddenly the people felt certain that they could defend themselves if they were only given the time to prepare. Now they were in a race against time as they worked at the city's defenses in anticipation of the army's return.

  A battle with dragons would differ in many respects from an ordinary siege. Fortunately the Flaem had always been in the habit of building things solidly, with heavy stone and tile roofs, which offered protection against drag-onfire. Any buildings that were vulnerable, especially the warehouses, shops, and smithies in the southern part of the city, would have to be protected in some way. Piles of firewood or anything else that burned easily, such as wagons and crated goods for shipping, would have to be moved indoors, and supplies of water would have to be made available in all parts of the city. There was great concern for the wooded areas in the center of the city, but those were probably too wet and marshy to burn.

  Sir George was given the responsibility of getting the catapults into their defensive positions along the top of the city wall, and also providing some protection for as many of the catapults as he could. The best defense he could devise against the threat of dragonfire was to surround each catapult with large shields or screens lined with tiles or sheets of tin. The protection was far from perfect, but at least it might offer the crews the chance to retreat to cover and return to their catapults with a minimum of damage. Any surplus of catapults would be positioned throughout Braejr in places where they could shoot upward, discouraging dragons from flying over the city.

  The trouble was that a dragon was more than just a warrior. It was in effect a powerful weapon of war in itself. Each dragon combined the highest qualities of destructive potential, magic, speed, armor, strength and simple bulk. Thelvyn had never fought more than a dozen dragons at any one time, and that had been with the support of a small army. He expected this battle to involve hundreds of dragons, possibly thousands. He knew he did not dare underestimate the determination of the dragons in their one great bid to defeat the Dragonlord.

  Late that afternoon, Thelvyn joined Sir George on the city wall near the north gate to see how the preparation of the defenses was getting along. Fortunately the walls of the city
were thick enough that the wheel-mounted catapults could be maneuvered along the top. Permanent stone ramps had been erected on either side of the north gate and where the sections of walls ended at the river to allow access of the heavy machines. Unfortunately, Thelvyn had moved nearly all the catapults in the Highlands to the frontier, and these would not begin returning for several more days.

  "At least the dragons aren't likely to try to bring down a section of the city wall," the old knight said as they walked together along the top of the wall, as wide as a city street. "They don't have to. Most likely they'll just whack away at the defenses until we can't keep them out any longer, and then land in the streets and begin ripping apart anything that's left."

  "Is that their usual tactic?" Thelvyn asked. The stones of the walkway felt warm in the afternoon sun, even though he was used to being barefoot.

  "There are no usual tactics for a situation like this," Sir George said. "Dragons haven't attacked a major walled city in all of recorded history. Of course, taking the city is only a secondary concern. Their first objective is to deal with the Dragonlord. Once they've accomplished that, they'll tear apart the city at their leisure."

  "Then I'm really providing nothing more than a delaying tactic."

  "I prefer to think that they'll never get to the second part," Sir George replied. "What are the plans for tomorrow? Is everything ready?"

  "Alessa says that the necessary papers will be ready tonight," Thelvyn said, watching the young sorceress as she stood at the outside parapet several yards away, looking out across the fields. "I'll sign everything at a reception at the palace tomorrow morning. There will be a procession tomorrow afternoon through the main streets, followed by a general celebration throughout the city."

  "I suppose that you'll have to name at least a temporary successor," Sir George observed. "Would it be presumptuous of me to ask if you have anyone in mind?"

  "All things considered, I plan to name Solveig."

  "Ah, wise choice," the knight agreed, greatly relieved. He glanced in the direction of the north road. "Three more days before the first of the Highlands army begins to return from the north."