by Vic Broquard
“To kill dragons!” Cezar, the white, spoke up angrily.
“Who else? But there is more to it. In fact, Zoran was looking for some lost super-weapon that the humans on Voss once wielded millennia ago, and he has found it. We know that he brought it back to his fortress in Brn, Adapazan! He has been telling others an outright lie — that it was merely some lost books that he retrieved. Ha. No one will fall for that outright lie. We are not that stupid, are we?”
“No!” Cezar called out. Werner was playing Cezar like a shawm, the white tooting at just the right points.
“What do we do?” asked Donatello, the brown, at last. “Is there no other choice but war with the humans?”
“Oh sure, Donatello. You can wait until the humans decide to wipe out all you browns or enslave you and put you to work in their mines,” Werner, the black, replied sarcastically, knowing that at long last he would prevail.
“I move that dragons go to war with the humans and end this before they can make the Archmages who will enslave or kill us all,” Donatello, the brown, said with a heavy heart. He did not want war, but now could see no other viable option.
“I second it and call for a vote,” Cezar, the white, added immediately, very much afraid of the future if nothing was done this time.
Aeton, the grey, said, “The golds are not here, but I don’t think their vote will matter.” The vote was unanimous. If Aldrick was present, the vote would have been seven to one and he would have been outvoted anyway.
“How can we possibly attack so many Archmages?” asked a still worried Donatello, the brown.
“Simple. We attack and wipe out outlying towns and villages. That will force them to spread out their Archmages here and there to help defend the other towns. Split up the huge force of Archmages and defeat them one at a time,” Werner, the black, replied. All of the neutrals breathed a sigh of relief. This might work after all.
“We make our first attack on their Yuletide night. They will all be off celebrating and will be easy targets, wholly unprepared. We need to coordinate our attacks and hit several towns on every planet that night. We have much to plan and little time in which to do it,” Werner, the black, added.
Zoran announced the new Archmages formally at the start of the Yuletide dance. The applause that the women received was quite loud. Many openly whistled and yelled their cheers. Then the dance began. A while later, Zoran once more began his open dance with any woman who desired to dance a few steps with their baron, his long standing tradition. Right in the middle of the dancing, several Archmages shrieked, including Zdenka. The musicians stopped playing, startled by the screams. All eyes turned to the six who screamed. Zdenka, shaking visibly, called out to a hushed room, “Dragons have just attacked several towns on Adapazan!” Others backed her up, their Premonition spells had also activated.
“Party is over!” Zoran’s Magnified voice echoed in the large pub’s room. “Everyone, head home. Begin packing what you need. After we find out what is going on, I may issue the order for everyone to enter our subterranean safe house. At least get yourselves prepared. Gang, everyone back to the fortress. We have to get to those towns as fast as possible!”
As Zdenka opened her Mystical Door for herself and Zoran, she whispered, “The dragon war is beginning, isn’t it?” Zoran’s face looked grimmer than she’d ever seen it before and she had her answer.
Chapter 34 In the Beginning
Wenzel, the ancient black dragon, sat in the back of the huge cavern high in the unreachable mountains of Rehor, unreachable by humans that is. His huge face sported a satisfied grin, his long envisioned annihilation of the humans on Rehor was about to begin. Wenzel’s hatred of humans spanned all of twenty-two years, ever since the humans had opened up these new worlds to dragon-kind. If asked why he hated humans, he would have answered, “They have divided dragon-kind and thus have kept we blacks from attaining our rightful place among dragon-kind.” No one asked him, though.
He hated the golds even more than humans. His open hostilities towards the Gold Dragons dated back some four hundred-fifty years to when he was a young black, just getting started on Voss. There, the golds ruled over all dragon-kind, forcing all others to their will, as far as Wenzel was concerned. Only the golds had two breath weapons and they also frequently knew more magical spells as well, a sore point with the blacks.
However, Wenzel knew that blacks were the most powerful of all the species of dragons. The close allies of the blacks, the reds were certainly lesser. Why? If you asked Wenzel why he thought that, of all the dragon species, that blacks were the most powerful, he would have given you a dissertation on the topic. The golds and reds shot out scorching hot flames from their mouths. Yet, those very flames dissipated almost at once. True, normal humans would be incinerated in such a blast, but the searing hot flames were transitory — their effects: gone in seconds. Same with the whites. Their cones of intense cold and frost, while it could turn an ordinary human into a frozen, dead statue, that freezing blast was also transitory, lasting mere seconds. Still, the reds and whites could dole out much death and destruction to many humans caught within their expanding cones of death. Yet, the whites were inherently the weakest of the dragon species, the easiest for humans to kill. Besides, they were the smallest in size as well.
The browns were strong, but totally ineffective as dragons, according to Wenzel. They shot out an electrical charge from their mouths which affected only a single target at a time. Pathetic. Only one human dead per attack, pathetic in Wenzel’s eyes. However, considering the past two year’s losses of blacks and reds, coupled with those of the greens and the significantly fewer numbers of the remaining species of dragons, Wenzel had moved the browns to the top of their allies.
The greys, according to Wenzel, were hardly worth considering as dragons. Their breath was merely a suffocating smoke cloud. Only if a human were foolish enough to stay inside the cloud would he choke to death — yet another pathetic excuse for a dragon. Thankfully, there were few of the greys.
The blues, Wenzel could tolerate, since their neurotoxin breath permanently paralyzed the humans who were caught in its spray. Permanently immobilized — that was the key that impressed Wenzel. While not dead, the humans might as well be. Too bad the blues seldom left the oceans.
Wenzel was ambivalent about the greens, however. He respected their rotting slime immensely! Such a powerful weapon! Its effects were long lasting and most difficult to neutralize fast enough to prevent the rotting slime from eating through human flesh in short order. Amazingly good weapon. However, the totally chaotic nature of the greens forced Wenzel to drastically lower his opinion of them. He often joked, “Give a green a direct order and he will swear that he will follow it, only to do something completely different.” That kind of behavior knocked the greens to the bottom of the heap of dragons. You simply could not count on them for anything. Too bad though, they had such a great weapon. Now however, their numbers had been so drastically reduced that their impact on the war would be minimal. The greens might become extinct during the war. Perhaps, Wenzel thought, that might not be a bad thing.
No, the blacks were the most powerful and most worthy of all dragons because their breath weapon, a cone of caustic acid, was not only deadly and covering a wide area impacting all who were in the cone, but also because its effects were long lasting. Their acid could even eat through stone in time! It was terribly hard to neutralize because of its high acid concentration.
Thus, Wenzel knew that blacks should be the masters of dragon-kind, not the egocentric golds. Golds favored the humans, so humans had to go. Then, he could concentrate on eliminating the golds as well, a more formidable task. Thus far, his protegee, Werner, the black, was doing an excellent job of carrying out his plans for total domination of all worlds and dragon-kind. He listened in to the War Council of Werner, the black, smiling to himself.
Werner, the black, shuffled his papers into order. “Okay, then let me summarize what you Battle Lead
ers have said. I want to make sure that we have accuracy here. We blacks have ninety-five adults ready to fight. Another five are on Voss protecting our thirty mothers, children, and infants.” He did not mention the additional thirty newly hatched infants from the recent breeding program nor did he mention the same number of new red infants. He and Dario, the red, kept these a secret from the other dragons at this time.
“The reds have ninety adult fighters, with an additional five protecting their nursery on Voss, where they too have thirty mothers, children, and infants. The greens have only thirty adult fighters now, with five mothers and children who will have to be protected. The whites are fielding one hundred adults and are keeping thirty mothers, children, and infants safe. The noble browns,” he tossed a bit of honor toward Donatello, “are fielding the largest group of adult fighters, one hundred twenty, keeping thirty mothers, children, and infants aside and safe. The blues are fielding seventy fighters, keeping ten mothers and children safe. The greys are sending twenty-four into the fight, with seven mothers and children remaining behind. Do I have the correct figures from each of you?” Many heads nodded or said yes.
Alistair, the green, spoke up, “We should hit Jing first. We greens nearly had all resistance on Jing eliminated. Even now, they barely have enough force to man their three fortresses. We could easily wipe them out and take control of Jing.” This was what he most desired: to retake what he had somehow lost because of Zoran’s interference.
“Ahem. Alistair, some of these worlds have very few humans on them, that is true. To win this war, we must destroy the barons, the Archmages, and their mages. Once those are gone, any remaining humans pose us virtually no threat whatsoever,” Werner, the black, countered. “Thus, we must all remain focused on the real threat to dragon-kind. As everyone here knows, it is Baron Archmage Zoran Vladislov and his imperial army of Archmages on Adapazan that poses the most serious threat to all of us.”
“But he is too strong for us and many of us will die if we attack Zoran,” Cezar, the white, protested.
“Ah, Cezar, you are so right!” Werner, the black, played his fellow dragons perfectly. “It would be suicide for us to go after Zoran’s fortress now, even with our combined forces. You are absolutely right. No, we have to go after him on another avenue. We must get him to spread his Archmage army out over many other areas. We can easily take down a single Archmage. Once his army of Archmages is eliminated, then we can assault him directly.”
“But what about Aldrick, the gold,” Cezar, the white, continued to raise significant worries. “He is friends with Zoran. Everyone knows that.”
“Quite true, Cezar. The golds have two choices. They can side with us or they can side with their human friends. If they side with the humans, then we will destroy every last gold. I’m sure that if you whites team up on a gold, you can freeze one to death. They are not impervious to your frost breath, good Cezar. No, let Aldrick choose.”
“Do you think that the golds will really side against their own kind and fight with the humans?” asked Aeton, the grey. He knew that his smoke weapon would be useless against a gold, while the gold’s fiery breath or electrical charge could well wipe him out.
“I do not know, but if the golds do side with humans, then they are not worthy of our species and deserve to be extinct. Now then, how do we get Zoran to fan out his Archmages so that we can pick them off one by one? Simple,” Werner continued. “We attack all of the worlds, focusing on those that are his allies. He will be forced to come to their aid and thus weaken his position.”
“Our first objective is to strike a killing blow while they are all celebrating their Yuletide holiday. Our strike must convince all of the barons that we dragons are all at war with them. I assure you that they will all then be begging Zoran for help. Thus, he will start to send out an Archmage here and there. That’s when we begin to pick them off, one by one.”
“Now then, to the specifics. There are five hundred thirty-four of us. That means we can send thirty-three of us to each of the sixteen planets for this First Strike. We need to let Zoran and the barons know that they are fighting all of us dragons, that we dragons stand united! Each Strike Force of thirty-three will have at least one grey, two blues, seven browns, one green, six whites, five reds, and six blacks with them,” Werner, the black, explained.
He went on, “Dario has suggested that one of the local dragons on each planet help choose the towns to attack and lead the Strike Force. That makes sense to me, I know next to nothing about Asami, Bolivar, whereas you know your planet well. I’ll lead the assault on Adapazan. Dario will lead it on Rehor. Alistair, you take your Jing. Donatello, you take Chana. Pietro, you take Anwyn. Aeton, you take Isi. Pietro, you take Alta. Cezar, you take Gerde. Jenryk, you take Dietmar. Frank, you take Maeve. Bolivar, you have Asami. Lothar, you have Valtr. Dante, Gladno. We will pick others to deal with Gonda, Terra, and Cosma. Make your first attack at ten on Yuletide night. Once the target is eliminated, move onto the two other ones. Be sure to leave a few survivors to tell their barons all about our devastating assaults! Victory shall be our, for we dragons are the most powerful beings in the universe!” The dragon leaders cheered and dispersed to begin their organization of the sixteen strike forces.
The Night of Terror began simultaneously on sixteen worlds. On Jing, Alistair, the green, led his force of thirty-three to two larger towns some twenty miles from the main fortress, palace, and Circle complex at Nanchan. The combined power of so many dragons was beyond anything that Alistair ever imagined possible. Within minutes the towns of some ten thousand each were laid to waste. As the dragon horde left each one, massive fires roared. Dead littered the streets as well as inside many stone buildings, while other bodies were consumed inside the burning homes. Of all the sixteen leaders, only Alistair failed to follow Werner’s orders, though Werner, the black, fully expected this. The awesome power of his strike force went to Alistair’s head and he decided to attack Nanchan as the third target, over the protests of several blacks and reds. They went along with Alistair’s orders, because Werner had made it clear that Alistair was in command while they were on Jing.
Baroness Wen and her new husband, Baron Wenceslas, were hosting a Yuletide party in her fortress at Nanchan. Archmage Ivana was there along with her thirty students, many of which were in the middle of learning their grade two spells. Over a thousand people jammed the Meeting Hall, where the High Council met when on Jing. Security was tight. All the thousand soldiers were on active duty until midnight, though they were promised the day off in the morning. A group of twenty musicians were playing as the closing hour drew close.
Over the dance music, someone yelled, “Dragons! Dragons are attacking!” The music stopped instantly and the soldier repeated his warning over and over. Panic set in at once. Deafening sounds of thunder drowned out the cries of the thousand party goers. The browns were blasting away at the very walls of the keep within the outer walls of the fortress. While people pushed and shoved to get to the exits, part of the outer walls gave way. Across the room, Wen saw two reds moving in to take the place of the browns that had smashed the stone walls. Two blacks were already hovering just outside the gaping hole. Wen watched in horror as two ever expanding cones of searing flames streaked out into the Meeting Hall, followed by a pair of caustic acid cones, slopping onto bodies right and left. Death screams, horror screams, screams of intense pain filled the room, along with a hideous, foul smelling odor. If that was not enough, a huge pile of rotting slime splashed in through the hole next, ensuring death to any who managed to survive the fire and acid. Complete panic ensued.
Archmage Ivana had insisted that Wen carry her Rod of Dragon Slaying on her person at all times. Over the din and chaos of people, Ivana screamed at Wen to use her rod. Unable to make herself heard, she Messaged Wen, who stood beside her husband in shocked disbelief. Ivana relaxed a little as Wen’s hand mechanically obeyed, bringing the rod up before her. Now the Archmage looked to her screaming students, tryi
ng to rapidly figure out how she could save them, all thirty women. Ivana opened a Mystical Door into her tower, and began Messaging each woman, ordering the terrified student to race through the door. One by one those who were close to her obeyed, but some were too far distant. A few had not survived the fire, acid, and slime, having had the misfortune to have been on that side of the room when the attack came.
Finally, Wen recovered and began to act. She shot a Bolt of Lightning out of the hole in the wall, striking a black. As always, she found herself on the familiar grey plain, staring into the cold black eyes of the dragon. Unnerved, the dragon won and her spell did nothing. Her husband, Wenceskas acted as well. Using a Magnify spell, he ordered everyone to head to the basement. “Orderly evacuation! Stop pushing and shoving those in front of you!” His admonition had little effect, however. Stark terror reigned. Ivana saw that she could not rescue any more of her students and used another spell to step beside Wen and the safety of her rod.
Once there, Ivana began to cast Disintegrate spells at the dragons as fast as she could, ignoring the additional cones of fire and acid being shot in again through the hole in the wall. Alistair’s green head suddenly had a two inch hole bored straight through it. The seventy-foot long snake-like massive body dropped down out of sight, smashing onto the stone floor of the courtyard within the fortress walls. Then a black met the same fate. A red dodged out of the way. Finally no other dragons attempted to peer into the jagged gap in the wall.
Ivana hoped this would spell the end of the attack. They waited patiently, staring across the smoke filled room at the opening into the nighttime sky. No more dragons took a chance on looking in. Instead, the browns began firing more of their massive electrical bolts at the edges of the hole, being careful to stay out of the way of the deadly spells. More and more of the stone wall crumbled.