Battle of Black River

by Samantha Warren



  Battle

  of

  Black River

  By

  Samantha Warren

  © 2011 Samantha Warren

  The following story is a work of fiction and all names and characters are strictly the creation of the author.

  All rights reserved.

  This publication may not be reproduced or transmitted in any manner without expressed written consent from Samantha Warren.

  Cover Art © 2011 Samantha Warren

  Brushes courtesy of Mosh-X at Deviantart.com

  Apoph

  The black dragon snarled at the creatures on either side of him, using his wings to bat off their scrawny fingers. "Get your hands off of me," he spat. Apoph despised humans, especially the little sniveling, grovelling ones that tended to fawn around his brother. He curled his nose as the wind blew and inhaled the stench of the thing closest to him. The ones Aron chose to surround himself with were no better.

  As the so-called guards ushered Apoph through the corridors of Aron's keep, the dragon reassured himself that his planned alliance with the human leader would be short-lived. Once the Coalition of Man and Beast was crushed and his brother defeated, Apoph would take over as Dragon King and his species would retreat to the lands he and Aron would settle on during the upcoming meeting.

  The black beast almost smiled as he thought of ruling his brother's hold on the Black River. It was a beautiful place nestled close to the mountains and backed by lush green rolling hills and forests packed with fat deer perfect for a delicious meal. It was built to be a dragon's home and would be a perfect place to start over away from the grubby influence of vile humans and Gypsies.

  "King Aron will see you now."

  Apoph squinted his eyes at the man standing at the door. He had never heard of Aron referred to as a king before and wondered when that change had taken place. Shrugging inwardly, he told himself it did not matter. Aron would never be his king. But right now, he needed an ally, and Aron was the best choice for that.

  Ducking through the door, Apoph surveyed the room beyond. Its ceiling was low and his horns nearly brushed the unfinished stone. The space was clearly meant for human use only. He had seen no other dragons since entering the keep and that fact made his insides churn with apprehension. He suddenly regretted his excessive feast that morning in Aron's overflowing forest.

  A man sat in a heavy wooden chair at the far end of the room in front of a large fire. His hair was ash-blond and his features were unremarkable. He was not ugly, but neither was he handsome. He was small of stature and the massive chair dwarfed him in an almost ridiculous way. Apoph had to bite back on a laughing snort as he looked at his soon-to-be ally. He had heard of Aron's short temper and did not want to offend the man at their first meeting.

  Apoph increased his strides and reached the chair several paces ahead of his escort. The creature was nearly forced to run to catch up and was out of breath when he arrived beside the dragon. The man bowed to Aron, nearly doubling in half in a sickeningly obsequious gesture that curled Apoph's nose.

  "I bring you Apoph, my lord, brother of Sigurd, King of Dragons."

  A boot shot out from the chair and smashed into the bowed man's chin. He went flying backwards and his head cracked loudly on the stone floor. Apoph remained silent, watching the seated king as he watched the man on the floor. When the servant finally forced himself unsteadily to his feet and back into a bow, Aron spoke.

  "I have warned you once, Degon. Do not make me warn you again."

  The man grovelled, bowing dangerously low as blood spilled onto the floor from his nose. "My apologies, my lord." His voice was nasally and choked from the blood pouring down the back of his throat. "It will not happen again."

  Aron nodded and waved hand. "Be gone."

  The man scurried from the room, the door banging heavily behind him. Apoph turned to the man and raised an eyebrow. Aron grinned, a gesture that somehow made him uglier.

  "Sigurd does not make a good king, so he should not be given the honor of the title. My men know better, but occasionally they slip and I have to remind them of their mistakes. A firm boot to the face makes for a stronger memory, don't you agree?"

  Apoph cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders as best he could in the low room. "I see." He bowed his head slightly, hoping to change the subject. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Aron."

  Aron's nostrils flared and his eyes grew brighter as he sat nearly rose from his chair. "You have not been privy to recent developments, so I cannot expect you to know of my recent declaration. I am king now, and I am to be addressed as such, by enemies and traitor friends alike."

  The smirk he gave Apoph sent a chill down the dragon's spine and caused him to tense. His plan for the meeting was quickly falling apart. He bowed further. "My apologies, King Aron. I did not know. It is an honor to be in your presence at last."

  Aron laughed darkly. "I'm sure it is. You seem very eager to offer your services. Why?"

  Apoph raised his head and met the man's eyes. "As you have said, Sigurd is not fit to rule anymore. He is weak and bows to the will of the Council more than he should. The Council itself has run its course and its members are no longer effective. They need to be replaced with someone powerful and ambitious enough to make this land great. We sit hidden inside our borders when we should be expanding and showing the rest of the world how strong we are. We need a true leader to do that."

  Aron's beaming smile tore at Apoph. The dragon did not know why he had said what he did. He did not feel that way at all. All he wanted was to take his dragons and retreat into isolation away from the horrible influences of the world. But that was not Aron's goal, and he knew it. Aron needed to feel like Apoph was an ally, not a threat, so the dragon said what the man wanted to hear. He silently hoped it would not come back to burn him in the end.

  Aron stood and walked up to the dragon, patting him on the shoulder. "Good boy! It seems we have the same agenda for this wonderful land. What say you and I feast and discuss what you--I mean what we--can offer one another?"

  Apoph nodded, keeping his lips sealed as the servants brought around a feast big enough for sixty men. As Aron dug in, Apoph pushed back thoughts of regret at what he was about to do and tore into leg of mutton.

  Sigurd

  "Sir, I have the response from the Hidden of Gelworth Forest." Roland stood stiffly in the large doorway leading to the king's personal quarters at the castle on Black River.

  "Oh? Come in, come in." Sigurd sat on a large cushion and waved one clawed hand toward the man. "Please tell me it's good news. I could use some right about now."

  Roland cleared his throat and shook his head. "I'm sorry, my liege, it is not. They have declined to offer assistance and request that we do not ask again. In fact," he said, pausing for a moment. "The messenger returned with only half a nose. Riglod has issued a command that any humans attempting to enter the forest unbidden again will be slaughtered immediately and all their possessions burned."

  Sigurd's second-in-command stood in front of him fidgeting. It was unbecoming on his normally stoic form. The dragon nodded. "Very well. I had feared as much, though I hoped that they would see the dire nature of our request and forgo their self-imposed isolation. I guess we will just have to work with those who are not short-sighted, self-centered whelps."

  Roland's attempts at stifling a laugh were unsuccessful and soon he and Sigurd both were chuckling heartily. Finally, Sigurd cleared his throat and straightened. "Well, there's nothing to be done for it, then. We should focus on what forces we do have and work out a plan for the next battle. The last one went very well and we seem to be gaining ground. What news on that front?"

  Roland swallowe
d hard. This was a conversation he did not look forward to. Stepping over to the table in front of the red beast, he pulled several sheets of paper from his back pocket and unrolled them on the surface. Using rocks to hold down the corners, he pointed to the top sheet.

  "Reports have Aron's forces advancing toward Rhone Tide valley. That is a good place to stage a resistance. It is mostly field and the homes are high up on the hills, out of danger for the most part. There would be fewer citizen casualties than in the last attack."

  Roland saw Sigurd shudder at the thought of the last large battle they had been in. More than a hundred non-participants died, many of them women and children. Roland was certain his own people had not been responsible for the majority of them, but he could not be absolutely sure and the doubt and guilt weighed heavily on him.

  The red dragon nodded. "I agree. Battles should remain between the warriors, though Aron does not seem to feel that way. I have had reports that he is attacking villages close to his stronghold that have allegiance to me."

  "Yes, sir," Roland said. "That is true. Two villages have been completely destroyed so far. There is little we can do to stop him. He has control of those lands and we cannot get enough soldiers in there to deter him."

  Sigurd sighed and reclined on his cushion. "I cannot wait until this war is over. Aron is going to pay for his cruelty, one way or another."

  Roland ground his teeth, searching how to best phrase the next bit of unpleasant information he had to share. "Sir, there is more."

  The king sat up at the tone in Roland's voice. "More? More news?"

  The man nodded. "Yes, sir. It seems..." He paused, his mind stumbling over itself in an attempt to soften the upcoming blow. In the end, he decided it was just best to come out with it. "Apoph has betrayed you, sir."

  He stopped, his head lowered, unwilling to meet Sigurd's searching eyes. The moments dragged on and he was forced to look up. The dragon stared at him in disbelief. Roland remained silent.

  Sigurd's head shook vehemently. "No, I do not believe it. He would never do such a thing."

  Roland's voice was quiet when he next spoke. "He has, my lord. He has given his allegiance to Aron, who now calls himself the King of All. It is a play on the Coalition of Man and Beast, I guess."

  "He..." Sigurd was shaking, causing the windows to rattle in their frames. "Why would he... I have given him so much."

  Roland stepped up to his king and friend. "I know, sir. But he has always been ambitious, you know that. He has never been happy just being your brother or part of the Coalition. He has always wanted more. You could see it in his eyes. He was always searching for the next best thing."

  A single tear slipped from the dragon's large eyes and rolled down his cheek to splash onto the papers. It landed over the castle at Black River, blurring the image and words.

  Sigurd straightened, refusing to be defeated. "Well, his treachery aside, we still have the stronger force. We will win this war, with or without him."

  Roland took a deep breath and gave Sigurd a meaningful look.

  "Now what?" snapped the dragon. His inner turmoil was almost too much to bear and he fought back the urge to cry and roar at the same time.

  Roland shuffled the papers, pulling a sheet from the back of the pile. "He has taken some of our soldiers with him, both men and dragons, along with all his wealth."

  "How many men and dragons?" Sigurd put a clawed hand to his forehead and pressed hard, trying to drive away the headache that was starting to form. He looked up when Roland did not answer. "Well?"

  "As of the last report I received, he has approximately two hundred and fifty dragons and nearly four thousand men in his service." Roland coughed to cover his discomfort and looked at the floor.

  Sigurd's face fell. Apoph had not only betrayed him by swearing allegiance to his sworn enemy, but he had given the vile man nearly a third of his forces. Sigurd did a quick tally in his head. Before Apoph's treachery, the two armies had been almost equal in strength. This recent, unexpected shift put Aron ahead by quite a bit. Even worse, under Apoph's command had been some of Sigurd's finest warriors, both dragon and man.

  The dragon king gave up and lay his head on the cushion as the tears flowed. He could see little hope for the future at that moment and his heart was breaking into a million pieces. Roland sat on his friend's leg and patted the beast's big head.

  "It will be okay, sir. Somehow." He only wished he could believe his own words.

  Rhone Tide

  Sigurd stood with his army on the western hillside of the Rhone Tide valley. From his position, he could see Aron's supporters lining up opposite them. The ocean to the left crashed against the cliff face, adding to the chaotic noise surrounding him as the men prepared for battle. A black shape rose from behind the hill, gliding low over the opposing army to settle at its front. Even from that distance, Sigurd knew who it was.

  "My lord..." Roland was at his right, staring at the new arrival.

  "I see him." He clenched his jaw and looked to his left, only to remember that he had begged Silene to remain safe at Black River. She was carrying his youngest child and due to lay within the week. He could not bear losing her and his new hatchling, and he knew his mate was not one to retreat from a fight even if she was injured.

  The dragon king straightened and double-checked his armor before pulling on his heavy helmet. With a nod to his second, he turned to the men around him, his voice booming across the hillside.

  "Many of you stand here with me today, the feelings of pain and betrayal sitting heavy on your hearts. You are not alone in this, my friends. We have been wronged horribly by those we loved and trusted with our lives. But know this, those who have abandoned us, those who have turned against us, they will pay for their treachery. They will feel the swift hand of justice, and they will regret their decision to side with our enemy. They will pay for their traitorous acts, and they will pay with their lives."

  The men and dragons around him cheered loudly, their cries echoing across the valley to land on their opponents ears. Sigurd glanced at the eastern hill, unable to pick out those who had turned against him, but knowing they stood there, fearing to meet the great king in battle and hoping against all hope that their new king would protect them.

  Sigurd laughed to himself, then turned back to his soldiers. "Fight well today, my friends. For your lives, and those of your families, depend on it. We have been betrayed. We have been abused. But we will rise above and we will be victorious. We have truth and justice on our side. All they have are lies and deceit. Today is the day we show them the error of their ways."

  Another cheer erupted as Sigurd withdrew his rarely used sword from its sheath and raised it in the air. Roland climbed onto his back, settling tightly into place as he unstrapped his bow from the saddle and nocked it with an arrow.

  "We fight!" Sigurd's voice was drowned out by the battle cries of thousands around him and pushed off, flapping his wings gracefully to lift into the air. All around him, dragons rose in a flurry of wings and roars. Some bore passengers while others flew alone. Below him, men on foot charged down the hill to the valley floor, their desire for revenge no less than his.

  "Apoph is mine," growled Sigurd as he made a beeline for the opposite hill. He could see the black beast rising to meet them, surrounded by the other dragons who had betrayed their king, but instead of challenging Sigurd, Apoph turned and headed for the rear.

  "What is he doing?" Roland's armor kept his inner thighs bare, allowing him to press his skin against Sigurd's scales. In this way, they were able to communicate wordlessly through Sigurd's telepathic abilities and it led to a much more efficient fight on their part. Few of the other dragons had such a talent and Sigurd was determined to make the most of it.

  "I don't know," he answered. "He is a coward. He always has been."

  An enemy dragon drew within range and Roland let his arrow fly. The dragon dove to avoid the projectile, but the man on his back was unfortunate.
Roland had been in enough battles to know his opponents' common moves and he had expected the dragon to dodge. The arrow sank easily into the gap between the rider's chestplate and helmet and he died before he hit the ground.

  The dragon whipped its head around, looking for his lost passenger. When he saw his rider's fate, he turned on Sigurd with a roar. The dragon king returned the call and charged forward, driving his head into the creature's chest. It knocked the other dragon back and upward into a tumbling spin and Sigurd advanced quickly. The dragon recovered enough to meet the red king with his claws outstretched and he managed to rip a small piece of flesh from Sigurd's exposed neck before his own throat was torn asunder.

  As the dragon tumbled to the earth below, Sigurd turned, his former opponent already forgotten in his quest for blood. Another dragon--this one a large orange beast--had set its sights on Sigurd and Roland. It headed straight for them, flaming balls of spit already dripping from its mouth.

  "Where did Aron get a Flametongue?" Roland was pulling another arrow from his quiver as he spoke, his eyes wide.

  Sigurd shook his head as he prepared for the onslaught. "No idea. Last I heard, they were resisting his demands for support. I guess some decided the promise of power was too irresistible."

  The orange dragon drew within range and aimed a ball of burning saliva at the pair. Sigurd pulled up, stopping his forward motion. He could feel the heat as the spit flew just below him and flared his nostrils, diving toward his attacker. The creature reared back, trying to gain some distance so it could make another attack, but Sigurd pressed in closer. He knew the beasts couldn't aim well in tight quarters.

  He positioned himself between the dragon and Roland, blocking the man's line of sight but keeping him safe from the deadly fireballs. The two dragons tore into each other, claws tearing at armor and exposed flesh alike. Sigurd's armor was stronger and better positioned and he had little trouble dodging the few attacks that were aimed at his uncovered throat and lower stomach. He twisted his head and ripped at the beast's exposed shoulder and tore a large, bloody chunk from its side. The creature roared and pulled back, shoving hard at Sigurd with all four legs.