Dragon's Fire (Beating Back the Darkness Book 1)

by Tiger Hebert

  “So you greet me with sword and spear,” asked Slayvin with a chuckle.

  “You have taken many lives and destroyed many homes, and now you bring sword and fire to ours, dragon,” replied King Nikolai sharply.

  “It does not need to end this way. Join me,” hissed the forked tongue.

  Nikolai fired back, “Join you? You mean, become your slaves? We will never worship you, snake!”

  The chorus of cheers burst like water through the damn, and the dragon was taken aback by it.

  “You think you can withstand the might of Slayvin?” roared the dragon.

  Aneri’On removed his hood and stepped into the dragon’s view and answered, “I can.”

  At the sight of Aneri’On, the dragon recoiled in shock, and draconic words escaped his mouth. “Tchara chitko naiy…the Frelsarine. So much death and suffering. It doesn’t have to end this way. Join me, and we will rule this world together. You know it is the only way you can save them. After all, that is what you came for, right, Frelsarine?”

  “Serve you, Shekra Lecinoth naiy?” he asked. “That is your name, right? Slayvin the Deceiver.”

  “How do you know that name?” demanded the dragon.

  “I was there when it was given to you!” shouted the Frelsarine.

  The dragon tried to ignore Aneri’On as he addressed the multitude, “Fool’s gold. He gives you false hope. He would have you all burn to bring glory to himself!”

  “The days of your tricks are over, wyrm.”

  “Even simple conjurors can cast the illusions of flame…that is how he snared your fools right? He fell from the heavens robed in glorious fire, right?” guessed the growling beast. “False hope offered by a false prophet! You have no hope.”

  “There is always hope.”

  “The light at the end of your tunnel is the fire in my veins,” hissed the shadow drake.

  “I do not fear you wyrm,” declared the Frelsarine.

  “If you will not fear me, then you will burn!” bellowed the enraged dragon.

  “You are the one who will burn,” remarked the fearless warrior.

  The dragon’s army had never seen anyone so boldly stand before their master or defy him. The dragon’s rage boiled over. He released a terrifying roar followed by a hellacious torrent of flames toward the gate before giving the orders to attack, and so the great battle for Aurion began. The dragon flew high into the air and out of sight, and his cursed army marched forward. The armies of good and evil prepared to clash. Soon the frozen streets and plains of Jasprita would be covered with bloodstained snow.

  “On my command,” shouted Melgrim as he held a bright red flag high above his head.

  The men and women upon the fortresses’ bowed walls waited for their signal. The dragon’s army surged forward, the heavily armored Drakari priesthood leading the charge across the frosty expanse. Then at the wall’s center, the commander dropped the red flag down, issuing the directive.

  “Fire,” shouted the commander as the flag fell from his grip to the stone surface below his feet.

  He snatched up his bow and sent an arrow to chase the volley already fired by those nearest to the wall’s center. Their arrows soared high into the air as they darted toward the center of the oncoming horde. As the enemy’s great force moved closer, the defenders on the farther reaches of the curved wall were given their signals. The next round of falling red flags gave flight to another barrage of arrows. The pattern continued as the army moved into the range of the entire defense.

  Arrows did little to slow down the armored soldiers of the priesthood, but they were a small portion of the dragon’s force. So instead they focused their fire upon the sea of new converts, decimating their ranks. Then the wicked serpent dove back down upon them from through the clouds, his roar echoing, and dragonfire rained down upon the center of the great wall. The wooden gates bathed in the flames, and they were quickly engulfed. The fire forced Commander Melgrim and his forces to scatter away from the main gate to escape the flames and the fumes. The men and women who defended Jasprita fought back valiantly, but they were not prepared for what came next. No one was.

  Their hail of bolts and arrows pelted the advancing army, and then another great roar echoed out in the distance. The shadow drake screamed toward their southern flank. The swirling chill of gale force winds battered those in the dragon’s wake. Arrows skipped and bounced off his armored hide while he spewed a fireball over the top of the walls. Broz shoved Nikolai out of the path of the dragon’s breath, but he could not escape it himself. The orc surrendered himself to the flames, giving his life for the king’s. The blast of the inferno sent him flying off the wall. The people that were positioned behind the walls rushed to the burning figure, but there was nothing they could do. While he was still burning, a new and awful sound snatched their attention away from the burning body.

  Screeches filled the air. The aerial assault continued as six-winged beasts descended upon the soldiers atop the curtain wall. The dragon whelps hissed and screeched as they clawed and snapped their jaws at the unsuspecting victims, ripping and tearing at anyone in their path. One of the whelps crashed through the elvish ranks before his black talons found one of the bowmen. King Tua’Liluon rushed to the young man’s aid, but a whip of the young dragon’s tail sent the king tumbling to the floor. The whelps wreaked havoc on the defenders upon the walls, and the dragon’s forces pressed hard against the city.

  On the southern side of the wall, one of the dragon whelps dove at the orc champion with outstretched claws. Instinctively, Theros dropped his bolt thrower to the ground and snatched the small drake by its wriggling tail. Then without hesitation, he slammed the nasty creature down upon the stone. The beast squealed and writhed as it tried to recover, but the chieftain thrashed him upon the stonework until he was finished. Then with a grunt, Theros tossed the body of the defeated dragon over the walls on top of the enemy.

  At the cries of his offspring, the great dragon roared back through the swirling snowfall above his army. Kiriana spun with her twin repeaters in hand and fired an unrelenting salvo of bolts upon the ebon wyrm. A dozen steel-tipped instruments of death tore through the air. The clamor of them repeatedly breaking upon the beast’s shell rang out until one shot, just one shot, somehow pierced the carapace. The beast did not falter, but he howled. Who knows whether it was out of pain or anger, but there was no doubt that fury drove the beast.

  Slayvin looped back around and charged through the air toward the fiery-haired slayer. His flames rushed before him as he spat the dragon’s breath toward the wall. Kiriana and the others dove below the tops of the wall, avoiding the flare that shot over them. Slayvin was not finished, though.

  The flying abomination snapped his tail at the wall as he flew over past them. The sound of thunder reverberated through the city as his armored tail obliterated its target. The upper portion of each of the gate doors was splintered and the stone work above the doors demolished. Crumbled pieces of stone and mortar exploded into the air with the still-burning slivers of the wooden gate, showering down in every direction. The thick oaken gate that once stood firm now rocked and swayed as the flames continued to eat through what was left of it. It was only a matter of time before the rest of the gate would come crashing inward.

  Aneri’On’s blazing sword tore through a second dragon whelp, and then he gave the command, “Warriors, to the gate!”

  “To the gate! To the gate!” shouted the other leaders as they echoed the directive.

  “We must charge out and meet them or the city will be lost!” shouted the great warrior.

  The majority of Jasprita’s force rushed toward the gate, where Lokar and the rest of the centaur awaited the command. The orcs and dwarves and elves and men joined in behind them as the doors began to give way.

  “Take heart, men. Darkness cannot prevail,” declared Aneri’On, his fiery sword lifted high into the air.

  Then the wooden doors came crashing to the ground, and a wave o
f enemies tried to rush inside, but they were met with the furious charge of the centaur and the army that followed at their heels. Their hooves sounded like thunder as they pounded on the burning remains of the fallen doors. The enemy ranks before the gate broke as the Hand of Horus ran roughshod over them.

  Aneri’On and his companions followed in the centaurs’ wake. He was joined by the old dwarf, Melgrim, Sharka, and the orc chieftain, and none could resist them. The five warriors tore through the initial waves of the dragon’s army. Melgrim brought a masterful element of swordsmanship, much like Sharka’s snickersnee style. Together, they cut down everyone that got too close. Their skillful approach to combat stood in stark contrast to the savage style and brute force deployed by the hammer-wielding dwarf and orc. They rained down an unrelenting storm of blows upon the armored ranks of the Drakari forces, breaking the tide of evangelists.

  Yet it was the Frelsarine that shone the brightest on that dark day. The cobalt blade was a song in his hands, its timbre unmistakable as he hit every note upon the melodious arcs with each masterful stroke. Even the fanatical Drakari priests lost their convictions at the sight of him. The five warriors surged forward into the heart of the enemy forces.

  The commander of the dragon’s army refused to wait any longer, and he drove his steed into battle as the dragon continued his assault from above. The serpent hurled torrents of flame down upon the city’s defenses. The chaos and horror of battle was in full effect, and the commander was right at home.

  Colonel Jun was a butcher, carving his way through the battlefield. The ringing blows of halberds and swords did nothing to slow his advance. One by one, he cut the centaur down. Lokar charged forward and brought his halberd down upon the unsuspecting commander. The blow rocked him, sending him toppling off his mount. Lokar dove in for the kill with his weapon held high. Then as hooves and weapon came down, the black knight rolled over and drove his sword right through the centaur’s underside. The noble centaur was finished.

  Witnessing the bloodshed from a distance drove Ungbuu into a frenzied state. He lusted for battle. The witch doctor unleashed the whooping call of the Danji as he charged into battle. At his urging, the entire Danji force broke ranks and swarmed forward like a sea of locusts. Many of them were met by the vicious charge of the remnant of the Hand of Horus. Wooden spears alone were not much of a match for the mighty centaur, but the ferocity and sheer number of the Danji was not to be underestimated.

  By this time, Aneri’On and company had caught up to the centaur forces and was helping them fend off the Danji horde. That was when Jun and Aneri’On met. The striking blue blade intercepted the would-be deathblow from Jun’s dragon talon, which sought out Melgrim’s head. The enraged commander loosed a flurry of blows upon Aneri’On. He attacked with a power and speed unnatural for a human as he drew strength from his dark master. As the two champions fought, the Danji got their first taste of orcish fury.

  Theros was a force to be reckoned with. His cold and reckless savagery was overwhelming. Bestial roars echoed out as he bludgeoned his foes with the iron twins. His blows cascaded from one body to the next before they could even hit the ground. The most terrifying aspect was the calculating precision with which each blow was struck. His animalistic rage was actually a controlled tempest unleashed upon the enemy to devastating effect.

  Dominar was not fueled with the same fury that drove the great orc, but he was a master in close combat. He was a whirling vortex of iron as he shattered the advancing Danji. Their wooden spears snapped against the dwarven plate, their bones upon his maul. But the tide was about to turn.

  Ungbuu reached the middle of battle with another wave of Danji at his back. Melgrim and Sharka were the unlucky souls who had to face off against these barely human foes. It appeared they were evenly matched. Melgrim parried blows from several attackers while Sharka danced with the witch doctor, dodging his slashing advances.

  After evading one of his attacks, Sharka struck back at Ungbuu, slicing his leg. The gash sent the gaunt man crumbling to the ground, and it looked like she had the decided advantage. So she went in for the kill. Then in a twist of fate, the crafty witch doctor grabbed a handful of powder from his satchel and threw it in her face. The blinded orc stumbled backward as she backpedaled Wasting little time, Ungbuu ran after her, his dark bony fingers tightly grasping the dagger-carved of bone. He closed the distance as he thrust the crude weapon toward her gut, and then it was over. The blade burrowed through the flesh until it found bone. The body fell to the ground. Nal’drin had arrived in the nick of time, saving Sharka from the wicked Danji shaman. Nal’drin worked quickly to get Sharka safely away from the frontlines while Melgrim continued to fend off the others.

  More soldiers flooded out of Jasprita to help sustain the frontlines against the enemy horde. They had made some decisive blows to the dragon’s forces, but it was not over yet. It seemed like he had been locked in combat for ages, but the battle between Aneri’On and Jun raged on. The two forces collided again and again. Jun was a mad dog, hatred foaming from his mouth. He cursed and spat at his rival.

  “You think you can stand against our might?” shouted Jun.

  “You don’t have to let the darkness consume you. You can still turn back!” shouted Aneri’On as he parried another blow.

  “The Ancient One didn’t send you to save us, he sent you to die!” screamed the colonel as he charged him.

  “Not before you,” whispered Aneri’On before spinning as he fell to his knee. His blade was a brilliant blur, whipping around him as it tore the corrupt commander in half. Colonel Jun was destroyed. His remains smoldered upon the field of battle.

  The remaining centaur made another push as they charged deeper into the enemy ranks. Aneri’On and company trailed behind them, carving a large path through the dragon’s army, effectively driving a wedge between their forces. This could have been the final blow to the Zenari forces, but the corruption of the human heart would strike the deepest blow yet.

  With a nod of his head, Kyarl signaled to the elven king as they prepared to lead their own companies into battle. King Tua’Liluon returned the nod in silent agreement before marching toward the battle. However, instead of reinforcing Aneri’On’s small company, they each led their forces in different directions. Kiriana, who remained perched high above the battle with her trusty repeaters, watched as the two leaders charged into the enemy forces.

  Stunned, she said aloud, “Why on earth are they dividing their forces!”

  “Aneri’On and his party will surely be cut off,” exclaimed Isiirial as she pointed to the middle of the battle.

  Kiriana responded, “We must support them!”

  With that, those that remained on top of the wall with her began firing at the enemies that began to encircle the small group. Isiirial set her deadly aim to the task, striking down dozens of Zenari with the aid of the master slayer. The torrent of stinging steel ravaged the enemy forces, effectively thinning the ranks that swarmed in behind their allies. But the victory was not to last. The last surviving dragon whelps found their way toward the archers, and the dark leviathan reemerged from the cloud cover.

  Kiriana instinctively emptied another two cartridges of bolts over the heads of her nearby friends. The whistling bolts tore through the young skin of the small dragons’ wings and pierced their yet-to-harden scales. The hissing beasts crashed to the top of the stone wall, shrieking and howling in pain as their lives were snuffed out. The threat was quickly put down, but they were not out of danger. Slayvin plummeted down through the snow-filled sky toward them. Their arrows did nothing to him. Opening his foul maw, he poured his fire down upon them. Diving away, they barely escaped the dragon’s wrath once more, but supply wagons below the walls caught fire and began to burn. With a roar, the dragon flew off and out of sight again, quickly slipping away into the gray cloud ceiling that hung low on this winter’s day.

  The duo had escaped with their lives and had even managed to slay two more of t
he infernal beast’s offspring, but the distraction proved to be costly. The elven guard led by King Tua’Liluon and the slayers led by Kyarl, like the Hand of Horus, had sawed through the ranks of the enemy with their charge, but they had abandoned their own. As Kiriana fixed her eyes on the battle below, she saw just that. Their allies had been completely cut off from the rest of the forces now. It was just that quick, and the enemy seized the opportunity. Theros, Dominar, Melgrim, and Aneri’On were surrounded by countless enemies.

  The frigid wind grew strong down on the battlefield as it whipped and snapped with its icy teeth. The four comrades, surrounded, stood with their backs toward each other. It was then that a howling roar shattered the airwaves as the beast of shadows burst through the distant cloud cover. The winged monstrosity rushed toward them from the far end of the frozen plains, beyond the enemies they had battled. The roar was deafening, and it seemed to last forever. In that crazy moment, the approaching army almost ceased to advance on the cornered quartet. Then the dragon slammed into the frozen tundra like a comet. His powerful legs smashed the rigid ground as he brought himself to a sliding stop. The ground shook violently at the impromptu earthquake, and the roar of the beast was replaced with the rattle of their armor.

  “Finish them!” howled Slayvin with hatred.

  “No!” bellowed Aneri’On with a booming voice that rose above the clamor. “You can have my life, but you must let them all go!”