by Vinn Winters
“I will bury you,” Vyra said, her eyes flickering with hatred.
“You’ll try,” Radek said, drawing his longsword with one hand, and pointing the Eventide dagger at her with the other. “But before I turn you to dust, let’s find out what a woman squire is capable of.”
But Vyra was already charging at him. She swung her sword furiously. Radek dodged to her right and brought his longsword around towards her neck. Vyra spun in place and parried the attack.
“Unimpressive, I think I’ve seen enough!” Radek yelled as he advanced with a swipe of his dagger towards her face. Vyra looked up as she ducked. The dagger just missed her face, slicing through strands of her hair. She watched the disconnected threads of her hair quickly dissolve to ash. Vyra lunged forward with another attack. Radek deflected the attack with his sword but Vyra twisted her body, elbowing Radek in the face. The captain of the guard staggered backward, and Vyra seized the opportunity to strike again. Still caught off-guard, Radek blocked the attack, but only barely. Vyra kept continued the offensive, attacking again and again. She dodged as he swiped at her with the Eventide blade once more, this time punching his wrist with the hilt of her sword. The Captain shouted and the Eventide blade fell from his hands to the ground next to her.
“You bitch! I will slice you apart!” Radek yelled, raising his longsword and bringing it down at her. Vyra sidestepped by spinning on her feet, the blade flew by her face, missing it only by inches. With all her strength, she brought her blade upward, cutting straight through Radek’s wrist.
The captain howled in pain as his sword and hand landed on the ground, away from him. As he fell to his knees, he made a lunge for the Eventide blade at Vyra’s feet. Vyra grabbed the dagger first and punched the captain in the face, and he stumbled and fell backwards against the corner alley wall.
“I’m — I’m going to cut you into pieces, until there’s nothing left!” Radek shouted and he tried to stand.
“No,” Vyra said, lunging at the Captain, she moved the side of the Eventide blade towards his face. “You won’t.”
Radek screamed in pain as the dark blade touched his face; his body began to shake compulsively.
“This is for the boy you murdered,” Vyra shouted, pushing the blade against his simmering flesh, “and every other innocent soul who has fallen to the wrath of your blade.”
The Captain’s screams echoed about the alleyway.
“You’ll never hurt another person again,” Vyra snapped. “This kingdom will be better without you—”
An arrow struck Vyra in her chest, knocking her backwards. The Eventide blade clattered to the ground between them.
“I… I’m shot. I’m actually shot,” Vyra said aloud as she stared blankly into the sky above.
“She’s over here!” a voice shouted. There were distant sounds of clanking armor and approaching footsteps.
“You’ve sealed your fate,” Radek’s voice reached her ears. It sounded weak and hoarse.
Vyra forced herself to sit up. The pain she felt in her chest was less than what she would have imagined for being skewered by an arrow. She looked down to see that the arrow had pierced her leather armor; the tip of the arrow had pierced her body, but the wound wasn’t too deep.
Not sure how well this armor will protect me from a dragon claw, but it’s great against arrows, Vyra thought with relief. Cringing, she pulled the arrow out.
Vyra looked over to the captain. Blood pooled around the nub where his left hand had been. Gray smoke rose off one side of his face, from just above his lip to the top of his forehead.
“You’ve committed treason against the crown,” he rasped. “If you even had the faintest chance of ever becoming a knight, it’s gone now… forever.”
Vyra glanced down at the Eventide blade between them. She started to move towards it, but as a second arrow flew over her shoulder, just missing her head, she decided to turn and run.
What am I going to do? she thought as she raced along the alley passageways. Aldrean will come to my aid. He likely has more favor with the king than Radek, if Radek even survives his injuries or the dragon onslaught. Yes, that will work. It has to work.
Another turn and she came to an exit of the urban maze, Aeroma Castle towering in front of her.
A chill creeped over her as she noticed there were no royal guards at the palace gates. The giant door of the castle was slightly ajar. She entered the castle, seeing no one.
~
The soldiers stationed at the ramparts looked at each other anxiously, as the bells clanging around Beckonthrone broke any doubt of the oncoming attack. Additional wooden barricades had been mounted against the edge of the stone wall; additional bows and arrows had been brought up, and each piece of artillery was loaded. The defenses would be practically impenetrable against an invading army, but they had never been tested against a dragon.
“Sir, the dragon will be here any minute,” Modrem said, his eyes frantically scanning the sky.
“Finish your preparations!” Orbit yelled out. “First round at the tavern is on Orbit when we win this battle after we slay this beast!”
There were cheers and a few chuckles, the soldiers appeared visibly calmer.
“Well spoken, sir,” Modrem said with a grin. “I’m sure the men appreciate that.”
“Indeed. For once, Orbit hopes for a high tavern bill,” the gnome replied.
It took a moment for Modrem to understand what the gnome meant by that, but he nodded as soon as he did.
“I hope it is high too, I’ll even cover half of it,” the squire said helpfully.
“Nonsense,” Orbit huffed, motioning for his squire to lean down so he could pat him on the shoulder. “Don’t be a fool. Even Orbit the Omnipotent was a squire once. Orbit knows your wages. The drinks are on me, that’s an order.”
“Yes, sir,” Modrem said obediently.
“Now, Aldrean, that bastard,” Orbit grumbled, his eyes turning to frantically scan the cityscape below. “Where the hell is he?”
“The dragon, it’s over there, in the horizon!” Modrem shouted. All eyes turned to a black silhouette stark against the bright afternoon sunlight.
“So… it is true,” Orbit said under his breath.
“It’s approaching fast,” Modrem observed.
“Orbit can see that. Do ballista twenty-nine and thirty have the package equipped?” Orbit asked.
“Yes, sir! And with three times the amount you requested,” Modrem answered. “I aimed for ‘beyond excessive.’”
“Excellent. You know Orbit’s preferences,” Orbit replied with a quick chuckle.
“Where’s Lord Aldrean?” one of the guards said nervously.
“It does not matter,” Orbit shouted, raising his hammer. “Orbit is sure that he is busy preparing reinforcements. But for now, Orbit the Omnipotent is here, and Orbit will stand by you and defend this great city!”
The guards shouted in excitement.
“This vile creature is nothing compared to our might. We will fight back!” Orbit continued, even louder. “Now grab your weapons, and together we will turn this beast into our next dinner! For the crown! For Beckonthrone!”
“For the crown! For Beckonthrone!” the guards yelled simultaneously.
The soldiers scurried about the ramparts, preparing for battle. Sir Modrem turned towards a ballista, but stopped when he felt a tug on his leg. The squire looked down to see Orbit looking up at him.
“A great speech, Lord Orbit; I bet there will be enough meat on this dragon to feed the whole kingdom!” Modrem exclaimed optimistically.
The gnome warlord stared up at him, his face unwavering.
“What is the matter, Lord Orbit? I haven’t seen that look since the first time I met the king,” Modrem asked. He crouched down so he was face to face with the gnome.
“If the dragon breaches these walls,” Orbit replied sternly, “Orbit wants you to run. Run as fast as you can, and do not look back.”
Modrem’s e
yes widened.
“But — but Orbit, there is no honor in fleeing from a battle,” Modrem protested.
“There is honor in living,” Orbit replied sternly. “If we cannot stop this beast before it breaches our defenses, it is certain that this rampart will be our tomb. Orbit swore to train you to become an honorable knight. That oath cannot be fulfilled if you are dead before becoming one.”
“It also cannot be fulfilled if you are dying here too!” Modrem argued.
“You have honor within you, Sir Modrem,” Orbit said, resting his stubby hand on Modrem’s cheek. “Orbit has seen it. You will make an honorable knight, one who will bring light to many. But you cannot fell this beast… Orbit may not be able to fell this beast.”
“But Orbit,” Modrem meekly objected.
“This is an order, Sir Modrem; an order given by your knight, Orbit the Omnipotent, and you are expected to carry it out without further question,” Orbit commanded.
“Yes… sir,” Modrem replied, forcing the words from his lips.
“The dragon is almost within range!” one of the soldiers shouted.
“Now to your station, and do not forget Orbit’s words,” Orbit ordered. Modrem nodded, pulling out his bow as he left.
“Grab your arrows! Load the ballistas!” Orbit bellowed as the soldiers ran along the ramparts. “Conserve your bolts. Do not fire all at once! We will not be given opportunity to reload. So fire when I shout the name of your turret! We will teach this fiend a new love for the ground. When we’re done, it will never part from it again!”
The looming beast drew closer to the city walls.
“Steady your aim, soldiers!” Orbit shouted out. “Prepare to fire!”
Even from a distance, the dragon’s roar seemed to shake the very foundation of Beckonthrone’s wall.
“Ballistas twenty-five and twenty-three, fire!” Orbit commanded.
Two bolts flew into the sky towards the winged beast. The dragon plummeted to the earth as the attack flew over it. It steadied itself right before it hit the ground, gliding towards the castle skimming just above the ground.
“It dodged the attack with ease!” Modrem said, his voice almost cracking.
“Witch’s Blight!” Orbit cursed. “The beast is intelligent. Ballista twenty-one, fire!”
Two more bolts soared towards the dragon, but crashed into the ground as the dragon dodged them.
“You know exactly what we’re doing, don’t you?” Orbit muttered. “What a clever bitch. Ballista twenty-two, fire directly in front of it! Ballista twenty-six, fire directly after, aim off-target, just to the right!”
Two more bolts sped towards the dragon; in a feat of aerial acrobatics it swerved and tucked its wings in, the bolts just gliding past its sides.
“It’s almost reached the castle walls!” Modrem yelled.
“Orbit is aware of that!” Orbit snapped. “Ballista twenty-seven, fire directly ahead of its path. Twenty-eight, fire directly above that!”
“Sir, will that work?” Modrem asked nervously.
“It will have to,” Orbit replied. “Now fire!”
Two more bolts soared through the air. The dragon arched upwards at the last moment, dodging the first bolt, but roared as the second bolt struck it in the wing. The dragon plummeted into the ground, spraying up a wave of dirt.
“We hit it!” Modrem shouted, his fists soaring skyward.
“Ballistas twenty-nine and thirty, fire the package. Light it up!” Orbit yelled to the two turrets closest to them.
Two bolts covered in lit dynamite soared over the gnome’s head.
“You were a formidable beast,” Orbit said with a wide grin. “But not as formidable as Orbit the Omnipotent.”
The two projectiles hit the dragon, its deafening screech drowned out by the explosion of dynamite. A giant cloud of dust erupted from the ground.
“We did it!” Modrem cried triumphantly, his cry echoed by the other soldiers. The rampart was filled with the joyous sounds of celebration.
Orbit stared intently into the brown miasma.
“Lord Orbit, why do you not celebrate?” the squire asked.
“Orbit will celebrate when its lifeless head is hanging from Orbit’s fireplace,” the gnome warlord replied cautiously. “Archers, ready your arrows!”
The rampart fell silent as the soldiers paused and looked at each other with confusion
“That is an order!” Orbit commanded.
Reluctantly, the soldiers lifted their bows and obeyed.
“Milord, there’s not a monster alive that could have survived a blast like that,” Modrem said.
“When you’ve served as long as Orbit has, you learn that there is always a larger behemoth,” the gnome replied. He made a quick glance to the nearest weapon rack; it still held several swords, a single crossbow, and a tower shield twice the warlord’s height.
As the warlord finished those words, a dark figure erupted from the cloud of dust and flew towards the city wall.
“Witch’s Blight!” a soldier cursed.
“We’re all out of bolts!” another shouted.
“It’s not dead! How is it not dead?” a third screamed.
“Archers, prepare to fire!” Orbit commanded, the volume of the gnome’s voice overshadowing the rising panic of the soldiers.
At the last moment before the dragon collided into the city wall, it arched upwards; its belly flew past Orbit and the soldiers as it hurtled into the sky. Beneath the overhead sun, the dragon spread its wings to full length, eclipsing the light and casting the entire kingdom into darkness.
“Wither under my shadow, little creatures. You shall walk this world no more,” the dragon’s voice rumbled like thunder.
“It—it blocked out the sun! It blocked out the sun!” a soldier screamed.
“We can’t beat it! We’re fighting a god!” another soldier shouted.
“Modrem!” Orbit yelled, turning towards his squire. “Flee, now!”
But his squire did not respond. He stood like a statue, wide-eyed, staring up into the darkened sky.
“Modrem!” Orbit yelled again.
The only movement from the squire was trembling of his body.
“Archers, hit it with everything you’ve got! Bring this bastard to the ground! For Beckonthrone!” Orbit yelled.
“For Beckonthrone!” the soldiers shouted in unison. A horde of arrows rained upwards towards the dragon.
Dregeldune unleashed a deafening roar and bathed the sky in fire. The arrows were quickly engulfed, the flame falling towards the ramparts like an avalanche.
The battlement was filled with shouts and clamors as the soldiers dropped their weapons and tried to flee.
“Modrem!” Orbit shouted. “Run! Now!”
As embers fell around him, the squire dropped to his knees; his mouth fell open, his gaze not leaving the descending ceiling of flame.
Orbit lunged towards the rack; grabbing the tower shield, he dashed towards Modrem, shoving his way through the fleeing soldiers.
“Come to me! Take this shield! I order you to get under this shield!” Orbit yelled, holding out the tower shield as he pushed his way towards his squire. “Modrem!”
The squire did not move.
“Modrem, no!” Orbit cried out, throwing the tower shield over himself at the last second as the downpour of flame clashed into the ramparts.
There was the snapping of wood, the moving of stone, and then a much louder noise.
The collapse of the Beckonthrone wall.
Chapter 7
Eygodon casually strolled down the palace hallway, staring up at the elaborate stone statues looming overhead.
“The great heroes of times past, eh?” Eygodon said to himself. “I remember some of these folk… some of them really weren’t so great. But history loves to tell a different tale.”
The warlock lowered his head and looked around.
“Where are all the guards? I’m practically at the throne room and nothing. I fig
ured I’d be battling the finest of knights, the fiercest of warriors, not loneliness. The Kae-Koon fights in mysterious ways.”
Eygodon cupped his hands around his mouth.
“Hello!” he yelled. “Show yourselves, you cowardly humans! I am here to slay your king!”
The giant doors to the throne room opened and twenty knights in full-plate armor poured into the hallway, forming a wall in front of him. The knights closest to the door had already drawn their swords, and the four knights closest to each side of the wall pulled arrows from their quivers, lifting their bows in his direction.
“So it appears Dregeldune did not, in fact, distract all of the king’s guardians,” Eygodon said as his amber eyes lazily swept across the warriors before him.
“The soldiers of Beckonthrone, as well as the royal guard, have been dispatched to eliminate the dragon menace,” a sneering voice reached Eygodon’s ears. “But to assume the king is vulnerable would be far from true.”
The knights in the center parted, and a bald man with a dark beard wearing exquisite long robes emerged from behind them.
“Ah, I see I summoned correctly when I called out for a coward. Is that really you, De’eyzen, King Sargedon’s sniveling bitch?” Eygodon said, staring at the robed man.
“I am the royal advisor to his majesty, the Royal Highness, King Sargedon, Sovereign of Ancantion, and Ruler of the Third Realm!” De’eyzen snapped.
The ground beneath them shook. The knights glanced at each other nervously.
“The battle outside doesn’t sound like it’s going very well,” Eygodon said with a smirk. “I’d say, for your king… ruler is such a presumptuous word.”
“The king is beyond these doors, if you can reach him. All that stands between you and him is twenty of the finest Silverclad Knights,” the advisor snapped.
“Twenty of the finest, eh?” Eygodon said, looking at the plated warriors. “It’s missing some familiar faces.”
“We did not need all of the Silverclad Knights just to dispatch Eygodon, the vile warlock,” De-eyzen scoffed.