Dragons Blight (Valadfar Book 1)

by Damien Tiller

  “ You’re right, why aren’t they bombarding us already.” Harvey had said and the warm breeze filled with shouting brought no answers. “They’re so few in number to. I had expected so many more.”

  “This could be easier than I first thought.” William said lying to himself. He truly wanted to believe it would be just the case of adding a few bodies to a pile at the bottom of the ocean but he had no idea what the Poles were planning. The way they were moving the war machines along to Sea View Hill made no sense and their army just sat there like a cyst on the landscape.

  “ The majority of their men must still be holding Raidaridin against the ships I sent.” Harvey said in his finery next to William. He had adorned himself in his finest golden and red fleeced jerkin to try and out do his pirate counterpart. He wanted the people of the city to know who their king was. He had been hidden away for so long but now. This was the time he wanted to be remembered for. Harvey wanted it to be remembered in the history books that he stood with his kingdom for the final battle and pushed the Poles from their lands. He also wanted to lose his beer belly and they both seemed just as unlikely as he watched the Poles movements below.

  “ I don’t think they’re planning on assaulting the city you know. They’re camping by the trade road there. That’s what I would do if I wanted to stop trade to you by land. Let’s be honest. It’s almost identical to what I’ve been doing from the island for years.” William said with a nervous smile and it was true. He had put himself on the only route out to sea and had control of anything that made it through into the city. The Poles had mirrored this on land sitting comfortably on Neeskmouth ridge.

  “At least you admit you’re a common thief .” Harvey commented with a snarl. He had held his tongue for days while William had brought his men into the city and the work to prepare the defense had been underway but he felt at the time of sitting on the roof that he could finally say what was on his mind. There was no backing out for the White Flags now.

  “I never said I stole your stuff. I said I stop your trade ships. It’s your cowardly tradesmen that hand over their goods. Wait.” William paused holding a hand up. “ The trebuchets are being pulled up the hills there. Only reason I can see for doing that is to be able to reach the ships.” William said as he pointed to the west and four trebuchet’s that were very slowly being dragged uphill by some of the biggest men he had ever seen.

  “ It’s not like the Poles to play tactfully. They rush in. They pillage and they leave. What the hell are they up to?” Harvey said and then he realized. The Poles intended to strangle the city itself. They would stop trade getting in from the farms and the sea. The city would run out of food in no more than a few days. A week or so if they had been well stocked. The people would have two choices. Eat their pets and each other. A choice that was unlikely or they could choose to fight the Poles and die.

  “What supplies do we have your majesty. How long can we last ?” William asked and for the first time since he arrived at Neeskmouth, real concern coated his face like a pale mask. His men were skilled at fighting from still positions. They would be useless in a march against trained ranks. They were pirates and bloody good ones but they were not soldiers. Harvey had noticed the slip in power and took full advantage of his regained standing.

  “ We have enough stored for perhaps three days. We’re mid planting. Most of our supplies are all but gone. We’re bringing stuff in by ship from the south and waiting for the orchards to start fruiting in a month or so. The fields have started to bare shoots from the wheat but they’re no good to harvest for months yet.” Harvey explained his mind racing as he thought hard at a way to survive another stalemate but this time one much closer to home. The rumors of the hidden labyrinth flashed through his mind and it could be worth a go. That was if it wouldn’t take a week to clear the huge marble slabs that had been used to deck celebration square. If only they had left it open they could evacuate the city into the catacombs and pray they lead somewhere.

  “We might be alright. We got word out. The people of Port Lust will be heading this way. They’ll stop at each of the two forts between here and the town. How many men will that be?” William said asking for more than one reason. It might be the saving grace now to have the reinforcements arrive in a few days, but he also wanted to know for when he tried to claim power from Harvey for they too might be the reinforcements against him when the time came.

  “ You’re right. They should number a couple of hundred and we’ll have them flanked. We only have to hold out until they get here.” Harvey said suddenly feeling cocky for his idea to bring the pirates into this. If nothing else they got word out quickly and if King Harvey could win this battle with little bloodshed form the city then keeping his throne would be easier. “We can’t just sit here though. They’ll be expecting us to realize what they’re doing. If we just sit tight then they’ll know we have reinforcements coming. Not to mention I can see them turning those siege weapons on us just for the fun of it.”

  “ Yeah you’re right and when I take over this city I don’t want it full of holes.” William said his calm smile returning to his face and he laid a heavily ringed hand on Harvey’s shoulder. “We need to throw some lives at them and sadly your majesty. It’ll be your men. None of mine are going to die willingly no matter how much gold you offer them when they get back.” William said with a wink. William did not feel comfortable with anyone having to die but if it had to fall on someone to give the order then it being Harvey that had to do it made the decision almost bearable. Harvey had no choice but to agree. It was a hard decision to make. Harvey would have to send his knights out into the open plains and enough of them to make it look like they were actually launching a defensive strike but it were obvious that they would be cut down by the Poles before they even broke the front wall of their ranks. As his so called knights was made up of four or so trained men and farmhands who had switched their forks for swords. It was a move that would destroy the last of Harvey’s respect among the people. Harvey felt the seesaw of power fall back in Williams’ direction. The average person would not understand the reasons why Harvey had sent men to their deaths. All they would see is the needless slaughter of their loved ones.

  “ William. Go get the captain of the guard.” Harvey had said and he remembered how he had physically sagged. “I’ll give the order.” Harvey had lifted his cap and dropped it over the edge of the battlements watching it float down and rest gently on the soft grass that had started to sprout with the calm weather that had followed the heavy rains. The order had been a hard one to give and the words still haunted Harvey days later. “Gather up a hundred of the militia and my personal guard. They are to charge the enemy. Your men are to move to the keep to secure it.” Harvey had paused once more before muttering, “At this rate from my own people.” The words had killed him inside. He was a selfish man, a poor king but he did love his kingdom. He did not want to see it fail.

  The night of the thirteenth had been filled with sleepless beds, disturbed dreams and taunts from outside the city. Behind shut blinds families gathered collectively sharing their last few hours together before father or son would be sent to their death. The hushed sound of sobbing was matched by a few poorly aimed shots that had been sent into the harbor from the thumping machines hidden in the darkness to the west. The deep thuds splashed into the ocean for the most part but some unlucky ships found their final resting places at the bottom of the White Sea. The creator seemed kind enough to grant them a tide that was washing towards the shore and a large number of them would make it gasping for air to the golden sands. They could have made for the city but few did. They escaped east and made their way towards the fort that over looked the reef. It was a strange hand of fate that could lead to more reinforcements but no one knew if it would be in time or not. When dawn came on the fourteenth of Nylar, an expected air of anxiety coated the streets of Neeskmouth. Crowds had gathered like crows to carrion. The militia cleared the blocked alleyway besi
de the empty Dean estate. The last tearful goodbyes over, the shoddily armed and sleep deprived men readied their assault into the open land between them and the Poles. The battle would be a hard one and every man, boy, and grandfather had said their goodbyes to their family. Staring death in the face, they all moved slowly, not wanting the last of the fruit crates to be moved and the alley free, but time seemed to toy with them and the hour it took to completely clear the debris felt like minutes. Behind the amassed militia of soldiers the sobbing of family members, women and children alike rang out like a forlorn bell calling the hour. Women pulled younger children back as they tried to cling onto cold mental chain linked legs of their fathers. Wives begged husbands to stay with them cursing the king and dooming the city but their cries fell on deaf ears. The passage cleared gave the men at the front of the crowd a view of the lush hill in the near distance. The sun only low in the sky had started its ascent and its long golden fingers silhouetted the hundreds of spikes poking into the air of the Poles weapons. The men of Neeskmouth took a deep breath and one by one they took to a trot in the warm morning. The morning would have been a beautiful one if it did not bode to be the last for so many. Each footstep that had landed on the hard earth took them closer to the embrace of the spirit realm and further away from the loving arms of the people they would leave behind. The rustic walls of the nobles’ houses made for a picturesque backdrop to the rushing army of Neeskmouthains. The younger militias were easily recognizable by the poorly fitting armor and some actually tripped or slipped out of their breast plates. Yet still they continued holding swords out in front of them, some quite often longer than their young and scrawny arms. The older men took the lead, their strides wide and they roared. It was a scary sound that shook the fear from the souls of their own and threw it towards the Poles. The world seemed to hold its breath as it had many times before. It paused at the brink of such battles in utter amazement of the mortality that would follow. Their roar may have made them feel more confident but it mattered little as the first few lines of tin soldiers did not even reach the Poles front line. They were cut down and laid lifeless at the mercy of stones that fell from the sky in a heavy rain. The militia was not a well dressed army and the stones tore through them like water through a strainer. A few had armor but most wore leather jerkins that they would have used to protect themselves while working at the smiths. One had even forgotten to take his blacksmithing hammer out of the chest pocket. This forgetful act went on to save his life as a large sharpened rock that would have otherwise punctured his heart shattered off the iron head and splintered into his shoulder. The old and gruff smith fell to the floor bleeding from the several large splinters that had pressed into his shoulder. He would not get to see the battle, injured only a few feet from the ivy walled garden of a noble estate. He was dragged back by a grey haired woman and fell in through the crisscrossed wooden gate. The army was made up mostly of tradesmen and farmers and from those Harvey had picked the oldest trying to keep the young safe. That is not to say a large number were not in their teens, it was only that he had tried to find older men who were fit enough to fight first. He had even gone as far as fitting out those he could with the decorative suits of armor from inside the keep. It was old, weak and rusted but it may save some of their lives. Harvey lay on his bed unable to see the faces of those he had sentenced to death this time. He remembered wishing that the battle went well, that there were heroes born and the kingdom was saved but it was not. It had been a blood bath and only that one old smith collapsed in a rose bush would see the next dawn. The Neeskmouthain army crashed against the hard tips of the Poles spears and wave after wave found their journey to the maker. The battle was not purely one sided and many Poles did fall but the ratio was around three Neeskmouthains to one Pole and within half an hour of the alleyway being cleared the last man was dragged screaming into the clearing between the Poles and run through. It was a slaughter but a needed one. The lives lost would at least hold the Poles back long enough for the reinforcements to arrive. Harvey remembered that he had stood still in his chambers, his head in his arms. He had known that the men he would send would die but he had not planned for the deaths to come as swiftly as they had. And to make it worse the ships in the harbor were making a break for the open sea under the fire of the trebuchets. Harvey had watched from the keep as his loyal men’s corpses were desecrated and held aloft on spikes to taunt the city. His stomach reminded him of the choices he had made and the nausea swept over him like tar as he stared into the cold lifeless faces gawking at him from the horizon. The rest of the fourteenth had been a blur, aside from one memory. Harvey turned to look at William who was surprisingly down on his knees praying and even more strangely Harvey decided to take down onto one knee with him and beg the maker, the creator of it all to spare the city. Together the Handson and pirate king prayed to make it through the night.

  Chapter twelve - a chance meeting Darcy awoke panting. His head was killing him and the pain in his shoulder was not much better. His nightmarish dreams had been filled with the horrors from the day before replayed in the distorted theatre that was his subconscious. It had been a mad rush as he and Calvin had dashed away from the mountains back towards the shifting clouds of ash they had spent days trying to traverse. The dust had barely settled from the thud as Darcy’s supplies had sunk into the ashen ground before he had turned on his heels and followed the aged mage who was rapidly disappearing into the distance. The three young Dragonlings had chased them relentlessly. Their huge wings beat the ground stirring up clouds of powder that had engulfed the fleeing duo as the Dragonlings dropped into the ash behind them. The young Dragons had been toying with them chasing close and dropping back letting their pray get a little further away. They had called out between each other in little playful growls much like a kitten playing with twine they swiped at the leg and body of Darcy who was still lagging behind the surprisingly swift Calvin. The chirps that echoed out from the snarling teeth still chilled Darcy to the core as he pulled himself up onto his scraped elbows waking in a cold sweat and shock. The memories dropped from his mind but he could feel his heart still beating like a slavers drum. The stone hut they had sheltered in was dark. The roof had collapsed and was only a few feet above Darcy’s head. It was being held up by loose rubble that looked weathered and weak and it would not have taken too much effort for it to collapse in on top of him. The walls looked like they should have had weeds and moss growing between the cracks but this was the Scorched Lands so the sad sight remained as bare as a new born child. The bricks had started to turn to powder in the constant cloud that battered its outside and Darcy was thankful that it had remained standing at all. The ash on the floor inside seemed finer than that outside and managed to coat everything in an oddly white shifting residue, that showed imprints wherever Darcy had been. An aged wooden table had survived the years of neglect and sat warped in the far wall of the room. Its top aged and flaking still had faint ring marks in from whoever used to live there. It was a reminder that the Scorched Lands had once been a lush and prosperous part of Neeska before the Dragons turned the very ground into lava. Under the stone debris of a collapsed wall scattered planks hinted at where a bed would once have rested. Torn white linen danced gently in the breeze that crawled in through the many gaps that dotted the hut. Through one of the larger cracks in the southern wall Darcy could make out the shape of the dead Dragon slumped against the side of the hut it had been a miracle the weight of the dead beast had not brought the wall down and sealed the inside off completely but it seemed on this occasion lady luck had given Darcy a helping hand. The pain flashed back through Darcy’s arm as his wounded elbows grew tired of his weight and forced Darcy to move and pull himself up with difficulties to a sitting position. Darcy looked down at the blood that filled his hands. It had dried and congealed against his white sleeves staining them. He knew some must have been his but it was hard to tell what blood was from his wounds and what stains belonged to the dead Dragon. The
memories from the night before replayed once again as Darcy tried to scrape the gruesome dried lumps off onto the torn linen scraps next to where he lay. As Darcy and Calvin had fled away from the mountains the three Dragons had chased them for what seemed like a lifetime. The Dragons scratched at them with their huge claws tossing either Darcy or Calvin across the ashen grounds. Neither one dared stay down for long for fear of the Dragons’ playful swipes killing them. They rolled to their feet between blows. At one point the larger and presumably the leader of the Dragonlings had grabbed Calvin by the robe and lifted him kicking and screaming into the air. The crunch that had echoed out into the night as Calvin hit the ground had made Darcy freeze. He could remember just staring at the still figure of Calvin. Calvin was lifeless and bent double. His legs were snapped out in different directions and even with no medical training in his life. Darcy could see at least one of them had been broken. When their toy seemed not to be getting up the Dragons grew bored. They did not leave Darcy alone for long, as he froze watching his lifeless friend they begun to surround him. A whip from one of the beasts’ strong tail knocked Darcy to the ground. Darcy sat staring around the dark hut he looked over at Calvin. He was breathing gently but he was still out cold. The old man’s skin looked paler than normal. Deep blue veins could be seen under the skin and the same odd shimmer that had disturbed Darcy when Rinwid spoke was very noticeable. Calvin’s brown robes were now as stained with blood much like Darcy’s own clothes. Darcy had done his best to fix Calvin’s leg last night using his own belt and a leg from either a table or chair in the wreckage to make a splint. That was before he himself collapsed and fell asleep. Darcy had thought that he would never have awoken again. He had been prepared to die. The Dragons had circled him while Calvin lay on the floor gasping for breath. The whip of the tail had winded Darcy. His chest heaved and he was in agony. He wanted to run but couldn’t find the breath. It was then that he had heard the murmur from Calvin. He was still alive. Calvin went to stand but fell flat back into the earth with a wail. His leg was definitely broken but at least he was alive. When Calvin hit the floor it was obvious that he would not be able to outrun the Dragons and Darcy began to fear the worst. He didn’t know for sure but he was all but certain he would not be able to overpower the Dragons in a feat of heroics. Just when all hope seemed lost a shadow appeared above Calvin. It was Calvin’s shadow but it moved in the air and seemed too alive. A sense of cold foreboding fell over the whole area and even the Dragonlings froze staring at the shifting shadow. There excited chirps fell to silence as they stopped nervously. Darcy had never faced a demon before but somehow he knew it was Rinwid. It might have been the cold that ran through his back or the way the hairs stood upright on his neck but Darcy knew he was looking at Rinwid or at least a shadow of the demon inside Calvin. The Dragons turned on their heels and started to scarper. The fear was obvious in their scaly features. Darcy did not know what came over him but as the last Dragonling that was escaping bounded over him Darcy pressed the knife up into the air almost by reflex alone. It connected with the fast moving Dragon and sunk in deep slicing it from chest to anus. The beast made it another few feet sailing through the air with its innards showering down before it collapsed down behind Calvin and next to the hut Darcy was now in. Darcy pulled himself across the hut on his hands and knees. His shoulder was still in agony and he wondered if he had torn something when the Dragon had wrenched his arm back as the blade had sunk in. It only occurred to him then that they had lost all their supplies. He had dropped the bag back at the foot of the mountain before the Dragons started chasing them. He hadn’t had time to think and the weight of it would have only slowed him down but it was gone now. Darcy’s mouth was dry and he wanted to wash the blood from his hands not to mention that Calvin looked like he was about to pass away but there was little Darcy could do unless he fancied heading back out and hoping he ended up going the right direction back to the mountains. If he was lucky enough to find the same spot again he would then have to pray the bag was still there and that the two other fleeing youngsters hadn’t ravished the bag on their way back up the mountain. Darcy stopped as he approached Calvin’s side suddenly feeling ill at ease. Calvin’s shadow looked normal, just like any other shadow but Darcy had seen it when the Dragons were about to kill Calvin and so had the Dragons. It had scared them enough that they had fled like mice and then seemed to settle back down onto the ground where it should have lain.