While Master Porthos went to instruct the mages on the plan of attack, Chieftain Zulu approached General Kirn.
“General, I must have a word with you,” Zulu said.
“What is it?” Kirn asked.
“My people do not forget history,” Zulu replied. “We remember everything that happens to our land because we are one with it. When this monstrosity of a city was built, we watched from a distance. What we remember was long ago forgotten by the current inhabitants.”
The Chieftain’s comments piqued General Kirn’s interest.
“Well, what is it?” Kirn asked. There was plenty to do to prepare, but if there was a weakness in the castle, Kirn would make time to hear the tribal Drakaran out.
“Long ago, the builders worried there would be a time when they might need to escape the city. War was commonplace across the entire world at the time. They created a series of tunnels beneath the castle within the city, leading out to behind it, outside the outer walls. After the Drakaran established their rule over the entire land, none opposed them, and the tunnels were not needed any longer. They were filled back in and over time grass grew over the entrances, effectively sealing the tunnels from view and access. It is those tunnels that my people can sneak in and attack from within.”
“If this is true, and you can enter the center of the city, it may turn the tide of the war,” General Kirn said in excitement. “I’ll have my people focusing on the front wall, occupying their attention. What do you need from us to make this plan of yours happen?”
“There will be many people within the city,” Chieftain Zulu replied. “My people will be met with the fiercest of Drakaran defenders. They will make it nearly impossible to reach Commander Voltross or the Drakaran council. There is one among you who I knew was the one to fulfill the prophecy. It is him that we need to come with us and destroy the head of the snake while we buy him time and draw their troops’ attention away from the council.”
“Wait, your people have the same prophecy as us?” Kirn asked.
Zulu shrugged. “We have many prophecies. It may be the same as the one you are referring to and it may not be. Prophecies don’t always wind up turning true. Sometimes, it depends on those who believe in it to make it happen.”
“Who is it that must come with you?” Kirn asked.
Chieftain Zulu turned around and scanned the group of mages listening to Master Porthos. He pointed his spear toward Lance.
“The crippled one. He must come with us.”
Chapter 10
Nearly two thousand tribal Drakaran crawled along the high grass, inching closer to where Zulu believed the tunnel entrances to be. Lance struggled to keep up with them despite the slow pace. He couldn’t push off his busted leg well and it made for a strenuous affair.
When they got to a patch of soil that seemed softer than the surrounding area, Chieftain Zulu called for a halt. There was no indication that those waiting on the walls of the Drakaran city had spotted the encroaching army, but they continued to keep still and prepared.
They couldn’t attempt to breach the tunnels until Master Porthos and the mages began their attack on the front walls. It would be then that Zulu and his people would have the best chance of entering the tunnels unopposed, or at least with less resistance.
Lance found himself between a man and a woman tribal Drakaran, their red eyes staring ahead, fixated on the walls, searching for any sudden movement. Lance realized that without their force of mages, if the Drakaran sent out more wyverns or mystics, Lance would be hard-pressed to defend against them by himself.
“Do not fear,” he woman tribal Drakaran whispered to him. “Things will be tough soon, but no good change comes without difficulty.”
Lance knew she said something only because he was displaying a look of worry and fear. It was hard not to with giant, black walls towering into the sky, a veritable city full of warriors, mystics and foul creatures waiting to tear them apart. They would have to face Commander Voltross again who was extremely powerful. If that wasn’t bad enough, they had to do all of this before reinforcements came and crushed them all from behind.
Minutes that felt like hours went by, the swaying grass and occasional shifting of bodies the only sound across the field. Then a loud crash sounded in the distance, followed by a continuous explosion of sounds as Master Porthos and the mages bombarded the walls with their combined powers.
“Now, Lance,” Chieftain Zulu instructed. Lance turned to see the Chieftain staring at him. Lance hadn’t even heard the Drakaran crawl up to him.
Lance held his hand over the ground and concentrated. The type of spell was similar to what the mages used to dig the mass grave earlier, only then there was a half dozen of them that focused their powers. Lance had only himself to rely on. He also knew that he had to conserve his energy for the fights to come.
The soil was surprisingly dense, layer upon layer of packed earth accumulating over time. Slowly but surely the soil began to melt and the remainder eventually fell into the waiting tunnels below. Being quiet wasn’t necessary as Master Porthos and the others were making enough noise to mask a herd of elephants.
The tribal Drakaran and Lance held onto the edges and lowered themselves into a wide and well-built tunnel made of some type of stone. It was a testament to its structural engineering that it was still in near pristine condition after so long being buried beneath layers of soil.
The network of tunnels all headed in one direction, the ones off to the side considerably narrower. They took the larger of the tunnels, its direction heading straight for the center of the city where the castle stood.
Lance lit the way as much as possible with fire magic, although with so many tribal Drakaran well behind him in line, the ones toward the back would be walking in the dark, following only their senses and the noise of their comrades in front of them. Occasionally a tribal Drakaran would drag their spear across the stone by accident and the screeching noise made all eyes turn towards it. Lance could feel the anticipation for battle around him, the sense that at any moment, a chaotic battle would ensue.
* * *
Commander Voltross stood on the ramparts of the castle, staring down toward the commotion at the front walls. He couldn’t just have his armies wait inside the safety of the walls forever. Eventually they would break in. He gave the symbol to send two full battalions out to meet the attackers. The gates would then be quickly closed. All they had to do was pick at their numbers and stall until hordes of reinforcements arrived.
Once this human army was defeated, they would have little resistance on their home planet. However, as soon as Commander Voltross gave the order, he felt something was wrong. His instincts were usually right. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something bad about to happen.
Voltross closed his eyes and swept his hands through the air, focusing on the energy around him. Something dangerous and strong was beneath him. But that was impossible. He turned to a messenger and commanded him to ensure enough troops were present inside the castle in addition to the ones already along the outer walls. Whatever was coming toward him would be met by Drakaran fury when it arrived.
“Commander Voltross,” a familiar voice said from behind him. Voltross turned around to see council member Sareth standing there.
“Council member Sareth,” Voltross acknowledged.
“My informants tell me the human mages are attempting to break through the walls,” Sareth said. “Do not let them inside the city.”
“I will not,” Voltross replied, doing his best to hide his anger.
“The council will wait in the throne room while you deal with this. Do not fail us,” Sareth warned as he hastily departed.
Commander Voltross nodded. The council weaklings were a disgrace to Drakaran, hiding behind their high walls while ordering others to do the fighting for them. If he was allowed to, Voltross would be outside fighting the human scum with his people. The council only ordered things they themselves had not the st
rength or courage to complete on their own.
Voltross chuckled at the thought of the mighty Drakaran council huddling together inside a corner of the throne room. If only the citizens could see the “feared” council now. It was only through this imaginary fear that the people did not rise up and crush the council. The hundreds of thousands of citizens could easily overwhelm the army and the council if they got over their fear and organized properly. It was a dangerous, delicate balance that could easily tip with this recent war. Even the distraction of the arena and the constant show of force would not be enough to quell an uprising if it happened.
A sudden, loud sound came from below. Commander Voltross instantly turned to another messenger at his side. “Call as many troops inside the castle as you can. Now!”
He ran out of the room, across the hallway, and down a flight of stairs. A faint green glow surrounded his body as his anger and blood boiled in anticipation of a fight. He made it down the stairs and hid behind a support column.
There, he spotted hundreds and then thousands of tribal Drakaran climb out of a hole in the ground and into the massive storage areas beneath the castle.
His own reinforcements arrived, hundreds of Drakaran warriors slamming into the intruders. The battle was fierce and chaotic. In the midst of all of it, Commander Voltross spotted the crippled human, making his way around the fighting and toward a flight of stairs.
Voltross moved to stop him, but then a sinister, convenient thought occurred to him. If he let the crippled go past, the human would be strong enough to reach the throne room and kill the council, thereby ridding himself of one problem. He smirked as he let Lance go, turning his attention toward the battle in front of him.
* * *
Master Porthos and the combined might of the mages from multiple kingdoms put all of their effort into breaking a hole in the wall. The material was dense and had an uncanny ability, just like the obsidian armored Drakaran, to resist and reflect some of the magic. There was some progress made, but it was slow and barely noticeable.
Meanwhile, the mages were pelted with obsidian-tipped arrows and heavy rocks launched their way. General Kirn’s knights did a fantastic job of providing cover with shields, but every so often an arrow would slip through.
General Kirn stood ready, those men not protecting the mages staying in battle formation in case the enemy charged from the gates. He hoped Chieftain Zulu and his people were able to find the tunnels and make their way inside. It appeared that the loud noise of attempting to break through the front wall was drawing most of the attention of the Drakaran troops within the city.
Just as a large chunk of the obsidian wall fell and crashed to the ground below, the front gates opened just long enough to let over a thousand warriors through, closing shut behind them. General Kirn wasn’t surprised by the maneuver. It was only a matter of time before they brought the fight to them. The Drakaran wouldn’t just sit there while their enemies blasted through their city walls. General Kirn would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed.
“Get ready! Hold the lines!” General Kirn bellowed, gripping his mighty broadsword with both hands. As formidable an opponent he knew he looked, the Drakaran were a fierce and strong people. He only hoped that Lance and the tribal Drakaran could kill the council and end this god forsaken war before reinforcements came.
Several dozen wolf riders were also sent out afterward, beasts that were nightmarishly large. General Kirn glanced at the mages. They were making progress, but Kirn knew it was a useless endeavor. The only reason he had Master Porthos do this was to draw the Drakaran’s attention and give Lance a chance to do what needed to be done. He wasn’t so sure about this prophecy thing, but he had never seen a mage more powerful than the crippled.
“Let’s send these creatures back to hell!” General Kirn yelled. “Master Porthos, ignore the wall. Let’s show these Drakaran our real strength.”
* * *
Chieftain Zulu ducked under a swipe of a sword and lunged forward, his steel-tipped spear digging into the attacker’s joint between his arm and shoulder. He pulled the spear out and kicked the Drakaran warrior out of the way.
The battle was pure and utter chaos. There was no clear advantage as the spears kept the Drakaran at bay for the most part, but Commander Voltross weaved his spells throughout the tribal Drakaran, tripping some in the front and burning others alive. They couldn’t afford to keep losing men. Chieftain Zulu knew what he had to do.
He fought his way past a few of the obsidian armored Drakaran and before long found himself in front of the green glowing Commander. Voltross smirked when he recognized the Chieftain. Voltross drew his blade, ignited it on fire with a flick of his wrist, and came at Zulu.
Chieftain Zulu knew the Commander could attack him with magic, but it would seem that the Commander had some sense of honor remaining even after everything he had a hand in doing to the name of Drakaran. Death by weapon was an honorable way to die.
The fiery sword met with Zulu’s staff and sparks flew into the air. The tribal Drakaran kept their wall of spears up and back away and the Drakaran warriors did the same, providing space for the two respective leaders to battle it out.
The two took a moment to circle each other, judging each other for weaknesses. Chieftain Zulu puffed out his bare chest and pounded it with his fist. His people were watching and they needed a leader. He knew even before he crossed weapons with the Commander that this was a battle he could not win, but if it bought Lance time to kill the council and invigorated his people by a well fought death, then it was worth it. The prophecy would be fulfilled and this was his role in it.
The Commander came again, this time with a series of attacks. Zulu ducked, dodged and parried out of harm’s way, but the Commander was deceptively fast. Whether he was enhancing his speed by magic or pure skill, it mattered not. The point was to last as long as Zulu could manage.
Commander Voltross seemed surprised that the chieftain of the tribal Drakaran was only using defensive measures rather than the usual savagery his people were well known for. If the tribal leader continued to prolong the inevitable, he would have to use magic to end him. His people would view such a long fight as a sign of weakness, and if the council was killed, he would need to maintain his hold over his warriors.
Zulu was fast and skilled, but Voltross was born to kill. Raised in the arenas, promoted to the army when he was only sixteen, he rose in rank quickly. The council quickly took notice and turned them into their powerful pawn. He had never lost a duel, and he didn’t intend to lose now.
Commander Voltross increased the speed and power behind his attacks, forcing the chieftain to work for his life. Their weapons moved in a blur, their swings a true display of skill and battle prowess.
Suddenly Chieftain Zulu lashed out, taking the Commander by surprise and stabbing him in the side. It was a grazing cut, but Voltross made Zulu pay a price for the hit, slashing the Chieftain across the chest and drawing blood. The gash bled a thin layer of dark blood that trickled down the Chieftain’s body. The only sign he had been hit was a barely noticeable grimace and then his face hastily returned to calm. He knew it was the beginning of the end for him, but he would face it like a true warrior.
“It’s time to end this,” Voltross hissed.
Chapter 11
Lance hobbled up the tower steps. His bad leg was aching, practically begging him to stop or at least slow down. But with all of the fighting around him, Lance knew he had little time and so he ignored every signal from his body to rest.
Charlotte, Master Porthos, General Kirn, and Chieftain Zulu were all counting on him to kill the council and Commander Voltross. The faster he did that, the more likelihood of his friends and loved one being alive when this was all over.
Lance was surprised that he was not met with any resistance on his way up. He made it all the way up the stairs without so much as a call for alarm. There was no time to check if this was some sort of trap. Either way he was p
repared to fight and to kill.
The top of the stairs led to a hallway, its walls decorated with odd artifacts and sculptures depicting strange creatures and people Lance did not recognize. A painting of an arena battle involving several men with axes and spears facing off against a bear-like creature hung across a fair sized section of the wall. The painting looked like an accurate representation of the arena from what Lance remembered of it.
He made his way to the end of the hallway, ignoring side rooms with their doors wide open. Inside of those were just tiny rooms, no one inside. The council was near. Lance could feel it. His father’s words echoed inside of his head, giving him strength and direction.
The room at the very end had two guards standing in front of massive wooden doors with gold filigree in the shape of a dragon across its surface.
The two ran forward with weapons drawn at the sight of a human. Lance, already having swallowed a few silver flakes, slammed them into the side wall, knocking over a statue in the process. As the two Drakaran stood up in a daze, Lance ignited their bodies on fire. They took a few steps, their screams muffled as their bodies crumpled to the floor in a heap.
The doors opened and five more charged out. They barely drew their weapons before Lance shot lightning from his fingertips, a separate bolt slamming into each. The lightning penetrated the armor and sent all five flying into the wall with such force that they lay still.
Lance ran into the room to see the council members huddled behind a table, a tall mystic standing beside them.
“Blast it! Where is Commander Voltross?” Council member Sareth yelled. “Take care of this human!”
The mystic took a step forward, removing his hood to reveal his red eyes and pale face, a scar running down the length of his left cheek.
“My pleasure,” the mystic said.
The War Page 5