Dragon with a Deadly Weapon

by Michael Angel

  Archers began shooting from the wall at almost point-blank range, but everything simply bounced off. The dragon ignored them as he poked his massive talons through the metal grating. With a wrench, Sirrahon yanked the latticed grill free of its housing. The dragon tossed it across the fields to land in the mud.

  Lord Ivor knelt before the King, his already pale face had gone corpse-white. His voice had a tone I’d never heard before. One of utter defeat.

  “My liege,” he said, “Behnaz and I swore fealty to you the last time we fought a dragon. We stood at your side at the Oxine. We are loyal to your cause. But now, we must withdraw.”

  Fitzwilliam scowled. “Are you saying that you shall not fight here?”

  Lord Behnaz joined Ivor. “We are saying that we cannot fight here, Sire! We can only die here, for no good reason!”

  Yervan added his voice next. “Sire, under my oath of loyalty to the crown, I am allowed to physically remove you from the palace if I believe that you are at immanent risk of assassination or suicide. And this is suicide, your Majesty!”

  Set about on all sides, King Fitzwilliam looked to me. His eyes practically pleaded with me for support.

  But I didn’t see any alternative to what I had to say.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “Sire, we need to find another way,” I said simply. “In this place and time, there is no hope.”

  Fitzwilliam cursed. Reaching up, he grabbed his crown and threw it to the floor. The golden circlet clanged as it hit the flagstone, as if it were in pain. None of us could meet his eyes as he spoke again.

  “Damn you all! We shall withdraw for the nonce!” He cursed, and then rattled off a set of orders. “Commander Yervan, see to it that everyone is evacuated safely from the palace. Lord Ivor, I charge you with the rear guard. Gather what forces you can and protect the roads towards the southern city gates, should the dragon follow us.

  “Lord Behnaz, you’re in charge of the rally point to the south of the city. Set up a perimeter around the tournament grounds. We’ll make our counter-attack from there. Dame Chrissie, you fought that thing out there before. Perhaps you did not win, but you drove it off. Your mind is different than any Andeluvian’s. Find a way for us to triumph.”

  My liege lord’s voice caught for a moment. That moment was so quick, that I could have just imagined it.

  “And if possible,” the King said, “I charge you with…not killing yourself while doing it.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I promised, and Fitzwilliam strode off with his lords in tow.

  The crack of mortared stone came from outside. Liam, Shaw and I turned back to the window, watching as Sirrahon pushed his body halfway through the North Gate. The dragon simply arched his back and drove his spinal plates into the gateway’s underside. The rock there shattered with a deep-throated rumble.

  Sirrahon shrugged his shoulders and shook his way free, leaving a massive hole in the wall where the gate had once stood. The last of the arrow fire ceased as the archers were either buried under debris or sent running for their lives.

  “Fie!” Shaw cried in frustration. “Mine own wishes are to leap upon that thing and tear it to bits!”

  “Not without the King’s leave,” I insisted. “Or mine. Put a leash on that aggression, it’ll get you killed for no good reason.”

  “A nobler death there cannot be,” he insisted. “At the hands of the mightiest dragon, at that!”

  “Dayna is right,” Liam said. “Only fey magic can combat demonic magic effectively. If a sacrifice is needed, I’m the one who must make it.”

  My eyes went wide at the fayleene’s words.

  It figures, I thought. Whatever Shaw had was apparently contagious.

  “Both of you, stop it!” I said firmly. “Remember what Master Seer Zenos said: Any who stand in its defense before the fall of night shall perish. None of us is going up against that thing right now.”

  Suddenly, a robin’s egg colored blur pattered up to me. Percival held one hand to his head to keep his bright red feathered hat in place as he spoke in a series of gasps.

  “Dame Chrissie! King’s orders…must evacuate…”

  “We know,” I said quickly. “Come on, breathe. We’re going, but I need to check on my friends–”

  The little blond page brightened. “Then I have good news! The Court Wizard picked up Lady Shelly of Richard’s Son and is even now galloping south to the tournament grounds.”

  That made me relax a bit. But just a tiny bit. The ground began to quiver as Sirrahon now stomped his way through the city towards the palace. The dragon’s scaly flanks were wider than the main street, so he tore and smashed through store fronts and cottage walls as he came on, moving faster than a man could run.

  “Dayna, we must leave by other ways than human feet,” Shaw declared, as he crouched before me. “Thou must ride me to safety.”

  “Go on,” Liam urged, “I am fleet enough of foot to get clear in time.”

  “Get going, then!” I urged, and the fayleene Protector disappeared in a clatter of cloven hoofbeats. I turned to Percival. “Come on. We’re getting out of here.”

  The page went wide-eyed as I helped him throw a leg across Grimshaw’s wide back. I followed suit, holding on to the kid’s waist from behind. Once I got situated, I gave my friend a nudge in his furry flanks with my heels.

  “We’re ready,” I said. “Keep in mind you’ve got an extra rider, and there’s no saddle for us, okay?”

  “I shall keep thy warning in mind,” came the reply. The griffin clambered through the wide window and leapt off, spreading his wings as he did so.

  Percival let out a squeak as the ground came rushing up, then gasped as drake’s wings caught the air at the last second. Shaw brought us around in a tight bank, so that we skimmed the southern ramparts just as Sirrahon came pounding up to the northern ones.

  Shaw picked up speed with a few more beats of his wings. I only got a blur of impressions as we passed low over the outer courtyard and then the city’s houses. A flock of owls winged their way from the Parliament building due west towards the closest woodlands. The Albess flew amidst the tightly packed birds, well protected from attack.

  Below, a crush of humanity streamed through the streets in near-panic. Wagons loaded with people poured through the other city gates. We skimmed over a body of armed men in position near the South Gate, and I even caught a glimpse of Lord Ivor’s half-moon sigil.

  The wide, flat grounds where the Spring Tournament had been held was now filled with people. A line of knights diverted civilians to one side, where members of the House of the Hospitalliers were starting to erect shelters and distribute food and water. Beyond the line of knights, Lord Behnaz was busy assembling the cavalry units that came trickling in.

  I spotted Shelly and Galen next to one of the Hospitalliers’ medical tents, tending to casualties as they arrived. Fitzwilliam and Yervan came galloping up to Behnaz, but I lost sight of them as Shaw came in for a landing. The griffin flared his wings as we set down atop a low hillock.

  Percival slid off Shaw’s back, his skinny legs giving way, and he sat down with a thump. The kid appeared to be in shock from the entire experience. I got off myself and looked back at the palace.

  Using his free forelimb and two taloned hindlimbs, Sirrahon clambered up to the palace’s roof. The dragon used his tail to smash the timbers covering the broken skylight atop Fitzwilliam’s throne room. The same one that had been used by the dragon sent by the Noctua.

  Sirrahon paused to let out a bellow of triumph. It was a dreadful thing to hear. His Godzilla-worthy roar shook the air and made grown men fall to their knees in fear.

  With that final humiliation of the humans complete, the dragon shoved his way in through the opening and slithered inside.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Night had finally fallen, but Hell continued to illuminate Fitzwilliam’s palace.

  Sirrahon’s destruction of the city had been limited to the North
Gate and the houses along a single road. Since the King had been convinced to retreat rather than make a standing fight, the palace itself had suffered even less damage. But the dragon was up to something.

  A glow came from deep within the building. The windows of the throne room pulsed with a deep ruby red. Several of the knights manning Fitzwilliam’s perimeter stood askance, refusing to look directly at the light.

  Shelly and Galen remained with the Royal Surgeons and the Hospitalliers for the rest of the day. They treated a few soldiers who’d suffered burns from the dragon’s attack. But most of the injured were townspeople who’d been trampled in the first mad rush to escape the city.

  When Galen returned, shortly after sundown, he informed me that Shelly would remain with the Hospitalliers, doing what she could to help. I also learned that a couple of especially brave Hospitalliers had remained at their House within the city, tending to the patients who couldn’t be moved. That included the already-injured Captain Vandegrift. That was one concern of mine put to bed, at least.

  People continued to stream out of the city throughout the day. They came together into separate encampments just outside the city walls. The more ambitious (or fearful) ones hopped on the backs of wagons bound for the Reaches.

  The ranks of King Fitzwilliam’s camp by the tournament grounds slowly swelled as morning rolled over to afternoon. Soldiers trickled back in to report for duty, while small teams under Commander Yervan’s directions made forays into the city to retrieve supplies or gather armor and weapons.

  One of the first items they brought back was a huge orange and green striped pavilion, which they set up as a temporary headquarters. It had been decorated with glitter and purple fleur-de-lis, which in Andeluvia meant ‘the King is here’. To me, it said ‘the circus is in town’, but no one asked my opinion on the matter.

  Another expedition brought back several wagons loaded with ale barrels from one of the Royal Stores. A third returned with loads of ham requisitioned from a local smokehouse. Both were received with much more joy than the delivery of the pavilion.

  Unfortunately, that ‘joy’ didn’t reach all the way to the noble class. Percival, who’d been pressed into courier duty all day, had breathlessly summoned me at the behest of the King. Upon my arrival, I noticed that the pavilion’s walls had been pulled open and propped up. This allowed the night breeze to keep things cooler for the gathering, as well as to allow more people to attend.

  Someone had found a relatively regal-looking chair for the King to sit upon as he gazed out upon his audience. Whoever found the chair had also found a backup crown for him to wear, along with a set of royal armor. He nodded to me, acknowledging my presence. I noticed that his walking stick was nowhere to be seen.

  I spotted Lords Behnaz, Ivor, and two or three other noblemen in attendance. The Lord of the Pursuivant, Commander Yervan, and a smattering of knights also remained where they could listen in. Sir Quinton and Sir Exton were among them. Exton’s armor looked battered and scorched, but the two men bowed to me as I arrived. A hush fell over the room as Fitzwilliam raised his hand for silence.

  “We have received some promising news,” the King began. “Three companies of armored cavalry and two more of archers shall be joining us upon the field in the early hours of the morning. And there are allies on the way as well.”

  That sent a wave of murmurs through the assembled men.

  “While the griffins have refused our request for aid, the Hoohan have already sent in owls to scout the environs. They tell me that Sirrahon has remained within the confines of the throne room.”

  “That’s all very well and good,” one of the knights said skeptically. “But those birds aren’t much in a straight-up fight.”

  In answer, Commander Yervan pointed to the scar upon his cheek. “Speak for yourself, Sir Talish. You were not in the throne room when the Noctua attacked us.”

  “There is more,” Fitzwilliam said. “King Magnus of the Centaur Realm has emptied the halls of Bloodwine Holt on our behalf. Sixty centaur warriors shall arrive in a few hours, led by his niece, the First Hunter of the Holt.”

  A second wave of murmurs were cut short as Sir Exton spoke up. “That is excellent news, Sire! I have fought alongside the First Hunter against the feral wyverns. She is a most formidable warrior, as are the rest of her kind. They shall be critical in our plans.”

  “Your Majesty,” the Lord of the Pursuivant gulped, “might we know what those plans are?”

  Fitzwilliam gave him a look as if the gangly, garishly dressed man had misunderstood the obvious.

  “Why, to attack at dawn, of course!”

  Another wave of murmurs. These sounded uncertain. I even heard the word ‘madness’ bandied about.

  Fitzwilliam’s eyes blazed. His armored fist came down on the arm of his chair with a dull thud. He slowly rose to his feet as he harangued the assembled men.

  “Are your hearts so faint?” he demanded. “Do my knights and lords have all their mettle bred out? Do you not understand what is at stake here?”

  “Your Majesty,” Lord Ivor said, “we understand that we face a monster of immeasurable power.”

  “And that we face our own mortality,” Lord Behnaz added.

  The King made a sweep of one hand, dismissing both men’s words.

  “Your lives may be dear, but your word, your loyalty, and your station are worth more. Without a palace, I do not rule the Capitol. Without the Capitol, I do not rule a country.” Fitzwilliam’s voice rose and swelled with righteous anger as he went on. “If you leave your King without a country, then everything by which our fellow men, women, and children look to us to protect is gone. Only a coward, one unworthy of the title of ‘knight’ or ‘lord’ shall leave us now. We shall win on the morrow, or we shall perish!”

  With that, the King turned and strode off into the night.

  Around me, the assembled men looked, to my eyes, resigned to their fate. A couple stared off into the distance. Several laughed grimly and went off to find one of the liberated ale barrels.

  But no one backed out.

  I returned to the little knoll that Shaw had managed to appropriate, mostly by growling at any knights that sought to pitch a tent nearby. However, someone must have been brave enough to get close enough to the drake, as he was busy gnawing at one of the appropriated hams from the supply wagons.

  Galen and Liam lay nearby on the cool grass, each with their legs folded up neatly underneath their bodies. Liam watched intently as his friend held up a familiar looking oak-leaf pendant. The inlays glowed bright enough to read by. Galen spoke under his breath as he snuffed out the glow with a touch from his palm.

  “Ah, there you are,” Liam said to me, once the process was complete. “The Court Wizard just finished wiping a spell clean from the pendant.”

  “Specifically, it was the spell that would notify us of the presence of a crystal from the Heart of the Mother,” Galen added, as he tucked the item away in a pocket. “It kept going off, alerting us to a fact we already know – that Sirrahon brought the huge ruby crystal along with him. However, I might be able to use the large amount of fey energy stored inside for other tasks in the future.”

  “Speaking of the future,” I said, as I sat down on the turf next to them, “I have news from King Fitzwilliam.”

  I explained the King’s expectations for the morning. Shaw looked as thoughtful as he could, given that he was busy gnawing on a ham bone, while Liam seemed more disgusted than anything else. Galen rubbed his hands together, a move I’d seen him make when deeply troubled.

  “There is no alternative, then,” Liam sighed. “Whether tomorrow results in a loss or a win, many men and centaurs will perish.”

  “Perhaps even my own sister,” Galen said dolefully. “We are all bound. The lords and knights to their King. Magnus’ pledge to assist Fitzwilliam. My sister’s bond to my uncle. We are locked into the doom that Master Seer Zenos predicted for all of us.”

  I turned aw
ay for a moment and looked up into the night sky. The stars glinted back down at me, unflinching and ageless and utterly unaffected by events on this world.

  Nothing out there was going to change the ending of this story.

  Except, perhaps, one single thing.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Nothing out there was going to change the ending of this story.

  But maybe, just maybe…someone like me could change it.

  My mind went to Thea’s words. It may be why you are a Hero in the first place. The person who can bend or break whatever fate lies in store.

  That was what my power in this world boiled down to, wasn’t it?

  The simple, gut-level determination that stood fast and declared: This is not how my story will end.

  “There is an alternative,” I said, and Shaw stopped gnawing on his leftovers to listen. “We’re going to take Sirrahon out tonight. Before Fitzwilliam can make a foolhardy attack at dawn and slaughter both man and centaur.”

  Shaw pounded the grass with one massive forepaw.

  “Finally, thou hast come to understand the need to perish gloriously!” The drake enthusiastically nudged Liam’s side. “See? I told thee that Dayna would come around in her own good time!”

  “I’m not talking about just ‘perishing gloriously’,” I said. “Instead, I’m thinking that we have to make the best of our three advantages before the sun rises. And plan around them.”

  “What advantages might there be?” Liam asked plaintively. “I just don’t see any.”

  I began ticking them off on my fingers. “First, Sirrahon thinks he’s won. That makes him arrogant. He’s allowed an enemy army to camp out, practically on his doorstep. Second, he’s not going anywhere. Albess Thea’s scouts say that he hasn’t moved from the throne room.”

  Galen considered my words. “I would speculate that this means he has not pinpointed the location of the eggs sensed by Queen Nagura. Or at the very least, he has not found a way to reach them.”