“I fear nothing!” Warrald snapped.
“But, if you don’t call them off,” I continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “I can’t guarantee that she won’t defend herself. And trust me, you don’t want that.”
To emphasize my words, Arieste snapped out her wings to their full fifty-foot span and let out a roar at the charging men.
Warrald had nearly stumbled backward, and he scrambled to recover his dignity.
“Stand down!” he shouted to the black-armored men.
“General?” asked a man with two white stripes on his shoulder. I guessed he was a captain or ranking officer of some sort.
“Stand down,” Warrald repeated. “The dragon is--”
“The dragon is an ally,” I told them. To illustrate my point, I climbed up onto Arieste’s back and waved cheerily at the men. “We’re here to kick Emroth’s ass for you.”
The men exchanged wide-eyed glances and began whispering among themselves. After a minute of intense scrutiny, the captain that had spoken nodded and turned away from the dragon.
“You heard the General, men,” he snapped. “Back to training!”
Armor clattered as the two hundred men jogged back to the far end of the yard to resume their martial arts drills.
“By the Goddesses!” Danikel breathed as I hopped down from Arieste’s back. “After all this time, how is it possible? How can you wield the power to control dragons as the wizards of old once did?”
I didn’t quite know how to explain that one. They probably had enough to wrap their minds around without trying to understand that I’d been summoned from another world and given magical tattoos with special abilities that were activated by the gemstones that gave dragons their powers.
“It’s a long story,” I said with a shrug. “But one we don’t have time for right now. We’ve got more important things to deal with, like getting rid of Emroth and getting your army to Whitespire to help us fight off Curym and Zaddrith.”
“There is no army,” Danikel said with a shake of his head. “These, and the men holding the wall are all that remain to us.”
“You shouldn’t be speaking such things aloud,” Warrald said as his face deepened into a scowl. “Windwall is not defenseless.”
“The Blackguards hold the wall, true,” Danikel told the Military Councilor with a nod of his head, “but after our last defeat, we lack the manpower to send anyone anywhere.”
My heart sank. I’d come all this way not only to deal with Emroth but to bring much-needed help for Whitespire. But if Windwall had no men to spare, we were in serious trouble.
“What happened to the army?” I asked.
Warrald’s spine went rigid and his expression became blank as the stone walls.
“Emroth happened,” People’s Councilor Danikel said with a sad sigh. “The dragon is far craftier than the rest of its kind. It hides from our sight, sending its minions in endless droves to attack our walls. Some of us--” he shot a sidelong glance at the Military Councilor, “advised the king that it was better to hunt Emroth down in its lair, despite counsel to the contrary. And now, our armies lie dead in the rocky canyons which the black dragon calls home and our king is missing. We have enough men to hold the walls, but we are fighting a defensive battle.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you have me now.” I gave him my most charming grin. “Like I said, I’m here to kick Emroth’s ass for you. And I’ve brought along my secret weapons.”
“Weapons?” Danikel emphasized the plural as he glanced up at Arieste, then his eyes went wide. He whirled around to stare at Irenya. “You have two dragons?”
“Damn right I do,” I said.
My grin widened as I caught Warrald’s eyes going wide, and the Military Councilor took a step back from the red-haired woman. The thin-lipped Enton seemed too stunned to do more than gape, and the pudgy Commerce Councilor was too heavy to move.
“So,” I told them with a confident grin, “if you can just point me in the direction of Emroth, I can get on with my business.”
“That might prove more difficult than you think.” Danikel spoke in a quiet voice and his expression turned grave. “We have yet to lay eyes on the dragon.”
“Say what now?” The words burst from my mouth before I could stop them.
“Emroth is, well, invisible,” Warrald said with a sour expression.
“Not invisible,” Irenya put in. “Camouflaged.”
All eyes went to the red-haired woman. She seemed to welcome the attention, and she drew herself up to all five and a half feet of her full height as she continued.
“Emroth’s ability is unique even among dragons,” she said. “When she was first created centuries ago, she was smaller than the rest of us. Her scales are thinner and weaker, her wings too small for her to fly. But her magic enables her to blend in with her surroundings.”
I had a mental image of the active camouflage technology worn by the Predator from those old sci-fi action movies, but no one here would get the reference.
“Like a gecko?” I asked instead.
“I do not know what a gecko is,” Irenya said in an irritated tone, “but I know that Emroth can adapt the color of her scales according to her surroundings. Down in the canyons, she is as invisible in broad daylight as in the darkest night. She uses that ability to her advantage. She stalks her prey, hiding until she can pounce from behind and bring them down. It is the reason why I only went to war with her once.”
My eyes widened at her words. The people of Whitespire had been so terrified of Riamod, and even Arieste had shown fear of the fire dragon. Yet to hear that the black dragon Emroth made Riamod hesitate sent a hint of nervousness thrumming through me.
“You went to war with Emroth?” Danikel seemed to be struggling to absorb the information Irenya rattled off so casually.
Warrald’s hand hadn’t left his sword, and he stared at the red-haired woman beside me with a healthy dose of suspicion and fear, and even the pudgy Councilor of Commerce had abandoned his bottle to listen to Irenya speak.
“Yes,” Irenya said in the same casual tone. “She was encroaching on my territory, and her minions were wreaking havoc among the fire goblin tribes along her borders. Eventually, I’d had enough, so I went after her. I turned thousands of her ghoulins to ash, but I never saw her. She was too cowardly to face me.”
“I suppose that explains why our forefathers built Windwall’s defenses as they did,” Danikel said with a pensive expression. “They were meant to keep Emroth and her minions penned down in the canyons.”
“Precisely.” Irenya nodded, and her red curls waved. “Emroth would never climb up onto the cliffs where she would be visible against the skyline. Her scales only adapt to the land around her, but she cannot mimic the sky overhead. Thus, she stays below and out of sight.”
“Sending her minions to attack us in endless waves,” Danikel said with a sigh, and his expression grew sad. “For centuries, her ghoulins have plagued our walls and forced us to expend all our resources on defense. Too many of our young men and women have died defending the Windwall against Emroth’s creatures. If there were a chance to put an end to Emroth, I would welcome it, no matter what form it comes in.” He cast a pointed glance up at Arieste.
“We’re going to do whatever we can to get rid of Emroth,” I told him. “On this, you have my word as Sir Ethan Dragonrider.”
His eyebrows rose. “Dragonrider?”
“How else do you think I got to Windwall from Whitespire in just one morning?” I said with a grin.
“So, it was you that my men fired at?” Warrald asked as if finding his voice for the first time. “I thought they were delusional when they spoke of a white dragon. Frosdar…” He swallowed as he looked at the huge dragon behind me. “… has never ventured this far northeast.”
“I had no need,” Arieste growled in a booming dragon voice. “My land had all I required.”
“And,” Irenya added with a wicked grin, “she knew better tha
n to piss off Riamod.”
An angry rumble echoed from Arieste’s throat, and her pale blue eyes glared daggers at the shorter red-haired woman. I didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know Arieste was dangerously close to sinking her fangs into Irenya’s skin.
“Arieste, time to return to human form,” I told her quickly. The last thing I needed was my two dragons fighting each other when we had bigger problems to deal with.
Arieste hesitated and her eyes locked on Irenya. The red-haired woman’s smile hadn’t wavered, and there was strength in her posture as she stared down the huge dragon in front of her. The two were locked in a battle of wills, and I had no desire to find out who would win.
“Arieste!” I said in a commanding tone.
With a low growl at Irenya, Arieste turned her dragon head toward me and lowered it so I could touch the gemstone in her forehead. Icy needles stabbed into the tattoo on my left bicep as I pulled the magic out of Arieste’s dragon body and back into myself. When I opened my eyes, I found a fully human Arieste standing in front of me.
She stood straight and held her head high despite her lack of clothing. I handed Arieste her white dress, and then I turned to the Council of Four. Surprise and awe etched their faces, but Warrald’s expression was tinged with that same mistrust. The four councilors turned and began speaking in quiet voices amongst each other.
At that moment, the sound of a massive horn split the air of the training yard. A single blast echoed across the city, followed by two more in quick succession.
In an instant, Warrald broke free of the cluster of Councilors and rushed toward the Windwall at the far side of the training yard.
“Goddesses have mercy!” breathed Danikel. He touched the three middle fingers of his right hand to his forehead and his heart, similar to the way religious people back home crossed themselves.
“What’s going on?” asked Arieste, who had dressed and rejoined us.
“The ghoulins,” said the People’s Councilor. His face had gone ashen. “They’re about to scale the wall!”
I sprinted after Warrald and followed him toward a staircase set into the rear of the Windwall. The stairs rose for two stories, then let onto a broad flat platform that was twenty yards wide and fifty long. Five men with white stripes on the shoulders of their armor saluted as the Military Councilor arrived, but Warrald ignored them to race across the platform and peer out over the edge of the Windwall.
“Goddesses,” he growled and made the same sign Danikel had.
“They’re coming hard, sir,” said one of the captains behind him.
“Any estimation of their numbers?” Warrald asked without taking his eyes from the scene below.
“Ten, eleven thousand, I’d say,” replied the same captain.
I couldn’t help a momentary twinge of fear as I joined Warrald at the edge of the Windwall. There was a waist-high stone railing, but my head spun as I looked down. The vertical drop below was at least three hundred yards. If I fell, I’d fall for a long, long time.
But I wouldn’t hit the rocky ground, not right now. Instead, I’d crash atop the thousands of ghoulin forms surging up the wall.
The ghoulins weren’t climbing the wall but were literally piling up atop each other to make a horrifying pyramid of sagging flesh, exposed bone, and razor-sharp teeth and claws. The entire floor of the canyon was covered with the creatures. They surged toward the base of the Windwall as if driven by cracking whips. There had to be two or three times as many as there had been earlier when we’d flown over them. Oddly enough, none of them were trying to climb the cliffs. It was as if Emroth’s will hurled them directly at the Windwall like a tidal wave of death.
I scanned the canyon floor but could see no sign of the dragon. No wonder the army of Windwall hadn’t been able to find her. If she could somehow hide from my magical senses, how could their physical eyes be any more effective?
The horns sounded again, and I felt the fear of the men around me like a low hum through the ground. They could see the pyramid of ghoulins growing taller, and could hear the gurgling cries getting louder. No one had to tell them what would happen if the ghoulins got over the wall.
A new horn sounded, higher in pitch and echoing with a strong note of determination. I heard the rumbling of metal on stone and saw two huge holes appearing in the wall far below me. Black oil oozed from those holes and dripped down toward the climbing ghoulins, and the creatures’ grunts grew more frenzied as the thick liquid stuck to them. The high-pitched horn blew again, and two smaller holes opened just above the first two. Then black-armored guards dropped flaming balls of pitch atop the climbing ghoulins.
The fiery pitch splashed onto the creatures, then a pillar of orange burst outward as the flames caught the dark oil. The stink of charred flesh billowed up toward me on the columns of grey smoke rising from the burning bodies. The ghoulins screamed and cried out, and the pyramid of bodies collapsed.
I heard a little gasp beside me and turned to see Arieste looking down at the scene of destruction. Her face was paler than usual, her lip curled up in disdain. “We have to do something to help,” she told me.
“I want to, but I won’t risk you getting hit by one of those bolts.” I pointed at the ballista which was keeping up a steady rate of fire. I turned and addressed the Military Councilor. “But if your men will hold their fire, my dragon and I can--”
“We can handle ourselves, Dragonrider,” said Warrald, and there was a note of scorn in his voice. “The army of Windwall, my army, has withstood Emroth’s minions for centuries. Do not think your arrival suddenly means that our city is in need of your assistance.”
“In King Astralon’s message, he said--”
“I know what Danikel and Enton put in that message,” Warrald snapped. “They know nothing about holding the Windwall. With the nearly three thousand Blackguards remaining in the city, we are more than capable of holding strong. We are not in danger of being overrun, despite what those men may say.”
I gritted my teeth and fought hard to suppress the urge to punch his smug face.
“Come to think of it, it might be best if you went inside,” Warrald said. “I will not have you at risk.” His tone and the sneer on his face told me just how much he cared about my safety.
I was about to retort, but my heart stopped as I saw one of the piles of ghoulins untouched by fire. The flaming balls had to have missed the oil, and a huge mound of monsters was climbing right toward one of the openings in the wall.
They would reach it in seconds and the Windwall would be breached.
Chapter Four
The men on the wall below had seconds before the ghoulins reached the opening and attacked them. The monsters’ gurgling growls grew louder as the first of the shambling, corpse-like figures clambered onto the opening.
Fuck that. No way I was going to let that happen.
I reached into the well of fire magic within me and tapped into the power. Magma surged into my veins with the force of a blazing river, and I pulled it from deep inside my body, through my arms, and toward my hand. In the space of a single heartbeat, I had enough magic to send a twenty-foot pillar of fire like I’d done from Arieste’s back.
But forty feet was nowhere near enough to reach the monsters two hundred feet below me. Instead of hurling a giant pillar of flame, I poured the magic from my fingers in a long stream straight downward. I kept pushing the thread of flame farther while using every shred of power I could summon to keep it from blowing out in the shrieking wind.
I had to get that tiny tongue of fire to the ghoulins, or a lot of people were going to die.
The creature at the top of the pile burst into flame, and the ghoulin shrieked and cried out as its claws still gripped the edge of the opening into the Windwall. Even as the stream of magic ran out, the fire caught on the thick oil the Blackguard dumped onto the ghoulins. The entire pyramid of horrific bodies was engulfed in searing flames and collapsed into a mass of writhing, screaming monsters.
“Yes!” I shouted and pumped my fist in the air. “That’s how you kick monster ass!”
The Blackguards around me seemed stunned, but one look at their grim expressions made it clear the assault had just begun.
“You’re welcome for saving your ass,” I said to Warrald.
Warrald snorted, and his spine went rigid as if someone had shoved a stick way too far up his rear. “We can manage the defenses of Windwall as we have for centuries without your help.”
I ignored his scowl, and I turned back to watch the battle with the ghoulins.
“Throw him over the wall!” Nyvea insisted. “No one treats you that way, hero.”
“That wouldn’t be very heroic of me,” I told Nyvea in my mind.
“Everyone will thank you for it. The man needs an attitude readjustment at the least.”
“You’re not wrong there,” I thought with a grin.
“Sound for the archers!” Warrald shouted. A moment later, a second horn blew, and an entire section of the Windwall rumbled open about a hundred feet beneath where I stood. I saw a forest of steel-tipped arrows poke from the opening as the archers took aim, and the shafts let out a piercing whistle as they sped down the wall at the ghoulins, and the creatures that had scuttled backward to evade the burning bodies were scythed down by the arrows.
Again and again the archers loosed, and more ghoulins fell with every volley. Yet a hundred archers could only make a small dent in the overwhelming number of creatures. Fewer than one in every fifteen fell to the flames and arrows.
And I imagined that the army of Windwall didn’t have unlimited arrows.
“They’re regrouping, sir,” one of the captains cried.
“I can see that,” Warrald snapped. “Get the boulders ready.”
A third horn sounded like a military bugle. This time, the openings in the Windwall were taller than wide, and with metal rims. I heard a great rumbling like thunder, then a dozen enormous boulders slid out of the holes like laundry thrown down a chute. Stones that had to weigh easily two or three tons plummeted toward the mass of ghoulins. A few cried out and managed to retreat, but most simply died beneath the crushing weight. I counted nearly fifty boulders before the last stone fell and the holes in the Windwall closed.
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