D& D - Mystara 03 Dragonmage of Mystara

by Thorarinn Gunnarsson

  Hardly an hour later, the invasion of the Highlands was launched. The main gate of the fortress flung open, and armies began to march out to war, joining with the additional forces that had already filed through the old worldgate. They followed the forest road west toward Braastar, a ready-made path of invasion. When the Flaem had first come into this world, the Masters had intended for them to establish their greatest city near the gate, so that the Masters could move quickly to seize control when they finally launched their invasion. Later, the Flaem had been permitted to move their capital to Braejr to protect the secret of the Radiance, which had been in danger of discovery by the elves. The Masters had never anticipated that Braejr and the Radiance would fall into the hands of their most powerful and determined enemies, but that was only a minor inconvenience. They had tried to find answers to all problems.

  Now the Masters began their second invasion, one that was not waged with swords or arrows or even the terrible natural weapons of dragonkind, but with magic. The Flaem had been their slaves in the past, and there remained embedded in their minds an instinct for obedience, the same instinct that the Masters employed to control all the races and strange creatures that were enslaved to their will. Now they invoked that same magic to a far higher degree than usual, to awaken the instinct for obedience in the Flaem and summon the lost flock back into the Masters' fold.

  The army that marched toward Braastar did not expect to fight for possession of the city. The Flaem would most likely freely open their city to the invaders, or at least be too distracted lighting for control of their own minds to defend themselves. By nightfall, it would be too late for the dragons to attempt to regain the city in battle. And as the Masters gained new strength, they would extend their control to other parts of the Highlands. In time, the people of Braejr would help to expel the dragons from their own city. Once the Masters had control of the Radiance, they would command all the power needed to launch armies that would subdue the entire world. Even the

  dragons would be powerless to stop them.

  *****

  Seldaek hurried back to Braejr to report to the Dragonking, telling Thelvyn of the mysterious fortress and the gathering army that he had seen to the east of Braastar. Thelvyn sat in silence for a long moment, deep in thought. The young cleric waited patiently, sorry that he could not have made a clearer report of what he had seen. Kharendaen sat up on her haunches nearby in the yard of Solveig's house, listening attentively, with Sir George at her side. Solveig had already none inside the house to find Taeryn and have him hurry to the Academy to summon Alessa Vyledaar. When she hurried back out to the court, Thelvyn roused from his private thoughts to watch her.

  "I don't suppose there can be any question," he said at last. "When great fortresses suddenly appear out of nowhere, we can guess easily where they came from. Its location must be near the old worldgate near Braastar. And from the description, I suspect that I visited this same fortress not long ago."

  "Inventive devils, aren't they?" Sir George commented.

  "Despite the fact that I anticipated the Masters would strike here next, they were still able to surprise me," Thelvyn complained. He glanced over at Seldaek. "How many dragons are in the Highlands at this rime?"

  The young dragon could only shake his head. "Only those who came to serve as couriers for the delegates of the Grand Alliance. Ten or eleven, perhaps, not counting the three of us."

  "Not enough," Thelvyn said bitterly, considering his limited options. "We have to send messengers at once to Rockhome,

  Darmouk, and Windreach, which are the only places where we have concentrated forces of dragons at this time. Each is to send one third of its total strength here at once, especially the most powerful of the dragon sorcerers. The rest must continue with our plans for establishing garrisons. If we divert too much of our strength here, they'll simply attack somewhere else."

  Kharendaen frowned. "You apparently guessed correctly on one account. We must have a traitor somewhere in our company. You announced only two days ago that you would expect an invasion here and that you would be bringing in a large force of dragons."

  "And now I have fallen in a trap of my own making," Thelvyn said, frowning. "I baited the Masters into invading the Highlands, but I never expected that they could move so quickly after we repulsed their attack on Rockhome. The dragons I planned to have ready to defend the Highlands are still in the east."

  "Does it make any difference?" Sir George asked. "Just because the Masters are here doesn't mean that they're ready to attack. Are they going to be ready to fight before an army of dragons can get here?"

  Thelvyn considered that and shook his head slowly. "I have no way of knowing that. I just wish we had some idea of the actual numbers of the army the Masters already have at hand. I don't have any way of knowing how long they need to bring through an army of several tens of thousands, such as they had at Rockhome."

  "Do they really need such a large army?" Kharendaen asked. "The Masters must have learned their lesson in Rockhome. They know they cannot hold on to any conquered lands until they have dealt with the Dragonking and the dragons."

  "I haven't forgotten that," he said. "We must be very careful not to place ourselves in any traps they may have set for us. That's made all the more difficult because we have no prior knowledge of the kind of traps they're fond of using."

  "That must be why you want the dragon sorcerers," Sel-daek remarked.

  Thelvyn turned his head to glare at the young cleric. "You have your orders, Seldaek, and every minute counts. I need at

  least five hundred dragons here by this time tomorrow."

  Seldaek hurried across the court to the front gate and leapt over the wall. The young cleric hurried through the streets toward the palace and the lairs of the dragon couriers. He needed to find a couple of recruits to help him carry the Dragonking's summons to different lands.

  Thelvyn turned to his mate. "Is he some relative of yours?"

  Kharendaen lifted her ears in surprise. "Not as far as I know. Dragons don't always keep track of such things. Why do you ask?"

  "He seems to be an eager young pup. I was wondering why he keeps turning up."

  "Because your mature and competent advisors are always needed somewhere else," Sir George pointed out. "Except for myself, of course."

  Thelvyn glanced down at the old knight. "You are going to stay here and help Solveig to beg or bully Alessa Vyledaar into finding some way to put the Radiance to use against the Masters. The Radiance is the best weapon we have to prevent the Masters from taking control of the Flaem, at least until the dragon sorcerers can get here."

  Solveig looked perplexed. "You're not going to be here?"

  He shook his head. "I must gather all the dragons willing to fight with me and go at once to Braastar. Our presence might spell the difference in whether the city can hold out until the dragons arrive."

  "Do you really think you'll stand a chance?" she asked. "There won't be more than ten of you in all."

  "I don't expect to be able to hold out for very long," Thelvyn said. "We might even have to retreat back here before the day is out. Frankly, I don't have much hope for saving Braastar, beyond giving the people there time to escape if they can. My greatest concern right now is that Braejr is not endangered before the dragons can arrive."

  Since Seldaek and two of the dragon couriers had already departed for the east, Thelvyn and Kharendaen gathered together the eight remaining couriers and flew north toward Braastar at once. Thelvyn was fearful of taking Kharendaen into great danger over and over again, remembering that she was a cleric. But the simple fact was that he needed her. She had proven herself to be a fierce fighting dragon as well as a capable leader in her own right.

  Although they found it difficult to speak while flying at high speed, Thelvyn and Kharendaen spent the brief time discussing possible magical or clerical spells that might help isolate the people of Braastar from the influence of the Masters. While there were various ways
to dispel magic at the source, by turning it back onto its source or by shielding potential victims, no conventional spells would be very useful, considering the scale of the attack and the distance from which the Masters could influence their slaves. There was really only one answer. Unless the Great One or possibly some other Immortals were willing to channel their own powers through

  Thelvyn, there wasn't much he could do.

  *****

  In the city of Braastar, matters had long since taken a turn for the worse. The bells of the city had begun to ring early that morning, signaling an attack, and the word quickly went through the streets that an invading army had been spotted several miles to the east. The people of the city began preparing for an attack, sealing the heavy shutters of their windows and quickly filling buckets and barrels with water in anticipation of damage caused by dragonfire. Soldiers strapped on their armor and collected their weapons, hurrying to defend the east wall.

  The first attack came only minutes later, and in a way unlike anything the people of Braastar could have anticipated. Everyone of Flaemish descent became aware of some odd presence forcing itself upon their minds. Most found the sensation vaguely uncomfortable and compelling, speaking to them in a voice that was too soft and distant to understand. But to some, the words were clearer, so that they understood yet could not easily refuse the commands spoken to them by the mysterious voice. Pain grew steadily more intense with each passing minute until some people could no longer resist the voice's will. Others endured the pain, as if they were being

  punished for fighting for the possession of their own minds.

  Even so, there were still many people in Braastar who were willing to try to defend their city. One such defender was Mayor Kervaal. Upon first hearing news of the impending attack, he hurried through the chaos of the streets of his city, desperate to find soldiers to man the east gate. The confusion in the stricken city made it impossible to hail a carriage, and he found it faster to go on foot. The strange voice calling to him inside his mind made it difficult for him to think clearly, but he knew that somehow he had to reach the main garrison and find the captain of the city guard. With any luck, the garrison was already on its way to the east gate, but the mayor had to be certain.

  "Look! It's the mayor!"

  He stopped and turned abruptly toward the caller, thinking that perhaps it was someone who could help who had found him. Then he hesitated, sensing trouble. Several yards away, a young man was staring at him through the confusion in the crowded street. The face was one that the mayor did not recognize, although he could tell from the person's mad stare that he had fallen under the influence of the mysterious voice.

  As the young man stood and pointed like a hound flushing its prey, a couple of his companions turned and stared as well. They, too, had the look of madness about their eyes. Then they slowly began to advance. Mayor Kervaal drew the sword that he had belted on hastily; he doubted his ability to outrun these young pups, so it seemed wisest to stand and fight. The Flaem were not in the habit of wearing heavy weapons such as swords. These three carried nothing more than a couple of knives and a heavy stick that could be used as a club. The mayor had been a soldier in his younger days, although he hadn't used a sword in a real fight in almost two decades.-Still, his past training and the fact that he had a real blade gave him some advantage.

  People began clearing the street, wanting no part of a fight. The mayor realized, with some misgivings, that he was going to be on his own in this encounter. Suddenly one of the young attackers shouted a battle cry and rushed forward, holding his knife out before him. It was a bold but utterly foolish tactic. Kervaal had one tense moment as he feinted to one side and then darted away from his opponent's naive attack, then placed the point of his sword firmly against his attacker's shoulder, just enough to penetrate his skin, to force him to drop his knife. The young man cried out, seemingly more in fury than in pain, but his cry turned to one of astonishment as the people in the crowd swarmed over him and pulled him down now that he was disarmed and wounded.

  Now the remaining pair of attackers began to move in, but with far greater caution after they had witnessed the fate of their companion. They seemed to sense that they were at a disadvantage with only a knife and a small club between them. But the mayor could not count a victory just yet. His long, two-edged sword was not a proper weapon for taking on two widely spaced opponents, and his older muscles did not respond as fast as they would have in former days.

  The young attacker with the knife suddenly lunged at him, and the mayor drew back quickly from the glinting point of the small blade. He responded by raising his sword and driving it directly at the knife-wielder, forcing the young assailant backward so quickly that he almost tripped and fell. The mayor knew he was exposing his back to the man with the club, and he could hear him advancing from behind. But the man to his rear had forgotten that a hostile crowd was behind him; someone tripped him from behind, and he went down. That was just what Kervaal had hoped for. He continued to force the last attacker backward until he finally lost his balance and fell.

  Leaving his attackers to be dealt with by the crowd, Mayor Kervaal sheathed his sword and then stood for a long moment leaning against the wall of a building to catch his breath. In spite of the attack, he was encouraged about one thing. Most of the people of Braastar still retained command of their will, and in spite of the stress of fighting for possession of their own minds, they were still able to defend themselves. He might save his city yet. Suddenly he heard the ring of heavy boots on the cobblestones and turned to see the crowd parting to allow the passage of the city garrison. The soldiers stopped, and the captain of the city guard hurried over to him.

  "Mayor Kervaal, are you all right?" the captain asked.

  "I'm fine," the mayor insisted. "I was just coming to make certain that you were taking the garrison to defend the east gate. Do you have all of your soldiers?"

  "Only those I could find," the captain answered. "Some were too distracted by the voice to be of any use in a fight, and a few have already disappeared. I was hoping the wizards could protect us, but they seem to have fallen victim to this magic as well. What is happening to us, anyway?"

  "It must be the gemstone dragons," the mayor said ruefully. "Come on. We have to secure the east gate and hope we can hold on until the Dragonking can get here."

  The mayor strode along beside the captain of the guard as they led the company of soldiers through the streets. It gave the mayor a chance for a quick assessment of the condition of the city. In spite of the apparent chaos, many people of Braastar were preparing their homes and shops for battle. Windows were tightly shuttered and doors were being locked and boarded; wooden roofs were being drenched with water, and every container that could be found was being filled with water that might be needed to fight fires started by the invaders. The mayor was reminded of the previous summer, when the cities and towns of the Highlands had to be prepared for the possibility of attack by dragons. The irony was that only the dragons could save Braastar now.

  The captain of the guard brought his troops to a halt the moment they came within sight of the east gate, gesturing for his men to remain quiet. A battle was already being fought here; the small gate garrison was quickly being overwhelmed by a crowd of people from the city itself, men of all ages as well as women and even children. Already they had the gate partway open and were attacking the hinges and locks, trying to damage anything they could in at attempt to prevent the gate from being secured. At least for the moment, the gate still seemed to be intact, mostly because this crowd lacked the heavy tools or weapons needed to destroy such massive metal parts.

  "We have to get that gate shut!" the mayor exclaimed. "Whatever it takes, get those people away from there!"

  The captain frowned. "I don't much like the idea of fighting our own people."

  "It can't be helped. We'll lose the entire city otherwise."

  The captain turned to his soldiers and issued several te
rse orders. As one, they drew their swords and lifted their shields, then marched in an ordered line down the street toward the gate, deliberately putting on a bold show in hope of frightening away the attackers. If possible, the captain of the guard wanted to avoid fighting as many of his own people as he could.

  Fortunately the crowd of attackers drew back quickly from the approaching soldiers. Several turned to flee back into the city immediately. While the crowd was most certainly under the command of the gemstone dragons, a number of them still possessed a mind of their own when it came to self-preservation. Some of the attackers, perhaps two dozen in all, tried to make a stand before the open gate, but they were neither armed nor trained to fight real soldiers. The city garrison marched directly into the band trying to hold the gate, scattering them in a matter of moments. Some of the stragglers tried to circle around and harass the garrison from behind, but the soldiers immediately spread out to either side of the gate to begin forcing the remaining attackers to draw back.

  Now that the east gate was once more in the hands of the loyal forces, Mayor Kervaal hurried to check the condition of the gate itself. The attackers had beaten the lower hinges and the crossbar with stones and clubs, but the damage was probably not enough to prevent them from closing and barring the gate. The captain of the guard walked over to the half-open gate, rubbing the back of his neck. They were all feeling the stress of resisting the relentless voice in their minds.

  "The gate seems to be in good shape," he said, turning to a group of soldiers. "Let's get this gate closed and secured."