But Malbeck did not attack in the middle of the night. Scouts saw the advancing army early one morning and within hours the entire city was alert and ready. It was eerie to see that many soldiers on the battlements of the inner and outer wall, silently gazing across the Finarthian plains waiting for the largest and most formidable army they had ever encountered.
They heard it before they saw it. The slow rumble of pounding drums sounded in the distance, echoing the pounding hearts of all those who nervously waited. The cadence of the war drums was soon followed by the rhythmic pounding of marching boots. Then came the roars and howls of sixty thousand monsters all eager for Finarthian blood. A wave of blackness slowly and inexorably crept forward across the grasslands, the green of the meadow disappearing as the mass of black clad warriors, as wide and deep as the eye could see, trampled it under dark muddy boots.
No one on the walls said anything as they took in the sheer size of the advancing army. They easily outnumbered them three to one, and on top of that they had giant siege engines, catapults, ballista, and other machines of war, looming in the distance like beasts of prey.
Then, the loud and unmistakable sound of enormous flapping wings sounded in the distance, followed by the earsplitting roar of a dragon. The great black beast swooped down from the sky, slowing its descent with great heaves of its wings, and landing softly on the ground before the army. This time the dragon carried a rider, perched in a black saddle on its massive back, but they were too far away to make out much detail. Nonetheless, the dragon’s presence had a terrifying effect on the defenders, and the archers on the walls nocked arrows while officers began shouting orders to the men working the catapults and ballista. Large ballista had been placed along the inner and outer wall for defense against the dragon, and rows of catapults lined the killing ground between the first and second wall.
King Baylin stood upon the battlements above the gate on the outer wall looking out at the enemy. Alerion, his court wizard, stood near him holding a wood staff capped with a pearlescent stone the size of a fist. Kromm was also there, along with Commander Kiln, Jonas, Allindrian, and Lor-telliam. Prince Riker, wearing King Ullis’s magnificent armor and carrying Tihr-Allian at his hip, stood next to his father. Addalis, Kromm’s court wizard, had argued to be there with him, but Kromm had ordered him to stay with his queen, Sorana, and he would not budge on the matter.
They were all well outfitted for war and even Lor-telliam had donned a beautifully crafted cuirass of elven scale mail, but their armor and weaponry all paled in comparison to the prince's. His glowing white armor, perfectly polished, was lined with silver that sparkled in the early morning sun. The Finarthian symbol on his cuirass, etched in silver, seemed to glow with some inner light. The young prince looked about as magnificent as a warrior could.
“Do you think that is Malbeck?” King Baylin asked.
“I imagine so,” Kiln replied. “What kind of dragon is that? It looks similar to a black, but it’s not. I’ve never seen the likes.”
“It’s no black. You see the pulsing colors of red and orange along its skin? Blacks don't have those. I’ve read about dragons that have those features, and that breathe a deadly mist, but I was not sure they actually existed. They do not live on this plane and I doubt one has ever been here until now. They are called Demon Dragons or Blood Dragons. They live in the Abyss and they feed on flesh, but it is mainly the blood of their victims that they crave.
“Can it be killed?” Jonas asked softly.
“Anything can be killed, but how is the question,” Lor-telliam answered.
Jonas turned to the Ekahal, dismayed that he could already see the elf beginning to age. His face was losing its characteristic vitality, as dark circles framed his eyes, and wrinkles began to etch their way across his once smooth and flawless skin. It saddened Jonas, but what saddened him even more as he looked upon the massive army advancing before him was that he knew the days to come would be filled with more death and destruction than anyone could possibly imagine. Countless numbers would die, not just the warriors defending the city, but women, children, the old, and the infirm, with no regard to age, gender, or status. Those who managed to survive would not only witness unspeakable atrocities, but would have to live with the knowledge that their own friends and loved ones had suffered and perished, all because of an evil that lusted for power and destruction. It saddened him, but it angered him more.
“Still sticking with the plan?” Kromm asked, looking more at Kiln than anyone.
Kiln nodded. “We need to see what we’re dealing with. Let them exhaust themselves on our walls and face our arrows before we commit to real battle.”
“I agreed with you when you presented the plan and I agree with you now. I’m just concerned about my son. The longer we wait for the confrontation the more stressful it is for him,” Kromm said, repeating what he had said the night before when all the war leaders had met one last time.
“It is necessary,” King Baylin added.
“Father, I am fine,” Riker interjected, “the confrontation will come. Be it today or a week from now, it matters not.” He placed his gauntlet covered hand on his father’s huge shoulder. “This is my destiny.”
The plan that Kiln had devised was to let Malbeck’s army throw everything it had at their walls. They would take advantage of their defensive position to kill as many enemies as they could. Then, when the enemy morale dropped from the horrendous death toll, they would lead an advancing army through the gate and confront Malbeck’s army with various offensive maneuvers followed by organized retreats. Kiln didn’t think that Malbeck would want to wait out a long siege; he was far too arrogant for that. He would attack with full force in an attempt to quickly bring the city to its knees. The hope was to gradually pick off their warriors and to draw Malbeck himself into the fight. Then they would do their best to set up a confrontation that would lead to his destruction. That attempt would, of course, be led by Prince Riker, though no one doubted that the Tarsinian battle king would fight, and die if need be, next to his son.
A loud horn bellowed a warning but no one on the wall needed it. Malbeck’s army was clearly advancing. They could hear the ominous rumble of boots and the low creaking sound of massive siege machines being pulled by rows of giant fur clad ogres.
“Here they come,” Allindrian said, nocking an arrow.
“Ready the oil,” Kiln ordered.
One of the warriors standing behind him lifted a tall pole with a red flag attached to it. The signal was relayed down the wall as more poles and flags were lifted informing the men the entire distance of the wall to ready the oil and prepare the fire arrows. When the army was within striking distance they would be bombarded with a deluge of oil, followed by a barrage of fire arrows shot into their midst. The focus would then be to destroy the siege engines.
“They are readying their catapults,” Jonas said, noticing them scurrying around the big machines. Ogres were loading huge stones onto the baskets and within moments the air was filled with stone projectiles nearly as large as a man.
“And we shall ready ours. Catapults, fire on my order!” Kiln yelled.
This time another flag was raised to signal the loading of the catapults. The battle had begun. The flying stones struck the wall with alarming force, shattering great chunks of it and sending fragments flying through the air. Some stones landed short, thudding harmlessly into the grassy ground in front of the wall. A few, however, flew over the wall landing in the killing ground beyond. Most of the soldiers who were readying the catapults managed to frantically jump out of the way but some were not so lucky. A handful of men were crushed as the projectiles crashed into the ground, bouncing erratically across the field and shattering their bodies as if they were dry twigs.
As Malbeck’s army marched slowly but inexorably closer, it wasn’t long before the defenders could make out the howling creatures themselves. They could see that most were orcs and goblins. Soon, the sound grew from a low rumb
le to the deafening sound of a thousand monsters marching, roaring, and rhythmically smashing their weapons against their shields.
“Archers, prepare to fire!” Kiln yelled. A third flag was hoisted and the signal raced down the wall like a wave, thousands of bows lifting, arrows pulled back at full draw. “Fire!”
The signal to fire was then transferred down the line and officers shouted the order. The sound of thousands of bow strings twanging reverberated in the air as the arrows were released, sending their deadly shafts arching toward the enemy.
“Catapults, fire!” Kiln screamed over the din of battle.
Within seconds, not stones, but hundreds of burning balls of fire, shot over the walls following the trail of descending arrows. These projectiles were thick canvas spheres stuffed with hundreds of iron balls as big around as a child’s fist. The dense canvas had been soaked in oil and made to burn apart in mid-air, freeing the missiles within to fall in a deadly hailstorm upon the enemy. Within seconds, halfway through the air, the flaming canvas broke apart, filling the air with thousands of iron projectiles.
First the arrows slammed into the advancing army. Then, moments later, the iron balls crashed into the enemy, the destructive force of their impact launching orcs and goblins off their feet as the projectiles pulverized flesh and shattered bones, at the same time creating a deafening noise as the balls hammered into their armored bodies. But though hundreds of orcs and goblins fell instantly, still they kept coming.
Both sides continued to sling catapult missiles with deadly effects. As the stones found their marks, sections of the outer wall cracked and pieces of it began to crumble away. Fortunately, not many of the projectiles found human flesh, though the same couldn't be said for Malbeck’s army as hundreds of creatures fell to the deadly assault of arrows and metal projectiles that continued to rain down on them. But despite their losses the massive army continued marching relentlessly forward, trampling over their fallen comrades as if they were nothing more than stones in their path. It wasn’t long before they were too close to the wall for the catapults to be effective, and the defenders had to rely solely on the archers and more powerful ballista.
At this point the officers had ordered the archers to fire at will as the horde of orcs and goblins picked up speed, running towards the wall with frenzied abandon. Most of the defenders concentrated aiming around the siege engines as the huge ogres continued to pull the heavy machines closer to the wall. It would take many arrows to bring down an ogre, and most of the iron balls that had been fired from the catapults were too small as well, so the defenders then turned their ballista towards the lumbering beasts, launching giant spear-like projectiles into the hoard. Many found their marks, punching gruesome holes through the beasts and sending them spinning away to their deaths. But for every one killed, another joined the fray, and the colossal machines moved steadily closer.
Kiln was scanning the enemy along the wall when he saw the Blood Dragon lift off from behind a screen of orcs. The great beast rose slowly, then came at them with increased acceleration.
“Dragon! Ballista at the ready!” Kiln yelled, running towards the closest ballista. The machine was only twenty paces away and by the time he got there the two operators had already loaded the spear sized bolt.
The dragon swooped down at them as the soldier behind the ballista aimed the deadly bolt up at the creature.
“Stay behind me!” Lor-telliam yelled to the warriors near him. No one needed further encouragement. They had heard what this dragon could do.
Kiln nudged the soldier out of the way and grabbed the handles of the ballista. The dragon was almost upon them when he zeroed in on the creature. The angle was good and all he had to do was lead the dragon a few paces. The beast spewed forth its deadly steam just as Kiln released the shaft.
The bolt flew true, striking the dragon directly in the chest and cutting off its breath attack, causing the beast to jerk hard to the right and well clear of the wall. Everyone along the wall cheered as they saw the great dragon dive quickly to the ground below.
“Load it again!” Kiln yelled, running to the wall to look for the beast. The dragon had not fallen to the ground as Kiln had hoped. In fact it had merely landed gracefully, casually gripping the spear with one claw and pulling the shaft from its chest.
“Not good,” Kiln whispered to himself, as he ran back towards the group.
The dragon had flung the spear to the ground and if anyone had been close enough they would have witnessed the gruesome wound close immediately.
“I was afraid of that,” Lor-telliam addressed everyone. “The beast is not of this plane, I’m afraid only magical weapons can harm it.”
“How do we fight that thing with swords and axes?” King Baylin asked.
“My magic may be able to kill it,” the Ekahal replied.
“Well here is your chance,” Kromm said as the dragon took flight again. This time the great beast flapped its wings hard, accelerating rapidly and swooping directly towards them. The ballista fired again but this time the dragon was ready for it, dodging the missile easily.
Lor-telliam began to chant and everyone moved behind the Ekahal as the dragon neared. Handfuls of soldiers panicked, frantically running down the length of the wall as they tried to put as much distance between themselves and the dragon as they could. Within seconds, however, they were engulfed and consumed by a hot white cloud that roared all around them. Jonas heard the men's anguished screams, yet he himself did not feel the heat of the beast’s attack. Within seconds the mist cleared and Jonas watched as Lor-telliam pivoted, striking his hand forward and sending a crackling bolt of blue lightening towards the dragon as it streaked by.
The bolt struck the dragon in the tail, rocking it sideways as it roared in anger. The blow, however, only seemed to slow the creature down a bit, and it soon regained control of its flight, gaining altitude and preparing for another attack.
The dragon turned and dove down again, this time hitting another section of the wall. It flew in at a steeper angle, which made it difficult for the ballista closest to it to have a clear shot. The bolt flew wide and the dragon released its scalding breath along the wall. It was terrible to hear the men's screams as they cooked inside their armor. Many had leaped off the wall in both directions, frantically trying to avoid its breath, only to meet their doom on the hard ground below.
It was then that four siege machines rolled up against the wall, giant towers that extended several paces above the top of the wall. Inside the walled towers were crude stairs that allowed the invaders to reach the top of the wall. The stairs were protected by hinged panels of wood and steel that blocked any arrows or missiles fired at them as they climbed to the top, but could be quickly lifted up to allow the creatures to scramble out and over the wall.
Defenders along the wall were already preparing the hot oil. Big cauldrons of scalding oil had been placed in large carts that the men could roll over to any spot along the wall. As some of the soldiers readied the carts of oil, the Finarthian archers continued firing arrows down at the monsters below. Thousands of the beasts were milling at the base of the wall, some preparing to enter the siege towers, while others attempted to use smaller scaling ladders or defend the massive towers by firing arrows up at the archers above them. Most of the arrows deflected off the stone battlements but several struck men as they leaned over the edge to release their shafts. The defenders then began pouring the hot oil down upon the siege towers and the enemy warriors below, drenching them with thick splashes of the volatile material, followed shortly by a barrage of flaming arrows. Patches of flames erupted along the line as orcs and goblins were literally roasted alive.
One of the siege towers had managed to crash against the wall and two soldiers rushed to the scene with a cart of hot oil. They gripped the handles on the edge of the cauldron, lifted with all their strength, and dumped the scalding oil onto it, the black substance covering the wall of the tower, as dozens of orcs ran with all haste
up the stairs inside, the pounding of their boots getting louder as they neared the top.
Lizarcus, the female wizard from Shyval, had been moving about along the wall, looking for where she would be most needed. The crashing sound of the nearby siege tower banging up against the wall quickly directed her attention to the new threat. She ran closer to help the men, clearly seeing that they would be hard pressed once the hinged door flung open on the tower unleashing the orcs onto the wall. “Look out!” she yelled as she heard the howling beasts climb to the top of the tower. She knew it would only be moments before the door swung open and the enemy descended upon the tired and struggling defenders. She pushed through the fighting men as the top panel of the tower flung open revealing four roaring orcs. She quickly lifted her hand to summon her magic. Instantly a ball of fire flared in her palm and she flung the flaming sphere up at the orcs just as they were about to jump out. Their roars were cut short as the ball exploded inside the confines of the tower, the force of the blast hurling the beasts violently backwards and down the tower's stairs, accompanied by their howls of pain. The soldiers on the wall felt the heat from the blast, the concussion from it throwing them backwards away from the tower. By the time they regained their balance the fire had found the oil and the tower had become a furnace of red hot flames.
Then the Blood Dragon was again hovering above them, its giant wings flapping powerfully, sending great gusts of wind into the defenders. As it ominously lifted its head, the wizard knew what was coming. She could try an offensive spell but she had no idea if it would do any damage to the dragon. She had seen the Ekahal hit the beast with a powerful lightning bolt which seemed to have done little damage. If the Ekahal’s power couldn’t harm the dragon then it was unlikely that anything she threw at the beast would be effective. Her only viable option was a defensive spell.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow Page 33
