The dragon turned in fury to face the warrior that had so grievously wounded him. The beast knew that no human could deliver such a mortal blow, but then its eyes found the glowing blade held in his hand as the warrior struggled to get up, knowing that his sword was the source of its pain. The demon dragon sucked in its breath as King Baylin regained his footing, turning around to face the dragon. The great beast kicked him and violently tossed him to the ground and forcefully knocked the wind from his lungs.
The king blinked once, and the next instant he was engulfed in the dragon's scalding steam. The magical armor protected the skin underneath, but there were plenty of areas not covered, and the deadly vapor found them all. Skin under his helm bubbled and melted away, and the searing steam found every gap in the armor, burning the king all over his body. The flesh around his stomach, hands, armpits, and thighs was instantly seared. Excruciating fiery pain consumed him and he dropped to his knees, screaming in agony before falling face forward to the ground. Fortunately the hot steam burnt through his pain receptors so quickly that the intense agony vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared, and he was dead before his face hit the ground.
Allindrian looked on with horror, grinding her teeth in anger. Dropping her bow she raced forward, leaping into the air impossibly high and landing directly on the base of the dragon’s tail.
“No!” Kromm screamed as he ran at the dragon, hoping to distract the beast from Allindrian’s presence. Durgen too raced in, his short legs pumping quickly, carrying him to the dragon’s side with surprising speed for one so small.
Kil-Kannon shook its hide like a wet dog, but the agile elf would not be dislodged. Allindrian was jumping from spine to spine, her silver sword held at her side.
Everyone on the main wall watched the scene below them, mesmerized and bewildered at the same time. The Blade Singer was literally running up the dragon’s back.
In desperation the dragon snapped its huge tail up and over its back aiming for Allindrian. Incredibly she dodged it, leaping forward and gripping a sharp spike with one hand while the tail cracked against its own back. She then swung herself up, landing like a cat on both feet. Those watching could hardly believe their eyes, never before had they seen such a combination of agility, strength, and speed.
Kromm charged in swinging his blade as hard as his prodigal strength allowed into the dragon’s right leg. At the same time Durgen brought his sharp axe down on the back foot of the dragon, severing two of its toes.
Kil-Kannon momentarily returned his attention to the wound in his side hoping to get a better look at the damage, simultaneously flicking its good wing out and slamming it into Kromm, knocking him to the ground again. The beast then flicked its broad tail towards the small attacker at its back leg hoping to crush the pest between the flesh of its tail and hind quarters. But Durgen saw it coming and jumped into the crevice behind its leg and tail, barely dodging the crushing force of the dragon’s attack. Then, raising his axe high over his head, he brought it down, like a lumber jack splitting wood, at the base of the dragon’s tail. The magical mithril axe blade cut a quarter ways through its tail and again the dragon roared in pain. The dragon was being attacked from all sides, and every time it went to use its breath, someone else cut into his flesh, causing it great pain and distracting the beast from using its breath attack.
“She’s going for its head,” Riker murmured under his breath. General Gandarin stood beside him, both men watching the scene play out with a mixture of fear, amazement, and hope. Everyone watching the battle was feeling a tumultuous ride of emotions as the heroes fought, and died, for all of them. Many had just witnessed their king make the ultimate sacrifice for their safety and some were openly crying while others stood stock still, rigid with anger. Thousands on the outer wall had no time to watch the fight as they continued to battle the enemy who relentlessly continued their attack. But the battle with Kil-Kannon the dragon would be a tale told and retold a thousand times in the years to come, a battle that made heroes and inspired young boys, and even girls to lift up a sword.
“Amazing,” was all the general could say as Allindrian made one last leap, landing directly on the base of the dragon’s head.
Kil-Kannon had been wounded in many places and the pain was distracting, but it could still feel the little elf on its neck. The beast shook its head violently and Allindrian was nearly thrown from the dragon. Falling to the side she glimpsed Jonas’s blade imbedded in its neck. Reaching out she snagged it with her free hand, and as the dragon shook its head up and down, she timed it perfectly and used its momentum to swing her body, releasing her grip on the handle she flew forward with her silver sword held in both hands. The Blade Singer landed on the dragon’s head, and with one smooth motion she rammed the blade deep between its eyes. If you blinked you would have missed her jump from its head, somersaulting through the air and landing gracefully on both feet.
Everyone on the inner wall cheered with hope as the dragon roared the loudest yet. This time it was a piercing howl, a terrible cry they had not heard before.
The great beast was stomping its legs and flapping its good wing, shaking its head in an attempt to dislodge the painful weapon. Finally it fell forward and laid its head on the ground, desperately trying to grip the weapon with its damaged claws to yank it free.
In all its pain and suffering it did not see Hagar bound towards it. Lifting his magnificent weapon, Hagar brought it down with all his strength on the dragon’s skull. The beast's head was angled away from him and one claw was pawing at Allindrian’s sword when the mace struck. The blow was so powerful that even people on the inner wall could hear the skull crack. It sounded like a thunder clap as bone and flesh were crushed under the strike.
A normal mace, even a magical one, in the hands of a trained warrior would inflict little damage to the dragon’s thick skull. But Hagar stood at eleven feet and he towered over the dragon’s head, giving him the leverage needed for such a powerful blow. And with his incredible strength and the might of his weapon, the beast didn’t stand a chance. The metal ball of the mace was as big around as a man’s torso, with each protruding spike as long as a short sword, an incredibly deadly weapon, especially when wielded by an ogrillion. Four of those spikes were now buried deep in the dragon’s brain.
The dragon was already convulsing as Hagar, roaring with battle fury, yanked the weapon from the grisly wound, and then brought it down for a second time on its skull, this time splattering brains and blood in a wide circumference around its crushed skull. The dragon gave a final violent jerk before it lay still.
Hagar, lifting his bloody mace into the air, roared in victory. Everyone on the wall cheered exuberantly with him, and soon the cries of victory were echoing across the killing ground, bouncing back and forth between both walls.
The sound of horns blowing from both walls, however, interrupted their victory celebration, reminding them the war was not yet over. For some reason the enemy was retreating, signaling something new might be amiss.
The survivors of the battle surrounded the burnt body of the king, bowing their heads in silence. “You’re free now,” Durgen said, reflecting back on the conversation he had had with King Baylin. The monarch had done his duty protecting his kingdom. He had sacrificed more than most, and now he was free of the anger that was poisoning him, feeding the fire of revenge. Warriors nearby moved forward to honor their king, and within moments there were closer to fifty soldiers surrounding him.
Allindrian had run to check on Jonas who was slowly regaining consciousness. Kiln, surrounded by several of his personal guard, ran from the wall to join the heroes of the fight.
“Remove his body,” Kiln ordered. “We will honor him when this is over!” Kiln yelled to the men. “His sacrifice was for us, and we will not let his death be in vain! We still have a war to win! For Finarth!” Kiln drew his sword, lifting it in the air. Every soldier around them followed his lead, drawing their blades and shouting “Finarth!” Then
several of the men gently and respectfully carried the king’s body from the field.
“Send for healers immediately,” the commander ordered one of his men. Allindrian slowly lifted Jonas off the ground and with her help Jonas limped toward them. “Well done,” Kiln said to everyone. “Songs will be sung of your victory. Who is hurt?”
“I may have broken some ribs,” Kromm said casually, showing no sign of the pain.
“Father!” Riker yelled as he ran to them, skidding to a halt. “Are you hurt?”
“Aye, but I’ll be fine,” Kromm said, reassuring the young warrior.
“Jonas, you don’t look so good,” Kiln said with concern as the two joined them.
“I look like I feel,” he said through painful breaths, “I know my ribs are broken and I think I fractured my left arm.”
“Healers will be here momentarily,” Kiln reassured him. Then he addressed the group, “I need all of you with us. Riker, get the armor and sword. Malbeck may be showing his face soon,” he said grimly.
Riker looked questioningly at his father who nodded encouragement. “Yes, Commander,” he said. Then he raced away toward the main gate to the city.
“Your boy has great courage. I believe he can do this,” Kiln said, hoping to reassure the worried king. Kromm looked up from the ground and nodded. “See to your wounds and meet me on the wall.”
It wasn’t long before everyone except Allindrian had joined Kiln on the outer wall. The gatehouse was badly damaged and the battlements above it had been destroyed, so the small group stood on the wall to the left of the gatehouse. They needed the protection of the battlement as the gatehouse no longer provided that.
Allindrian had stayed back to assemble her female archers. She had trained over a thousand women and they were hastily forming lines along the killing ground behind the gate. Most were nervous, gripping their bows with trembling hands. None wore armor and few carried swords, both items being in short supply, and therefore reserved for the men who were trained to use them. Nonetheless they stood in perfect rows, their eyes on Allindrian waiting for her command and hoping to find some reassurance in her steady gaze.
“Me engineer says the gate's damaged,” Durgen said as he stood against the battlements, his head barely reaching over the top of the stone wall. “The dragon’s weight hittin' the wall fractured de stone and one of the hinges be loose.”
“Hopefully the integrity of the gate still exists, but we can’t do anything about it now,” Kiln said, looking intently at the enemy army. “I think they are going to come at us with everything.”
“What do you suggest?” Jonas asked.
“Stick with the plan. We take the fight to them, which makes even more sense now if the gate is truly that damaged,” Kiln announced, lifting a horn to his lips.
“I finally get to spill some orc blood,” Durgen growled.
Kiln blew a series of notes and immediately the defenders went into action. Both gates began to slowly open and thousands of infantry and cavalry moved from the inner castle over the bridge and through the outer gate.
Everyone ran from the wall to take their positions with the army. Within moments ten thousand Finarthian infantry had formed massive squares, the squares themselves positioned in a giant V formation outside the gate. These men were an elite group of warriors who had trained tirelessly to quickly assemble in this formation. Some of these men had already been killed, but the remaining adjusted to the smaller numbers by forming smaller squares. Armed with long stabbing spears, infantry swords and shields, and armored with chainmail and hardened leather cuirasses, these men could inflict heavy damage on a larger army of ill-trained soldiers. Each square held around two hundred soldiers all facing outward, and the square formations were placed far enough apart to leave gaps for the enemy. Behind the infantry were two thousand Finarthian and Annurien cavalry led by King Olegaurd. So far the Annurien king and most of the infantry had been waiting inside the inner wall for their turn to fight. They were eager to do their part and shed enemy blood, especially the king, who had lost his brother at the Gildren Garrison.
The idea behind Kiln’s formation was to allow the enemy to break through the gaps where they would be sandwiched between the squares of cavalry and infantry, and since the fighters in the formations were all facing outward it would be impossible to surround them. Then, after killing the enemy that had been pushed through the gaps, they would break formation, forming solid lines and slowly retreating back through the gate.
The squares were packed tight with three reserve lines so when one soldier fell, others could fill the gap and maintain the integrity of the square. Kiln had used this technique only once before many years ago and on a much smaller scale. He had been fighting against a small untrained Sithgarin tribe and it had worked extremely well, but now they were attempting it on a larger scale with a much bigger army. It was a calculated risk designed to do as much damage as possible while limiting the loss of life on their side.
Kiln positioned himself in the lead square while Jonas, Hagar, Tuvallis, Durgen, and Seli flanked him. Kromm, Riker, and Lor-telliam were on horseback positioned at the very back in case Malbeck showed himself. If so, they would attempt to find him, engage him, and hopefully kill him, ending the battle right then and there.
General Gandarin remained inside the killing ground with five thousand reserves in case things went wrong and the enemy broke through the gate. Two thousand of those men were refugees with little fighting experience. The dwarven engineers that remained had been working tirelessly for a way to bring down the bridge between the two walls if the need arose. They had informed Kiln that they could do it, and they were prepared to do just that if the situation became desperate. There were several thousand more men manning the inner wall, half of which were archers prepared to unleash their barrage of deadly arrows on any creatures that managed to breach the outer wall.
If things went as planned, Kiln’s infantry would deal a heavy blow to the enemy before retreating safely behind the outer wall with minimal loss of life. If things didn’t go as planned, they would be overrun, with thousands dead, and Malbeck would power his way through the outer wall, breaching the gate and gaining access to the killing ground.
Thousands of people inside the city had climbed to the rooftops to get a view of the battle, anxiety heavy in the air. Many had friends and relatives fighting for them, and they feared for their safety, nervous eyes scanning the milling enemy army and hoping that their warriors and loved ones would prevail. They knew that their own survival teetered back on forth on the skill and courage of the warriors and their commanders. Word had spread quickly about the king’s death but it wasn’t long before people were whispering about the destruction of the dragon and the heroes who killed it, including their own king. King Baylin’s death pained them greatly, but his courage brought his people hope as well, and now Kiln, the best war commander in all of Kraawn, was leading them, and if anyone could beat this great and terrible army, it was him.
Malbeck sat astride a giant ebony horse, flanked by Korthanos and forty thousand warriors. It wasn’t really a horse, however, it was a Nightmare, a demon steed similar to the horses the Banthras rode but even more powerful. This horse was much larger, and built like a big bull, and its hooves were covered in flames matching its fiery eyes. Fire and smoke shot from its cave-like nostrils as it kicked the ground eager to get into the fight.
Strapped to the side of the horse was a large black shield painted with Gould’s eye in red, matching the cuirass of Malbeck’s armor. He held the spear of Gould at his side, and strapped to the other side of his demon steed was a giant double sided battle axe. A thick black leather satchel was buckled to the belt around his waist and inside it was his most powerful possession, the book of power, the Shan Cemar. He had already used the magic of the book to further his cause, turning the corpse of Gullanin into a Lich, locating the secret tunnel into the king’s castle, creating the deadly mist, and bringing forth the demons whose j
ob was to kill the inhabitants of the castle. The book had been very useful and in Malbeck’s hands it would continue to be an integral part of taking the city.
“I tire of this,” Malbeck said to Korthanos. “Send in the worg riders and crush that formation. When I destroy the gate press them hard with infantry. Try to flank them with the ogres and cut off their retreat, then we close the noose and kill them all. I want to be within that outer wall before the sun sets. Don’t fail me, Koranthos. I’ve had my fill of it.”
The Banthra nodded its armored head in acknowledgement. “It will be as you say,” the demon hissed.
Allindrian stood on the wall looking out at the enemy army as it began to move. Huge drums pounded somewhere in the distance and then the familiar sound of catapult arms filled the air. Great jugs of flaming oil shot into the air sailing over the advancing orcs and crashing into the Finarthian infantry. Some missed completely, exploding and sending great splashes of hot fire across the ground, while others scattered men, engulfing them in deadly fire.
Orders were given for their own catapults to join in the fight, sending projectiles of fire and stone flying over the wall into the enemy ranks. The destruction on both sides was devastating. The heavy bombardment nearly caused Kiln’s carefully planned formations to fall apart. In one case a flaming projectile smashed into the center of one of the square formations, instantly crushing several men, but worse, throwing the burning oil over scores more, causing the square to disintegrate from the inside. Graggis, who was leading that formation, was able to adjust quickly, reforming the integrity of the group with a barrage of screaming orders. Fil, who had been marching in the formation near where the oil had struck, frantically worked to put out the flames and drag the wounded and dead men away. Everyone nearby worked together, following Graggis’s orders and helping Fil, working to keep the formation together. Somehow, amid the shouts and screams and the constant barrage of catapult missiles, the formations remained intact and ready.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow Page 38
