The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4) (16 page)

“I can try,” the wizard said. His lips trembled. His voice broke on those few words, but he looked straight at the king when he said it. “I’ll do my best, Your Majesty.”

“Go then and do what you can.” As the pitter-patter sound of the sorcerer’s sandals on the stone floor faded, Calamidese rose and walked to the massive window to view the street fighting within sight of the palace.

*

The wizard consulted his library of spells and incantations yet again for charms that might protect him and power that might destroy the dragon. Prepared as best he could be and carrying an armful of scrolls and potions, the wizard left his tower for the smoldering ruins of the Diamond Gate. There, the exhausted defenders still held back the orcs relentlessly pounding on the crumpled, but holding, oak gates.

*

“Majesty,” the chamberlain said. The metal foot of the chamberlain’s staff struck the marble floor of the royal apartment, startling the king.

“What is it?” Calamidese snapped.

“The wizard, Your Majesty, he’s high atop the Diamond Gate’s remaining battlements,” the chamberlain said.

Calamidese, followed by the chamberlain, rushed to the balcony overlooking the gate. There they watched the wizard prepare for his confrontation with Ozrin. 

“The wizard’s wearing his finest robe with runes to repel evil,” Calamidese said to the chamberlain. He turned to the old man as if the chamberlain couldn’t see what they were looking at. “He’s brushed that frumpy wizard’s hat. It glows, defying the dragon circling above. I hope there’s enough power in that hat to resist a dragon.”

“So do we all, Majesty,” the chamberlain said in a low voice as though a prayer.

“Look there!” Calamidese said. He pointed to the dragon flying toward the gate. “He’s seen the wizard.”

Ozrin’s head jerked up in a soulless scream. The great dragon circled wider around the walls and flew up on wings that scooped the air as a strong swimmer’s strokes pull him through the water. Then for a moment, high above the city, the dragon leveled off. He soared on wind currents, his head looking this way and that, surveying the landscape. 

“Look at the wizard,” the chamberlain said.

The wizard raised his arms, pointed his enchanted staff at the reptile, and appeared to chant an incantation. The wizard’s sleeves flapped in the wind, but the sorcerer stood firm.

“See his lips move?” the chamberlain said. “Why does he periodically thrust the staff up at the soaring dragon? The enchantment must be powerful; it’s causing the jewel in the staff’s tip to glow bright red. There may be hope after all.”

The king didn’t respond; he just watched the wizard and dragon posturing. Still chanting, the wizard pointed his staff up at the dragon in the afternoon sun. Then he made a violent stab in the air, dropped the scroll in his hand, and shouted something the men couldn’t hear.

“What’s he doing now?” Calamidese asked. “The staff, it looks like it’s vibrating.”

The chamberlain stepped forward and pointed. “The crystal at its apex glows a violet purple.”

Rays from the staff formed, entwined, and shot into the sky, striking Ozrin’s silver scales. The frenzied wizard cast spells one after another, bombarding the dragon. The entire city stopped fighting to watch the battle between the two powerful adversaries.

Ozrin smirked when the first rays struck his scales. Sparks splashed, then showered the observers below.

“Ozrin’s unfazed!” Calamidese shouted. He looked incredulously at the chamberlain and then turned back, clutching the balcony’s stone balustrade. “It’s just attracted the dragon’s attention. The monstrous beast is testing the wizard’s power limit.”

The dragon’s confident, sinister grin was visible to those watching from Sekcmet Palace. From beneath the dragon, the wizard didn’t seem to notice the smirk. He shot blast after blast at the monster that calmly circled, soaring lower with each pass down toward the Diamond Gate.

“Warn the wizard to take cover!” Calamidese said.

The chamberlain disappeared from the balcony to send a guard to warn the sorcerer. Calamidese leaned over the balcony.

“Run, you fool, run!” Calamidese screamed from the balcony, but the wizard was too far away to hear him.

When the wizard discharged his last incantation and the fiery wand cooled to a smoldering staff, the wizard held his stare on the minimally fazed dragon. Ozrin then hovered just above the tower. He displayed an undamaged breast beneath the enormous flapping wings in an apparent dare. Calamidese saw the wizard’s frozen, horrified look.

“Why doesn’t he run?” Calamidese said aloud to no one there.

The great dragon stopped, hovering over the wizard, and then circled around the tower. His great wings blew the sorcerer’s robes about his thin frame like a flag whipping around a flagpole in a gale.

“Run!” Calamidese yelled.

The wizard didn’t move.

He must be petrified, feeling hopeless, the king thought. He held his breath as Ozrin circled back around the gate to confront the magician once again.

Ozrin glanced toward the palace balcony and the king. The look sent chills down Calamidese’s spine. Then, with every eye in the city on them, Ozrin smirked, chuckled, and snorted a blast of blue-white flame, incinerating the wizard, his staff, protective robe and charms. Not even ashes remained; they were scattered to the four winds by the blast. The staff’s lone crystal lay on the stone floor.

A long silence fell over the city as shock from the gruesome event took hold. Only the whooshing sound of Ozrin’s wings broke the grim silence. The great dragon looked over the city at the inhabitants for a moment as darkness fell. Finally, victorious and unchallenged, Ozrin flew up in brilliant form, illuminated in the sky by the moonlight flashing off his silver scales.

“There’s nothing whatsoever that can challenge the silver-scaled dragon’s power,” Calamidese mumbled to the night. He fell against the balcony railing for support. His knees wobbled. “The city stands defenseless before him.” He looked up.

Ozrin flew up, glaring at the king on the balcony. Calamidese’s heart skipped a beat; he jumped back against the wall. Smoke and ash enveloped him as the beast soared over the tower. Ozrin’s roar shook the very stones as he passed, his great yellow eye focused on the king. His enormous black claws scraped slate shingles, sending a cascade tumbling in front of Calamidese. The beast flew up and soared on thermals that rose from the burning city to circle above it in his triumph. Peels of cold, guttural laughter from the winged monster blanketed the city with the sound of doom.

* * *

On the mountainside, hidden beneath the forest canopy, Bodrin saw his only chance. He ordered his men to form up for a mad dash.

“Make for the city’s eastern gate,” Bodrin told his troops. “We must hit hard and fast if we’re to fight our way in with supplies, while the orcs focus on the dragon’s attack. Remember, if we draw the dragon’s attention and he flies this way, retreat to the mountains!”

Bodrin rallied his men, and they charged from the forest east of the city, down the slopes, and onto the plain skirting Sengenwhapolis. The effort was hopeless. It was turned back long before they got close to the Emerald Gate. Most combatants were watching the royal wizard’s demise high on the Diamond Gate. They failed to notice the attack on the eastern plain below, but there were enough orcs and ogres in the Neuyokkasinians way to bring the attack to a standstill. Bodrin knew, if bogged down, they’d be annihilated when the greater Dreaddrac forces joined the fray. Reluctantly, he sounded retreat. His men abandoned the attack and pulled back.

Keeping a watchful eye on Ozrin, Bodrin saw the dragon had caught sight of the retreating Neuyokkasinian troops from his vantage point overhead. In retreat, the men fought a rear guard defense, but when the scattered Neuyokkasinian force reassembled on the mountains’ western slopes east of the city, the dragon flew in and flamed the supply wagons. The sudden attack terrorized the soldiers, who’d just seen Ozrin vaporize Sengenwha’s high wizard. It was all Bodrin could do to reassemble his scattering and discouraged force. There wasn’t anything more he could do to break the siege.

Before returning to Konnotan, Bodrin’s last look back toward the city caught sight of Ozrin flying back to rest in the mountains north of the city. He was a glowing silver ornament against the blackening, dusky sky.

* * *

General Tarquak awoke from his resting place as the moon rose, just as Ozrin retired to the mountains. The wraith dressed in a fresh body. The wraith-orc was delighted with the dragon’s critical victory. It both rejuvenated his orcs’ morale and demoralized the enemy. Dreaddrac’s ground forces enthusiastically renewed their attack on the city in the ensuing days.

Reports indicated arms were running out among the Sengenwhan defenders. They were limited to hand-to-hand sword fights and throwing heavy objects down from the walls on the attackers. The defense was crumbling.

“What have we here?” Tarquak asked his aide. He pointed to the lights on the mountain slopes north of the city.

“King Calamidese’s uncle is finally come from the north with his army,” the aide responded after consulting with his subordinates. “It were the grand duke what shut the northern border after we last took Sengenwhapolis.”

“What a useless gesture,” the general said. “Send a messenger at once to Ozrin’s attendants. Have someone tell, no, ask Ozrin to flame the troops as they emerge from the mountains’ southern slopes. They’ll be exhausted and unorganized, toast.”

*

Out on the plain, the dragon burned much of Sengenwha’s northern army. The rest scattered and took shelter in the mountains, where cohorts of orcs hunted them down at General Tarquak’s order. The northern relief force never even got to fight for Sengenwhapolis.

“Is this the grand duke’s head?” Tarquak asked when presented with it. “A valiant soldier killed in Ozrin’s initial attack. Pity he was on the wrong side.”

Those that escaped the dragon and the orc cohorts filtered back to their homes on Sengenwha’s northern plain to await their fate as conquered people subject to Dreaddrac’s capricious rule.

* * *

General Tarquak celebrated in his headquarters with his aides, though they were only ogres. Not having a body of his own, the general didn’t enjoy the celebration so much as the acclaim for the victory that he’d no part in.

“King Calamidese will have to surrender the city now,” Tarquak told the aides. “What choice does he have? He can’t defeat Ozrin. We’ve crushed all attempts to relieve the siege and bring supplies to his defenders. He must see further resistance can only result in the slaughter of his people. I have him now.”

An aide interrupted the celebration, handing the general a letter.

“What’s this?” Tarquak asked.

“A letter come direct from King Calamidese, General,” the ogre replied.

“A communiqué indeed,” the general said. He looked around at the commanders, held up and shook the correspondence, then opened and read it. Again, he scanned the room, seeing the ogres watching him, waiting to see what the letter said.

“It’s a challenge to open combat between Calamidese and me. That’s not going to happen.” The general laughed but immediately saw none of his aides did. The mood in the room was cold. Tarquak curled a snarl at the company. “So you think I should indulge the king, do you?”

I’ve never been particularly good at fighting personally. I prefer to send in troops to achieve my objectives, he thought. My treachery in life demonstrated my willingness to sacrifice troops. This second chance to remain free of the Well of Souls won’t be wasted on personal combat. If I lost, Calamidese couldn’t kill me, but the Dark Lord would throw me back in the eternal hell. I’ll accept the challenge but send in my most able goblin to fight the king.

*

Tarquak sent back a letter to Calamidese accepting the personal combat challenge. He stipulated the place and time after dark the following evening outside the Diamond Gate. Reluctantly, Calamidese agreed, but when he went to the appointed site, a huge hairy goblin stood behind the general with a great club in hand and a grin, displaying stubs of his rotted teeth.

“I’ve wounded my foot and won’t be able to fight you personally,” Tarquak said. “I designate my feeble aide here to fight in my place.”

“That wasn’t our agreement,” Calamidese said. His proud horse stamped around in front of the wraith and goblin.

“Are you afraid of my worthless aide?” Tarquak said. He looked around at the assembled ogre commanders and smirked, then turned back to Calamidese. “This personal combat challenge was your idea. Are you now proposing to back out?”

Calamidese spat. “You’re a dishonorable thing, Tarquak.”

The general just laughed. “Shall we begin, or are you going to retreat back behind the city walls? I’ll just have to drag you out again.”

Calamidese’s officers that accompanied him pressed forward to deal with the ogres at that affront, but Calamidese motioned them back.

“So be it.” Calamidese and the goblin twice his size moved to the clearing Tarquak had prepared. Ogres surrounded it, and the orc hordes looked on from higher ground.

Swords flashed in the torch light. The general watched the king and goblin smash at each other repeatedly in a standoff lasting late into the night.