The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4) (9 page)

Thrashing wildly, Hakbar flew high into the night, desperate to escape the flames. The wind from his flight blew the burning oil along his body, burning the skin between his scales. The dragon continued to scream as his flight fanned the inferno. It burned hotter and brighter. He kicked at the firestorm to no avail. Burning oil spread along his wings and quickly burned away the leathery membranes, leaving the smoking skeletal frames exposed. Dark oily smoke swirled behind the dragon as a billowing gray kite tail against the black night sky.

Hakbar thrashed and roared, tumbling from the sky. No frantic flapping of his wing bones could slow the monster’s decent. The flaming colossus crashed into a hillside north of the Diamond gate.

*

General Tarquak and his aides watched silently from the tower, stunned, seeing the burning dragon flailing above them.

“The troops on both within and outside the city just stand there speechless,” Tarquak said.

“The Sengenwhan army has stopped running away,” the aide added. “They’re watching Hakbar, tumbling from the sky.”

When the dragon finally crashed into a flaming heap, they first just stared and then scanned the area around the city’s northern walls. The gigantic beast lay motionless, still smoldering. Then a clamorous shout rose from the retreating army.

“Them troops ain’t waiting for no signal,” the aide said. “Look there out in front of the wall. They’s all turning back to attack again. They’s going to try to retake the ground they done give up to the dragon.”

But Hakbar wasn’t dead. The smoldering giant recovered consciousness. The sight of his rising head, illuminated by the flames of his still burning flesh, made everyone within sight of the creature freeze. The huge scaly head rose first surveying the area. He gingerly raised his painfully burned body, lifting his great bulk. He rolled over on the ground to snuff out the flames.

“He lives!” Tarquak yelled to his aides though he kept his stare on the dragon.

Hakbar stumbled back to the wall, searching this way and that out of his good eye.

“He’s looking for the catapult that hurled the bags of oil!” Tarquak shouted. He reared back laughing, exhilarated at the dragon’s tenacity and endurance. He cast a quick glance at his aides, who were transfixed, staring at the smoking hulk.

His huge smoldering mass stamped the ground as Hakbar approached the catapult, stopping just in range of it. Struggling, his face winced. The dragon rose up higher on his burned legs. His painful face contorted as he took a deep breath.

“He’s going to incinerate the catapult and the lone man standing in shock beside it,” Tarquak said. He turned to his aides, who appeared stunned, watching the smoking mountain of flesh. Tarquak turned back to the dragon, “He’ll have his revenge.”

Suddenly, a huge arrow shot into Hakbar’s chest and disappeared into his body to his gut. Dumbfounded, Hakbar stood motionless for an instant, then collapsed dead in a still smoldering mound. His dying body trembled. He exhaled his long last breath, shooting random fire that died with his body to trail away in smoke and silence.

“Some of them on that first catapult must've lived through that first attack and made them an arrow,” an aide said.

“While Hakbar was scorching the city’s southern section, they must've made the arrow to take revenge on the dragon for his burning their comrades,” Tarquak mumbled. “Before Hakbar returned to again survey the north wall and renew his attack on the retreating army, the crew commandeered another catapult and modified it to shoot that huge arrow. A clever lot.”

“Hakbar walked right into it,” the goblin adjutant said.

“Hakbar’s dead for sure now,” General Tarquak said. He turned to the aides. “Our great weapon is gone.” The general’s stolen body sank in disappointment atop Sekcmet Palace. “It’s almost dawn. I must return to my resting place below. Get down there and get those orcs back on the walls,” Tarquak said then left for his chest in the dungeon.

*

Tarquak’s aides, ogres of particularly cruel natures, rushed to vulnerable breaches, whipping the orcs back to the walls’ defense again. The effort wasn’t well coordinated. The orcs were demoralized, seeing the great dragon destroyed. They were fighting to save a city in a foreign country against its native army determined enough to retake it, to kill a dragon. Restlessness swept through Dreaddrac’s orcs. Defenses deteriorated to local pockets of fighting.

Seeing the crumbling defiance, King Calamidese ordered the blue signal flag flown. His exhausted but newly inspired troops turned back on the city before it could reorganize defenses. The battle turned once again and the attackers surged through the openings in the walls. The battle raged for another day before the city fell to King Calamidese near nightfall.

* * *

“Send me the new wizard, Artrek,” King Calamidese told a messenger. The king was reexamining his battle plans at a map in his tent, when the wizard arrived.

“Artrek,” the king said. “Can you find General Tarquak’s hiding place before the wraith wakes and throws his considerable powers into the fray?”

“I can try, but we both know he is a powerful specter. He’ll be well guarded,” Artrek replied.

“Try.”

*

Wizard Artrek searched through Sekcmet Palace where informants told him the general had his headquarters. The wizard’s search took too long. Darkness fell before he could locate the general. After surprising and destroying two guarding ogres at the entrance to the dungeon, the wizard found General Tarquak emerging from a dark recess off the hallway. The general had just re-infested an ogre body he used for physical form and wasn’t immediately coordinated. Artrek shot wizard-fire at the orc, whose sinister eyes glowed with rage as he dodged the bolts.

The general shot back wizard-fire. His aim was off, but the two opponents hurled bolts in the hall and dungeon, shattering the contents and sending stone fragments flying through the air. Walls were thrown down and the palace set on fire as the two powerful magical forces battled each other through the subterranean halls and up through the palace.

General Tarquak had extraordinary powers infused in him by the Dark Lord’s blood, but the general didn’t fully understand those powers. He’d failed to perfect their use before the battle. He could’ve defeated Wizard Artrek, but the wizard knew his strengths and the wraith-general didn’t as yet, know his.

In the end, the wizard and general fought fire bolt for fire bolt on Sekcmet’s highest battlements. The city’s inhabitants below watched the fight, transfixed by the visual affects their powers. General Tarquak fell back, finally dropping his host body. He fled on the night wind as a wraith’s vapor.

It would take Calamidese a week to mop up the remaining resistance. The orcs surrendered quickly after Calamidese defeated Hakbar and their General Tarquak but the ogres fought on in isolated encounters until Sengenwhan forces again controlled the city.

* * *

General Bor stood on the cliffs in the moonlight surveying Dreaddrac’s Grand Fleet deploying in the rough waters off the northeastern coast of Tixos. From his windy vantage point on the massive rock outcrop, he looked down on the only approachable beach on the northern coast. The rock-dwarf was prepared and waiting for the bobbing fleet to send their boats to ferry his arms and army of rock-dwarves to the fleet. It was time to return to Dreaddrac on the continent. The massive rock-dwarf shuffled. His stone legs ground on the rock behind him. He hardly noticed, being deep in thought.

The admiral has delivered his fleet of a hundred triremes to carry my rock-dwarves and our mass of arms to Dreaddrac, Bor thought.

As the fleet struggled to anchor, the sailors on shore were hastily assembling a floating dock. They needed it to move the rock-dwarves out to deeper water where barges could load and carry the heavy cargo to the ships further off shore.

Dreaddrac’s admiral climbed the steep trail to General Bor’s vantage point and saluted him. Both looked out over the sea to the ships, rocking in the turbulent water. There, the sails and whitecaps danced a silvery dance in the moonlight.

“Admiral, I must congratulate you on your timing and operations,” General Bor said. He turned to the sailor, who was straightening the metals on his blood red uniform.

“Thank you, General Bor,” the heavyset goblin admiral replied.

He’s catching his breath from the steep climb. How weak, Bor thought. His heavy breathing causes his wispy mustache to wiggle. He wouldn’t last long in the mines.

“Are your rock-dwarves ready to board the ships as soon as the floating docks are secured? You realize we must finish by dawn or lose another day in loading.”

That's a veiled, sneering reference to rock-dwarves being unable to stand sunlight no doubt. Lucky for him, for the moment, I need his ships. We rock-dwarves don’t show anger but bide our time in revenge.

“My troops that will be sailing to Dreaddrac are waiting in the caves below. They’ll move as soon as your sailors signal they’re able to begin loading.” He turned to the admiral, “Your sailors will ready soon, I hope? We’re late starting the loading as it is.”

The admiral turned red, barely visible in the darkness, but his eyes flashed. The general being a rock-dwarf, saw the admiral’s anger quite clearly in the moonlight as he spoke. “My plan calls for loading dwarves on one side of the docks, and loading arms on the other to expedite the operation,” the admiral replied. “I can have more sailors help bring down the arms, if that would help?”

General Bor’s rock calves ground against each other. “We can handle the weapons, Admiral,” General Bor said. “The chests be too heavy for your sailors.”

“Very well,” the admiral said. He frowned, turned, and started down the rocky cliff.

The general turned to an aide, “Bring them weapons chests down to the waterfront for loading on the barges.” The rock-dwarf went to arrange the move.

The heavily laden fleet, low in the water, was prepared to sail on the dark moon’s tide two days hence.

* * *

A great horned owl had watched the unusual activity from his perch in the forest, overlooking the northern shore. At dawn, after that first night of loading the ships, the owl had seen enough. He flew silently back down the coast of Tixos along the Tixosian Sea. His message was too critical to entrust to other carefully stationed couriers. The great bird flew on and crossed the sea to intercept the combined Neuyokkasinian and Sengenwhan fleets, resting at anchor just south of the Akkin River delta.

The owl’s arrival and his excited state alerted Admiral Agros to the activity off the northern Tixosian coast per prearranged agreement with Memlatec. Agros conferred with the Sengenwhan admirals. By mutual agreement, the combined Southern Fleet of one hundred thirty war ships hoisted anchor and set sail north up the Tixosian Sea.

“We’ll sail out of sight of land so no one on shore will see our fleet. We don’t want Dreaddrac’s spies to alert the enemy fleet,” Admiral Agros said to his Sengenwhan admiral counterpart.

Only a day’s sailing from the coast of Dreaddrac, the two fleets sighted each other and scrambled preparing for a sea battle.

“Sailing east, Dreaddrac’s admiral has the wind’s advantage behind him,” the Sengenwhan admiral noted. He pointed to a gull overhead, riding the wind current. “We’re sailing into the wind.”

Admiral Agros pointed to the enemy ships. “Yes, but look at the water line on those ships. The lumbering barges and warships sail low in the water. Dreaddrac’s fleet is too heavily laden with rock-dwarves and arms. Most are on the less defendable transport barges. Their cargos are dangerously hindering the ships’ maneuverability. They can’t sail the barges too fast lest the wake at the bow sink them.”

“Their trireme escorts flank the barges like bees around a hive,” the Sengenwhan admiral said.

“Signal the fleet to row at a steady speed that won’t wear out the oarsmen before we engage the enemy,” Admiral Agros ordered. “The oarsmen will compensate for Dreaddrac’s wind advantage.” He turned to Captain Kelkin. “Prepare the catapults for battle. Have the catapult team leaders verify there are adequate supplies of rocks and flaming missiles for the catapults.” Summon the archers to line the rails.

The Sengenwhan admiral added, “Be sure there are adequate arrows for the archers.”

Agros’ aide rushed off to arrange signals to the fleet captains.

“Update me on the wind velocity, direction, and the fleet’s speed every fifteen minutes or if you note a change,” Agros said to another aide. He leaned forward on the aft deck rail and turned to the Sengenwhan admiral. “Dreaddrac’s trireme fleet is roughly equal to our own, but we’re not encumbered with cargo and transport ships. See there?” Agros said, pointing to the enemy fleet. “Dreaddrac’s commanding admiral has ordered his captains to row at flank speed. They’re setting their sails full to maximize the wind advantage. He has the current with him as well. Fool, his warships can’t engage us without leaving the transport ships exposed and poorly defended.”

“Look there at the water over the barge bowsprits,” The Sengenwhan admiral said, pointing. “He’ll have to slow down the transports. They can’t go faster without taking on water. They’re swaying under the strain now.”

Agros looked up at the flag atop the foremast in his two mast flagship, checking the wind direction. “Wind hasn’t changed. It’s still in Dreaddrac’s favor. He’s increasing his speed to outrun us. His ships are plowing dangerously into the bow swell.” Agros turned to the Sengenwhan admiral.