Dormia (49 page)

Hill, Clink, and the Dormian soldier stood with their backs to one another, breathing heavily, exhausted. They were covered in scratches and bruises. Hill leaned sideways against the safe; his right leg had been gouged by a plant of war, and he could no longer stand on both feet. For the moment, however, they paid no attention to these injuries. They were waiting for the next attack.

"Are there any more?" whispered the Dormian soldier.

"Probably," gasped Hill. "But they won't get the bloom. Not as long as we're alive. We fight to the death, gentlemen—to the death!"

B
ACK AT THE
northern Somnos gate, the situation was grim. After barely failing to capture General Loxoc during the race to the gate, the Dragoonya had regrouped and were massed a few hundred feet from the walls. In front were the infantry, several thousand strong, protected from Dormian arrows by thick shields placed in front and above them.

Directly behind this first line of soldiers were several hundred Dragoonya archers. About a hundred of them had long, seven-foot crossbows loaded with heavy iron arrows. Burly men, probably criminals drafted from the dregs of Barsh-yin-Binder society, dragged forward huge vats of burning oil. It smelled terrible, like a combination of sulfur and burnt flesh. The archers dipped the tips of their arrows into this repulsive
stew and once lit, fired them a great distance. Their target was the Founding Tree. Each time a flaming arrow hit, the leaf sparked and sometimes caught fire. In response, Dormian leaf-sweepers ran and leapt from branch to branch, trying to stamp out the flames and prevent a fire from spreading.

The other archers held shorter bows, for more precise aiming. They too dipped the tips of their arrows into the burning oil and aimed for the Dormians massing on the wall. They picked off anyone who dared show himself or herself for longer than a second. The foul-smelling fire burned clothes and sizzled leather. These arrows spread death to the masses of Dormian soldiers at the base of the wall, who were huddled together and trying desperately to fall asleep.

The overwhelming
boom-boom-boom
of the Dragoonya drums made any attempt at sleeping extremely difficult. The drummers and their instruments were positioned directly behind the archers, easily out of the range of Dormian arrows. The drums were at least six feet wide, and some looked to be even larger. The heavy bass of the drums seemed to burrow into the earth and make it shake on their command. It wasn't just the size of the drums but also their number. The Dragoonya had obviously thought about this part of their invasion. About a hundred drums beat together, and all that noise silenced everything else, even thoughts inside the head.

General Loxoc, who considered himself the toughest Dormian alive, felt a small curlicue of panic light deep within his stomach. The noise was too loud! They hadn't trained for this—you weren't supposed to feel sound, but these new Dragoonya drums were a physical presence. Of course, every Dormian soldier had gone through the basic drills: half a squad
shouting at the top of their lungs while the other half fell asleep on command. However, the reality of this was too much. Loxoc could tell by the scared looks of his soldiers that the noise was beyond anything they had imagined. It was enough to encourage terrible thoughts, like running away or even surrender.

Still, the walls held, even after the initial charge and the pinpoint flaming arrows of the Dragoonya. Somnos was the queen of Dormian cities, their people's most treasured place. The walls were six feet thick and forty feet high. And of course, they still had the bloom ... Loxoc thought of Alfonso and the others, bravely defending the dying Founding Tree from the inside. He shook his head. How was it possible that Nartam and the Dragoonya had penetrated Somnos so easily? He and his fellow Dormians had taken
every
precaution. And yet the city—and indeed Dormian civilization—stood on the brink of extinction. And all this had happened on Loxoc's watch. The general felt deeply ashamed.

As this thought crossed his mind, the thick ramparts next to him burst into rubble. Dormian soldiers, screaming in pain and terror, hurtled to the ground below. Even with the thump of the drums, General Loxoc heard the sickening thud of their bodies as they hit the ground. Another nearby rampart exploded. What were the Dragoonya doing?

Loxoc peered into the smoke that rose up from whatever the Dragoonya had used to destroy portions of the rampart. "Major!" he yelled.

Major Hornslight appeared at Loxoc's side. His helmet was covered with dust and a long bloody scrape ran from his scalp to his chin. He snapped to attention. "Yes sir!"

"What happened?" Loxoc yelled. "Damage report?"

"Unclear," replied Major Hornslight. "Some sort of new Dragoonya technology. We'll bounce back, though. As soon as our soldiers fall asleep." Both of them glanced below, where hundreds of Dormian soldiers were forcibly closing their eyes, trying to will themselves to sleep.

A voice filled with authority spoke up: "Those are gunpowder charges, sir. They were brought recently to Barsh-yin-Binder by modern traders. The Dragoonya have had them for almost three years now. 'Tis an evil instrument." Loxoc and the major turned in shock to see Spack, decked out in Dormian battle gear meant for an officer, standing next to them.

"You're that lazy Dormian that Alfonso found in Barsh-yin-Binder," said Loxoc.

"Not so lazy anymore," replied Spack. "I'm here to help. I've helped the Great Sleeper, and now it appears that you lads are in need of assistance as well. By the way, you wouldn't know where a tall, dashing friend of mine has gone off to? He goes by the name of Hill."

"He's off on other business," growled Loxoc. "But he's safe, for now."

"Excellent news!" replied Spack. "Now let's—"

She was interrupted by a whistling noise that grew louder and louder. Loxoc realized it was another Dragoonya bomb—filled with gunpowder—and it was heading straight toward them.

"Jump!" yelled Spack. All three of them dove onto the ground. Above them, the wall exploded from the force of a direct hit. Huge chunks of stone erupted and the wall split in two, crumbling into a pile of rubble. The same smoke appeared. Everyone gasped and rubbed their reddened eyes.

When the smoke cleared a minute later, Loxoc jumped to the
top of the rubble pile and tried to spot the Dragoonya army. He knew it should be several hundred feet in front of them.

He stood on the rubble, peering into the smoke, and suddenly realized something was different. The noise—that awful pounding of the drums—had vanished. What happened? Of course the Dragoonya hadn't left, but what were they doing?

From nearby, perhaps only fifty feet away, he heard a bugle sound for only a second. It was answered by the roar of thousands of bloodthirsty Dragoonya. This was quickly followed by the sound of horses beginning to gallop. Then the drums began again, and it seemed as if the world was swallowed up by noise.

Loxoc turned to face his men. He shook his head. "Fall asleep!" he shouted. "The wall is breached! Make way to defend—the Dragoonya cavalry are coming." He paused and realized no one could hear him. The drums were too loud. "If you don't fall asleep," he said, more to himself than anyone else, "we'll all die here."

As all of this was happening, General Loxoc recalled a memory from his youth. It was the funeral of his grandfather Milo Loxoc, who had also been a general. At the end of the funeral, a lone voice from among the crowd began to sing. At first it was almost too low to understand, but slowly the voice grew stronger, and was joined by other voices in the crowd. Loxoc remembered looking up at his mother and watching in great surprise as tears rolled down her face. "Why are you crying?" he remembered asking her. She had smiled and hoisted him up. "It's an old Dormian song," she had explained in a soft voice. "It's a song my parents used to sing to me when I was just your age. Some say it's a children's song. But others say the ancient
Dormians sang it to bring on sleep before battle. It's called the 'Warrior's Lullaby.'" And then she joined the crowd and began to sing as well.

This sudden memory sent Loxoc into a type of trance. His body relaxed and he lowered his sword. He began to sing in a voice that—like many years ago, in a different era and for different reasons—started low and steadily grew stronger. He walked among his fellow Dormians. Despite the overwhelming noise coming from the Dragoonya side, they all heard Loxoc's increasingly strong and emotion-filled voice as he sang in Dormian.

While the general sang, the breached wall filled with Dragoonya horsemen. The first wave had arrived. Dormian knights, held in reserve several hundred feet behind the wall, rushed to confront them. At first they were awake but as they approached, they joined General Loxoc in singing the lullaby, and fell asleep just as they met the Dragoonya swords and spears. Ordinary Dormian soldiers witnessed this, and joined the general and the knights until several hundred Dormians were all singing in one overpowering chant.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, an amazing transformation took place. Ordinary Dormian soldiers who had been close to panicking fell into a sleeping trance, and turned smartly to join the knights in facing the onrushing Dragoonya. The ground thundered with the bass of the drums and the hooves of the iron-clad Dragoonya horses. And yet the sleeping Dormians maintained their positions. They raised their swords and, at impact, weaved and floated like butterflies.

In the middle of this phalanx of Dormian soldiers, a fast-asleep Loxoc and Spack wielded their swords high above their
heads, and drove them down with the force of giants into the onrushing Dragoonya horsemen. The battle was so packed with sound that it drove out the air. The noises were deafening—the sharp whistling of arrows, the thunderous reports of gunpowder, and the deep, subterranean bass of the Dragoonya drums. And yet General Loxoc's song had worked. The Dormians were asleep and calm. They defended their city and battled as if their entire lives were spent preparing for this one moment.

"We're driving them back!" yelled the general triumphantly. "Prepare to counterattack!"

At that moment, a tall Dragoonya officer dressed in a fur cloak appeared in front of Loxoc. He was wielding a long bloody sword and his eyes gleamed white. It was highly unusual for an officer to be on the front lines like this—and an officer with white eyes...

"You!" yelled the general accusingly. "Are you the one they call Kiril?"

A dark smile crept across the face of the Dragoonya officer.

"You killed Johno!" shouted the general.

"You seem surprised," replied Kiril calmly. His voice was so conversational and unassuming that General Loxoc could barely hear it over the din of the battle. "But I assure you that killing Johno was not a difficult feat. I cut him down quickly enough—though, unfortunately, he took his time before dying. It's a shame isn't it, that sword wounds so often make for such drawn-out, pitiful deaths?"

General Loxoc yelled and lunged at Kiril. He slashed his sword down across Kiril's body, but Kiril narrowly avoided the sword and spun out of the way. Loxoc's face flushed and he
charged Kiril in raging fury. In one incredibly swift motion, Loxoc threw down his heavy broadsword and pulled out a dagger from a sling around his shoulder. Before Kiril had time to blink, Loxoc plunged the dagger into Kiril's shoulder. It sank to the hilt. Kiril screamed, clutched his shoulder, and wrenched the dagger from his own body. With the bloody dagger in hand, Kiril attempted to slash at Loxoc, but Loxoc was too quick and he knocked the dagger away. It clattered to the ground.

Kiril lunged for General Loxoc and the two of them—both without weapons—searched for any advantage. They punched and kicked and scratched, as if possessed. At one point, Kiril began grasping the ground, as if in search of something. An instant later, Loxoc gasped sharply. A trickle of blood appeared on his lips and ran down his chin. The dagger, which Kiril had managed to snatch up off the ground, was now firmly lodged in the general's chest. A look of surprise and great sadness came over the general's face. He tried to speak but could not.

Kiril shoved General Loxoc's dying body to the ground. With his face spattered in blood, Kiril stood above Loxoc and smiled. "Join your brother, wherever he is," Kiril spat. "And know this: before the sun begins to rise, Somnos will die with you. I
will
have my revenge."

Kiril leaned over and yanked the general's dagger from his body. He wiped it on his own clothing and then rejoined the battle.

"General Loxoc is dead!" called a nearby Dormian knight.

Officially, Major Hornslight was now in command, but he appeared to be in a state of shock. Spack, who was now at Major Hornslight's side, spoke up. "Major, we need to launch a counterattack," yelled Spack. "We still have the upper hand!"

"But we Dormians don't attack," said Major Hornslight wearily. "We are a defensive people."

"You're right," replied Spack. "Everyone knows we defend, especially the Dragoonya. They're counting on us just staying right here." A high whistling sound interrupted them. It was a cannon round, angling down toward them. It exploded just a few feet away.

"Major, there's no time!" Spack urged. "You know who I am, the lazy Dormian from Barsh-yin-Binder. You know I'd never do anything if I didn't have to. Well, I have to do this." With that, Spack raised her sword, yelled loudly, and began running toward the Dragoonya lines. It looked awkward, this mixture of sleep-walking and running, but there was no hiding Spack's determination.

Major Hornslight watched her for a few seconds. The other Dormians stared at Spack. Major Hornslight heard the high-pitched whistle from another cannon round. "Run!" he yelled. "Run foward! Follow the lazy Dormian from Barsh-yin-Binder!" With that, the major raised his sword and began to sleep-run after Spack. The entire Dormian army followed behind, led by what remained of the knights.

The Dragoonya were surprised by the Dormian counterattack, but they regrouped quickly. The cannons were cut out of the battle, but the archers swiftly aimed at the onrushing Dormian army. Wave after wave of fire-tipped arrows slashed into the Dormians. Since she was in the front, Spack was cut down first. Dozens of arrows pierced her shield and body armor. She lunged forward and fell to her knees. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she pitched forward, dead.