The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4) (21 page)

“I’m glad you could break away from your duties to deliver this, even if it’s late and old news now!” the duke said. He motioned for the guard. “Captain, throw this incompetent fool in the dungeon until I decide what’s to be done with him.”

“Your Grace, might I be of assistance?” a small, wiry man asked from the back of the audience chamber. All turned to see who dared open his mouth at such a time.

What’s my assistant doing here? the chatra wondered. He knew the message was late. Does he hope to benefit from my downfall?

The guard grasped the minister’s arm, pulling him toward the door.

“Who might you be?” the duke asked.

“I’m the chatra’s assistant. In his absence, I’ll be glad to perform his duties to serve your grace,” the sharp little man replied, with an excessively subservient bow.

“Yes, I’ll need a new chatra. You may assume the duties until I appoint one,” the duke said, looking at the message and apparently thinking out loud.

“You sniveling little twerp!” shouted the chatra, stumbling backward, pulled by the guard. The little man’s mad. “You’re not suitable in the least to be chatra.”
He hopes to be named chatra and assume the position’s trappings and power over the court, he thought.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” the disappointed man mumbled. He didn’t acknowledge the struggling chatra.

“Dispatch a letter to Memlatec right away informing him of the situation here,” the duke said. He then turned to the little man and fixed a hard, threatening stare. “Don’t delay! This must fly out of here immediately before something happens to cut off the winged messengers. Give the message to Memlatec’s courier. Report back here to me when the bird flies out of sight of the citadel.”

*

As guards dragged the disgraced chatra from the audience hall, the acting chatra turned and rushed to his new office. He wrote a summary of events as they occurred and the present state of siege. He carefully rolled up the document, tied it with string, and sealed the knot with the duke’s seal. The man rushed to the eagle on the battlements. There, he made clear the importance of the document to the hawk by pointing to the seal. He had the messenger keeper cast the great bird into the wind, where he flew south to Konnotan.

* * *

The hawk wasn’t gone more than half an hour, when the watch on a Hadorhof tower saw a dark figure flying toward the fortress from the northwest. It’s pointed tail and long outstretched wings were visible in the outline. The telltale concave outline of the wing bottoms could only mean one thing that size. The sweating watch didn’t yell but left his post, racing down the tower, searching for the duke. The soldier burst into the throne room.

“Your Grace,” shouted the soldier, out of breath, wide-eyed, and shaking.

“What is it man?”

“Your Grace, there’s a dragon flying directly toward the city!”

Panic spread like a wave across the court. The formal nature of the throne room disintegrated. The courtiers spun around, looking for the nearest exits. The duke was oblivious to the chaos.

“A dragon you say? Coming here?” Jedrac said. “An army suddenly appears forming south of the city, we’re under siege, and now you tell me I’m to deal with an attacking dragon?” He turned and looked at a courtier next to him, then back to the watch. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“You’ve seen this yourself?” the duke asked.

“I came straight from the watch tower above. I saw it myself.”

“Captain, double the guards on the battlements and walls. Send a herald through the city. No, no herald yet, send me the acting chatra on your way out to the defenses.”

The sniveling new chatra returned a few moments later.

“Send a herald through the city informing the citizens simply that we are under siege. A dragon is possibly approaching. All citizens should stock up on supplies and water and remain in their homes until further notice.” The wide-eyed chatra dashed away.

Alone now except for the watch soldier and guards at the doors, the duke sat back on his throne. “What are the consequences of a dragon attacking the city? We’re prepared for an army’s frontal attack, but now it’s slipped beneath us unnoticed. We aren’t prepared for an attack from above. The city is built entirely of stone and granite, but a dragon can attack with impunity. We can do little to stop it. Dragons are creatures of old magic. The feeble implements of war at my disposal aren’t a threat to a dragon.”

“How may I help?” the watch said.

“Return to the tower and report again if the beast still approaches or if it changes direction at all.”

* * *

Magwaddle was a dragon on a mission. He was Magnosious’s brother, and only total carnage would quench his thirst for revenge. The great bronze dragon flew over the Edros Swamps, where the unwholesome air filled his lungs, invigorating him as he flew southeast. He licked his lips when he first saw the outline of the Hador Mountains off in the distance. He’d a slight deformity; a flap of skin grew from between his horns and fell down over his left eye. The other dragons tormented him about it in his youth. It made him unusually bitter and resentful. News that the Neuyokkasin king killed his brother only added to that hatred. It gave his pent up rage a focus and an outlet. Now, that twisted power was unleashed on the fortress-city of Hador. The dragon flew as fast as possible to avenge his dead brother.

* * *

The swooshing of Magwaddle’s massive wings spread over the hushed city before he reached its granite summit. Citizens fled into their homes, huddling in the farthest interiors, hoping the city’s stone facing would now prove its choice. At least granite would withstand flame better than any other material available. The citizens that had complained about the thick stone exterior decree now thanked the duke’s grandfather’s memory for it.

“We have catapults, don’t we?” the duke asked the general in charge of the city’s defense. Sudden violet winds whipped the duke’s hair and blew off the general’s hat as they stood on the Hadorhof’s highest tower.

“Yes, Your Grace, they sit out to impress the onlookers, but they’re very old. We didn’t expect to use them again,” the general replied. He fidgeted and looked toward the nearest catapult. He grabbed his hat and jerked it firmly on his head.

“Inspect them all. See if any are serviceable. Repair those that can be repaired. Have the best two refitted to shoot massive arrows that could strike a dragon effectively. Order the smiths to stop work on anything except fashioning great arrows with iron heads for the refurbished catapults. Have soldiers fill buckets of water and place them around all over the Hadorhof in case the dragon starts fires.” The general left hurriedly.

“Where’s the court wizard?” the duke called to an attendant. “Find him. Have him report here immediately.”

*

Magwaddle savored his invincible position, circling over the city, encouraging the inhabitants to succumb to fear. The dark slate roofs below suited his grim mood. The grey smoke from the chimneys gave their hiding places away.

Terror’s my ally, thought Magwaddle. Soon, some of the creatures below will break cover and run, panicked, into the streets. They’ll be like ants out of a hill for the picking. The dragon dipped down, snorting flames here and there. The sulfurous stench should hasten their mental anguish, he thought.

Now and again, when fear overruled their better judgment, someone would bolt from his home. The great bronze dragon would swoop down and snort a bit of flame to toast the person before snapping up the smoking morsel. Once Magwaddle satisfied his appetite, he wanted to leave the citizens cringing during the night before he returned the next day to feed again. He left constant terror in his wake.

The dragon would dive down and violently whip his armored tail, smashing this building or that to expose the people hiding within. The victims’ screams kept the city terrorized, and by nightfall, when the dragon flew off, none dared venture outside. The attacks continued unabated for three more days. By then, Magwaddle knew the Hadorians’ last nerves were frayed.

*

In the house next to Hendrel’s, the family huddled beside a fire in a room at the back of the home. Even that room’s door was shut and locked. After three days hiding there, the mother was boiling a meaty bone. She had just dropped in the last of the fresh vegetables when a wisp of black vapor slipped through the crack under the door. The father was shoveling coal for the fire in the corner and didn’t see the vapor cross the floor. It slipped into his wife’s body, and she gasped. The mother stood rigid, looked up with yellow eyes, and stared at her husband. She raced for him with her knife raised to stab him in the back.

He looked up at her just in time and grabbed her with one hand and the knife-wielding arm with the other. They struggled for a moment, him confused but resisting her attack. She hissed at him, trying to thrust the knife into his chest. 

The terrified children looked on as the two struggled. When the wraith-wife realized it wouldn’t over power the husband, it released her body. She slumped, dead in his arms. The dark vapor flew out of her and under the door crack back into the city. The husband held his wife, sobbing as the two motherless children approached with caution.

* * *

The unnerving night-long screams and sounds of rock-dwarves hammering and shoveling the muck beneath the city abated with the dawn of the fourth day. Dreaddrac’s eastern army north of Hador suddenly appeared encamped on the plain beyond the fortress’s mountains. The army to the south kept it encircled and cut off from relief or supplies. These sights and sounds unnerved the Hadorians night and day.

This morning, before Magwaddle returned for his day’s amusement, the Hadorians ventured out for food and found the catapults were in working order and stationed up on the stout walls. Two massive converted crossbows stood ready and hidden in two of the Hadorhof’s towers. The catapults and those reworked into massive crossbows were all the duke had to combat the dragon.

The smiths had forged a massive arrowhead and bolted it onto a straight log. The end was hardened by fire to hold the arrowhead firmly, and the arrow’s wings were made from strong cloth stretched securely to iron shafts hammered into the log at the opposite end. The great arrow had an added menace; the court wizard had cast a spell on the arrowhead and sealed it with wizard-fire so that the enchanted arrowhead glowed with a pale blue cast. The wizard assured the duke the spell would enable the arrow to penetrate the dragon’s armor plates. They secured the arrow in the massive bow.

*

Duke Jedrac watched as Magwaddle flew over the city again on the fourth day. As was his usual tactic, he circled around several times to heighten the people’s terror. Then he began his descent to flush out his morning meal. There had been no resistance during the previous four days, and Magwaddle showed no sign of caution. He descended quickly to find someone to eat.

The beast ventured too close to the Hadorhof’s towers, where Duke Jedrac was waiting for just such an opportunity. When Magwaddle flew by the duke’s tower, Jedrac stood with his best crossbow archer.

“You must hold until the dragon is very close. Such a massive arrow will not retain its forward thrust long. Wait until I give the signal,” Jedrac said, noting beads of perspiration forming on both of them. The city is silent; the people are hunkered down in their deepest retreats, he thought. The rhythmic swooshing of Magwaddle’s wings is like the city’s heartbeat: slow, even, and ominous.

“Steady now,” Jedrac said to the archer. He watched the dragon’s reflection in a mirror of a polished shield not wanting the dragon to have a direct view of him. He glanced at the archer, whose muscles twitched watching the duke’s every movement. His white hand gripped the crossbow’s release. His fingers constantly moved, fine-tuning his grip on the release rope. He’s reassuring himself he’s ready, the duke thought.

“He’s coming,” the archer whispered.

Magwaddle soared close beside the great tower as he circled back over the citadel to pass over the city again. His great bronze scales shimmered in the morning light a wing’s distance from the tower wall.

“Now!” Jedrac said. His voice startled both men.

The archer jerked hard on the chord restraining the crossbow. The whole apparatus shook and jumped slightly forward from the floor as the bow-rope shot ahead, thrusting the monstrous arrow out the window. The archer fell back onto the floor. Both men stared following the projectile’s flight.

The massive arrow flew straight for the startled dragon’s breast, but the angle was such that the arrow ricocheted off a scale and shot straight into Magwaddle’s thigh. The dragon screamed a blood-curdling scream of pain and flew higher above the city. Soldiers watched as the reptile spiraled higher. His wings flapped wildly. His boney jaws snapped at the huge shaft protruding from his leg. Screams pealed out across the mountains. Dreaddrac’s troops on the plain north of Hador looked up in awe at the dragon frantically snapping to pluck out the arrow. The orcs, ogres, trolls and even their beasts of burden stood transfixed at the sight of their invincible ally whipping and thrashing at the air.

“He’s not dead,” Duke Jedrac said to the archer and his wizard. They stared at the beast above. “That’s no mortal wound. When he gets the arrow out and returns, his rage will know no bounds.”