Wayne Batson - The Final Storm

“Eight legions?!” Mallik exclaimed. “That is twice what we faced in Yewland!”

“What of the Seven Sleepers and the Wyrm Lord?” Queen Illaria asked.

“They were not abroad,” Sir Brannock replied. “At least they were not when I fled.”

“Nay, they would not be unleashed this soon,” Kaliam replied. “This attack is a feint of the enemy. He wishes to measure our strength, to draw us out early.”

“A feint?” Mallik blurted out. “Eight legions is a feint?”

“Perhaps it is more,” King Ravelle said, and all eyes turned to him. “Certainly, the enemy wishes to know how we will respond, both in numbers and in tactics. But could it be that he has guessed our plans to fortify Alleble’s battlements with the hard blue granite from Ludgeon?”

“Then he goes to war in the Blue Mountains, not to cripple King Brower…,” Mallik began.

“… but to cripple us,” Farix whispered.

“Even were this thrust of Paragor’s not aimed at weakening our defenses here,” Kaliam began, “we would go to King Brower’s aid. They are our allies of old. But how should we respond?”

Mallik pounded his fist on the table. “Swiftly!” he grunted. “With numbers far greater than the enemy’s!”

“But what if Kaliam is right?” Queen Illaria asked. “What if Paragor means only to draw us out away from Alleble, so that he can bring his full forces against a depleted city?”

“That may well be his plan,” said King Ravelle. “Paragory, now swollen with troops from Frostland, Inferness, and Candleforge, hordes a fighting force of at least ten times what he spends now in the Blue Mountains. If he brought that group, the Wyrm Lord, and the Sleepers to bear upon Alleble in our absence, it could go ill.”

“What of our scouts at the Cold River?” Farix asked.

“There has been no report of Paragor moving beyond that border,” Kaliam explained. “It would seem that his grand attack is yet many days away. Still, can we take such a chance?”

“Every choice made in war is a chance, Kaliam!” thundered the deep voice of Sir Rogan. Then he bowed and lowered his voice. “Forgive me, my Sentinel, it is just that King Brower and the Glimpses of Ludgeon wait for help. And yet, here we sit. We must act, or the fate that befell Mithegard will happen again.”

Kaliam turned to his right. “Farix, how many dragon riders have we gathered in Alleble to date?”

Farix calculated a moment while staring into one of the chamber’s torches. “Counting those brought today by Queen Illaria and the Braves of Yewland, we could muster ten legions airborne.”

“Good!” Sir Rogan nodded heartily. “Then I say we set forth to King Brower’s aid at once! Empty Alleble of every dragon rider ready for battle!”

“And leave Alleble with no winged defense? Rogan, that is taking a huge risk,” Kaliam said.

“He’s right,” Queen Illaria said. “To allow Paragor’s dragons to roam the skies over Alleble unchecked is madness.”

“I do not see that we have a choice,” Sir Rogan replied. “Paragor’s attack on the Blue Mountains continues as we speak. The longer we delay, the greater Paragor’s chances of cutting off our ability to fortify the walls. We must go by air! Let us swoop down upon his forces and sweep them away like a storm!” Mallik roared in agreement.

“But what if that is what Paragor wants?” Nock asked. “What if Alleble’s scouts at the Cold River fail, and the enemy launches a full-scale attack?”

“Then let him come!” Rogan said. “Alleble is not some tiny village made of thatch! And even with the dragon riders gone, this city is not defenseless! Look who will be waiting. The archers of Yewland, the mounted cavalry of Mithegard, the swordsmen of Acacia-the walls will be manned by such an alliance of hearty warriors that even with the Wyrm Lord, Paragor will find an assault upon Alleble very costly.”

Sir Rogan paused and glared at everyone in the chamber. His eyes were afire with pride, and his confidence began to spread. Seeing the nods and smiles of his comrades, Sir Rogan went on. “If we bring such a lightning attack upon Paragor’s troops in the Blue Mountains, we will win quickly. And then, with King Brower’s doughty folk as reinforcements, we will return swiftly to Alleble. If Paragor is here, then… we will come upon his flank and smash him against the walls of the city like a hammer to an anvil!”

Many of those assembled cheered and slammed fists upon the table. But Queen Illaria said, “Kaliam, I agree with Sir Rogan in one aspect, at least. We must take action now.”

“This decision is fraught with peril. Whatever course I choose, lives will be lost,” Kaliam said. “But after hearing such prudent counsel, I agree that we must act swiftly and with overwhelming force. I say we saddle every last dragon and leave for the Blue Mountains before the sun sets! If this be a test to measure our strength and our resolve, then let us pass it mightily!”

W hat about this one, Mallik?” asked Nock from the post of a nearby dragon pen.

Mallik looked at the dragon and raised his eyebrows. “That is Splinter-a nasty one, she is. I tried to saddle her, but she knocked me aside like swatting a fly. I say we leave her.”

Nock took a closer look. The dragon sleeping within the pen appeared black or dark gray in the moonlight. She was large and muscular; her wings stretched lazily at her side. Nock noticed the four ivory-white spikes protruding from her tail, and six more from the bony ridge on the back of her head. So that is why you are called Splinter.

“Kaliam said every dragon in Alleble was to be saddled,” Nock called to his friend.

“Then you do it!” Mallik yelled. “I will be content with this dragon here. Butterwing, yes, now that sounds like a dragon for me!”

“You see, my rigid friend…,” Nock said, opening the pen. The dragon stirred slightly, but did not open its eyes. “There is an art to saddling a raw dragon. You cannot break them in with the same method you use to break rocks with your hammer!”

Nock laughed and put the saddle down inside the pen. He walked slowly up to the creature, and still it did not seem to awaken. “You must show them respect,” Nock continued as he slowly approached the creature. “Show them tenderness.” Nock brushed his hand along the creature’s neck. This earned Nock an ominous low growl.

“Easy, Splinter,” Nock said, slowly letting his fingers tickle close to her folded ears. “You see, Mallik, all you have to do-”

Suddenly, Splinter’s right foreleg unfolded, and the dragon backhanded Nock so hard that he flew out of the pen and landed with a crash ten feet away. The saddle, torn in two pieces, landed with a WHUMP beside the fallen archer. Splinter snorted and went back to sleep.

“Nock!” Mallik yelled, racing to his friend’s side. “Are you all right?”

“Uh…,” Nock said, steadying himself. “Nothing is broken, if that is what you mean.”

“Well, I would not say that nothing is broken!” Mallik laughed, holding up the two jagged pieces of the saddle.

“You were right,” Nock said, finally getting to his feet. “We need to leave Splinter behind.”

“I will seek another steed!” Mallik said, patting his friend lightly on the back. “I think maybe you should take Butterwing.”

Although the glow of dawn already shimmered in the east, the stars still peeked out. Swarming about were the combined dragon riders from Alleble, Yewland, Acacia, and Mithegard. The ten legions of winged beasts swept low to the ground across the hilly terrain just south of their destination.

Queen Illaria led their airborne attack, for there was no one who better understood battle tactics in the air. With her flew Baldergrim, Trenna Swiftfoot, Nock, Farix, Mallik, Sir Oswyn, Sir Rogan, King Ravelle, and Lord Sternhilt. The others remained in Alleble with Kaliam to plan the defense of the city should the enemy attack while the riders were away.