Chapter 40
There was a moment when everything seemed to be moving
in slow motion. The wind produced by the
dragons’ wings roared down on them like a hurricane, blowing men to their
deaths in
a furious instant stretched in time by the shocking horror of the moment.
The realization that they didn’t have a chance. The battle eager smile faded from King Tolris’
face. They all knew it. Tolian knew it too. They were doomed. The monstrous reptiles dove upon them. Tolian stared at the gigantic scaly head with
its cold eye that drew closer and closer.
The dragon opened its vast jaws wide and threw its head back and then
forward.
Then the dragonfire rained down on
them as the five dragons released their infernal breath upon the Palace at
once. Everyone on the Kings balcony
ducked down, though the first onslaught was directed at the lower towers. The heat was still searing. Savage flames licked below. Smoke billowed up, rolling over rooftops and
turrets hiding the damage from Tolian’s eyes.
She peered into the smoke clouds without result. Another gust from the dragons’ wings and the
black fog lifted.
Fires burned here and there, but widely scattered. The damage was remarkably light.
“The Yellow Banner!” shouted Tolris.
Urno quickly resumed his position and
hoisted the yellow banner. Tolian
watched as the yellow banners blew wildly in the dragon gale. The Yellow Banner was the signal for missile
attack, and the skies instantly blackened with arrows. Dragons make for large targets, but the force
of their mighty wings deflected the majority of the arrows. The few that found their targets had no
noticeable effect on the massive reptiles.
“I think we need to get closer,” said
Findelbres.
As he spoke he leapt lightly off the
balcony and into the air, rising with unearthly grace. The colorful wings streamed behind him. In one motion the faerie unslung his bow and
fitted an arrow. He flew with great
speed towards the nearest dragon.
Tolian could not see the outcome of
Findelbres’ attack. The dragons released
another blast of fire upon the Lormian fortress. Orange and red flames raged against the wood,
stone and men that stood before them.
Many archers had not yet withdrawn to cover and were roasted alive. Burnt flesh assailed Tolian’s nostrils. Thick black smoke again rose to
engulf them. Tolian heard Brythia
coughing next to her but could see nothing.
This time there were more screams and the smoke lingered longer. Even as the rush of wing blew across the
palace, black smoke still churned from over and spikes of fire danced high now on
many more areas.
Tolian looked up to see Findelbres
flying above him towards the largest of the dragons. The faerie released his shaft at the flying
monster. The arrow, even fired from
close range, had no effect on the beast.
Tolian shuddered. Findelbres flew
over the dragons head, launching another arrow into the dragon’s scaly hide. This time Tolian clearly detected a pained
bellow from the creature as it turned and flew in pursuit of Findelbres.
“Fly Findelbres! Fly,” shouted Brythia.
As fleet as the winged faerie was he
could not escape the dragon’s wrathful pursuit.
A burst of dragonfire. An
unearthly scream. The rainbow wings
streamed flames as Findelbres fell from the sky.
“No!” Tolian said.
She could not stand there another
moment and let her friends die and her home be destroyed. She had to do something. She drew the Moonsword from her scabbard and
jumped. She jumped with every bit of
energy she could put in her legs. She
shot through the air with fantastic force and speed. Coldness rushed around her. The Dragon Wind could not deter her, nor
deflect her from her course.
Brythia gasped.
Tolris yelled out, “That’s my boy!”
There was never any thought that she
would be able to catch Findelbres. He
was already as good as dead. Tolian knew that. They would all be dead unless she could find
a way to stop the dragons.
She hung in the air for but a moment.
Below her the Palace blazed from a
hundred fires and the Demon’s troops waited patiently outside the walls. Just as she felt her momentum begin to fail
her target loomed large before her. The
dark brown and grey scales of the dragon’s hide. She slammed into the flying reptile’s side,
just below and behind the wings. The
impact of the collision knocked the air out of her lungs.
This is it, she told herself.
She had only a second to act. She drove the Moonsword deep into the vast
creature’s side and held on with both hands for all she was worth. The dragon reacted immediately. It roared in rage and pain. It turned its gigantic head to face Tolian; a
look of hatred burned within its eye.
The wind tugged at Tolian as she struggled to maintain her grip on the
sword. The dragon flapped its mighty
wings and soared higher into the sky.
Tolian’s stomach sank and bile rushed up into her mouth. She swallowed. Something white caught her eye for a second. It was a snowflake. It moved out of her vision in an instant, but
it seemed significant somehow that did not register in her conscious mind.
Tolian looked at where the Moonsword
penetrated the dragon’s thick scales.
Blood oozed from the wound. The
Champion forced her right hand inside the gash next to her magick blade. It burned.
She made certain of her grip and pulled the blade out with her left
hand. Her fingers dug even deeper into
the wound. They felt as though they were
on fire. Tolian pulled herself a little
further up the monster’s back, the wind ripping at her as she moved upward. Again, she plunged the Moonsword into the
dragon’s side. A deafening bellow of
pain found Tolian’s ears, even through the wall of air that bludgeoned her
senses. Tolian pulled her hand from the
wound and thrust it into the fresh one next to the Moonsword and pulled herself
along the dragon’s back further.
The enraged dragon halted its upward
flight and shook itself, twisting, spinning and rolling in the
air. Tolian’s stomach turned again. This time she could not hold the vomit
in. She hacked and she gagged, but she
did not release her grip on the sword.
She gradually made her way up the dragon’s back in that manner, and in
three more thrusts of her lunar blade she reached the creature’s neck.
Now, she established her grip and
slashed at the mammoth throat over and over.
The Moonsword ripped through the softer scales like butter. Blood splattered everywhere, igniting into
flame as the droplets touched the air. The dragon wailed hideously and turned downwards, desperately
striving to reach the ground by its own power ere gravity took over.
The ground came rushing up on
Tolian. The dragon slowed its fall with
a few feeble flappings of its wings as it neared the cold earth. Tolian heard a great cry of triumph erupt
from the Palace as she rode the dying dragon back down to the ground. More and more snowflakes crowded around her
as she descended. The Demon’s men, who
were beneath the dragon as it began to fall, scattered to avoid the behemoth’s
collapse. The dragon died just as it hit
the earth. Tolian withdrew the bloody
and flaming Moonsword from the giant carcass and jumped to the ground in front
of the Main Gate.
She looked up at the Palace which was ablaze from the assaults of the
remaining four dragons. She could not
hope to save Lorm now. The calls of the
Demon’s ground troops caught her attention.
“There she is,” shouted a mounted
warrior, some fifty yards away. “The man
who captures that wench shall be richly rewarded.”
“That’s the one all right,” said
another.
Tolian turned to face them, but that
had become difficult. The snow fell now
at such a fierce rate as to render anything further than twenty yards,
invisible. Blinding whiteness fell from
the sky like a blanket over the Palace and fields. Shouts could be heard. The roaring of dragons became muffled (did
Tolian detect a note of frustration in the beast’s tone?). Whiteness.
There was a terrible thud. The ground shook with such force that Tolian
was knocked to her knees. Screams came
from the Demon’s men now. Tolian
realized what was happening. The dragons
couldn’t maintain their flight in the blizzard; one had already fallen as the
ice accumulated on its massive wings. It
was, without a doubt, the most intense snow storm she had ever seen. The snow was so heavy that, already where she
was standing, there were three inches, where two minutes earlier there had been
none. Tolian remembered Brythia’s spell
and smiled to herself in pride. Cheers
thundered from the besieged palace, signalling that the dragons had been forced
to withdraw.
A trumpet sounded from the walls
above. A battle call. The signal for attack. Her father had raised the battle call. He was right to do so, of course. Now was their only chance. With the dragons out of the conflict, it
would be a whole different battle. There
was no way to be sure how long this blizzard would last. It was a gamble, but it was their only hope.
Copyright 2002, 2015
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