The Powterosian War (Book 5) (42 page)

“I tell you King Saxthor is somehow Emperor Saxthor now. He brings both the Neuyokkasinian and the imperial armies to King Grekenbach’s aid. I saw it for myself at Heedra,” the unnerved goblin General Sorrax said to the cold sneering General Vylvex. “I’m the only one that escaped from the carnage.”

“We’ll finally get our revenge here,” General Vylvex said. “If this Emperor Saxthor comes, he comes too late to save Grekenbach and Graushdem. Look there at the south gate, it crumbles as we speak.”

Sorrax saw the dust billow out from the fallen stones as the tower collapsed onto the plain, crushing the battering ram that had just shattered it. The sight steadied his nerves for a moment and he grinned.

“You’ve whined about this imperial army too long now,” Vylvex said with disdain. The goblin knew well the ogre hated and feared goblins. “Go back to the Munattahensenhov and inform the king we are about to take Graushdemheimer. I’ll deliver the kingdom of Graushdem to his majesty, as ordered.” Vylvex turned back to view the battle in its final carnage. “See those new flames rising from the north tower?”

The screaming from within the city grew louder as the blanket of black leather uniforms spread over the walls. Sorrax saw the pleasure the sound of hopelessness gave the general in the twisted smile on his scarred face. A sudden queasiness came over the goblin. He looked around and, from behind the command post, he heard the unmistakable sound of rhythmic pounding. That could only be the sound of massive coordinated marching, he thought. “Do you hear that?” Sorrax asked.

“Hear what? Everything spooks you now,” Vylvex said, not turning to give thought to the question.

His aide, another ogre, turned. “I hears it too,” the aide said.

Vylvex looked back then and heard the powerful, deep pounding. An orc standing beside Vylvex’s horse, holding a goblet for the general, looked back, too. Vylvex looked down at the liquid in the wooden goblet, seeing concentric circles rippling in unison with the sound.

“What is it?” the aide asked.

“I’ll tell you what it is,” Sorrax said. “It’s the sound of the Grand Imperial Army marching to relieve the siege of Graushdemheimer.” With that, Sorrax turned his horse north and fled back to report to the Dark Lord as Vylvex ordered but with different news than Vylvex gave.

* * *

King Grekenbach was on the west gate tower, embroiled in a sword fight with an ogre who’d gained the walls and sought out the king for his conquest. The swords clashed, steel on steel, ringing violently with deeper thuds on the shields. Grekenbach gave ground as the exceptionally muscled ogre pressed forward. The ogre swung an upper cut arc knocking back the king’s shield but exposing his own right side to Grekenbach’s sword. The more nimble king thrust his sword through the leather body armor thongs, deep into the ogre’s chest. The great beast stood shocked for an instant, then fell forward. Grekenbach shoved his great opponent. The dying ogre toppled back over the wall.

The king, with exhausted muscles trembling, wiped blood from his forehead. He glanced about quickly. Everywhere the orcs poured over the walls. A resounding crack erupted below him at the gate, a groan followed, then the sound of splintering oak beams. He looked over the tower wall. The enemy had managed to get a ram to the gate. It was now repeatedly smashing into the gate below the tower.

The city is lost, he thought. Beyond the walls, an undulating mass of black leather pressed forward to the gate. Up on the slope he saw General Vylvex’s command post. All the officers there are scrambling around feverishly. Why are they looking north, not here at their victory? He wondered. Then King Grekenbach caught sight of a new army marching toward Graushdemheimer from the north. He squinted to see clearer. The uniforms aren’t black, he noted.

A general pushed through the fighting men and orcs, pointing north. The general’s beaming smile glowed amid his heavy black mustache and beard.

“Who is it?” Grekenbach called out, slashing his sword, disemboweling an orc scrambling over the wall.

“Majesty, Duke Jedrac comes with his army from Hador!”

“Jedrac at last,” Grekenbach said. “Another arc of the sword and a headless orc fell back over the wall.

The orcs seemed to lose their confidence. They barely defended themselves as they sought to get a look at the approaching army. All heard the faint rattling of metal armor amid rhythmic marching in the distance. Fleeting glances passed among the orcs hesitating to prosecute the attack. At first, a few abandoned the fights and scurried back down ladders. Apparently, seeing their comrades retreating, more and more orcs rushed for the ladders, trampling those too slow or packed tightly around them. The men rushed to attack the retreating orcs. It was a slaughter. The remaining orcs were running from the walls when the horrifying sound of whooshing grew louder than the sound of the approaching army almost at the walls.

“What’s that?” the general asked. His smile disappeared.

Both men stood listening to the sound. Grekenbach looked northwest to the source of the sound. He gasped at the sight now visible in the distance.

“A bronze dragon,” he responded, disheartened, barely able to speak through his despair. He spun around and looked to the slopes above the city. The orcs, too, heard the dragon. They turned back to the city, beginning to cheer and thrust up their arms at Graushdemheimer.

Just before the dragon reached the metropolis, Duke Jedrac, with his legions, rushed through the gates into Graushdemheimer. They sought shelter from the approaching flames just behind them. Duke Jedrac and another man rushed up the tower stairs to King Grekenbach. The men watched the great dragon circle the city, having just missed flaming the relieving army. Men scrambled everywhere in the city to get indoors.

“Majesty,” Jedrac said, bowing on one knee to King Grekenbach. “We come late, but we come in force.”

“And welcome you are, Duke Jedrac.”

“Majesty, this man here is our great Hadorian wizard, Hendrel. He destroyed the bronze dragon that attacked Hador; killed it with tiny mites using some spell of his. A very useful wizard indeed,” Jedrac said. Grinning, he slapped Hendrel on the back nearly knocking him off his feet.

Grekenbach stepped forward and shook the hand of the bowing Hendrel. “You are all welcome this day. There is hope. Well, hope if we can kill that dragon.”

The great dragon soared low over the tower, flaming it, apparently trying to flush out men losing their nerve.

“We must get to the palace,” Grekenbach said. “This tower is too exposed to withstand such flames long.” The king led the others down steps to the interior door at the base. “When the dragon passes over next time we must rush for the palace before it can circle around.”

On the next pass, the dragon flamed the gate tower. The sooty spire began to crumble as the mortar burned between the stones. The sound of crashing rocks above them was a signal to the men. The band made a dash for the palace.

The people of Graushdemheimer cowered beneath stone and earth, avoiding the dragon’s flames as it circled the city over and over, snatching any man outside and flaming indiscriminately. The battle for Graushdem held in stalemate all the while. Checking on the dragon’s destruction, King Grekenbach looked out of the partially burned palace tower at the damage done to the south gate. In the distance he saw movement.

“What’s that coming from the Talok Mountains?” Grekenbach questioned. The chatra, Duke Jedrac, and Hendrel rushed to the window.

“It’s an army,” Jedrac said.

“An army?” Grekenbach questioned. “There is no southern army.”

“Well there’s one now,” Jedrac said.

Hendrel stepped to the window.

“What are you smiling about, Wizard Hendrel?” Grekenbach asked.

“Those are elves if my eyesight isn’t deceiving me,” Hendrel said, turning to the king. “If my guess is correct, the most regal of elves as King Saxthor described them.”

“Elves… here… How would King Saxthor know of elves or describe them.”

“Privately he told me about when he met them on the adventure. Their king and the dowager queen made quite an impression on him and apparently him on them. Those would be the Talok-Tak Elves and their King Mendentak. The dowager queen gave Saxthor a wand that made us invisible in several encounters on the adventure.”

“Elves, wands, all this and that going on around me and I knew nothing of them,” Grekenbach grumbled. He turned suddenly to Hendrel. “Those would be coming to our aid and not joining General Vylvex, is that right?”

“They would be coming to your aid, indeed,” Hendrel said. “And now I’ll go see your Wizard Tolalo and see if we can formulate a plan to combat your dragon.” With that Hendrel left for the wizard’s tower.

“My dragon he says, and elves… I’ve never met a real elf,” Grekenbach said. “If the stories of old are true, elves have primal powers of their own that might well challenge a dragon.”

“Elves, dwarves, whingtangs, all kinds of things popping up now from nowhere,” Jedrac mumbled.

“Dwarves you say?” Grekenbach questioned.

“Yes, those Hadorian dwarves living in a kingdom under my very mountains all the while. No one ever knew until they saved us all by tunneling into the lake before Hador’s gates, drowning the orcs in the tunnel and on the plain. They divided General Vylvex’s army. That’s likely why we’ve both been able to hold out so long,” Duke Jedrac said.

Grekenbach slapped his arm around Jedrac’s shoulders and pulled him to the window to see the now quite visible elf army. “This is indeed our lucky day with armies coming from the north and south to relieve the siege.” Flames shot in front of the window and the two men jumped back. The stench of sulfur permeated the air.

The orcs stood mesmerized at the sight of yet another army coming to Graushdemheimer’s aid. Their cheering in support of the dragon slowed, then stopped all together as they became aware of the approaching army from the south. They chattered among themselves left and right at the sight.

“They’re speculating if the elves can fight a dragon,” Jedrac said.

The dragon saw the approaching army and swerved around, bearing down on the elves, its wings flapping to gain height.

“That dragon will burn those exposed elves to ash,” Grekenbach said. He slapped his hands on the windowsill looking out. “There’s no place for them to take cover.”

“Send to the south gate that they should be ready to make way for the elves if any of them survive the attack,” the chatra ordered. The guard saluted and rushed off.

“That King Mendentak rides his horse at the head of his army seemingly unconcerned,” Grekenbach said. His voice was a mix of shock and despair. “He can see the dragon high in the sky now beginning his dive on them. Why doesn’t he rush for the city?” He watched, sinking down as the dragon tucked its wings, straightened its body, and increased its speed, aiming for the elves. A wisp of black sulfurous smoke trickled from its nostrils. “It’s too late.” The king turned from the window.

“Apparently not,” Jedrac said.

Grekenbach whirled about. “What’s that in his hand? That’s not even a sword. How can the elf withstand the dragon’s attack with a stick?”

King Mendentak had a wand in his hand; its crystal glowed. The dragon took a deep breath, opened its mouth to flame the army only the tower’s height above the elves. Grekenbach gasped a deep breath too. Then a strange blue laser light shot from the crystal, burning a line down the dragon’s throat. It veered off from the attack, choking on its own flame, flapped its wings violently and flew over the orcs west of the city.

“What was that?” Grekenbach asked. He turned to each person in the tower room, then back to the window.

“Here he comes again,” Jedrac said.

The enraged dragon didn’t attempt to gain altitude, but regained its courage or cast off its shock. It flew straight for the elves nearly at Graushdemheimer.

“Look there!” Grekenbach shouted, pointing to the west.

“It’s another army,” Jedrac barely mumbled. “That army is vast, for sure. It seems to stretch to the horizon. Who’s that galloping this way in front, another fool begging for death?”

“That’s no fool,” Grekenbach exclaimed. The king and the duke looked at each other, then back at the rider approaching King Mendentak. “I’d say that would be the Wizard Memlatec, judging from his white beard and the runes on his robes.”

The dragon was almost on the elfin army. Grekenbach could see the yard long burned gash on its throat still smoldering as it flew by. Then suddenly, another bolt of energy shot from Mendentak’s wand and a second bolt from Memlatec’s staff’s crystal, twice as powerful. A sizzling bolt shot from the palace wizard’s tower below the king’s tower window. All three bolts smashed into the dragon’s head that then jerked from the shock and exploded. The dragon’s body spun through the air, spewing blood from the gaping neck. It hurtled along just over the elves and slammed into the ground just beyond them, throwing up stones and dust for a quarter mile before coming to rest in a heap.

Grekenbach rushed down the tower, through the palaced out through the city to the southern gate. Jedrac was quick behind him followed by the two wizards.

“Make way for those coming in!” the king yelled, rushing up to the surprised defenders.

Soldiers pulled away tower rubble to admit King Mendentak and Wizard Memlatec. The elfin army marched in elegant formation a short distance behind them. Grekenbach rushed out to greet the king and wizard. They all shook hands and welcomed each other.