Caleb's Journey

The Last Day

Eman-Sadal awoke filled with supreme confidence. His frontal and flanking assaults on Attalis though costly had finally begun to wear down the defenders to the point where he could execute his grand scheme and bring about its downfall. Most of his catapults lie in ruin, victims of the opposition’s anti-siege weaponry. However, he deduced that he still possessed enough firepower left, including several previously unleashed siege towers to serve as a distraction.

The time to release his dragon drew nigh and it filled Eman-Sadal with giddy anticipation of triumph. It had been ages since the opportunity to match military wit with an adversary had presented itself. This was the culmination of his plans, to weaken the defenses of the castle to a point where the dragon’s breath would crack the vaunted walls of Attalis thereby allowing his army unfettered access to the inside of the castle where a pitched battle between his armies and the humans would result in victory for his forces.

“

This day I complete my master’s task,” he thought. “Then I can get my reward from him, the restoration of my human form without the loss of my immortality. At times I miss my handsome self, not that the stares of others bother me, but why not have the best of both worlds? A fine bargain, I think.”

Time fell for the usual meeting in the commander’s tent. As opposed to being his typical solemn self, Eman-Sadal seemed rather upbeat. He had arrived earlier than all of the other members of the leadership council to ensure that they had a fine meal, a sort of victory feast, laid out before them; fresh fruit, bread with butter, roasted fowl, choice cuts of beef and venison, all lied arrayed for them upon which to feast and feast they did while he spoke.

“

Brothers in arms today we bring the humans in that stronghold to their arrogant knees, to think that a structure of stone so daunting as to keep us out was their undoing. Their arrogance brings about their destruction at our hands. I intend to alter the method of our assault so as to confuse our opponent (and weaken your forces in the process). Today my skeletal legions attack the south wall. Ogres and gnolls, you get the glory of striking the eastern wall. I want the evarks to drag those siege towers as quickly as their lumbering legs allow. Let the ogres that previously dragged them forwards populate the towers and emerge to collect the glory that they so richly deserve. We shall make a big push that will break the enemy. When your forces have reached the walls and begin to climb the siege ladders my secret weapon gets unleashed and his devastating lightning bolts shall blast away at their walls until they crack from the power of his fury. I can’t wait to see the look of sheer terror on their faces when they see my pet and then when their wall is opened up like the gutted underbelly of an elk to be cleaned, cleansed in blood from the swords and axes of your troops.”

Skarlarth grunted in assent, “Finally, we ogres will take many lives in battle.”

“

We are hungry and ready,” added Segtui

So as not to be left out Lortaag added, “As are my gnolls. We intend to repay the humans for their many slights to my kind.”

“

My tribe will show their worth,” Wulu added.

A palpable hatred of the humans filled the room. All

present hungered for victory, fueled by a lust to raise themselves from the class of lesser beings to the equals of all races. No longer would humans, elves, and even the tigans view them in a negative light, but regard them with respect.

“

They have figured out the pattern of our horn signals,” Eman-Sadal commented. Get word to all of the men that on the second blow, not the first that we charge. Everyone must act in perfect concert for this plan to work. Speaking of which, keep your soldiers away from the center of the eastern wall. Unless any of them have a secret desire to be struck by lightning. Rouse your troops into a frenzied state and let’s make this charge the stuff of legend!”

Everyone present stood up and roared in agreement.

They all thanked their commander for his inspiring leadership. Each of them confessed that initially they had their doubts about his abilities as they did not know of him. Eman-Sadal smiled at them, his countenance hiding his inner thoughts. None of them would thank him, but instead would seek to bury an axe in his skull if they knew of his true plans. Still, he bowed his head in acknowledgment to the words of praise and led the party out of the tent, each of them then marching off in the direction of their respective armies.

Word spread throughout the camp of the invaders like wildfire spreads through a dry forest and the soldiers busied themselves with the preparations for the assault. Ogres, hungry for blood and eager to finally engage the humans in real combat, sharpened their curved blades. Gnolls tightened the bands on their shields and swung their flails in mock combat to ensure limber limbs. Evarks were hitched to siege towers and ogres loaded into the wooden hulks, trusting their thick-skinned, durable mounts to get them to the point where they were near enough to the walls to lower the planks of the towers and engage the enemy. To a being they all felt ready for combat. All that remained was for the horn to be blown.

The eager assembled host didn’t have to wait long before the horn sounded twice. With that signal every troop executed the commands of their superiors. All troops emerged from the trenches, dug so closely now that the soldiers only had a scant few hundred feet of open field to reach the eastern wall, pouring forth like bees from a disturbed hive.

“

Here they come,” Vox shouted, “all of them. Captain, you need to see this.”

Said captain stated what everyone else on the wall knew, that this was the entire invading army. That the skeletons marched towards the southern wall gave the commanders little pause for above all else they feared the hulking, bloodthirsty ogres, known for showing no mercy to their enemies. Humans noticed that instead of ogres pushing the siege towers that they had been replaced by evarks, the thick wooden parts of the marauding engine covered with toughened animal hide.

Ogre catapults began launching their boulders. As usual, they had little effect on the thick, reinforced walls. At this rate it would take months for the stones to penetrate the wall

s. Their greatest effect lied in hindering the archers, to a small extent for none of them wanted to be struck by a hurled stone. Those same archers loosed a volley of arrows towards the ogres and gnolls cutting down their ranks, but a massive force still charged forward, eager to get their ladders against the walls in the places Eman-Sadal had instructed.

“

Rouse the night archers,” Sir Samsuran commanded. Horns were sounded for those arrow men who patrolled the walls at night and woke them from their brief slumber. “We need every able-bodied soldier. This is their big push. Men, they mean to break us. Hold nothing back! Show them what it means to be a soldier of the Golden Realm! Your courage will carry the day!”

Ballistas were loaded by teams of men and missiles aimed at the evarks, whose thick were difficult to pierce with arrows. The long missile weapons found their mark with low frequency as ballistas were designed to attack non-moving targets. On occasion the shaft missed the evarks, but struck the siege tower, piercing the structure and an ogre or two in the process.

Meanwhile, legions of skeletons marched through the missile volleys and onward to their target, some falling victim to the arrows, but none of them caring, the animated ones still continued to march with malice, their red orbed eye sockets giving them an omni-present, evil glare. Eventually, they reached the moats and placed their ladders on the wall, lining up in seemingly endless rows, for no matter how many of them the archers shot or the pikemen stabbed, they just kept on coming in waves. It was evident that the strategy involved with the use of these creatures was to grind away at the enemy and wear down their numbers and stamina so as to overwhelm them. After hours of pitched battles,

with both sides refusing to give an inch, numbers of skeletons managed to spill over onto the top of the wall and engage the pikemen.

Vox, Daeka, and their brother archers kept firing arrows into the advancing ogres and gnolls. In response to this emboldened gnoll slingers now standing in the open fields continued to harry the human archers and with greater frequency than before, plunked their very distracted adversaries with smoothed stones. Every gnoll that climbed the ladders carried a shield and climbed with one arm and held the shield in front of them with the other. It slowed their progress, but helped to diminish their losses. Same said shield helped repel the plunging pikes that came at them as well.

In the distance a great roar was heard. Then, the ground began to tremble and shake. Many soldiers on each side paused to see what began to emerge from the rustling trees. It was a skeletal dragon, stripped of all flesh, measuring some forty feet in length, its talons and fangs every bit as sharp as when it was in its normal, fleshy state. It snarled and chomped flashing its fangs, as sharp and as long as swords. It had blue, hovering sparkling orbs in its eye sockets. The beast of legend was fitted with a saddle and Eman-Sadal sat in that piece of riding equipment.

As the dragon tramped across the ground, it filled the hearts of the humans with fear and dread for they had never seen the like of such a creature. Many stood awestruck, but not Sir Samsuran. “I want all ballista fire concentrated on that foul creature. Let’s send it back to the NetherRealm regions from whence it sprang.” Although he shared the men’s concern, he had not the luxury to acknowledge fear. He had a duty to preserve the fortress and protect the lands beyond the keep.

The men operating those aforementioned apparatuses responded rapidly to their leader’s commands, rotating the missile launchers with great alacrity. As the first volley came the dragon leapt into the skies and avoided the barrage. It roared again with anger and landed closer to the stronghold, close enough for it to open its mouth and unleash a bolt of lightning from its large head. The bolt streaked through the air and blasted the center of the eastern wall, sending stones and dirt flying into the air.

Invigorated by this success the ogres and gnolls surged forward with a greater sense of strength and malice. For the first time in the battle, Sir Samsuran felt ill at ease. If they breached the walls of Attalis the sheer size of the enemy army would slaughter and overrun his soldiers in a matter of hours in a pitched melee.

Eman-Sadal had the dragon take flight and upwards it went, into the sky. Some archers fired flaming arrows at it and a few even found their mark in the moving former reptile. Angered, Eman-Sadal showed them what it meant to be a lichmaster. It meant mastery of an element, chosen at the time of the onset of immortality, part of the bargain for slowly losing one’s flesh. He had selected command of lightning, which is why he prized Lord Storm as his steed. In his hand a thunderbolt took form and he hurled it straight into one of the ballistas, shattering it and sending pieces of it into the air. The fiend even managed to laugh as he admired his handiwork before deftly pulling on the reins of the dragon, commanding it to swerve to the left.

Another blast from the dragon came, this time aimed at a ballista and the men operating it. Its impact incinerated the weapon and several of the surrounding men struck by the blow convulsed and then died. Sir Samsuran now recognized his adversary’s strategy. He meant to remove any impediment to the siege weapons, to have the dragon destroy his walls, thereby breaching the defenses and allow the wholesale slaughter of the defenders of Attalis to begin.

With the two ballistas now removed from the battle Eman-Sadal felt more at ease and landed the dragon even closer than before. Enough time had elapsed for the monster’s breath weapon to recharge and he immediately breathed another electrical bolt into the center of the eastern wall. So strong was the blast that it actually cracked part of the wall. A few more well placed bolts from the beast would surely crumble that part of the structure. It seemed as though the humans had no options to stop the boned, bolt breathing behemoth.

Hope on the part of the soldiers began to evaporate. They all felt overwhelmed, but bravely fought on. The screams of ogres and gnolls, hungry for blood, filled the air. Then, a massive boulder sailed over the western wall, landing on several ogres, crushing them with its weight before it kept rolling along. Thunderous steps could be felt and heard, fast approaching. Half expecting another dragon to appear a lookout shouted, “It’s a giant! He’s headed this way!”

Though the humans knew not for whom the giant fought, that titan had no doubt in his mind. As he ran, he slowed to place his three companions, Sir Bix, Alari, and Seth, on the western wall then he called out his foe, “Dragon!” his sonorous voice boomed, “Face me.” It was Graygrim Mountaincrusher towering over the walls of Attalis and as he marched forward he stooped and with his mighty right arm uprooted a large tree. “I’ll smash your bones to bits.” Shouts of joy rang out from the humans, some of them praising the Goddess aloud for this unexpected ally in the fray.

Lord Storm turned and hissed at his foe. The millennia old enmity alighted in an instant. Lord Storm sent a bolt of lightning straight into the giant, hitting him square in the chest, sending him reeling backwards and leaving a huge burn mark and singed flesh where it had struck. Eman-Sadal laughed, “so much for the great giant,” he thought. Staggered, Graygrim got to his feet, his wound rapidly healed, and he arose. “Let’s try that again,” he said. Eman-Sadal leapt from his saddle as he wanted to free his mount and let it use its natural instincts to engage in combat.

The dragon leapt at Graygrim, but was batted away by the huge tree with which the giant struck him the impact of which caused the dragon to tumble headlong across the ground. Some of the troops on both sides, but not the skeletons and the men engaged in combat with them paused for a moment to watch the battle of these titans for they had never seen the like of either.

Then Eman-Sadal recalled the giant’s weakness. “What are you watching for you fools,” he shouted. “Ogres, help Lord Storm get that giant, smelly oaf off of the ground. It’s the only way to kill him.” Graygrim tossed aside his makeshift club and seized the stunned dragon by its throat with his left hand. Lord Storm raked him with his rear claws, trying to shake loose and opened several gashes on the giant that closed almost as quickly as the wounds were opened.

A detachment of ogres came rushing to the dragon’s aid. “Archers, fill those foolish ogres full of arrows,” a re-invigorated Sir Samsuran ordered. “Aye milord!” was the answer he received. Archers dipped their arrows in flaming oil and let loose with a fiery volley, the sound of the arrows whizzing through the air en route to their intended targets. Many of the arrows found their mark setting the ogres alight and sticking in various body parts; arms, legs, the chest, a shoulder, and even in the face, halting their advance. Some got through the volley, but Graygrim knocked them aside like a child tosses away playthings.

Graygrim smashed the dragon in its large jaw with his clenched left fist, sending that creature reeling to the ground. This gave the giant time to pick up his club and leaping into the air and with all of his might he brought the blow down onto Lord Storm’s head. The dragon roared in agony. He tried to turn and flee, but Graygrim seized him by the tail and slammed him onto the ground. Battered and weary the dragon could barely get to its feet. “This is for my lost brothers,” the giant uttered as he mercilessly pummeled the dragon with his fists. Not with a bang, but a whimper, the dragon fell to the ground, defeated.

Alas, the skeletons began pouring over the wall having pushed back the human defenders so that a pitched battle raged on the eastern wall. Despite the giant’s great victory it seemed that Attalis might still be doomed to fall.