loomed a great black ship Whill did not recognize. A small army of Draggard infested the town, more than two hundred in number. He watched in horror as the beasts hacked away at an obviously dead man with glee, taking legs and arms and tearing huge chunks of meat from the bone with their hideous mouths. This was a scene from a nightmare brought to life in broad daylight, which somehow made it all worse. These were beasts of the dark, monsters of the night; to see them under the light of the sun sent a chill up Whill’s spine.
A small band of villagers and Eldalonian soldiers had taken up defensive positions around the town hall, which being made entirely of stone, was not on fire. They were outnumbered four to one but they held fast their position in front of the large doors. Around them the Draggard stalked, toying with them, waiting, and laughing. The Draggard were known for their great cruelty; they would drag out a siege such as this for hours, basking in the horror of their victims.
Above the town hall, twelve Draquon circled like a pack of vultures. Whill watched horrified as one descended and plucked a man from the ranks. It soared into the air once again with the man in its great claws, and the rest of the Draquon were upon the man in an instant, tearing him to pieces and letting his limbs fall down upon the men below.
Roakore had seen enough. He grabbed his stone bird and his great axe and ran out from the trees before Abram could stop him.
“So much for a plan of attack,” Abram said as he rushed out after the dwarf.
Whill took both his own sword and his father’s and joined his friends in their apparent suicide run. The knowledge that these monsters had killed his parents, and now likely had killed Tarren too, filled him with primal rage. He caught up to Abram as Roakore broke into a battle cry that caught the attention of the nearby Draggard.
The beach was now one hundred feet directly behind them as they charged up the grassy slope, heading for the town hall. Before them a host of Draggard rushed to intercept the three warriors. Roakore let fly his stone bird, which sped to the nearest Draggard so fast it was but a blur. The beast didn’t know what hit it as its head was taken clean off its shoulders by the strong chain that connected the two stones. The weapon did not slow. At Roakore’s mental command, it turned left and slammed into another Draggard’s knees, no doubt shattering both.
Four of the beasts bore down on Roakore, who bore down on them in turn as Whill and Abram rushed to catch up. At twenty feet behind, however, they could only watch as the first Draggard engaged Roakore-or rather tasted his axe.
The sturdy dwarf easily knocked aside the Draggard’s spear to the left as he began a quick spin, and coming around he sunk his axe deep into the monster’s side, nearly chopping it in half. He spun again and used the momentum to pull the axe free, only to connect with another Draggard’s head. Through it all he never slowed, even as two Draggard came at him with axe. He met them with great force, barreling into both as they raised their axes simultaneously. Both the beasts fell backwards as he charged on, leaving them for Whill and Abram.
Whill came down hard on the Draggard to the left as it scrambled to get up, stabbing through the beast’s back with both swords, each finding a lung. Abram similarly dispatched his opponent and they were off again, following the mighty dwarf warrior.
Rhunis’s greatest fears were realized when he spotted the black ship, a Draggard ship, anchored near Sherna’s port. The captain instructed the men to ready the twenty catapults, though the other ship had not fired upon them and appeared to be deserted. Rhunis could see that the town was ablaze, and small battles were playing out along the beach and within. The people needed help. He advised the captain to keep the catapults at the ready and told his men to make for the town with all haste.
Whill and Abram caught up to Roakore as he paused to summon his stone bird once again. Though they had not yet caught the attention of the main force, many Draggard had taken notice of the three warriors, and many came. Whill engaged one as it barreled in, brandishing a nasty-looking spear. The beast stabbed for Whill’s belly, but Whill was too quick; he knocked the spear harmlessly aside with his own sword and stabbed the beast through the neck with his father’s. He spun to meet the next monster, ducking a spear meant for his head, and came around with his sword into the shin of his attacker. As he twisted he brought Sinomara around and drove it through the eye of the bent beast.
Abram pulled his sword from a dead Draggard and engaged another as Roakore’s stone bird whirled past. The dwarf taunted three approaching Draggard, who met those taunts with snarling maws and raised spears. The beasts bore down on the warriors, but were met with greater force as the stone bird came across low and fast, sweeping the monsters’ legs out from under them. Roakore smashed one of the prone Draggard’s heads with his great axe, while Whill and Abram simultaneously split the heads of the other two.
Roakore guided the stone bird to the left to slam into the head of another Draggard thirty feet away. The creature went down with a thud and moved no more, its head thoroughly crushed. A spear flew by, barely missing Whill, followed by another and another. The three warriors found themselves deflecting spear after spear as the Draggard that had witnessed the fighting took a more practical approach.
“There are too many!” Abram yelled as he deflected another spear.
“Bah! We got ’em right were we want ’em!” roared Roakore as he ducked a spear.
They were now being attacked by more than a dozen Draggard, who threw spear after spear and had the warriors backing defensively.
“We must regroup!” cried Whill as a brave Draggard jumped at the three, its spear leading the way. Abram blocked the spear and Roakore met the beast as it landed, greeting it with an axe blow to the groin. Whill quickly chopped the head off the beast as it bent over in agony.
More than a dozen Draggard slowly advanced, throwing spears and snarling, drool falling from their hideously sharp-toothed mouths. The town hall was still more than two hundred yards away. Hundreds of Draggard stood between the warriors and those trapped within. The warriors were pushed back steadily, doing all they could do to hold off the spear-throwers. They had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Every building around them was ablaze, and the woods held no options. The attacking Draggard had signaled to their kin, and now dozens of the monsters came rushing at the three, including several flying Draquon.
“We need a plan!” Whill shouted, frantically deflecting the steady assault of spears.
“Block me fer a sec, boys!” Roakore yelled. It sounded to Whill as if the dwarf either had a good idea brewing, or he was indeed crazy. Nonetheless, Whill and Abram stepped closer to Roakore’s sides as he closed his eyes and began to chant so fast that Whill could hardly decipher the words. The Draggard pressed on, more than twenty now. Some threw spears, others jabbed with gleeful laughter. Whill and Abram were reaching the end of their abilities. Death crouched ever closer with each passing second.
Suddenly Roakore’s stone bird whirled before them, spinning in midair right before the chanting dwarf. Around and around it went in a blur of motion. Roakore moved his right hand in circles before him, tight circles at first but steadily widening the arch. In contrast the stone bird began to spin around and around in wider circles. Faster and faster Roakore’s hand moved, and faster did the weapon spin, until Whill and Abram no longer needed to block any missiles, for none could get through the spinning shield that the flying bird had become.
Whill and Abram looked at each other wide-eyed as Roakore continued his chant. Soon the Draggard gave up on the spears and took a more straightforward approach. Two of the beasts leapt into the path of the weapon as it buzzed before the three warriors. With great howls they came, and with great screeches they were chopped to pieces, their bodies unrecognizable as they landed in bloody pieces all around the ground.
The other Draggard backed away in horror and awe. Even Whill and Abram flinched and gaped at the spectacle.
“I can’t hold it much longer!” Roakore warned as he staggered back, continuing his frantic chant.
“Be ready to rush ’em, Whill!” cried Abram.
Whill, sensing that this indeed was the end, looked at Abram and raised his two swords. “It has been an honor, Abram.”
Abram shook his head, bringing up his own sword with fire in his watering eyes. “And it will be an honor to fight beside you for years to come!”
Whill had to grin. Abram
Roakore let out a final frantic chant and with a heavy sigh fell to the sand. The Draggard had pushed them all the way back to the beach.
