Well, that's not the real name of the story, but I haven't decided if the title would give too much away. And it may be a bit long for a short story, but I don't care.
It's darker and violent-er than I usually write, and it's pretty much just for entertainment, so far at least. It's high-fantasy in content. So don't feel compelled to read it if it's not your cup of tea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter I, Wreck and Slaughter
Late afternoon fell. The sky bled bright red, and the shadows stretched long and wiry. The Grand Citadel, as people called the city because of its defensive nature, stood strong against an ocean of an army that was fast approaching. Black tides of spears and flashing swords advanced to the city from the east, bringing with them a sense of terror. Wicked growling and howling broke through the air in the distance. The form of a dragon glided over the swarm.
The city had a stone wall that boasted a stature of twenty feet high. Archers had already been placed along the walls for defense. Directly behind the gates every able man in the city that could fight was prepared for battle. Farther north in the city was the great citadel that had its own wall of defense.
King Erros pulled on his riding gloves, finishing his golden armor outfit. “Gather together the other knights, and tell Cedric to bring the army behind us,” he ordered Garius, his head knight.
Garius bowed, holding his helmet under his right arm, “Where should I tell them we are going?”
Erros shook his head, “To the graveyard, east of the city, just south of the forest.”
Garius asked in bewilderment, “Whatever could we do at the graveyard, besides add ourselves on top of it? The goblins may just throw our stripped bones on top of the ground if we were so lucky.”
Erros squinted his eyes, “The tomb of Darus holds an artifact that may hold our victory. The tomb of Darus does not hold the body of Darus. It exists to merely honor the fallen hero whose remains were never found. I wish we would have known the goblins were so close upon us, as we would have already been ready to get it.”
Garius asked, “What of the dwarves? Were they not going to come through their tunnel outside the city gates?”
“Well, do you see them anywhere?” Erros growled.
Garius bowed when he realized that the conversation was at an end. He hurried out of the hall to do the king’s bidding.
The city gates groaned as they slowly swung open. King Erros, followed by Garius and three hundred other knights, rode swiftly out of the city. They swung around to the east, and then curved around north, straight for the old grave yard. The city’s army issued forth from the gates like beans spilling out a hole in the bottom of a broken sack.
The impending goblin army was within a mile of the city by this time. They closed in on Erros and his knights when they saw the direction they were heading. The goblins did not know what reason they would be running for, but they did not want to give the horse riders a chance to do anything. The dragon dropped in low and soared towards the knights. Archers on the city walls shot at the dragon, but they missed most of their shots. The few arrows that did land merely bounced off its thick scales.
Garius grit his teeth together. He only hoped the dragon would target him or one of the other knights instead of Erros. He looked to his right at the black dragon and saw it flashing quickly towards him. He looked steadfastly forwards ahead toward the grave yard. His hands began to quiver unbidden.
The sound of crashing metal, shouting, and falling horses came from directly behind him. The dragon roared as he soared towards the heavens with a silver-clad knight dangling in his clutches. The dragon released the frightened knight who was silenced the instant he landed on the rocks below. Not thrilled by the cloud of arrows sent at it, the dragon veered back to his army.
The knights dismounted when they reached the graveyard. Trees were planted around nicely, blocking most of the direct sunlight. Old weather-beaten stones stood as a silent reminder of every man’s earthly destiny. Stone pathways lead around short and wide mounds. Several larger boulder structures for tombs sat in the sides of the mounds.
“Follow me,” said Erros. He stepped through a short iron gate that stood no taller than his knees. He hurried down a twisting path around the mounds. The pathway wound all around, but Erros knew exactly where he was going. Garius and the other knights followed behind rather puzzled.
Erros’s boots dug into a mat of muddy leaves as he suddenly halted in front of a large tomb. “This is it,” he mumbled as he wiped mud away from the door.
“What is it?” one of the knights inquired.
“The tomb of Darus,” Erros said as he continued feeling around the stone surface.
One knight looked on doubtfully, “It’s impossible to open. People have tried.”
Erros’s eyes got inflamed the way they did when he got flustered, “It will only open when eminent danger is upon the city.” He pulled a key out of a pocket with a flourish. He stuck it in the keyhole he had found and gave the key a twist. It got stuck. “Blast! Draw your swords men, for the need is at hand.” A resounding answer of metal ringing out of sheaths echoed.
By this time, Cedric had just brought the main force up to the grave yard. Unfortunately, the goblins arrived at the same time. Arrows ripped through the air from both sides, striking many down. The goblins attempted to march with their wooden shields to make an impenetrable wall, but the men’s archers shot them down with their keen aim. An uncomfortable fifty yards stood between the two forces, which was closing quickly. A northern arm of the goblin army swung around into the grave yard and took the trees to their advantage. A company of swordsmen rushed into the graveyard to protect their king at all costs. The dragon still kept his distance to see how the battle fared.
Then a message echoed loudly through a relay, “The dwarves! The dwarves have come!” Next to the city’s eastern wall, an overgrown cave suddenly burst out with short but stalky warriors. Their armor shone like molten gold in a sea of sparkling silver. They continued to pour out of the cave until about twelve thousand had emerged. Twelve thousand dwarves was a farce compared to the hundreds of thousands of goblins and men, but their reputation made nobody underestimate them. They gave out a loud roar and smashed their weapons against their shields in unison.
Out over the valley thundered a voice, “Let the dragon taste of the steel of my axe!”
The dragon let out a shattering roar, “I shall taste the blood of dirt-mongering cave vermin! Let thy flea-ridden beards save thee now!” With that, he circumnavigated the Grand Citadel’s military and flew down upon the dwarves with haste. He belched flames upon the dwarves as he flew above their reach. The dwarves cried out as they ripped at their red-hot armor.
Poles and ropes were quickly relayed through the dwarven forces. Several engineers quickly constructed a net thrower in seconds, which was quickly set up and armed. “Let her go!” shouted a dwarf, while another pulled the lever on the machine. The net flew through the air and caught the dragon by one of his back legs, while a weight attached to the net pulled him down. The dragon hit the ground and was instantly jumped on by the dwarves.
“I shall not die, not by the hand of a dwarf!” the dragon spat as he thrashed at his assailants. He ripped the ropes off his leg with a swipe from his claws, and then sent a torrent of fire in a large arc around himself. With great force, he launched himself in the air. Several dwarves let go as fast as they could to keep themselves from dying from a bad fall.
The dwarven and men armies cheered as the dragon reeled back. But then he swooped down and began to tear through the men’s front lines.
In the graveyard, the knights and swordsmen stood fast against the oncoming goblins. The evil forces began to second think their offensive strokes against the knights. The knights cut down any opponents as easily as a knife can cut through water.
Then the goblins sent in their elite, the gremlins. The gremlins stood at a height of seven feet. Their strength was extreme; they could wield long sabers and wear metal and leather armor several inches thick. On top of their greenish skin they painted frightening blood-red patterns that had been designed in ages past. The gremlins instantly proved to be a problem for the knights. The monsters poured down upon them with an unquenchable rage.
With a mighty stroke of his sword, Garius clave through the helmet of a gremlin who tried to rush in on Erros. “Don’t give in men. Make them pay dearly for their hasty offensive!” Garius called out. Goblins darted madly around the trees, making their movement confusing at the least.
Suddenly a black arrow struck Erros through his throat. He fell backwards groping at the air in front of him as if he could grab onto something solid to stop his decent. Before he landed on his back, Garius caught his shoulders.
“No! This was not meant to be!” Garius cried as he propped Erros against the tomb’s door.
Erros gasped a few times, then managed to in deliberate breaths say, “Nay, nor was this battle meant to be. But yet it is. Lend your sword to my son as you have me.”
“Without your lead, the city shall fall,” Garius despaired.
Erros choked, “Then imminent danger surely is upon our city. Consume what lies inside, and then make the Great Citadel proud.” The king gasped for the last time, and then slipped into eternity. All of the built up stress in his body suddenly departed, leaving him in appearance to one resting in a peaceful sleep.
Garius began to weep amidst the turmoil. He was almost unaware of all the other knights guarding him from the malignant goblins. But then the door to the tomb slid downward into the ground. Garius carried Erros’s body inside, muttering, “Let them find another spot to honor Darus, for the tomb of Darus is now the tomb of Erros.”
He then saw a clay vial sitting in a small cove in the wall. It was a dull tan color with a wooden stopper. The dust had become rather thick on top of the small container. He pulled out the stopper and eyed the contents. He could only guess that it was some sort of liquid. “Erros was perhaps only desperate. But he has never gambled anything in the past. I don’t even know what this is made from,” he thought to himself. He then thought of the words of Erros. “He will not have died in vain. And I shall not refuse his final order he has given me,” he decided. He, as if he was still unsure, slowly brought up the vial up to his lips. As the liquid rolled past his tongue, it tasted sweeter than the Dimbleberries that grew in the valley. As soon as it landed, the liquid wrenched up his stomach. He doubled over and grabbed at his bosom. Suddenly his tongue went bitter. His forehead wet suddenly with a cold sweat. His limbs burned icy.
The initial shock and pain departed, leaving no negative marks behind. He felt charged with the energy of the sun, and more powerful than a bolt of lightning. He could hardly contain from throwing himself about madly. Rage quaked madly through his muscles. He felt as if he could dig another exit out of the tomb instead of taking the door.
By the time he burst out from the door of the tomb, most of the remaining knights were reeling back out of the graveyard. Behind him the door of the grave sealed shut with a stony grinding sound. Several knights were waiting for him outside.
One of them informed Garius, “The battle is sore against us. We are retreating back to the main army.”
Garius answered, “Then we must make haste to join the rest!” Between them and the main force was about a hundred yards and goblins dotted here and there. A line of gremlins already had stretched out in a line in their pathway so they could not get through.
Garius led the charge. Any goblins that foolishly got in the way were instantly hacked down. Garius felt an arrow go through his armor on his back and touch his skin. “Quite lucky I am to have put on my heavy mail,” he thought to himself. The gremlins were now directly in front of them, barring the pathway. The gremlins swung their sabers and howled in rage. Garius threw himself at one and cracked down upon him with all his might. He felt his sword break through the metal on top of the gremlin’s shoulder, but the blade lodged in the leather underneath. While he was shaking the sword to dislodge it from the armor, another gremlin struck his neck with a clean slash. He felt the pain searing in his neck. But then it was gone. “Indeed, just a surface wound,” assumed Garius. He pulled his sword from the armor and landed a killing stroke on his enemy. The gremlins backed off enough for him and the other knights to get through to the men’s main army.
Once he was behind the front lines, Garius swiped the back of his neck with his glove, and then he pulled his hand down to observe the blood from the gremlin’s slash. But his glove was clean. He felt no pain, either.
Cedric busted out of the crowd to meet him, “Garius, are you injured?”
Garius weighed his sword in his hand, “Well, I seem to be fine. I should be able to fight.”
“Then the arrow in your back didn’t make it through your armor?” Cedric asked, knowing Garius to fight on to the utter end, even in terrible condition.
He replied, being slightly annoyed by the arrow rubbing on his back, “No, didn’t even feel it.”
“And Erros is dead?”
“Slain by an arrow.”
Cedric nodded dryly, “That is all, Sir.”
Garius moved back to the front line and fought. The fighting was brutal. The men obviously had more battle training than the goblins, and they were fighting for their lives. But the goblins still proved to be a fierce opponent, for such hatred and greed caused them to throw themselves recklessly into action. Catapults and ballista from both sides lobbed heavy weights of destruction across the field. Farther south from Garius’s position, the dragon was tearing through any men that were foolish enough to stand in his way. Half of the dwarves had fought their way up to the dragon. The dwarves stayed out of the dragon’s range and threw every insult they could conjure at him. The rest of the dwarven force spotted themselves throughout the men’s forces.
A minotaur emerged out to the front line in front of Garius. Being bewildered, Garius inquired of the beast, “I thought you were a peaceful folk?”
The minotaur raged, “My brothers are fools. Real power and riches come from conquest.” The minotaur stabbed at him with a giant spear, but Garius diverted it aside with his sword.
“In my experience, conquest brings death,” Garius replied as he made a vain slash at the minotaur, but missed his aim because of the sun glinting in his eyes off of a nearby dwarf’s shield.
“The only death I need is yours. Then I shall leave your brethren alone,” the beast spat while he sent the butt of his spear at Garius’s abdomen, but the minotaur misjudged the distance by several inches.
“I hate mercenaries,” Garius pondered for a short instant. Maddened by the thought, he leapt forward for a swift deadly strike. The minotaur instinctively took a large step and lunged his spear forward. Garius met the force of both their movements right on his face at the end of a spear. He fell backward to the ground dazed. The pain was immeasurable.
As pain quickly began to subside, Garius was shocked to see he was still on the same field. He heard the shouts and clanging around him. He saw the sun shining brightly down upon him. He waited for his spirit to depart from his body. Instead, he saw the minotaur suddenly appear above him tall like the large citadel in the city. The minotaur brought down his spear to Garius’s heart. Garius felt the spear stab his chest sharply, and he was sure it was the end. But in desperation, he thrust his sword at the beast with what little time he thought he had left. He managed to hit the minotaur’s calf, who limped back with a roar.
Garius was still breathing and his pain had disappeared. Then it dawned on him, “The flask I drank from! That must be why I’m not dead yet. Surely I must have skin tougher than the wall of a city!” He triumphantly stood back up.
The minotaur spoke gravelly, “I see you have already taken what was to be my reward and consumed it. My lust has brought me to ruin.” The hulk of muscle began to limp away into the goblin army.
Garius attempted to follow the minotaur, but was met with many sharp blades that blocked his way. He could not break through the goblins in his way. The pain of the blades pricking his skin became too much, so he backed off to the front line. He then heard a message speeding away across the mouths of the goblins, “The invincible one has come! The prophesy of Darus has fallen upon us!”
The message soon came to the ears of the dragon, who roared, “Come fight me! Thy skin may be tough, but I shall boil the blood in thy veins!” The dragon leapt up into the air and glided across the plain to where Garius stood. He sent a flame into the ground in front of Garius, sending goblins scattering on fire in every direction. He landed and sent a roar shattering through the air. “Thou art a fool to—“
Garius interrupted the dragon by slashing his leg. The dragon hunched down angrily and engulfed Garius in a blue flame. Garius could not see anything except the fire roaring into his eyes, so he kept his eyes shut. He felt the thread of his clothing dematerialize. His armor burned unbearably against his skin. He dropped down to his knees in agony, but the dragon did not stop.
After a short while longer, the dragon stopped and readied his eyes to feast on the burnt remains of the legend. But he was disappointed to see the knight on all fours, still in proper shape. His armor shone bright orange and sent steam into the air. His forehead was dripping with sweat.
Garius bounded into the air and brought his blade half of its length into the chest of the dragon. The dragon reeled back with a pained growl. “If the dwarves had not injured me so, perhaps I would engage with thee. I shall meet thee another day,” the dragon cursed angrily. He bounded into the air with a powerful thrust from his legs and retreated back over the mountains from where he came. The dwarves thundered enthusiastically, and the men soon joined them.
The goblins stood in shock at the sight of the dragon retreating over the plain into the distance. The dwarves and men rushed them. The initial slaughter was great. The goblins began to route terribly. None of their commanders could control them, so the leaders joined in the retreat of the throng. Late into the night, the men and dwarves slew many of them as they fled eastward. Many miles stretched the offensive against the goblins, until the men had become completely exhausted and could go no further. They had reached the borders of the Great Forest. The remaining goblins disappeared into the trees. They could be heard crashing through the forest for several minutes.
The casualties to the Great Citadel were great. Many mothers were bereaved of their own sons, and many new widows mourned in the streets. The dwarves began to ceremoniously carry their fallen back to their place to be properly buried. Bodies of goblins lay numberless across the plain, all the way from the Great Citadel’s eastern wall to the southwestern end of the Great Forest. The Great Citadel’s army tended to their dead first, and then began the feat of gathering the goblins into piles to be burned.
As he helped heap the bodies of the goblins, Garius gazed across the field as the sun began to rise. The stench of burning flesh drifted in the wind. A feeling of a glorious solemn victory set heavily upon his soul. The battle had been won. But the dragon still drew breath.
