 
       
|
The BloodVaine EpicChapter 87: The Cost Of War
Green Fox was hopelessly caught up in the fighting. All around him was carnage. To his left, a Forestman plunged his knife to the hilt into a Dragon Master’s eye. To the right, he saw a Forestman with a spear rammed through his neck. Fox had never seen a Dragon Master before and, clad in full armor with their fearsome helmets, they were a terrifying sight.
As he stood still watching the battle, an enemy ran towards him, grunting a battle cry. Green Fox thrust his spear, catching the enemy between the ribs, and his guts spilled out as he collapsed. Green Fox reached for his mouth and vomited. Staggering around, another enemy charged him. Fox threw his sword, and the hilt bounced off the large, dragon-decorated shield. Suddenly, a spear, thrown from the battlements hit the Dragon Master in the back of the neck, just under his helmet. Green Fox ran. He ran from the carnage. He came to a small hill, which he realised he could hide behind and observe the battle. A black-fletched arrow thudded through his knee, just as he reached the top, and he rolled down the other side, into a stream.
As he was about to slip into unconsciousness, he saw a wide-eyed young Forestman standing over him.
“Look! A casualty! Get over here, you!”
Another young Forestman ran over.
“A casualty! What did Mr. Craft say to do…?”
Green Fox, barely awake, grabbed at his broken leg.
“I know! It’s a...dislocated leg…”
“But I don’t know what to do about that!”
“Me neither!”
One of them grabbed a long-shafted spear and handed it to him.
“Here, use this to stay up. I’ll fetch someone else!”
They ran off. Eight Dark Forestmen ran over to the hill, carrying longbows. One of them, who appeared to be the leader, barked orders.
“Right, you lot aim for the walls. Try to pick off one of those spear-throwers!”
They loosed their arrows, all missed. The leader reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a blue flag. He vigourously waved it. Some more Dark Forest archers broke off and headed to the hill.
“Right, we can see the spear-throwers from here. Reckon you could hit one?”
The archers all fired again and killed some spear-throwers. At the edge of the combat, a Dragon Master of some rank spotted the archers. After a few rapid hand-movements, he had a little group of men, which he ordered to rush the hill. Green Fox looked on with horror. This was it.
The Dragon Masters crashed into the Dark Forestmen, who had no weapons of any use. Within a minute, they were all dead. Green Fox lay on the other side of the hill. His heart was pumping.
Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum
He reached for his spear and drew his knife...
Reno had seen the small group of Dragon Masters heading towards the hill. The hill appeared to have nothing on it, and Reno was curious why they were heading there.
“You three, follow me!" Reno shouted to three Bulls amdmade off towards the hill.
“Get the infidel laying on the ground” the Dragon Master leader shouted, and the rest ran towards Green Fox.
Reno acted quickly. He sliced past the first Dragon Master and tripped up another. Reno’s sword slipped tidily into a Dragon Master’s shoulder, causing him to swing around wildly with his mace. Reno pulled out his sword, barely fended off the swinging mace. Reno’s sword was sent flying and crashed onto the ground. The Bulls held off the Dragon Masters, but Reno was left laying on the ground, helpless.
A spear ripped through the Dragon Master leader, and the mace wielder fell to the ground, apparently dead. Reno stood, and grabbed his sword, then went off to battle more Dragon Masters, leaving Green Fox behind.
Someone was screaming a prayer off beyond the next hill. It hung in the wind like the carrion birds that wheeled above the battle, then was cut off with a gurgle. In the distance, metal clanged, sword on sword, on shield, on armor, on bone.
This was a mistake. I should never have come.
Green Fox retched again, partially from the pain of his leg, but found his stomach empty. His sword lay on the ground beside his good leg. When had he dropped it? He couldn’t recall. When he reached to take it up again, the grinding in his injured limb was too much. He blacked out momentarily.
“Fox! Don’t you dare bloody drop dead on Jack, you old cutpurse.”
Jack was helping him to lie down, and though the blur of pain he saw one of the younger Forestmen who had been here before. The Forestman’s green jerkin bore a visible handprint of smeared red-brown on it, and the Fox couldn’t help but wonder who it had belonged to. Jack’s hands were stained the same color, up past the wrists by now.
“Brix and blox, you’re lucky to still be conscious -- this old fish-fin of yours is nearly snapped in two. Hold still, blast ye! Or you’re likely to lose it altogether!”
“You’ve...d-done this before, right, Jack?”
For some reason, all he could see now was Jack’s familiar grin, floating like a sideways crescent moon in front of him.
“Well, not on a human, no...aye. Hang on lad -- this might sting a bit.”
The Green Fox felt a twisting pain along the length of his lower leg, and clenched his teeth until they creaked.
“That...wasn’t. S-so. Bad.”
“Should hope not, since all I was doing was getting your boot off. Now comes the hard part.”
A sledgehammer of pain crushed the Green Fox’s leg, spine, neck, head. He passed out.
When he woke a short time later, in the shelter of two closely grown trees, his leg had been decently set and splinted, and there was no sign of Jack.
War is a gruesome thing. You may have seen some gruesome things, maybe even some gruesome people. But what ever you may have seen, it still wouldn’t compare to the gruesome carnage of that battle for the gates of Orion.
War is a gruesome thing.
Marus knew this. He had even been labeled gruesome several times himself. And it was true. His battalion had moved to the front of the battle. Indeed, Marus found himself quite enjoying the fight as he cut down old acquaintances. Several of whom had looked down on him back in the day. His enjoyment, however, was greatly diminished by the presence of the dragons. Fireballs were flying everywhere. Marus was amazed that he hadn’t been hit already by the flying serpents. The troops were loosing ground. The Red Cross Knights were regrouping and the Allies’ airship was being harassed by the dragons. As Marus looked to the sky he glimpsed the Arklyndelys Vulondur as it hurtled madly through the sky, hitting dragons with both it’s ballistae and it's hull.
The allies were loosing ground. Between the fire from above and the charge of the Red Cross knights, it was only desperation that kept them from retreat.
But fate had another twist in store. Out of the sky, out of the very sun it seemed, came another dragon. It flew through the flock of surprised dragons and it’s presence quelled their fires. The whole of the two armies seemed to feel it and stopped for a moment, gazing upward. Then, with an ear piercing cry, the dragon gave it’s orders and the tide of the battle turned.
No man could hold sway over any dragon then. And every live dragon, manned or unmanned, flew to the orders of Coal Blood. Into the streets of the city, ran the troops of the enemy. Those defending the walls were thrown down and the whole of BloodVaine’s army retreated to the Yellow Castle. The gates of Orion had been won, but at a terrible cost. Forestmen, Bulls, Dark Forest rangers, and members of the Wolfpack, alike had fallen under the hoofs of the knights, the bows of the guards and the fire of the dragons.
In the pilot’s seat of the , Lord Void wheeled the controls in a mad frenzy. Sweat poured from Lord Void’s brow as he deftly drove the Arklyndelys Vulondur into a flock of small battle dragons. A sickening crunch shuddered through the hull of the anchient airship as dragon bones were splintered and skulls cracked wide open.
“Soldier, how many bolts do we have left!?” Lord Void shouted at a Fright Knight.
“Less than twenty, sir, but only one operable ballista!”
Tyco.
“Abandon that ballista and arm the men with bows, aim at the airboure dragons only!”
The Fright Knight saluted and departed. Lord Void turned back to the control to stare at the fast-approaching hull of the Dawn of the Ages that had appeared out of no where.
“HOLY SON OF A--”
Lord Void pulled the Arklyndelys Vulondur down sharply, attempting to dodge mass of ballista bolts that had been fired from the commandeered LEGOland airship. His manuver mostly failed and the guts of four dozen Fright Knights splattered across the deck as the bolts made mencemeat of the crew. As the Arklyndelys Vulondur did an about turn, Lord Void caught sight of the blocky, bearded features of Del Grakken at the helm. Lord Void had no time to think about revenge, he was two hundred feet above the largest recorded battle in Dametreos and the ensuing air battle would require all of his attention. Fractically he calculated his advantages as the Dawn of the Ages made another pass. The Mana was still minimal, no use there. Only one ballista left, and archers were no good. The Dragon Master’s eye danced over the hull of the attacking airship. In that split second, it came to him.
Yes.
The Arklyndelys Vulondur’s hull was shaped like a thick knife, it’s bow sharpened to slice aerodynamically through the air. The Dawn of the Ages was squat and wide, built to carry vast loads of cargo and people. The Arklyndelys Vulondur was a warship, and the Dawn of the Ages was not. That was Lord Void’s advantage.
Without a second thought, Lord Void gunned the Arklyndelys Vulondur and turned face on toward the Dawn of the Ages, streaking through the sky like a Forestman arrow. Del Grakken’s eyes dilated when he suddenly realised Lord Void’s plan.
“He wouldn’t.” he whispered. He was mistaken. Lord Void would.
Contact between the two remaining airships ever created in Dametreos was nothing like had ever happen before. The Arklyndelys Vulondur split the Dawn of the Ages down the middle like a hunter gutting a deer. Wood screeched in agony and Dragon Masters were flung overboard. The port and starboard side peeled away, exposing the delicate magical subtance that kept the airship afloat.
“Goodbye, Del Grakken.” whispered Lord Void. With a flick of his hand, he tapped the small available amount of Mana there was to be had and fired the one remaining ballista telekenetically. The bolt flew true, and the world was deafened.
It was later reported that wooden fragments from both the Arklyndelys Vulondur and the Dawn of the Ages had spread as far north as the borders of the Royals, and just a far south. The Allied Army, already inside Orion and protected somewhat by buildings and walls, suffered little, but the Dragon Masters and Calvaliers loyal to BloodVaine were cut down in droves by the splinters. The shock wave also threw all of the dragons save Coal Blood out of the sky, leathery wings torn to shreds. The battle for Orion’s gate had ended in a victory for the Allied Army, but the final battle gor Dametreos had just begun.
| Previous Chapter | Next Chapter |
|
|
