Irreplaceable
Chapter 15 - To War
A mighty roar sounded through the heavens, rebounding off the icy northland peaks, as the order to charge was given. A determined draconic battalion a hundred strong, beat their wings furiously, closing on their enemy with reckless abandon. The mountains rumbled and shook, the ground quaking under the charging talons of the wingless troops keeping pace with their winged kin above. The valley was bathed in flame, trees and grass washed away like shells before a mighty tide. Thick, black smoke permeated the air, roiling up in massive clouds, robbing the fighters of much needed oxygen but providing cover. Even to the mighty wardrakes, used to fighting in such conditions, it was difficult to handle. Their target, the mountain their enemy had claimed for their own, loomed before them. Storming the bulwark, they rained fire upon the mountain, the combined heat of a hundred throats so great the very rock melted, slag oozing down the sides in a glowing heap of pure unfathomable fiery destruction. The dragons continued their assault, either not noticing or not caring that the thick smoke in the air hid the very enemy they challenged. Attention fully on their assault, none were prepared for the retaliatory strike. Outflanking the attackers, two hundred armoured dragons burst through the haze, tearing through those who had been foolish enough to take the bait of an undefended mountain fortress. The comparatively small force, expecting nothing less, turned on the flanking behemoths and roared their challenge, prepared to sell their lives dearly. Though a quarter of their number had already fallen, the remainder of the strike force prepared to charge yet again, this time into the ranks of their more experienced, better equipped foes.
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The dragon warlord was roughly knocked from his stupor as the door to his throne room burst open. Rising in anger at being disturbed, his indignation turned to confusion and then concern as the state of the dragon stumbling across the floor became apparent. The soldier was half dead, looking as though he had been dragged to hell and back. Leaping from his perch, he landed next to the wounded dragon.
“What’s happened? Tell me, what of the fortress? What of the battle?” Stumbling and falling heavily to a knee, the messenger coughed wetly.
“The battle is lost, we were overwhelmed. They... They were unstoppable. We can’t win. They can’t... be def...defeated...” With these words, the messenger fell, dead where he lay. Roaring in fury, the warlord lifted the messenger’s body over his head and hurled it mightily into a wall. As he prepared to further vent his fury on the corpse of the dead soldier, he was again interrupted as one of his subordinates entered the room.
“SIR! Those dirty ragno-calak have attacked the eastern encampment on Fire Jewel Mountain. We can not afford to lose that base. What are your orders?” the warlord let loose a torrent of flame, further burning the already scorched ceiling. Those thrice damned traitors had caused him nothing but problems since the start of this war. It was supposed to be a simple takeover, a quick overthrow of a neighbouring kingdom. However, it turned out that many of his subjects subscribed to the theory that war doesn’t determine who is right, but who is left, and chose to defect to the defending nation. He fumed at the indignity of it. His great assault, the full might of his armies, had insofar amounted to absolutely nothing. Not only had they been unable to overtake his enemies, but they had actually been pushed back beyond his own borders. He was on the defensive! How? HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?! Nothing seemed to help. No matter how well armed his troops were, or any advantages in numbers. As it stood, right now his men had lost well over 85 percent of all the battles they have engaged in. That eastern encampment was indeed very important, but the only men he could spare was the personal retainer he kept at his side at all times. If they were sent into battle, there was no doubt that the enemy would take full advantage of the situation, and the outcome would be dismal.
“Sir, we really should do something about those traitorous garlin-nax scu-!” At that moment, the stunned subordinate discovered that it was, in fact rather hard to discuss battle strategy with a hole in you. The subordinate crumpled to the ground in a heap as the warlord withdrew his scaly fist, snarling in fury.
“Temper, temper, my dear Orthanx”. The voice emanating from behind him seemed to chill the very air around him, smug amusement dripping from the words, freezing in midair to shatter against the floor. The warlord whirled, ready to kill whomever had dared to address him so. Freezing in place, he took in the dragon that stood before him. A monster among monsters, the great dragon was far taller and broader than he. His eyes sparked unnaturally, the blue tinge of mystical energy crackling and snapping between his spines marking him as a warlock. A large scar wrapped around his muzzle like a snake, however, gave away the identity of the icy beast in a heartbeat.
“Frozen Claw of the White Wastes. You taint my halls with your presence, malefactor. What brings you here? Speak quickly, and watch your tongue or I will tear your head off and piss in your gaping neck cavity” A plume of icy mist shot out of the ice dragons nose as he snorted out a laugh.
“Save your bravado for one of your subordinates. We both know it would take nothing less then the combined efforts of- well, what’s left of your army to even come close to truly challenging me.” The warlord scowled, knowing full well the warlock was right.
“What do you want ice-tapper?” The warlock furrowed his brows. The racial epithet was not entirely called for at this juncture.
“Watch your words, flame-licker, you may regret angering me once you discover my purpose here.” In a unique feat of quantum mechanics and precise biological engineering the result of hundreds of thousands of years of evolution, the warlord managed to deepen his scowl even more without his face collapsing in on itself. The last dragon to call him that had found himself plummeting wingless into a volcano. Unfortunately, he would quite simply have to sit there and take it.
“Speak your piece, then.” The warlock smiled.
“Smart little hatchling aren't we?” Orthanx’s claws dug into his palms, piercing the thick scales and drawing blood. The warlock smiled sardonically at this “I have come to offer my assistance. The fact of the matter is, quite simply, your current enemy is in possession of something I want. I would simply take it myself, but even I am no match for an entire army, ten thousand strong. So, basically, you just need to let me help you help me help us both. I help you win your war and defeat your enemies, and you help clear a path to my... item. Sound fair?”
“How, exactly do you expect to help us? You just said yourself that even you can not take on an entire army and win. Regardless of that, even if, IF, we could defeat these blasted traitors, we are far and away outnumbered. So, unless you have brought with you several thousand warriors, I don’t quite see how you can possibly lend us any kind of aid.” The warlock’s smile froze the air to an extent that even his frigid breath had failed.
“My dear Orthanx... It’s simply a matter of how far you are willing to go”
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“HeeheehehehehAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The warlord’s laugh, teetering on the edge between glee and insanity, echoed across the battle field as the traitorous dragons fled for their lives. With the warlock’s ‘help’, the warlord’s forces had managed to gain the upper hand in the conflict in less than a week, and had managed to push back the enemy forces well across the border. After today he would finally be able to take his armies into the neighbouring kingdom. “My dear warlock, heeheehee, you have truly done me a great turn. Look! Look at that!” Orthanx gestured wide, indicating the battlefield, the once pristine field now littered with corpses. “We WILL win this war, and we WILL take this kingdom! You can have your precious trinket, my friend, as well as one tenth of spoils of war. HAHAHAHA!” The ice dragon smiled.
“A most generous offer, my friend. However, now that you and I are on... better terms, you may call me Baradur.” Orthanx laughed again, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Is that your true name?” Another smile.
“No.”
“For what you have given me, I would call you no less than KING, if I did not already serve one.” Orthanx laughed again but stopped half way. Some of the ‘special’ troops created for him had turned on one another, attacking each other in a blind rage. With a snarl, Orthanx began barking orders, to no avail.
“As I have already said, my friend, they cannot understand a word you say. Their madness has seen to that. That is one of three negative effects of this spell. I will take care of it.” With a word, he instantly halted their scrap. Exchanging a dirty look, the two troopers broke off from each other, and began to feed on the corpses of the fallen.
“Yes, I do recall you mentioning that little fact.” Orthanx spat bitterly.
“Why so glum, my friend?”
“I am not quite fond of this setup. The fact of the matter is, you are the only one able to control them. So long as I had control over you, I would not mind, but I obviously do not. What is there to stop you from simply turning your solders on me? For, in reality, they are YOUR solders, not mine.” Orthanx was glaring daggers at the frozen beast, his good mood obviously soured. The ice dragon regarded the situation for a moment before he spoke.
“You don’t. But, as I have said, I want but a simple trinket which I am unable to retrieve myself. I have little interest in ruling another kingdom, as I already essentially rule two myself. From the shadows, it’s true, but you know what they say: ‘the hidden hand strikes hardest’. I can assure you the gold and jewels and whatnot that I could steal from you with such a betrayal hold no interest to me. To be perfectly honest, the only thing ensuring that I will not turn on you is the fact that I quite simply don’t care enough to.” The warlord stared at the warlock for some time before turning and walking away, a small laugh escaping his mouth.
“Never thought I would be glad to be insignificant enough that you wouldn’t want to stab me in the back.” He paused, turning back towards the warlock. “After all is said and done, is there any way for you to turn control of the madlings over to me?” He nodded.
“It can be done, and seeing as they are, in fact, your peoples’ children, I have absolutely no need of them. I would be more than happy to do so when the time comes.” Orthanx nodded his head and began to walk away again, only to once again stop and address the warlock.
“Baradur... you mentioned there are three negative effects... What, exactly, are we talking about here?”
“Well, the loss of innocence is the most obvious, seeing as that is a core focus of the spell. The second, as I have said, is the inability to understand or focus on anyone or anything that isn’t the original caster or their own madness.”
“And the third?” The ice dragon smiled one of his icy smiles.
“The third negative effect is purposefully added in order to deal with any madlings that get loose.”
“And that is?”
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Baradur struggled against the chains that bound his form. He was strong, incredibly so, but these chains were magically reinforced. Powerful magic. He could break them, sure, but the effort required would exhaust him, both physically and magically, leaving him vulnerable. In his current state, and with so many armoured guards at the ready to kill him, he doubted he could pull off an escape.
Yet.
He craned his neck, examining the limp form to his right. Orthanx, now headless, was lying in an ever expanding pool of spreading darkness. He had been executed immediately following his trial. The introductions, presentation of evidence, deliberations and sentencing had, all in all, taken approximately ten minutes. Baradur doubted his would last any longer than that. Dragons were not known for their patience.
“Frozen Claw of the White Wastes.” The raspy voice of the dragon king before whom he was chained echoed through the chamber. The icy warlock neither raised his head nor acknowledged that he had heard his title. “I have heard many stories about you. A great many. Since you refuse to speak, we cannot ascertain exactly why you assisted in the war against my kingdom, though I think I can guess. I believe” he said, digging into a small bag at his side “you were after this” Raising his head, he saw the exact artifact he had been seeking, a small but intricately carved puzzle box. He growled, the item he sought so close but still unattainable. “From what I understand, you rule both the kingdom of Firewrath, as well as the kingdom of Stone Helm. Not overtly, of course, simply poking and prodding, little adjustments, causing events to unfold just so.” The king laughed “Ruling a kingdom is difficult, ruling one from the shadows is twice as difficult. Ruling two from the shadows? Well, I would have pegged that as downright impossible. You have proven we wrong it seems.”
Suddenly, a ten minute trial seemed far too long. “I have heard through my... sources that your grip on Stone Helm has begun to slacken. I bet you racked your brain for hours as to how to fix your problem, didn’t you? And when you finally came up with an answer, lo and behold, the one place that held the key to your salvation was at war, making it nearly impossible to try and steal the item, what with so many armoured guards everywhere and on high alert.” He was no longer looking, but he could feel the king’s smile, cold as his own breath. “Why didn’t you simply offer your help to my side and then steal the item after you helped me win the war and had gained my trust, hmm? No need to answer, I know why.” The chained warlock heard the king rise from where he sat and approach, the screeching sound of scales on marble echoing through the halls as the king’s colossal tail dragged across the ground. Stopping in front of the restrained warlock, he lowered his head so his mouth was level with his ear. “ You figured I would lose to those cretins.” A ball of heat surged past him as a fireball struck Orthanx’s corpse, the smell of burning flesh wafting to the rafters. Returning to his throne, the king spoke again. “Now then, captain, proceed with the trial of ‘The Frozen Claw of the White Wastes’, known as Baradur to his now deceased friend.”
“The Frozen Claw of the White Wastes, formally known as Baradur” The captain’s voice carried over the proceedings, its stiff and formal tone a contrast to what had already taken place. “You are charged with knowingly acting against the crown with intent to overthrow and commit regicide. You are charged with the murder of hundreds of crown solders, as well as the murder of every man, women and hatchling that perished during the razing of the town of Emerald Keep.” He rolled his eyes, waiting as the same charges brought before Orthanx were read to him. “You are also charged with attempted theft...”
Really? They seriously tacked that one on?
“In addition to the mutilation of five hundred hatchlings, and forcing those hatchlings to engage in open combat.”
“What do you care about enemy hatchlings?”
“Enemy or not, hatchlings are innocent, and NOTHING should be forced to experience what you did to them.” The captain’s tone shifted, becoming somewhat less than professional. “The charges for these crimes is death by decapitation.” At this, the warlock laughed, loud and strong.
“Decapitation? Are you serious? Go ahead. Try it. I DARE you. Let’s see how well that goes, shall we? Not only will it not kill me, it will simply make it that much easier for me to kill you.” The ice dragon laughed again, the raw, insane glee chilling the bones of his guards, even moreso than the frozen aura surrounding him.”
“We are... aware of such a possibility. It pains me to say, but there lives no dragon with strength enough to kill you. Nor are we are prepared to waste more lives by pitting you against our army.” The warlock smiled. He would simply be locked away. That he could handle with ease. With enough time, he would regain his strength and escape his prison with ease. He might even be able to steal the item he wanted after he broke out. His smiled deepened. “That is why we have decided...” He could hardly suppress the chuckle building within him. “To remove you and send you elsewhere to be dealt with. You will be sent to a creature that can kill you.” His smile vanished, his eyes shooting wide. “We have already spoken to her and asked her for her assistance, and she has agreed to take care of you. She knows of your deeds and, like us, feels that death, while too good for you, is necessary.” Baradur was furious now.
“How dare you! How DARE you assume there is some creature out there powerful enough to kill me! It would take nothing less than the full force of a GOD to kill me.”
“That is why...” The furious ice dragon turned his attention to the king “A god is who we asked”
~TO BE CONTINUED~