Dragosia-Book 1

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 7 (v.1) - The Dragon Wins and Loses

Submitted: September 01, 2010

Reads: 154

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Submitted: September 01, 2010



Lauren Fletcher
Coundon, Coventry, West Midlands, England

King Timetory paced up and down in his study. The arrival of the four teenagers had brought a mixed response. Some were uneasy and felt as if they could be spies for the trolls, but on the other hand, they were helping the dwarves immensely, as they were extremely talented in the art of combat, and had come as a moral boost to many of his soldiers. The arrival of two humans, an elf and a dwarf together symbolised the relationship between the races, and it hadmade the dwarves realise that they were not alone. However,the King had his mind on more pressing issues. Four people were not going to overthrow and entire troll army. They had reports that the final siege was due tomorrow, and he was less than unprepared. He had begun arrangements and sent out for some aid from Malwrym, and Timron, city of the Gnomes, butso far he had received no response. He didn’t expect to hear from the Gnomes, as from all accounts their city was in disarray. “Something to do with a missing member of the royal blood line, apparently,” the King thought.
“Sire! Sire!”
“What is it, Parmen? I’m afraid I’m busy preparing for the assault tomorrow...”
“That’s just it, sire. The trolls are approaching here, now!”
“Our scouts have just spotted them!”
“Assemble every force that can be spared. Do not leave any part of this city undefended. Gather the civilians into the assembly room, and do it NOW!” King Timetory picked up Sawniea, and then left his room. It was time...

“Oh for goodness sakes Amie I’m fine!” Rhen cried out in frustration. After they had been told Vetsom would soon come under heavy attack, Rhen had tried to convince Amie to let her fight. Amie was as stubborn as any other hunter and she was determined not to be moved on the subject. Thankfully for Rhen, Samsoon decided to intervene.
“Amie we are going to need every sword we’ve got, or in Rhen’s case, magic. Very few dwarves have the gift of magic she will be of great help!” Amie gave in reluctantly. Two against one was not good if it flared up into a full blown argument. She left to get some more arrows, and Samsoon, Avey and Rhen were left in a room together. Rhen stared involuntarily at Avey. She still hadn’t been able to figure him out, and she was close to asking him point blank what he was hiding. He wouldn’t answer any of her questions. He only seemed to talk to Samsoon, but as far as Rhen could tell, Avey hadn’t told him much either. Rhen detached herself from her stare and gazed down at her markings. They had changed again. A little spooked by the combination of strange dreams and impossible changes to her mage identity, she left the room, soon followed by Avey and Samsoon. They heard a loud horn as soon as they stepped outside. The battle of Vetsom had begun...

The ground suddenly burst into flames. The dwarven soldiers were somewhat scared at first, but they the noticed only the trolls and the sprinkling of Orcs were affected. The fire was somewhat short lived, and it only killed a few of the attackers, but it was a start. Explosions went off left right and centre as the trolls tried to breach the walls. Rhen gave everything she had to setting out curse after curse, and setting troll after troll on fire or frying their brains with electricity. Amie happily shot out the new arrows at the unsuspecting trolls. She missed occasionally, however a miss was soon followed by a direct hit. Avey smashed brains and flesh as he engaged in combat with the uncivilised creatures, usually back to back with Samsoon, who wielded his sword with great strength. The King himself was forced to stay back in order to avoid injury, but from where he was, he did a great deal of damage. Despite his age, the King was still as stealthy and had as much strength in his muscles as any other dwarf. But despite these individual successes, they were still losing the battle. They were outnumbered heavily, (by about ten to one), but they did have one advantage-they fought together. The trolls mainly went their separate ways, killing on their own. The teens soon began to realise this was why the trolls had to have so many in each army, because if they did not they would have no hope. The trolls seemed to try to exhaust the opposition into defeat. But it was not working here. Between the mages, hunters, warriors and paladins, the dwarves were slowly turning the tide of battle. The pace of the battle quickened, and before long, over half of the trolls were dead or dying. But there was still a long way to go. The dwarves soon hit a stumbling block as the trolls were now approaching on all sides, closing in on the army.
“CLAR SON’ACH MUQUAN!” bellowed the King. The ancient battle cry put spirit back into the dwarves’ blood, and they fought ferociously, decimating the trolls quickly. The creatures began to retreat slowly, but they did so with a grin on their faces. And as the other dwarves cheered at the victory, King Timetory knew something wasn’t right. Rhen saw it in his face and she made her way over to him.
“DIE!” cackled a troll hunter in a menacing tone. It launched an arrow that pierced the King’s chest, who fell to the ground instantly. The crowd screamed and shot down the troll. Civilians and soldiers alike fell into complete mayhem; running, crying, screaming and trying to reach the King. Priests rushed forward, but they knew it was already too late to do anything. The King’s army general and adviser had not only his trusted friend’s death in his mind, but also who would now control Vetsom, with no heirs to the throne that had been in the King’s family for generations. He reacheddown toward the King, feeling the life force leavethe body, and grew pale. Amie, Avey, Rhen and Samsoon stood behind the crowd after being forced back by the grieving dwarves. A monarch’s death was a tragedy, whether of your own race or not. The terrible shrieks of the dwarves chilled the blood of the travellers. Rhen shook her head and moved further away from the mourning crowd, followed swiftly by Amie. Samsoon stood there, paralysed, next to the human he was slowly coming to call a friend. The scorching daylight soon became a peaceful, cool night, and the crowd thinned as they retreated to their homes, minds numb with the prospect of the events of the previous hours. Couriers left the city with notifications of the King’s death, headed for Malwrym, Zams-Shen, Timron and Abasham. The citizens of Vetsom wept in their sleep as the night drifted on, wondering what would become of them now...

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