Malison- Dragon Curse by Jonathan Moeller

Author:Jonathan Moeller [Moeller, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Azure Flame Media
Published: 2018-11-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6: The Siege

The Count did not run to the walls, not exactly. A lord of the Empire was expected to show confidence in front of his soldiers. But Cadwar did walk very quickly to the walls and up the stairs to the ramparts. Tyrcamber was impressed that the old man could move so fast.

They reached the ramparts of the eastern wall and looked across the fields, and Tyrcamber saw the enemy.

Dark masses of goblin soldiers marched towards them, their ragged banners flying. On their left flank was a group of goblins sitting atop enormous crimson wolf-like beasts. The bloodwolves were fast as a horse, and unlike a knight’s steed, could kill and rend with their fangs and claws. Scattered among the goblin host were the larger, grayish-green forms of ogres. Behind the goblins, Tyrcamber glimpsed the blue-armored forms of umbral elves. There were no more than twenty of the umbral elves, which was good. The umbral elves were not nearly as dangerous as true dark elves, but they were still powerful wizards and more able to resist the Malison than humans.

Between the goblins, the ogres, and the umbral elves, Tyrcamber guessed that the enemy had nearly six thousand warriors.

“My lord,” said Rilmael. “How many men under arms do you have to defend the town?”

Cadwar took a deep breath. “About twelve hundred, all told. Five hundred of my knights and men-at-arms. Seven hundred trained militia from the town with their own weapons.”

Tyrcamber hid a grimace. Militiamen were never as effective as men-at-arms or knights. He could not blame them for that. The role of townsmen and peasants was to farm or to work their crafts. War was the business of nobles. Yet the goblins would kill them all without regard for rank, and in the hour of need, every man of the Empire had to take up arms and fight.

“Also,” said Cadwar, “I have a company of gnoll mercenaries from Culachar, about a hundred strong.”

“Gnolls?” said Corswain, wrinkling his nose. Tyrcamber understood his friend’s distaste. Gnolls would eat absolutely anything at all, including days-old carrion, and a man could smell a gnoll coming from yards off. Yet the gnolls were ferocious fighters, physically stronger than a human man, and Tyrcamber was glad to have them on their side.

He suspected he would be especially glad to have the help of the gnolls once the goblin attack began.

“Aye, commanded by one of their nobles, a fellow named Nakhrakh,” said Cadwar. “Appalling manners, but good in a fight.” He took a deep breath. “We’ll be glad of that soon enough, I think.”

“My lord,” said Corswain. “I must go at once. If Master Grimoald is to come to our aid in a timely fashion, he must be alerted.”

“No,” said Rilmael. “No, it’s too late for that. You won’t be able to get past the goblin host without the bloodwolves running you down.”

“I fear no danger,” said Corswain, drawing himself up.

“I don’t doubt that,” said Rilmael, “but there’s no point in confronting a danger you cannot defeat.

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