Siege of Draestl Read online

  Siege Of Draestl

  Randall Seeley

  Copyright © 2020 by Randall Seeley

  www.randallseeley.com

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  I greatly appreciate you taking the time to read this book. Please feel free to leave a review wherever you bought the book, or tell your friends about it to help me spread the word!

  Thank you for supporting my work!

  To Josh,

  Who has taught me how to lead with kindness.

  Contents

  1. Dragonshadow

  2. Old Draestl

  3. An Old Enemy

  4. A Hopeful Plan

  5. The Tip Of An Arrow

  6. A Deadly Skirmish

  7. The Western Wall

  8. A Perfect Distraction

  9. A Desperate Escape

  10. Aftermath

  11. The Spark Of Unity

  12. The Price Of Failure

  13. Dawn Of War

  14. Siege Of Draestl

  15. The White Dragon

  Epilogue

  Enjoy This Book?

  About the Author

  Also by Randall Seeley

  1

  Dragonshadow

  Dralchemy was an integral part of our new society. It’s what enabled our freedom and became the means to control the curse. But dralchemy also became a tool for opportunists to exploit… I never could have predicted the dralchoms they would create. The only limit was their imagination…

  Owen Delmsmith cursed as he pushed the wagon wheel. He didn’t know why he was doing it—he was the lieutenant in charge of this expedition, after all—but with Gauden Thyme’s big, booming laugh echoing in his ear, he was too proud to order someone else to do it, and too nervous of what Gauden would say if he did.

  Bloody fat man bossing me around…

  He felt Gauden staring at him and stopped nervously, looking over his shoulder to see if Gauden had somehow read his mind. The big man smiled in return.

  Gauden was the largest man Owen had ever met. He stood well over six and a half feet tall, looked about just as wide, and every inch of the man was covered with disheveled hair—the most prominent of which was a nasty beard that grew well past his waist. Owen was surprised the man didn’t smell awful.

  Gauden was sitting on his horse—a black stallion that was as large as its rider—and had his familiar black crossbow and quarterstaff perched across his lap. He kept smiling.

  “Why don’t you pick up the wagon, Owen? Don’t you have a little muscle somewhere underneath that fine cloak? Or are you just a pretty face!” Gauden finished with another laugh.

  Owen glared at him, but didn’t rebut. This time. He had traded insults with Gauden before, and every previous encounter had left Owen feeling even more the fool. The men already think I’m a bloody idiot, no reason to provide additional validation.

  He squared his shoulders, squatted, and grabbed the wheel with both hands. Once his grip had proper leverage, he signaled to the two men who were squatting beside him and began counting.

  “One, two, three—” He grunted, clenched his teeth, and heaved with all his might.

  The wagon was heavy—filled with armor, swords, and other military equipment—and probably weighed a ton or more. Or at least it felt like it did. But the exertion from the three men raised it long enough for a fourth to slide a wooden plank below the wheel.

  They let the wagon crash to the ground, and Owen winced as it thudded with a thunderous boom. He grimaced as he looked at the wagon wheel and said a quick prayer that the wheel hadn’t broken. It was bad enough it had been stuck in the only mud hole on the entire trail. Breaking it would be worse.

  A quick inspection confirmed the wheel was still intact, so he sighed with relief. “Go ahead and try it,” he instructed cautiously. This plan better work…

  The men moved into position, and Jesop Flak, the head scout of the Alderidon Wolves, barked several commands as the men began to rock the wagon back and forth. Jesop was technically second-in-command, but with Gauden and his booming laugh, Owen wasn’t sure if he himself was second-in-command.

  “You think it will work?” Owen asked as he mounted his horse. He meant it as a rhetorical question, but Gauden laughed.

  “What would have worked is avoiding the mud to begin with,” Gauden stated matter-of-factly. Owen glared at him, but saw the guide wasn’t looking at him. Instead, Gauden was staring at the wagons. There were a dozen of them—each packed with similar supplies to replenish the city of Draestl.

  Owen had mixed feelings regarding the supplies. Part of him loved being here because it meant he wasn’t walking up and down the battlements of Old Draestl, over and over, watching for signs of an impending and inevitable attack from Thraegar Thornclaw and the Draebek. But the other part of him hated it, even despite getting out of his normal duties.

  Gauden, himself, and a handful of the Alderidon Wolves had been hand selected by General Fadden—the General of Draestl—to guide and protect supply wagons from Zahkar to Draestl on what had now become a frequent trip. It meant that Owen had been on the road for the better part of the last six months, doing the same thing over and over. It had become almost as mundane as patrolling Old Draestl. He glanced at the wagons, then at the trails, then at Gauden, who smiled once again. How can he always be so bloody happy?

  Owen sighed and wondered if any of the effort was worth it. He understood why they did this at first. After seeing what Thraegar was capable of in Gaud’s Pass, it was important for Draestl to be prepared, and who better to protect the supply wagons than the hero of the last encounter? But Owen wasn’t convinced the Draebek invasion was inevitable anymore. It had been more than a year since Owen had blown up Gaud’s Pass and saved Wayd’s life. No one had seen Thraegar Thornclaw, or more than a few scattered Draebek, ever since. Hopefully they’ll never come back…

  He rubbed a hand through his brown hair and sighed again as he watched the men push the wagon from behind as the horses started forward. All he saw were dirty, sweaty men, and it made him wish there was a woman around. Or at least a woman he could cuddle with. There was Templar Annette and Seeker Bonnie, but that pair was unbearable. He was at first excited when they were assigned to his caravan because they were close to his age and very attractive—especially Bonnie. If he wasn’t stuck in this bloody pass, he would have asked her to dance.

  But then he remembered when he had asked her to dance. He winced as he recalled Bonnie giving him a lecture at the top of her lungs, followed shortly after with another berating from Templar Annette that explained how he was an immature and inadequate leader.

  Owen couldn’t figure out what the big deal was. They were pretty, and he was handsome—he knew he was because so many women had told him so. In fact, the only person he had heard was better looking than him was Waydsyn Scot. But that was an unfair comparison because Wayd was a bloody prince and Owen was only the son of a general. Thank goodness Wayd is so smitten with Alaina…leaves the rest of the girls to me!

  Except for Templar Annette and Seeker Bonnie. He stopped rubbing his hand through his hair when he felt glares settle on him. He knew they were coming from them. It’s as if merely thinking of them brings their disdain!

  He risked a look at them, and feeling somewhat brave, actually made eye contact with them. He immediately regretted his decision when their eyes hardened and their hands dropped to the weapons at their sides. He wasn’t sure what would be worse, the draestl sword or the seeker staff.

  C
urse me, the petulant women.

  “I’d stay away from those two if I were you,” Gauden advised.

  Owen appreciated that the man shared his advice quietly—this time. “It’s not my fault they are so uptight,” he responded, trying to regain his composure. “They need to realize that the purpose of life is to be happy!”

  Gauden laughed again, his entire body shaking. Owen regarded him and wished that he could be as carefree as Gauden was. Gauden seemed to actually enjoy this kind of thing. But Owen figured that Gauden’s joy probably had something to do with how much he got paid.

  Gauden had been a guide in the Draestl Mountains for decades, and had made a fortune from it. Owen was skeptical at first, but when they had arrived to Draestl a year ago, Gauden was paid five large bags filled with gold coins. Gold coins! Owen had been so shocked that he had asked if he could count them. Gauden obliged, and Owen counted every last one. One thousand gold coins. For accompanying a caravan? How much is he making this time? I’m doing it for experience!

  “They live a rough life,” Gauden stated.

  Owen struggled to remember what they were talking about, but then he felt Templar Annette and Seeker Bonnie’s glares. Right…the bloody Order ladies.

  “Being a Templar isn’t an easy thing,” Gauden continued. “Imagine if you had the responsibility to destroy those unfortunate enough to transform into dragons.”

  Owen shivered at the thought. The first time he had seen a living dragon was Thraegar Thornclaw’s dragon last year. And the bloody Draebek rode it! But he knew that Thraegar’s relationship with dragons was unusual. Templar Arthron had been astonished that Thraegar could control the beast because most dragons became enraged and unstable during transformation.

  At least, that was how it was supposed to happen.

  “And are Seekers any better?” Gauden continued. “With their ability to sense transformations?”

  Owen shuddered again. “I hope I never sense anything of the sort,” he replied. He thought about Seekers. Seeker Kalaia had explained that she had an affinity to dragons that allowed her to feel dragon transformations—either as they were transforming or as a completed transformation. He felt goose bumps form across his skin. I hate thinking about dragons.

  After several more shouts and grunts from the men, the wagon wheel cleared the hole and began moving forward. Owen let out a sigh of relief and raised his fist into the air triumphantly. He heard scoffs and saw Seeker Bonnie rolling her eyes and Templar Annette grimacing, so he smiled at them and gave a slight bow—which annoyed them further—and they spun their horses and headed away.

  “I never thought I’d say this, but I wish Seeker Kalaia was here. I’d take her grandmotherly lecturing over their patronizing any day! I mean, they are pretty and all, but those attitudes!” Owen said as he trailed off in thought.

  Gauden let out a booming laugh and clapped Owen’s shoulder with a meaty hand. Spittle formed on the big man’s beard, and Owen stared at him with disbelief. “Gauden, wipe that spit off your face!”

  Gauden laughed again, and Owen sighed and kicked his horse forward as Gauden fell in beside him. Why did I get stuck with this bloody task?

  He wished he enjoyed this more than he did. But he didn’t, and the novelty of avoiding his patrol duties had worn off quickly. Now he would rather be anywhere else. No, not anywhere else—he would rather be at an inn playing cards, drinking wine, and figuring out how he could catch the serving girl’s eye.

  But he wasn’t. Not yet, anyway…only nine more months until we get to return home.

  A part of him was surprised that they had already been on their mission for over two years because it had actually gone by fairly fast. The first year had taken the longest because they were stationed in Zahkar with General Brathe. He couldn’t stand that man, but the city itself was decent. But it wasn’t Alderidon—the greatest city in all of Ardonor—and he struggled adjusting to life away from home. And any time he grew bored or disinterested…

  He remembered how excited he was when he had finally persuaded Wayd to sneak into a mine to look at draestl. He had been so curious at the time. Draestl, the legendary mineral that the economy of Ardonor revolved around. All he wanted was to see what all the fuss was about.

  But it was guarded closer than they guarded Wayd—and that was a lot. So he had to improvise. He smiled at the memory of sneaking into the mine. We almost avoided getting caught!

  His smile vanished as he remembered what had happened when they were caught. That single consequence was probably the worst in his life. Not only was he banished from Zahkar—and the taverns and ladies that occupied them—but he had to deal with General Brathe. And Brathe was not happy. Brathe probably would have sent them home dishonorably if Captain Jacon Strath hadn’t intervened. But Captain Strath had—with the foolhardy plan to accompany Kather Stoth’s caravan to Draestl.

  It was supposed to be a straightforward journey; safe, routine, and provide opportunities to develop their leadership. Owen shuddered as he remembered how opposite it had become. Just the thought of Captain Strath brought pangs of sadness. Owen missed him dearly. That journey had cost the lives of many of the Wolves. Because of Thraegar Thornclaw.

  It was ironic that he was in a similar pass now. They were passing through the Draestl Pass—the pass that Thraegar had blocked with an avalanche over a year ago. He shuddered as he remembered that first journey when Captain Strath forced them to repair bridges in half-frozen water, or clear snow drifts so the wagons could pass through. He had hated every minute of that journey. Even before encountering Thornclaw.

  But it was the end of summer now, which meant warm days but cool enough evenings that you could actually sleep without waking up in a pool of sweat. The weather was fairly moderate as well, which meant there was zero chance of snow. He gazed at the small mud patch and smiled. I’ll take late summer any day.

  He risked a glance back and saw that the wagon had completely cleared the hole and that the others were effectively avoiding it so they were on their way once again. They were only about a day away from Old Draestl, and it was early enough in the morning that they could make it there by evening—if they were lucky and didn’t encounter any more mud holes.

  The scouts had returned at first light and had reported clear passes ahead, so he figured luck would be on their side, but he knew from experience that luck was a fickle thing. Hopefully it stays with me today. A day away from Old Draestl means only two days away from Draestl!

  He was surprised he found himself excited to see Draestl. Draestl was a smaller city than Zahkar and much more industrial. It was built amongst a network of mines located in the tall spires of the Draestl Mountains. The mines were some of the richest deposits of draestl in all of Ardonor, and as a result, men and women from all over Ardonor flocked to Draestl with dreams of making fortunes from mining. Others knew that the miners would need support, so the typical businesses were established: peddlers, tailors, blacksmiths, innkeepers, and more. The rest were military. Draestl housed the largest army in Ardonor after Alderidon’s.

  It resulted in a unique hodgepodge of men and women with a variety of backgrounds and interests. And while many of the taverns and inns were rudimentary and lacked the flair of Alderidon, Owen found himself missing them nonetheless.

  Plus it was Draestl. The single most important city in Ardonor because of its access to draestl. He was amazed at how much he had learned about the mineral since he arrived, and had much greater respect and appreciation for it than he had in the past.

  The mineral was vital to the economy of Ardonor because of its uses in fighting dragons. The Order of the Dragon oversaw the production, and used the mined draestl for two primary purposes: draestlry used the magical mineral to imbue weapons and armor with power to fight against dragons, and dralchemy used draestl as a key ingredient in many of the dralchoms they used to combat the dragon curse. Owen still wasn’t sure how everything worked, but he had seen enough to understand that without drae
stl, the world would be a more dangerous place.

  Scout Jesop Flak rode up beside him. “Lieutenant,” he said with a salute.

  “What is it?” Owen replied, somewhat distracted. He hadn’t intended for it to come out as disinterested as it sounded, but he was still thinking about Draestl. And I want to continue to think about Draestl…

  “Reporting that all is in line,” Jesop replied as if nothing was out of sorts. “I’ve dispatched scouts to ensure the pass remains clear so we don’t ride into any surprises. They’ll be back in an hour.”

  “Thank you, Jesop,” Owen said.

  He watched him ride away and heard Gauden give a grunt.

  “What?” he asked the big man.

  Gauden let out a sigh. “As much as you hate doing this, you need to embrace it, Owen. You have the skill and natural ability to lead, so do it!”

  “Bah,” Owen said. He intended to say that under his breath, but it came out loud enough for all to hear.

  Gauden scoffed and shook his head. “They are waiting for you to show that you deserve their respect. Just give it to them. What’s your plan when you return home in a few months?”

  “I’ll figure that out in a few months,” Owen said softly. But he had already figured that out. He’d leave the military and start his own tavern in Alderidon. He’d find some chefs from all over Ardonor and bring them to his tavern—he hadn’t quite figured out a name, though he had narrowed it to a few choices—and people would come from all over the world to experience the fine cuisine. He had mentioned it to a few of the men on one occasion and they had laughed at him, so he kept it to himself now. But he knew it would be successful. They’ll see.