A LEGACY OF LIGHT

LERESY

LERESY

 

Thuds shook the door. Chips of wood flew. Around the doorframes, dragonfire roared and blasted into the hall.

"Break down the doors!" cried voices outside, and again the doors shook. Splinters flew. "Slay everyone inside!"

Leresy stood trembling. His hand was so sweaty he could barely grip his sword. His head spun and his breath shook in his lungs.

"Do something!" he screamed. "Soldiers--slay them! Drive them back!"

He whipped his head from side to side madly. His trousers, soaked with his own urine, clung to him. The doors kept shaking--again and again. Every time the dragons outside slammed against them, more chips of wood flew, and more fire raced around the frames.

"Go on, kill them!" Leresy screamed, voice hoarse. His sword shook madly in his hand. "I order you! Are you disobeying your prince?"

And yet his soldiers--a mix of the Axehand and the Legions--only stood still, weapons raised, facing the door and waiting. Waiting! How could they just stand and wait like this?

"I order you to kill them!" Leresy cried, and his voice cracked. "You took vows. You swore to defend your price--now kill the enemy!"

He looked around madly, seeking an exit. There were no windows here, only arrowslits, and men stood there firing their bows. Who had designed this damn fortress? How could they not have built windows for escape? The enemy kept slamming at the doors, and outside the arrowslits, Leresy glimpsed thousands of the flying beasts.

Barbarians! A horde of unwashed outlaws! And his own men--soldiers trained for honor and strength--did nothing?

"Why don't you kill them?" he demanded, pacing among his troops. They only stood like damn statues, frozen and watching the doors. He screamed so loudly, his voice became but a shrill rasp. "I order you to get out there and kill them all!"

"They can't, you fool," Shari said. The princess sat slumped in the corner, bandaged and bloody. Her face was ashen, but scorn still filled her eyes. "They know war. You know how to fluff up your hair, choose the finest embroidery, and kiss our father's arse. Stand back and let them do their job, little brother."

Leresy spun toward her, baring his teeth. "Look at you! Look at you, sister, the great warrior. You lie wounded and dying. What do you know of war?"

Sitting in the shadows, she smirked. "Enough to fly out and fight one, not cower in a hall."

"And yet now you too cower," he said. He raised his sword; it wavered in his palm. "I should end your life now, Shari. I--"

A thud echoed across the room.

Leresy spun back toward the doors. A great crack had appeared, showering splinters. Flames burst into the hall, forcing his soldiers back.

Tilla stood among the troops, Leresy saw. Sweat drenched her face, blood stained her armor, and yet she stood tall. She clenched her jaw and held her sword before her, ready to fight.

"Do not let them break the doors!" Leresy shouted at the soldiers. "If you let the enemy in, I will butcher you myself!"

He spun away, marched across the hall, and approached an arrowslit. A soldier stood there, firing his bow. Leresy grabbed the man and shoved him aside.

"Let me see!" Leresy said. "I must view the battle to lead you."

He stared outside, and he felt the blood leave his face. Sweat drenched him.