Dragonfriend - Marc Secchia Page 0,151

They leaped over the side. Ha, she thought. Monks with the ability to levitate. But the Greens did not know that.

Bellowing in shock and anger, the Green Dragons began to leap into the air, flapping, diving over the edges of the wide balcony. Too late. Less than five seconds separated their first warning from the Dragonship’s arrival, targeting the bunched Dragons perfectly.

KAAAABOOM!

White light flared, brilliant. Dark smoke mushroomed from the point of impact. Immolation in fire was no great danger for a Dragon, for they were armoured against it and even bathed in lava for sport, at least for short periods of time. But the force of a hydrogen blast did pose a danger for outstretched wing membranes. Two Dragons right in the centre of the blast fell immediately, howling in mortal agony. A third somersaulted off the balcony, crashing headfirst into the palace gardens. The others, smart enough to tuck in their wings or roll away, survived, but not unscathed.

Lia shuddered, sensing the shockwave through her knees. For a second she felt disoriented by being back in her own body.

Ra’aba must be awake now!

Scrambling to her feet, Lia squeezed her petite frame through the gap, even as Chago’s prodigious blows made the door shudder and sag on its hinges. She rolled beneath a half-seen blow and stabbed her swords into the nearest mercenary’s gut. Monks crowded behind her, but Inniora beat them all, her long sword flashing in a huge overhand blow that cut down a mercenary to Lia’s left, who had been lining Rallon up for a fatal hammer strike.

The bearded mercenaries gave no quarter. Again and again, Lia found herself having to curtail her flowing Nuyallith forms for lack of space. This was a problem she had not envisaged. The style was not only useful for single combat, was it, or combat against Dragons?

Outside, a rousing roar similar to the onset of storm winds and rain announced the arrival of the King’s forces, the third prong of the attack. But above the rumbling sounds of battle, Lia heard the thundering challenges of Ra’aba’s Dragons. That was her concern. Even given Master Jo’el’s idea of mobile war crossbows on carts, any ground force battling Dragons had to be at a severe disadvantage. However, King Chalcion would have it no other way. No sneaking about for him. He intended to lead a glorious frontal assault on the palace gates.

The monastery forces spread out through the below-ground servant quarters, securing them despite the mercenaries’ fatalistic, last-man-standing attitude to defence. Bloody hand-to-hand fights developed, with the outnumbered monks slowly prevailing by superior skill and passion. Gaining a few seconds’ space, Hualiama surveyed the battle from an alcove just within a large hallway, hung with ten-foot tall artworks depicting common scenes of Fra’aniorian life, which housed the only two staircases leading to the upper palace levels. The Royal Palace had been designed this way for security.

Around her, knots of monks and Chago’s warriors of the Fra’aniorian Royal Guard led servants and families down to the safety of the dungeons, while the battle on the two wide, parallel staircases raged without ceasing, neither side gaining an advantage. The mercenaries were well armed and shielded their archers at the top of the stairs with tall oval shields. Any unarmoured monks attacking across the open areas leading to the base of the stairs, were vulnerable. Scores already lay injured or dead. Lia knew they needed to change the balance. Their dwindling force would pose little threat to Ra’aba otherwise.

A Grandion-sized fireball would have been useful in this situation.

Racking her brains for ideas, Hualiama’s gaze fell on Flicker flying overhead, dive-bombing mercenaries. Aye. That was it.

“Chago. Inniora,” she rapped. “Get every water gourd you can find in the slave quarters and empty them. Ask those families downstairs. Ja’al, there are stores at the back of the Palace. We need oil. Fast. Get five of the small barrels. Hallon, Rallon, tear up cloth for fuses.”

Ja’al’s eyes widened. “You’re going to burn them.”

“Got any better ideas?”

Shortly, out of sight of the mercenaries, oil began to glug into gourds. They stuffed the mouths of the gourds with oiled cloth and prepared braziers with fire.

Lia handed out gourds. “On my mark, we light the fuses, charge out there and throw these at their heads. Flicker, you take a few and drop them from above. Then, we break for the Great Hall. Chago, you and Inniora will lead a force upstairs and try to break through to the Great Hall–but you’ll

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