Storymania - The Siege Of Tar Ebon by Dayne Edmondson

The Siege Of Tar Ebon
Dayne Edmondson

The Siege of Tar Ebon
Dawyn’s eyes flickered open with a start. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness around him. But at last he sat up in his feather bed, wondering what he had heard. Then he heard it again, aaaoooooooooooo. War horns? Dawyn thought as he rolled off his bed and grabbed his sword from the corner by his bed. He slipped on his brown leather boots, worn from travel, threw his ebony cloak around him, and strode out into the corridor, cloaked in the thick darkness of the night.
Dawyn Darklance, Lord Commander of the Riders of Algonia, buckled his sword belt around him as he wondered why the horns had been blown. As Dawyn strode up onto the high walls of the fortress, he spotted a soldier running down the walkway and grabbed his mailed arm.
“What is going on here soldier? It had better be good, mind you,” Dawyn growled as he spun the soldier around to face him.
“Um...sir, I really don’t have-,” the pale-face man began, but Dawyn cut him off abruptly.
“I don’t care how much bloody time you bloody have, man. Tell me before I cut out your tongue so you can never speak again!” Dawyn threatened, pulling a long thin dagger from his belt.
“M...minotaurs, sir,” the soldier squeaked as he ran off faster than he had come.
Minotaurs? Dawyn thought as he turned the way the soldier had come, sheathing his dagger. Why, there hasn’t been a Minotaur sighted on the mainland in five hundred years. I had better get to the bottom of this. Suddenly something caught Dawyn’s eye and he turned to look. There in the distance, a cluster of fires burned brightly in the west. Hmm, this could be trouble.
At last, Dawyn reached his destination. The doors to the King’s Tower loomed ahead of him, enormous oak, gilded with golden enamel. The guards, wearing pure black armor beneath equally black cloaks, stood at attention beside the doors, long spears in hand, swords hanging from their belts. The only color upon their cloaks was the white eagle of Tar Ebon, with a sword clutched tightly in its talons.
“My Lord,” the guard on the left murmured as he slapped a hand to his chest in salute and opened the door for Dawyn.
Slipping into the King’s Grand Hall, he quickly spotted many lords and officers that he knew. One in particular caught his eye. “Ah, Admiral Al’Daria, how good to see you,” Dawyn said in greeting as he took a vacant seat beside the plump admiral of the King’s Navy. “I hear there’s Minotaurs on the loose. Have they really come this close to Tar Ebon?”
Admiral Branden Al’Daria, one of the greatest naval tacticians in the entire Kingdom, turned his warm smile upon Dawyn. “Dawyn! How good to see you. Yes, you’ve heard right my good man. About an hour ago the Dauntless came up the river Targoth with about fifty or so Minotaur Birds of War on her tail. Luckily, the Dauntless’s oarsmen but their backs into it and they got into the harbor before their opponents. The bay gate was ordered shut and the Minotaurs left outside,” grabbing a cup of red wine from a passing servant’s platter, he twirled the cup between his thick fingers before gulping down the wine. “Our last report said that they had landed on the other side of the river. We can only assume that they have started landing soldiers. General Valdez has ordered all of the gates shut, allowing nothing in or out.”
“Fifty?” Dawyn asked, incredulous. “How by the Seven Powers could fifty Minotaur warships come up the river unnoticed?” Dawyn asked as he waved away a plate of shrimp and fish.
“No one quite knows Dawyn. The captain of the Dauntless was halfway down the river when those bloody Minotaurs came swooping up upon him. Luckily, the river is too shallow for ocean bearing ships to maneuver very easily, so the Birds of War could not encircle the Dauntless.”
Dawyn nodded in agreement. “Do we know yet if any land-,” but he was suddenly cut off by the opening of a door at the far end of the hall. A servant’s high voice cut through the silence. “All stand for his Grace, the King of Tar Ebon, King John Harrgoth.”
Before the servant had finished proclaiming the King, two guards cloaked in pure 0 black had swept into hall and taken their places beside the doorway. Next came the King hims00.0elf. A tall man, the King towered at six foot seven inches. Short-cut, blond hair, black eyes, and a long beard flowing down to his chest, he looked exactly like what he was in his crimson cloak with the customary white eagle upon it. Everyone present stood and slapped fist to heart in the customary gesture of respect.
“Please, everyone be seated, there is far more pressing business to attend to than bowing to me,” the King said as he took his seat and gestured for them to sit.
“Now, what is this I’ve been told? Minotaurs?” the King asked.
“Yes my Liege,” Admiral Al’Daria began, and went on to tell the story in the exact fashion as he had told Dawyn.
“Thank you, Admiral. Well, it appears we may have another Minotaur War on our hands. General Valdez, what say you?”
General Valdez, a muscular, short, middle-aged man who had seen a hundred battles, stood and cleared his throat. “Well, your Liege, I have ordered the gates shut, as the admiral told you, but I wish to be given permission to take a sortie out of the Southron gate and meet any minotaur forces that may be coming up from the south.”
After a long moment of ponderous silence, the King sighed and said. “Yes, you may General. Take two legions of the city guard with you, and try not to take any unnecessary chances.”
General Valdez smiled, bowed deeply with a, “as you say, my Liege,” and turned on his heels to prepare his men. Once the door of the chamber had closed, the King turned to one of the ugliest men that Dawyn had ever seen.
Pock-faced and scarred from countless battles, Martin Argontos, was the leader of the Mercenaries Guild in Tar Ebon. A great tactician, Martin Argontos had once been the leader of the one of the greatest band of mercenaries seen in a hundred years. Traveling all across the world in their mighty war galley, Dragonslayer, they had fought almost every type of peoples and creatures known to man. Legend had said that they had circled all of the way around the world. Although that was quite frankly ridiculous, for everyone knew that it could not be done. Later, they had saved the city of Bronnsville from a massive force of rebels and had been granted the hero’s medal of valor. Martin was now one of the King’s most trusted counselors.
“Lord Argontos, tell me, how many men can be hired in case we have need of them?” the King asked.
“Well, my Lord, I believe I can hire at least five thousand sell-swords from within the city, but it will cost a lot,” Martin said as he drew a wine cup to his lips and drank deeply.
“Fine, do it. I have a feeling we may need to use every resource available to us. You are dismissed. If I learn--,” but the King was suddenly cut off by the crash of the door at the far end of the chamber opening. A ragged messenger entered, covered in dirt.
“My Liege,” the man rasped as he entered and went to a knee.
“Get this man some water,” the King commanded.
Once the messenger had drunk a few cups of water, he at last stood and told his message. “My Liege, I have urgent news from the south. There is a massive force of Minotaurs coming up the Margonden road. They are too huge to count, but if I were to venture a guess, it would be in the range of two hundred thousand Minotaurs at the least.”
That took the air out of Dawyn’s chest. Two hundred thousand? They didn’t have enough men to fight an army that large. In the third Minotaur War, numbers such as this had come up from the south by the hordes, and it had taken all of the might and power of the Eight Kingdoms combined to stop the Minotaurs advance. But this was peacetime now, and the armies had been disbanded, leaving only one main army in each Kingdom.
“What are we going to do now, my Liege?” Admiral Al’Daria asked. “We can’t even think about standing against an army that large. We will fall within minutes once they arrive.”
“You’re right, Admiral, we have no choice but to mount a charge against the minotaurs to give our peasants enough time to escape to Haguesfort,” the King said as he stood. “Gentlemen, you know what you must do. Lord Argontos, raise your mercenaries and have them gather outside of the city. Admiral, prepare all of your warships to come out of the bay gate and hold the minotaurs off long enough to allow all of the civilian vessels to escape up the river to Haguesfort. Dawyn, gather your riders and head to the gates as well. Lord Captain Commander Richfield will be sent to raise and arm any able-bodied men in the city. You have three hours before we ride,” without another word, the King turned and walked swiftly from the chamber, his guards following.
When Dawyn walked out of the Grand Hall, he was suddenly assaulted by chaos. Men were running to and fro all along the walls of the King’s Tower. On the ground, peasants were screaming and running to the gates, trying to escape. Amidst it all, Dawyn heard the clank of armor as soldiers grabbed swords and spears and waded through the mass of people to the Southron Gate.
Finding the barracks where Dawyn had left his men was not difficult. As he rode his black stallion towards his awaiting men, they immediately stood up and started asking him what was going on. But he simply raised his hand and said, “Men, saddle up. We have Minotaurs on the war path and we have to go meet them.”

Three hours later, outside of the Southron Gate, a large host of horsemen had gathered. The black armor of the King’s Legions stuck out among the silver of the ordinary men. Among them were the Paladins of the Tower. Great blade masters and warriors, the Paladins were the greatest and fiercest force in the Eight Kingdoms. At last, the King came through the Gate, trailed by a long line of black-cloaked lancers and mounted bowmen.
The King raised his hand, and the horns blew clear and sharp in the early morning light. The sunlight glittered off of their golden enamel. “Men of Tar Ebon! Today we fight not for one city, but for the heart of the Kingdom. We cannot allow this city to fall! Never has this great city fallen in ten thousand years of war and strife, and I will not allow it to fall today. Legions forward!”
At the King’s command, the equivalent of fifty thousand armored knights and horsemen rode forward onto the Plains of Krevalor. Many long moments later, the King and his legions crested a hill and found themselves facing an incredible force. Minotaurs stretched as far as the eye could see. They seemed to scurry across the plains like great black insects, innumerable. Many of the men’s eyes grew wide at seeing them in reality but they looked upon their King’s great face, his eyes blazing, and they resolved themselves to go on to the end.
Dawyn’s riders were riding behind him, but they simply looked on with calm eyes and sat still as stone. They had seen armies such as this before, and they would not break under this pressure.
Finally, the King raised his gauntleted hand once again and trumpets blew all across the lines. Banners were raised, along with bows. A hail of arrows was sent into the air and came crashing down into the sea of Minotaurs. When the trumpets ended, all of the knights and horsemen lowered their lances and drew their swords. With great cries of fury, they spurred their warhorses down the hill.
The minotaurs, caught by surprise, were taken aback when a wall of lances slammed into their front lines, but they soon regrouped and turned all of their might and power upon the riders. The Minotaurs, huge bastard swords and axes in hand, fought ferociously against the mounted men, and Dawyn quickly saw that the men would soon break and the battle would be lost. Dawyn also knew that they could not retreat though, and so fought with a renewed fervor, swords flashing, one in each hand.
But even with that fervor, the men of Tar Ebon still fell back. But at last, when all seemed lost, and it seemed that the avalanche of swords and axes would encompass them, a horn blast cut through the air like a knife. Aaaoooooooooooo. The battle seemed to be put to a standstill for a few moments while everyone, Minotaur and man alike, looked up to the hill to the east.
There, on the hill, stood a lone rider with a sword in his hand, cloak flapping behind him in the wind. Suddenly the man spoke, his voice carrying over the field of battle. “Riders of the Seven Stars! Forward to help your brothers in arms!” At the lone rider’s shout, the ground began to shake like thunder. There cresting the hill came not hundreds or thousands, but hundreds of thousands of riders in pure white armor. As they rode, the man who had spoken lowered his sword and pointed it at the Minotaur lines. Suddenly fire streaked from the end of his sword and slammed into the Minotaur lines, torching their front lines. Next, the earth itself heaved beneath the Minotaur flank, spewing Minotaurs high into the air. Finally, the last blow was the silver lances of the riders smashing into the Minotaurs, breaking them. Dawyn knew now that the day had been won. Though he wondered whom these strange riders in white were.

And so it was that the great army of the Minotaurs was defeated on what was later called the plains of White Fury. After the battle, the mysterious white riders who had suddenly appeared, disappeared as swiftly as they had come. Speaking no word, simply vanishing into a great field of mist. Some said they were dead heroes come back from the grave, but no one ever truly knew. Thus the city of Tar Ebon survived to see the light of day once again.