Blessed be the Flexible

It had been of great interest to us when our spies reported several years ago, I was yet a cadet at the time, that our enemies the Frelians had begun the construction of a floating castle.

Granted, it was an expensive endeavor, but not an unheard of magic. In fact, floating castles had been abundant in the 200 year Storm War. These untouchable edifices had wreaked havoc in all countries. It had seemed the war would never end so long as magic existed yet to keep atop the clouds these instruments of destruction. But the war did end. When noble King Rafen ascended his father’s throne and descended from his fortress in the sky to be among his people, it ended. It was he who trained the first dragon riders. Indeed, men had ridden flying lizards, had flown on the backs of eagles, had by magic caused other things than castles to fly, but King Rafen’s nobility alone was able to sway the dragons to a human cause. Upon the backs of dragons he and his men swiftly crushed the flying castles, spreading peace upon whatever lands their shadows touched. The cloud borne fortresses were put away, but Frelia had retained its grudge against Beran.

And so Kent and I were not alone among the cadets to wonder what the Frelians hoped to achieve with this sky castle. We were all required to study its pentagonal architecture, whole days devoted to tactics based upon this target. When Frelia hired the Sourgen engineer, Frege Daramaeus, to build their five special ballistae, we studied his work devoutly, again days were spent training for a way to counter their deadly crossfire, longer hours spent on steep dives to get around their nearly seamless system of fire to destroy the well defended ballistae. When Frelia waged a protracted war against distant Prode, striving to capture a great many of their coveted Guelyan Crystals, our free time was spent wondering why our foes would desire to attain eleven of these valuable obelisks. The best Beran mages were brought in to teach us of their theories concerning the Frelians’ intentions with this magic. It was shortly thereafter that our spies became unable to get information, the Frelians had closed them off.

We have not had to wait long to find out as to why. Soon Castle Boeregard had crossed our Eastern border. Now Kent and I, leading three veteran riders, fly to meet this edifice, not knowing exactly what we face. We, two of the academy’s newest graduates, put as leaders of veterans for no other reason than our oft displayed ability to confront unpredicted problems in the field.

“Are we gonna survive our first fight, Forde?” Kent asks.

“Of course we are,” I answer, thinking on how much of our time in the academy had been spent training explicitly for this mission. I reach across with a grin to my left and take his hand reassuringly, our strong fists clenched in a sign of loyalty. “Remember men, the center of the walls are high risk zones.”

“Aye,” a disgruntled veteran by the name of Bregan answers. His youth had been spent easily destroying castles of this sort.

As we swoop down on the castle their archers and mages open fire, their fireballs, lightning bolts, and arrows not reaching their targets. After our initial probing pass, Kent and I ascend to make our dives. We look down on the castle, seeing five golden lines drawing a star over the castle court, beneath them six bright pink dots. While the others make their runs, looking for weakness, staying far from enemy fire, we begin to dive—hoping to come in quickly enough to be below their ballistae before we are struck. The pink specks swell suddenly, six oscillating beams of magic spearing up into the sky.

Kent and I swerve away, escaping the torrent of magic to swoop down to the castle’s level. As we come about—thinking desperately after a way to replace the method our professors had assured us to be the best—we see one of the veterans skirt artfully about a tower. He takes heavy spell fire from the tower as well as many arrows as the other veterans’ spell support is repelled by an enemy mage’s force wall.

He carries through the volley to move down into the courtyard, for a moment we think the battle won. His dragon crashes suddenly against air, kicking off instinctively to be grazed by ballista crossfire. Its rider is shaken from the saddle and falls down into the court as his dragon is caught up in the pink storm of magic from the pricks below.

“They will take him prisoner if he survived the fall,” one of the veterans assures as we regroup.

“What happened,” I demand.

“They’ve created a shield against dragons specifically,” Kent answers. “Our mage-scholars did not foresee this use for the Guelyan Crystals.”

“No, they did not, and those magic batteries are somewhat more powerful than they had theorized,” I reply. “Perhaps we should probe the gate below…”

“I’m gonna get me a ballista,” Bregan growls. “Tergan, go turn the tower on the right into a torch and I’ll get the ballista below.” They flap off before Kent or I can object. We watch, hoping they will succeed. We know immediately they will not.

Tergan’s sustained gout of dragon fire overpowers the magic of those on the tower, but as they perish in the flames a bolt from the ballista of the far tower arcs across the court to pierce his dragon’s breast, sending he and his mount spiraling into the clouds below. Our horror only increases as Bregan charges over the wall opposite the burning tower, a bolt meeting him head-to-head. His dragon is instantly killed and he is pitched into the court below as his mount’s corpse slides across the invisible barrier.

“The gates below?” Kent asks. “I thought not,” he adds as I shake my head slowly.

I can understand Bregan’s frustration and his appeal to a brute charge, but he had been warned. As I watch the dragon blood pool upon the invisible surface my rage mounts. “We were assigned to lead this attack for our ingenuity, for how much leading we did,” I scowl. “Would we had been assigned to lead a group of our peers, where flexibility would not have been slain by experience.”

“Or that we had been sent alone, then at least there would be three less dragons and veteran riders slain,” Kent adds. “Do we return and report their loss?”

“No,” I growl, “we move immediately to avenge them and hope Colm and Bregan are captured, we cannot let the Frelians have this victory. You fly over the tower Tergan unmanned for us and descend to strafe the wall beyond, I will be close behind, this is where we begin to improvise.”

“What are you going to do, Forde?” Kent asks, concerned as we again clench hands, a fury in my arm.

“I’m gonna get me a ballista.”

“Bregan died with those words in his mouth,” Kent warns.

“I am not Bregan and you are not Tergan, we will succeed, trust me.”

Thus assured, Kent flaps off, gaining speed for his pass. I follow closely and as he scorches the top of the wall, I drop from my rolling mount to land running upon the yet hot rock, a bolt sailing over my head. In a moment I am in a tower, climbing the stairs to my first ballista. The men there are deeply surprised as my sword rushes onto them, experts found outside their field. I move to the ballista, wanting to use it myself, finding immediately it has been engineered not to hit the walls or towers. Growling I cast a spell to put it to flames. I rush back down the stairs and as I step to the opening onto the next stretch of wall Kent’s dragon makes a pass, flames brushing my foes from the wall as a bolt arcs behind my ally. I break instantly into a sprint, knowing that my foes are expert enough to have a chance of striking me should I give them time sufficient to reload their ballista. Arrows fall around me as I run but I soon clear their range, coming quickly into the range of more archers atop the next tower. My shield spell protects me on that front but as I reel into the tower a heavy bolt passes behind me, shattering the spell around me.

This ballista’s men are more ready for me but they fall nonetheless. As I light the ballista aflame I can see Kent torching the tower opposite in the absence of ballista support. I remember the golden star below the walls and determine that it must fall. As I move to descend I can hear the tramp of boots and the clanging of metal armor. In enchanted leather I go to meet them, wanting to give Kent more openings as soon as possible. My spell drives them back down the stairs and they rally to meet me in the room connecting the two walls. My agility defeats their armor as my own turns the spell of a mage among them. They are soon all dead and I descend another level to pursue the golden glow below.

One of the legendary Guelyan Crystals stands before me, a mage deep in concentration beside it. With a blow to the back of his head I end his concentration and the crystal dulls, stepping past it disrespectfully I look out the window. All of the lines have fallen but as I look to the sky I see Kent and my dragon in an aerial fight with the enemy lizard riders, the foe trying to lead them into the stream of the batteries below as they fire intermittently.

In another moment I am stumbling down stairs again, hurrying to disable the batteries threatening my allies yet in the sky. I come to the door at the tower’s base to look out on a court filled with mages and soldiers. Six of the Guelyan Crystals stand upright in the field, mages clustered around them as they fire their beams into the fray above. Ignoring the soldiers for a time I run to heave a javelin into one such group of mages. The magenta glow of their crystal dies immediately as one of them falls and the rest turn upon me, disturbed from their meditation. In a moment all in the court is rushing to meet me, leaving the batteries to destroy the threat that had fundamentally compromised their defenses.

I fall back to the tower, erecting a meager field against magic in the doorway as I await the coming of the soldiers. As I engage the first man a roar and a wave of heat surge through the door and I jump back so as not be swept up in the flames. Kent is there, his dragon’s fire consuming all those that had pursued me. He dismounts as I rush out to join him and his dragon leaps up into the air to join mine in the battle above us. Kent strides to a crystal as I rush to meet a handful of men coming down off a wall. Arrows fall around us, but we are unperturbed. Before I can reach the approaching men, though, they fall unconscious. I turn to see a light emanating from Kent’s crystal and the arrows cease to fall. In a moment all is silent in the castle, Kent had always been the better mage of us.

“And so the advantage of flexibility is shown,” Kent says, stepping from the crystal.

“Blessed be the flexible, for they shall not be bent out of shape,” I recite in response.