《The Fall of Andalus》 Weekend Mornings
The stifling heat of a summer¡¯s day hung heavy in the air as Ford Caldwell awoke to feel that the night had done little, if anything, to calm the onslaught of the sun. Looking at his handmade clock, he saw that it was only a few minutes past six.
To his left, he sensed an empty spot in the bed. Ford guessed that his wife, Lara, must already be awake. He smiled at the thought.
Lara loved to wake up before him on the weekends. Knowing how much his job takes a toll on him during the weekdays, she enjoyed waking him up with a fresh plate of hot breakfast on those mornings. After all, weekends were the only time Ford and Lara got to spend their mornings together.
A physician in Harbondale, Ford would occasionally be drafted as a field medic whenever raiders from the east attacked. Having just arrived home from such an occasion only a few days ago, Ford had been drowning in work while catching up with the patients he missed.
He had arrived home so tired he was ready to crawl into a coffin, but he could not bear the thought of his patients going on unattended. For all of his confidence and skill, Ford Caldwell¡¯s one true fear was being unable to help someone in need. And Ford had seen enough of this fear to last a lifetime in the medical tents on the battlefields.
Ford, as well as many of his colleagues, had been brought in to tend to the wounded throughout a particularly long raid by a small army of dwarves. For over three weeks, nearly a full four, Ford had been working a rotating shift with five other doctors at the camp where he was stationed, tending to all manner of battlefield injuries. As usual, the Harbondale militia managed to push back the raiders and chase off any stragglers seeking glory.
Accompanying the intense heat was the smell of blood stuck in Ford¡¯s nose. There was no blood on him. A healer at the camp had magicked away the blood, sweat, and other bodily fluids on their final day. But the healer could not magic away the smell from Ford¡¯s memory. Nothing could erase the stench of that month¡¯s work from his mind.
As Ford rolled out of bed, he suddenly became aware of how badly his muscles ached. His feet felt as if they might fall off if he stayed on them for any longer than it took to dress. Slowly and painfully, Ford dressed himself in his favorite clothes. A small comfort, but a needed one. As he did so, he heard Lara ascend the staircase and, passing his stench memory, smelled the wonderful meal she had prepared for him.
¡°Ford! You¡¯re awake early; it¡¯s only six o¡¯clock.¡±, she said.
¡°6:10, actually. It took me a few minutes to get dressed through the soreness.¡±, he replied. ¡°Is that bacon I smell? Eggs and breakfast potatoes?¡±, asked Ford.
Lara smiled at her husband and nodded her head. ¡°Why don¡¯t you eat this here in bed, and I¡¯ll go back and make you some tea, my love?" Lara laughed. Taking a labored step towards her, Ford groaned out ¡°No, no. The movement will do me some good. Help shake off the stiffness and soreness.¡± Lara rolled her eyes playfully but gestured for him to follow her down the stairs.
The two sat in the kitchen and enjoyed their breakfast together. There really was nothing better than weekend mornings for the Caldwell couple. The kids were still asleep and would be until at least 8 o¡¯clock. On those joyous weekend mornings, it was as if Lara and Ford were the only two people in the world. And as if by clockwork, right at 8, the pair heard their son¡¯s feet clumsily hit the floor. Followed by the rest of him.
Collin Caldwell was known for being extremely clumsy first thing in the morning. Ford and Lara¡¯s sign that their daughter Claire had awoken was the sound of her dresser drawers opening and closing.
Though the children had not woken at exactly the same moment, they bounded down the stairs together to greet their father. Like their mother, Collin and Claire never got to spend their mornings with Ford. And as Ford had been away for nearly a month, they were overjoyed to spend their mornings with both parents this weekend.
Somehow, Collin and Claire seemed to be immune to the summer heat. Both had grand plans for their weekend with Ford and Lara. Collin had dreamed all month long of playing outside with his father.
¡°Running in the wind sounds nice¡±, Ford thought. But the winds that would greet them later that day would be anything but brisk or satisfying.
Claire, on the other hand, had plans to walk around all of her favorite parts of the city. Ford was not fond of this idea, as he was certain his feet would disintegrate if he were to walk that far for that long. But, loving father he was, he agreed. And as he did, he felt Lara squeeze his arm gently and rub his shoulders.
After their morning tea, brewed fresh by Lara, the family set off to enjoy their first day reunited. The sun was overbearing, and the clouds seemed to evaporate on sight. Harbondale was many miles from the sea, yet the air had a distinctly salty taste to it.
¡°Maybe it¡¯s just my olfactory senses being confused by the lack of actual stench¡±, thought Ford. But he could see that his family noticed it, too.
The Caldwell family made their walk as brief as possible, stopping at a local tavern to get a whiff of anything other than the hot, salty air. It seemed as though half the neighborhood had done the same, for they found the tavern packed wall-to-wall with patrons when they arrived. All of the patrons attempted to wait out the strange taste in the air, but the volume of people made it harder to breathe inside than out. The Caldwells did not stay long. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Back outside, the family of four was deceived into thinking it had cooled off a little. It had not. But not being stuffed inside that wooden box disguised as a tavern made the sweltering, salty air feel like a reprieve. It was half past ten now, and the clouds were still disappearing as quickly as they could form. Something was off in Harbondale today, and no one seemed to know what was causing it.
Collin hugged tightly to his father¡¯s side and asked if some dwarven mage was attacking the city through the weather. In truth, Ford was not well informed about the heights of a mage¡¯s power. Though he worked with many healers, he knew very little of the extent of their magical powers. Nevertheless, he assured his son that this could not be the work of a dwarf. Then, automatically, he assured his daughter that it wasn¡¯t the work of a group of dwarves at her incoming question of, ¡°What if it¡¯s a coven of dwarven hags?¡±
Defeated, the family made their way back home. The four agreed they would try again the next day. But before they could arrive home, each of them had heard it.
A piercing screech.
Then Collin saw it.
A streak of color across the sky.
Ford felt fear sink into his bones. He hadn¡¯t seen the streak of color across the sky and was unfamiliar with the accompanying sound.
Putting on a brave face, he mustered all the strength in his fatigued body. He put his arms around his family and hurriedly ushered them back toward home. The streets were full now. Everyone was attempting to evade the harsh heat and salty air while desperately making their own way home before finding out what soared through the sky.
Within minutes, surprisingly, the Caldwell family found themselves at their front door. One keyhole away from safety. One keyhole away from comfort.
Unmoved by his fear as he experienced many threatening scenes on the battlefield, Ford slipped in the key and led his family inside.
There, he comforted his wife and children and made sure to distract them all from their own fears. If it was some plot by the dwarven raiders, the militia was sure to sort it out quickly. The only discomforting thought left was that Ford would be dragged back into a new conflict to look after the wounded in makeshift tents. One screeching sound and one streak of color were all it took to ruin their weekend.
A few hours passed, and the Caldwell family never heard another sound from the skies. Ford had come to agree with his children now. He didn¡¯t think that it was some magic that had briefly terrorized the city of Harbondale. Rather, Ford believed it to have been some ballista with a screaming arrow that flew across the sky. He had heard stories of such weapons from some of the soldiers he had treated throughout his years as a field medic. Surely, this must be one of those.
And sure enough, when the family left their home again that afternoon, all seemed well. It was hotter now than it had been that morning, so the Caldwell family did not wish to make as much of the day as originally planned. Thankfully, the salty taste in the air had subsided, and the clouds lingered in the sky. Yet the breeze brought with it no comfort. But two out of three weren¡¯t bad. And two out of three were all that the Caldwells and Harbondale would get.
Ford and his family walked to the market for a late lunch. They had been too terrified at lunchtime to eat anything and were now very hungry. ¡°Daddy, I¡¯m staaaaarving¡±, Collin said. ¡°How much farther to the market?¡± Ford replied, ¡°Only a few more minutes; we¡¯re almost there.¡± Stomachs rumbling, the four nearly ran to the first stand they saw upon arrival.
The fruit stand had a wide variety of delicious apples. There were probably other fruits there, but these were the first things the children saw, and as such, they were the first things the Caldwells ate.
Ford had been on his feet most of the day. His soreness had greatly diminished, and his muscles no longer felt stiff as a board. Lara, on the other hand, looked weary. The day had clearly taken its toll on her. Collin and Claire couldn¡¯t be bothered by any of it; now their stomachs were full of juicy apples and delicious tarts.
Lara was concerned about the screeching sound they had heard a few hours earlier. Could it really be just some screaming arrow from a ballista? If it wasn¡¯t, then what could it have been? Ford sounded so sure when he told the kids the stories he¡¯d heard from soldiers, but why would there have only been one arrow set loose across the sky, and how could it have flown so high and so fast that only Collin had caught a brief glimpse at it? Lara wasn¡¯t used to fear and nerves the way Ford was; Lara was a school teacher. Of course, Lara had to have a lot of nerve in her profession. Having so many children in a single classroom was no easy task. But Lara had never needed nerve in the face of a potential threat. She trusted her husband¡¯s judgment, but it didn¡¯t make her any less afraid of what might come.
¡°Laraaa, are you in there?¡±, Ford called. All of a sudden, Lara became aware that she had been lost in thought. ¡°Sorry, yes. I¡¯m fine, just still thinking about this morning.", she answered. Ford looked heavily at her and sighed. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, ¡°it¡¯s been on my mind a lot, too.¡± There was a pause of understanding between them. This was the first moment the two had gotten alone since the children woke up. Collin and Claire were both playing in the market square while their parents sat together on a nearby bench.
¡°I know what I told the kids. And it¡¯s true, I promise. I have heard stories about screaming arrows from soldiers in the tent. But to be honest, I¡¯ve never heard anyone mention them being so loud or being set loose over a city.¡±, he continued. ¡°Only over a battlefield. From what anyone gathers, they¡¯re extremely rare and very expensive to make. Even for dwarves.¡±, said Ford. ¡°But I didn¡¯t want the kids to worry. And I don¡¯t want you to worry, either. Though, like me, I know you will.¡± Another pause. Ford and Lara looked at each other. They saw the fear in one another¡¯s eyes and were both comforted by sharing the same feelings. Each had thought themselves alone in their worry until now, and it felt nice to know that they were not.
Ford reached into his bag and pulled out an old book. ¡°Remember this?¡±, he said. Lara chuckled before replying, ¡°Yes! How could I forget? That¡¯s the book we both tried to check out the day we met.¡± They both smiled. ¡°I tried to convince you that I needed it for class, and you told me you¡¯d let me check it out first if I¡¯d go out with you¡±, she went on. ¡°Come to find out, you never wanted the book at all. You saw me¡ª" "Reading at a table the night before.¡±, cut off Ford. ¡°You were the most beautiful woman I¡¯d ever seen. I wanted so badly to talk to you, but I-¡° ¡°Needed an opportunity.¡±, she shot back. Again, the couple smiled. It had been many years since that day in the library. So many that the two had graduated college together, married, and started a family.
Ford was the first to break the blissful silence. ¡°I don¡¯t know if that was really a screaming arrow. But I know this: as long as I have my family with me, everything will be alright.¡± Lara nodded in agreement and laid her head on her husband¡¯s shoulder as the two turned and watched their children play, oblivious to the summer heat. The Terror Begins Ford heard screams of terror, rage, and pain as he tried desperately to apply pressure to the wound of the patient on his table. He could see the lights dimming in the man¡¯s eyes by the second. Ford felt as though he was moving through water, unable to use his full strength to apply pressure to the wound or reach quickly enough for any of his medical equipment. A healer nearby was shouting at him to apply the tourniquet if he couldn¡¯t put enough pressure on the man¡¯s leg, but Ford couldn¡¯t find one. Instead, he stumbled around the table and nearly knocked over all his equipment. Ford felt weak, clumsy, and confused. The healer¡¯s shouting was indiscernible now as he strode quickly toward Ford¡¯s table and the dying patient lying limp upon it. Bright yellow light emanated from the healer¡¯s palms as he muttered under his breath in another language. Ford felt his shame and confusion grow as the healer did what he could not. The patient¡¯s wound began closing, though his blood remained on the table. The lights slowly came back into his eyes, but his breath remained shallow and labored. In mere moments, the patient stabilized and thanked the healer repeatedly once he had recovered his breath. But for Ford, his eyes held only contempt. Ford saw that the healer¡¯s eyes also held contempt. The eyes of everyone in the tent were on him now. All eyes were filled with contempt. With shame. With anger. The screaming from before had gone silent now. The rush of patients being brought in wounded and sent out stabilized had stilled. One voice rang out, and then many, and then all. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you save him?" Ford Caldwell stirred from his sleep to find that the previous events were just a nightmare. He wasn¡¯t back in the tents, and he hadn¡¯t failed to care for the wounded, prompting a healer to do his job for him. But the words still haunted him. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you save him?" He had seen many men and women die under his care in the tents. The healers weren¡¯t always quick enough to help the medics when they were overwhelmed. The kingdom of Andalus had worked hard for the last couple centuries on the advancement of science and medicine, but magic was still superior in a battlefield medical tent. Unfortunately, magical healers were few and far between. Mages in general were sparse in Andalus compared to other kingdoms, and the city of Harbondale was no different than the rest of the kingdom. But the phrase ¡°Why didn¡¯t you save him?¡± was one that Ford knew would haunt him for the foreseeable future, as it preyed on his greatest fear. Ford slowed his breaths, making them more deliberate than automatic. He noticed he was sweating and that the sun had not yet come up. It was dark in the room, and he couldn¡¯t see the clock to tell the time. Ford attempted to roll out of bed, only to be reminded that his muscles were sore, and his joints were still stiff. Instead, he turned his head to look out the window. Outside, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, save for what looked to be a man walking in the middle of the street. As he passed the street-lamps, Ford could faintly make out a pale-yellow overcoat draped on the man¡¯s shoulders. He rubbed his eyes, and when he reopened them, the man was gone. Ford shuffled himself back into a laying position and pulled the covers back over his body. He was too rattled and too pained to be worrying about strange men walking the streets at night. It was late, and he needed to rest. He wanted to be able to enjoy the following day with his family. Shaking off the nightmare that Ford had stirred from, he drifted off back to sleep. The following morning was much the same as the last. Ford awoke to find his body still aching. Lara again surprised her husband with a full plate of breakfast. Collin nearly fell off the last steps when he came down a few minutes after eight, and Claire followed right behind him, giggling at his morning clumsiness. The family ate, drank tea together, and made new plans for the day. The night before had done less than Ford thought it should to refresh the air. No moisture had collected in the air during the night, there was no dew on the grass, the flagstone streets did not glisten with condensation, and there had been no cool breeze while the city slept. Frustrated but undeterred, the family set out to make the most of their last weekend morning together. They settled on visiting a park near the town square so that they could stop by the market for lunch. Upon arriving at the market, the Caldwells were quite surprised. During the night, a group of traveling performers had arrived in Harbondale and were setting up a show for that evening. And amidst the crew putting up flyers and calling people over for demonstrations, Ford spotted a man wearing a pale-yellow overcoat. ¡°Aha!¡±, he thought. ¡°Must be the guy I saw last night. I knew it was nothing to worry about." Ford and his family found an abundance of fruits, tarts, pies, and other foods at the stands in the market during lunchtime. Once they¡¯d had their fill and the lunch rushes died down, Claire begged her father to take them to the show that night. ¡°Please, daddy, please!¡±, she repeated. ¡°Can we go and see the show tonight? I want to see the acrobats and dancers!¡±, she said. Collin, mouth full of tart, could only nod along enthusiastically. ¡°It could be fun¡±, Ford heard his wife¡¯s voice add to the many requests from his daughter. ¡°Yeah, it could. And it¡¯d get me off my feet for a bit.¡±, Ford replied. ¡°Sure. We can go." The children cheered with excitement, and Ford smiled. ¡°One thing. Do you still want to go to the park, or would you rather walk around the city?¡±, Ford asked. ¡°We¡¯ll only be able to do one before the show this evening." Claire¡¯s smile faded into a look of intense contemplation. For nearly a minute, she hummed to herself while mentally debating which activity she would choose. Finally, she gave an answer. ¡°I want to go see the city!¡±, she said. ¡°And maybe next weekend we can do a park trip?¡±, she added with the sweetest voice and most innocent look she could muster. Lara chuckled at her daughter¡¯s attempt to sway her father, but she knew it had worked. ¡°Of course, sweetheart.¡±, Ford responded. The Caldwell family explored every corner of the city while touring Claire¡¯s favorite places. Ford''s stiffness had died down, but all the hours of activity had served to intensify his soreness. Despite his soreness and lingering confusion about what had happened the day before, Ford was so happy and content that he almost couldn¡¯t smell the stench of blood stuck in his nose. The family enjoyed their day well into the evening. As the sun began to set, many of the other residents of Harbondale came outside. The streets of the town square were full of people who had dodged the summer rays in favor of a cool night. The sun was low in the sky, the clouds were disappearing one by one, and the air became thick with the taste of salt. Nearby the tent set up for the traveling performers, a scream rang out in the crowd, followed by a deep, bellowing hiss. Ford¡¯s heart sank as he heard it. A roar. Another scream. Silence. Terror. A thunder of footsteps could be heard from a short distance away. Ford wondered if he had been right all along, if the dwarven raiders had come to Harbondale undetected. Had they brought beasts of war? He had never heard that roar before. It was unfamiliar to him. Detestable. Everything about the sound made his bones feel cold. Brittle. He tripped as he ushered his family on. They ran past him as he rose to his feet. He could see them not far ahead. Ford sprinted as fast as his legs would let him. As long as he had them, it would be alright. He caught up with his wife and children a few seconds later, but along the way, he saw others alone and afraid. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. He heard it again. Roaring. Screaming. The thunder of terrified footfall. The air was vile now. Every breath left him parched, and he knew his family felt the same. Claire was choking on it, and Collin was turning red in the face from trying to hold his breath. Lara had tears streaming down her face as she sobbed silently. Was it silent? Or was there too much noise all around them? Ford could feel and hear his heart pounding in his chest. The terror that had finally taken hold on him had seeped into every crack and crevice of his once-brave fa?ade. He could feel the tears escaping his eyes and could see them on the cheeks of all the people around him. And it stung his eyes. Not the tears. The air. The air was extraordinarily hot, as well as thick with the taste of salt. Ford thought he could even smell the salt. Not salt. Sulfur. Another roar. Ford felt as though his eardrums were about to burst. A high-pitched ring had made its home inside his brain. A hum. He felt a strong breeze, and suddenly noticed how dry his nostrils and lips were. Claire was coughing and crying as she ran. Lara had tears streaming down her face, but they seemed stuck to her skin. Collin had let go of his breath and was now choking and coughing on the air. Then he fell. Collin slipped on something wet in front of him. Ford wondered how there could be anything wet anywhere with how dry, salty, and utterly vile the air was. Stopping to turn back and collect his son, he saw the puddle underneath him. It had pieces of apple in it. He looked around. Many people were vomiting from the thick taste of salt in the air. The stench of blood returned to Ford¡¯s nostrils. But this time, Ford knew it was real. Another roar. Ford heard the roaring louder than ever, followed by a thunderous, echoing crack. Then more cracks and pops. He heard crunching and scraping. More roars resounded together. The despicable, gut-wrenching sounds were coming on louder and more frequently. Now Collin was crying as he quivered on the flagstone street. Ford hoisted up his son and carried him in his arms. ¡°Lara!¡±, he called. Nothing. ¡°CLAIRE! LARA!", he tried again. ¡°H-here!¡±, he heard his wife¡¯s cry. He ran with his son draped across his arms toward the voice. A crunch. A roar. Another roar. Ford saw his wife and daughter down the street. Claire had collapsed, and Lara had wrapped herself around her daughter, crying. With all the strength he could gather, he ran towards them. Collin felt limp in his arms. When he reached his wife and daughter, he checked the children for a pulse and any sign of breathing. Both were faint. Lara¡¯s face seemed dry and peeled where her tears had been. There were no tears now. Just broken sobs. She sounded as though she had gone weeks without water and never stopped talking. Ford could tell that every uttered cry was causing her more physical pain. He tried to calm her so they could run. He showed her the book and kissed her forehead as best he could with his dry and cracked lips. He felt as though he hadn¡¯t had water in days. Then he heard the dreaded sounds. A thud. Talons dragging across the flagstones. Silence. Breathing. Another thud. More silence. The roars. One roar had been deeper and more dreadful. The other was high-pitched and deafening. Both were terrible and filled Ford with anxiety. Lara screamed. Claire awoke. Collin stirred but did not wake. A militiaman appeared from nearby. He had a cloth over his face and goggles over his eyes. His helmet clearly couldn¡¯t fit his head over them. He drew a sword, unholstered a revolver, and bellowed toward the Caldwells. ¡°GO, GET BACK TO YOUR HOMES. IT ISN¡¯T SAFE OUTSIDE!¡± Taking aim at something Ford couldn¡¯t see through the dried tears encrusted on his eyelids, the guard pulled the trigger, and Ford heard another thundering roar. This time it was like a pained scream. He turned to gather his family and push onward. Behind him, he heard another bone-chilling crunch. The family ran. Those who couldn¡¯t were carried. A minute later, he heard the carnage behind them. More people screaming and more dreadful roars. Ford knew there were people, probably even some of their friends, dying in the streets as they ran. Shaken by this realization, Ford had to let these people go if he wanted to get his family to safety. Still, he was haunted by his nightmare. Each time he passed someone in need, he heard the voices from his dream asking him, ¡°Why didn¡¯t you save them?¡± The sun was all but gone now, and the stars shone brightly in the sky. No clouds were present, and no cool winds brought them reprieve. Ford and Lara continued running with their children. The family arrived at their doorstep. One keyhole away from the safety and comfort of home. Ford fumbled for the key. He could still hear the cacophony of chaos from a short distance away. Roaring. Screaming. Crying. Wailing. Crunching. Feeding. He slipped the key into the lock and ushered his family inside. Once inside the house, his wife collapsed onto the floor. Lara was screaming in pain, and her voice sounded broken. Collin was moaning by the tea table. Claire was crying ferociously on the sofa. Ford rushed up the stairs to the bedroom. He knew he would need his medical kit. Unable to think, he threw open random drawers around the room until he found it. He slipped it into his bag, then grabbed a revolver that had been gifted to him by a general for his service. Then he hovered a shaking hand over another revolver. This one had been handmade by Ford himself. As a relatively new weapon in Harbondale, the standard issue revolvers were rudimentary. The chamber had to be turned by hand to fire the next shot. Ford had been tinkering with one to make the chamber revolve automatically. Should he dare try to take this gun, too? He¡¯d never shot it himself, only with a machine. It was prone to binding and would occasionally misfire. He¡¯d never had this much bad luck when learning to build clocks. Ford decided that one gun that might misfire was better than no gun at all if he lost his manual revolver and stashed it away in his bag with the rest of his things. When Ford returned to the living room, he found his family in much the same state as he left them. Collin was still moaning and now crying. Claire was wailing on the sofa, curled into a ball. Lara was still not moving and barely breathing. He approached the medicine cabinet in the kitchen when he heard it yet again. A roar. Closer than he would have liked, the sound rang out through the air. And even though they were inside, the air tasted faintly of salt. He grabbed healing potions and antitoxins for himself and his family. Administering his own dose first, he went to Lara to rouse her from her sleep. He then gave her water. He did the same for Collin and Claire, who came around a little quicker and more easily than their mother. ¡°Daddy, what¡¯s out there?¡±, wept Claire. ¡°I don¡¯t know, honey. And I don¡¯t think any of us want to.¡±, he replied. ¡°Let¡¯s get some water and supplies and try to get out of town. Whatever they are, I don¡¯t think they¡¯re going to stop until everything is destroyed.¡± He said quickly. Lara sniffled before rising. ¡°Yes, come on, kids. Let¡¯s let Daddy gather our supplies while we get you two your clothes and some pillows and blankets. We¡¯ll put them in my bag.¡±, she said to her son and daughter. A few minutes later, the four Caldwells reconvened in the kitchen. Each drank some more water and then hugged each other tightly. ¡°Now. No matter what, you kids keep moving until we get out of the city. We¡¯ll go to the fields and take shelter in the medic tents for the night. The battle is over, but the tents are still up for the wounded to continue their recovery. We¡¯ll be surrounded by other doctors and healers, and the militiamen will be there to protect everyone.¡±, Ford told his wife and children sternly, his bravery and nerve finally making their reemergence in his voice. ¡°If we drop anything, it¡¯s lost until the city is safe again.¡±, he continued. ¡°And if the city isn¡¯t safe again?¡±, Collin asked. Ford paused. ¡°Then the city isn¡¯t safe again, and we¡¯ll find a new home somewhere else.¡± He answered. ¡°Now let¡¯s go. There¡¯s no time to lose." Ford approached the door, taking a deep breath before turning the knob. And as he reached, he and his family heard it. The Destruction of Harbondale Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Epilogue: Flight of the Yellow Dragon Tarakaiwhai surveys the lands below, eyeing a large settlement a few miles from a river running south from the mountains. His hunger implores him to swoop in early and begin the invasion alone, but his mind resists the temptation. ¡°My brothers and sisters would be most unhappy if I were to betray our strategy and give the humans time to respond. I could be scaled and exiled if my actions were to lead to a failed hunt.¡±, the dragon thinks to himself. In frustration over the many weeks of scouting and searching for a fine target for the beginning of the yellow dragon incursion, Tarakaiwhai lets out a low growl before emitting a piercing signaling cry to his kin. A wide cone of salt erupts from his maw before he darts through the shimmering grains and heads back to give his briefing and plan for the attack. Tarakaiwhai thinks nothing of the humans in the streets a little less than a mile below him. ** The sounds of terror reached the young serpent as a grin of satisfaction and malicious glee spread across his lips. Tarakaiwhai, like many of his kin, reveled in the Drakes of Dracosi¡¯s decision to banish the flight of yellow dragons from the Great Thunder. Dracosi had grown weak in the eyes of the yellow dragons, had lost their way and forgotten the glory in hunting. ¡°Let the other chromatics fall in line under the metallics while the gems watch.¡±, Taiwhon had proclaimed. The great wyrm known as Taiwhon was the leader of the yellow flight, their king. ¡°Let the them all play house with the mortals. We will begin our hunt with the greatest of their pets.¡±, he had said in the flight¡¯s first meeting after exile. ¡°We will begin with one of the human kingdoms.¡± Tarakaiwhai remembered this meeting fondly, as it had taken place only days after he shed his last wyrmling scale and became an adult. After just over a century of life, Tarakaiwhai was finally old enough to join the great hunts. And after after nearly twenty years of the yellow flight¡¯s exile, a great hunt had finally been formed. Each of the five human kingdoms had been considered, but Andalus stood out as a prime candidate to the yellow flight. With so little reliance on magic and so much knowledge to be lost, Taiwhon believed the fall of Andalus would usher in the decline of all mortal civilizations on the continent of Arkasil, turning it into a hunting ground for the yellow dragons. And so, the incursion began in Harbondale. Tarakaiwhai flew in for the attack with a half dozen other yellow dragons. Harbondale had proven to be more battle ready than Tarakaiwhai¡¯s group had predicted, despite the weeks of scouting and their infiltration on the day of the attack. One of their number, Kowhaiton, had been felled by a simple human with a hand cannon. And Tarakaiwhai had narrowly escaped all encounters with this human, though he would secure his revenge in their final encounter. Kowhaiton had been avenged, and the flight as a whole had gained valuable information regarding the full extent of the technical and martial advancements of Andalus. They would not underestimate the kingdom a second time. Over the next couple months, many incursions took place in similar fashion to the destruction of Harbondale. Andallian citizens fought back ferociously, but the yellow dragons fought smarter each time. Relying more on their underground tactics by laying out traps in the blink of an eye or by sinking entire villages in a coordinated effort of burrowing unstable tunnels throughout those settlements, the yellow dragons had a relatively easy time invading and destroying the kingdom of Andalus. They had made great sport of the hunting taking place throughout the lands. And now, in the hiding chamber of the King of Andalus, Tarakaiwhai was celebrating and rejoicing in the sounds of terror all around him. The king would soon flee to this chamber after his guards and countrymen fell in the throne room, and Tarakaiwhai would be waiting at the bottom of a pit trap in the unlit room. He would encase the king in thick layers of super-heated salt, and present the body and crown to Taiwhon at the end of the invasion. Tarakaiwhai would be remembered for generations for his efforts in this great hunt. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Or so he thought. Kowhaiton, as well as many other yellow dragons during the weeks-long invasion, had learned the hard way to never underestimate humans, especially Andallians. And now Tarakaiwhai would learn the very same lesson. Eagerly anticipating the Andallian King¡¯s approach, Tarakaiwhai felt the stonework beneath him shift as the pressure in the air around him intensified. Before he could begin to question these strange circumstances, Tarakaiwhai heard what sounded like the thunderclap of a thousand blue dragons unleashing their lighting breath at once. The stonework underneath him crumbled as he spun through the darkness. Falling hundreds of feet in a matter of seconds, Tarakaiwhai barely managed to catch the air with his wings before colliding with the solid ground underneath him. The echoing roll of thunder from the blast that destroyed the castle still rang in his ears, and sent shockwaves through his body. Tarakaiwhai had been buried alive in the catacombs underneath the castle, and could feel the link between himself, his flight, and their king dimming. ¡°Taiwhon must be dying!¡±, he thought. This was it. The invasion was over, and the yellow dragons would lose their potency as their regent died somewhere among the rubble. Tarakaiwhai burrowed at a blinding pace, ignoring the pain of the impacts with the debris that fell with him moments before, as he raced toward the last known location of his king. Doing so, he felt the diminishing of the link to his master quicken. Growling with rage and desperation, Tarakaiwhai pushed on. There must be something he could do. His people needed Taiwhon, needed his strength and unifying presence to bind them together. But Tarakaiwhai knew the end had come. He was already thinking of which of his kin would attempt to seize power first. Tarakaiwhai considered how he could seize power over the flight before any of his elders. Greed had already begun to take hold. How far had they traveled from their temporary home just west of Andalus? Tarakaiwhai wondered if he could cross the vast distance to reach Taiwhon¡¯s hoard before the others. Had anyone from the other strike teams remained behind? What treasures could be recovered from this demolished castle that he could brood over to gain strength to challenge his siblings? Tarakaiwhai¡¯s mind reeled as control over his desires slipped away. ¡°But the others must be reacting similarly, shouldn¡¯t they?¡±, he thought. ¡°If I¡¯m losing control over my thoughts and desires so soon after Taiwhon¡¯s passing, then any who were farther away from him than I must be losing themselves even faster.¡± Knowing that the remaining members of the yellow dragon flight would soon be seeking either treasure to hoard for themselves, or rivals to snuff out for their own gain, he changed course and headed east. He would not fly, would not travel by land, and would not even take a human¡¯s shape to blend in as he made his escape. No, Tarakaiwhai would travel underground for a while and surface when he felt he was far enough from his kin. ** Nearly three centuries old, Tarakaiwhai had waited a very long time for worthy prey to hunt. The wild game around the mountain he called home had sustained him for the last two hundred years, but he had always yearned for more, for another Great Hunt. So when, by chance, Tarakaiwhai spotted a wandering tribe traveling near his lair, he knew his time had come. The glory of the hunt. The revelry of the chase. The terror. The screaming. The running. The feeding. Tarakaiwhai looks briefly at the hole in his wing. He had never flown quite as fast as he could before the day the incursion began. Before the day he encountered that wretched, pitiful human. With frustration and nostalgia over the days of old, Tarakaiwhai lets out a deep, rumbling roar. Beating his wings with all the strength his slender muscles can gather, he leaps to the sky. Roughly a mile above his quarries, he emits a piercing signalliny cry to the memory of his kin. A wide cone of salt erupts from his maw before he darts through the shimmering grains with a corkscrew twist. Today there is no plan. There is no briefing. There is no coordination with others on the attack. And closing the distance, Tarakaiwhai thinks nothing of the prey on the ground below him.