The Balefires

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. The valiant men of the Balefires did everything in their power to make sure of that. An ancient fort, the Balefires consisted of a single wall a hundred meters long. Its charred stones rose six stories high and a tower on either end rose another six stories still. The wall was twenty meters thick and completely solid, no gateway nor arrow slits broke the walls surface. A keep only half as tall, sat on the northern Valley side of the wall. A small village grew out around the keep over time. It was where the garrison of the fort lived with their families, since once a man guarded the Balefires, they did so for life. The most important part of the fort was the massive fires burning atop each tower. The entire Valley could make out the lights from them, even during the day. The fires were only to be extinguished under extreme circumstances. Should the fort ever come under siege, the southern fire is extinguished. When the northern fire dies out, it signifies that there was no one left to keep it burning.

Even though there hasn’t been an attack on the Balefires in nearly a decade, it's still seen as an honorable duty to guard the fort. After all, the fort and its men are all that stands between Dragon’s Pass and the Valley. There are only two ways in and out of the Valley, Dragon’s Pass and the Royal Col. The Royal Col leads out of the mountains and eventually to the coast where the Capital resides. Dragon’s Pass leads to the Dreadlands, which very little is known about. The only thing known, is that its where those vile beasts came from. The best way to describe the dragons was to compare them to the iguanas of the Valley, since their bodies were similarly shaped. However, the dragons came in many different shades of green, red and even blue. They also happened to be the size of horse drawn carriages. Fortunately enough they had stunted legs, making them slow enough to outrun. As long as you weren't burdened by anything, like armor, that is. It should be noted that a small number of their population were capable of spitting dense gaseous fireballs after a brief charge up. The commander of the Balefires, Douglas, knew this fact all too well.

Sitting at his desk in a dimly lit office, Commander Douglas was penning in the weekly reports. He sat back in his chair with a sigh as he placed his quill in the ink pot. He looked towards the window as he felt a warm breeze, to see the sun had completely set. It was always warm in the Valley, temperatures rarely dropped below twenty-five degrees. He turned his gaze forward, his piercing hazel eyes settling on his battle scarred armor hanging by the door. Douglas never allowed the men to repair minor defects in their armor so that they could serve as permanent reminders of their foes. He began twirling his long mustache between his fingers as he admired the chainmail. He himself was the veteran of four previous attacks by the dragons, many scorch and claw marks remained on his armor. Douglas wore the traditional garb of the Balefires like the rest of the garrison. A chainmail hauberk and coif allowed the soldiers to remain agile enough to fight the dragons, while still offering some protection to their sharp claws and teeth. A sleeveless tunic was worn over the chainmail, white in color as if to defy the darkness of the dragons. On the chest a shield insignia was sewn. The shield was green to represent the life of the Valley they protected. A blazing fire sat in the middle of the shield, the Balefires marking.

Douglas stood up from his chair as he decided to do his rounds of the fort. Putting on his armor, he pulled the coif over his bald head and grabbed his helmet, a simple open faced style. The helmet bore a ring of dragon scales around the brow, the only distinction of his rank as commander. As he reached for the handle to his door, it flew open into the hallway beyond. Douglas saw his best friend standing there, Arthur. A short line of a few dragon scales on his helmet signified him as the second-in-command. Arthur was clearly out of breath, having must run down to Douglas’ office in the keep from the wall. His skin was white as a ghost, the sweat dripping off his cleanly shaven jaw. Before Douglas could ask him about the urgency, Arthur managed to wheeze out two words that made Douglas’ blood run cold.

“They’re coming.”

Rushing down the hallway, Douglas was shouting orders to any man he passed by,

“Sound all the alarms. Get everyone to assemble on the wall. Make sure you put out the southern fire. Bring up as many ballista bolts as you can find.”

Arthur was right on the commanders heels, they stopped at a door and opened it to reveal the armory. It was filled to the brim with the only weapon carried by the soldiers here, dragon spears. The spears were specially designed to combat the dragons, they were eight feet and had a crossguard extending out eight inches. This crossguard was made of heavy oak, like the shaft, and served as handles to prevent the weapon from being pulled out of their hands. These fearsome spears were tipped with long and barbed steel spear heads, meant to pierce the dragon’s tough body and hold in place. The idea was for several men to hook into the dragon, holding it steady and exposing more vulnerable spots for a killing blow. Douglas and Arthur armed themselves and marched to the wall top. Upon exiting the northern tower’s staircase, Douglas looked to the southern tower to make sure the fire had indeed been put out. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the men running around haphazardly. They kept the top of the wall nearly barren to ensure plenty of fighting room once the dragons climbed to the top.

“Arthur, get the men in formation and ensure the ballistas have at least a barrel of bolts each.” Douglas ordered. Arthur nodded and ran off down the wall. The wall top had four wooden ballistas installed roughly every twenty meters near the edge of the wall. They were the only things with enough punch to kill a dragon with a single bolt. Douglas made his way towards the center of the wall and leaned on the parapet. Peering into Dragon’s Pass, sure enough, he could see the occasional glinting of the dragon’s scales. Strangely, they were only sitting there, just beyond the reach of light from the braziers. Looking around the wall again, he could see the men had taken up formation, lining up in rows facing the pass. He could hear the cranking of the ballista’s gears, adjusting their trajectories. Coupled with the cackling of fires and the whispers of his men, it was an otherwise peaceful and quiet night. Just then, Arthur returned to his side and reported,

“The men are able and ready, the ballistas are well stocked.” He turned towards the dragon mass and furrowed his brow, “Do you smell that?” he asked. Douglas nodded his affirmation.

“Ay, the smell of burning flesh. There must be some fire breathers amongst them.” Douglas proclaimed, frowning, “What is it that they’re waiting for?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. They usually attack every two or three years, this time its been nine, perhaps they’re just -”

Douglas raised his hand, cutting off Arthur as he turned an ear towards the pass.

“I thought I heard something, like the scraping of stone…” Douglas trailed off as he caught movement below him. It was pitch black at the base of the wall, allowing a few dragons to have moved undetected. Douglas’s eyes widened in horrific realization, “Dragons scaling the wall!” he shouted, “There’s four of them, going for the ballistas!”

The soldiers brandished their spears, pointing their tips at the parapet. Douglas rushed to the ballista to his left and had Arthur go to the right. Douglas was too slow, he could see the dragon rear its ugly head above the wall and as quick as a flash, it bit down on the ballista throwing it over the edge. The men managed to spear its throat while it was vulnerable, making the dragon choke as it plummeted down after its target. Douglas stopped and looked further down the wall to see another dragon poke above the wall. This one, however, wasn’t quick enough. A solid twang rang out as the soldiers fired the ballista, the bolt flying clean through the dragon's open mouth and out the base of its skull. Douglas lost sight of the bolt as it continued into the darkness, a sudden roar let him know it claimed a second life. With the northern end dealt with, he turned around to see that Arthur and the men had successfully defended his ballista. The southern ballista was not so fortunate, the dragon there had climbed completely over the wall and was wrecking further havoc on the soldiers.

“Arthur!” Douglas yelled, pointing with his spear, “Bring that dragon down!” Arthur nodded and gestured for a few men to follow him as he charged towards the southern end. By the time Arthur got there, some of the soldiers had already hooked their spears into the dragon, holding it steady. Arthur was easily able to move in closer and drop the beast quickly. Douglas made his way back to the center, once again peering into the darkness. Even now, the dragon horde waited ominously. Eventually Arthur returned to Douglas, the dragon having been slain.

"Do you think it's a coincidence?" Arthur began, "The lord of the Valley left only five nights ago, taking every man he could for the King’s petty crusade.” Douglas kept his gaze on the dragon horde, waiting for their inevitable attack.

“I’d hate to think that the dragons are that cunning.” Douglas replied, “Besides, there's no way for them to have known Lord Baxter even left the Valley. Nonetheless, there will be no reinforcements tonight. With two ballistas down, more dragons than we’ve ever seen will make it atop the wall.”

“I know you just said you’d hate to think so, but the dragons have certainly gotten smarter.” Arthur pointed out, “An ambush on the ballistas? They’ve never done something like that before.” Douglas grunted his admittance before replying,

“For all our sakes, I hope that's the only trick they have planned.” It seemed though that Douglas should have held his tongue. As soon as he said the words, a dozen immensely bright lights appeared from the horde’s position.

“Everyone down!” he howled as he dropped below the parapet. Only a second later a fireball flew right over Douglas’ position.

“By the gods! You’re one lucky bastard.” Arthur exclaimed. Douglas looked to either side of the wall to see that some other soldiers weren’t so lucky. Of the dozen fireballs that flew over the wall, nine had hit their marks. Eight bodies lay about unmoving, the gaseous fireballs consuming them entirely. At least it was quick for them. Douglas thought to himself. A direct blow from a dragon’s fireball is so powerful that the impact kills the man instantly. Douglas groaned in agitation as he noticed a fireball had taken out the ballista Arthur guarded earlier. The wooden structure burned brightly, illuminating the fear and defeat on the nearby men’s faces. As Arthur helped Douglas back to his feet, he commented on the dire situation having noticed the same thing Douglas just had,

“The men have broken ranks, fear is consuming them. At this rate, the battle will be lost before it even begins.” Sadness echoed in Arthur’s words, his knuckles were white as he gripped his spear too tight. Douglas knew he had to do something soon, before the men started deserting their posts. He turned around to face his men, looking around he saw nothing but family.

“Brothers!” Douglas shouted for all to hear, “I’ve served the Balefires for twenty long years. In all that time, I’ve never seen a dragon scale the wall and survive, and why? Because of all you beautiful bastards!” Douglas swept his free arm as he paced side to side, earning a few chuckles before continuing, “We are the dragon slayers of the Balefires, do you know what that means? It means we are the guardians of the Valley, the defenders of the innocent, and champions of the righteous. Doesn’t it make you proud, clutching your spear? Doesn’t it feel glorious standing guard atop the wall? And doesn’t it make you angry seeing those god forsaken things challenging our resolve? Our honor? WELL?” Douglas paused as the men began nodding in approval. A few thumped their spears in unison.

“Ay, I know what you’re all thinking, cause I’ve been thinking it too. And yes, we’re all going to die tonight, but I know I'm going to go down fighting with my spear in my hands. On my life, I’m taking as many dragons as I can with me. Courage is knowing all is lost and never giving up. Honor is upholding your oaths, even in the face of death. Valiance is staring down your enemy in defiance as you wipe the blood, sweat and tears from your face. These things, I need them from you all on this sorry night.”

Before Douglas could continue his rally, the thundering sound of hundreds of feet charging filled the air. He turned back to the parapet, spear at the ready as the dragons roared fearsomely. Without needing the order, all the soldiers of the Balefires took up formation along the wall. Their newfound resolve and strength filled the atmosphere, fueling one another with determination. The tell tale sound of the dragons claws on the wall signaled they were close now. Douglas shared a look with Arthur as the end closed in a little too quickly. Douglas took a deep breath before bellowing, “Every dragon slain is a mother and child that can escape. Every dragon slain is a village free of fire and death. Every dragon slain buys the Valley another hour. It’s truly been an honor, dragon slayers of the Balefires! For the Valley!” The other men took up the cry shouting out ‘for the Valley’ as loud as they could, just as the first wave of dragons loomed above and over the parapet.

It took many hours for silence to fall over the Balefires, but by dawn it was over. Dragons and men alike were strewn about the wall, some still shaking as they clung on to what little life they had left. What remained of the dragon horde had already left for the Valley, not bothering to finish off the mortally wounded. Douglas coughed up blood as he sat upright, his back resting against the parapet. He used the left arm to help hold himself up as he placed his other hand over a deep wound on his chest. Looking around, he could see spears jutting out all over, a few with their shafts snapped in half. Smoke from the burnt out braziers rose gracefully into the sky, a few fireballs still burned and spread, eating everything their flames touched. It was a good fight, Douglas thought as he grew weaker, the Valley stood a good chance now. They had killed far more dragons than he had even hoped for. Losing the strength to keep his head up, he let it fall backwards slightly. He could barely keep his eyes open now and breathing became an excruciating task. He looked at the sky towards the northern tower, watching the embers from the once great fire die out just as he too, passed on.

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. The valiant men of the Balefires honored their oaths, sacrificing their lives for a noble cause. With courage, they fought to the bitter end against impossible odds. In their stead, the Valley was given hope.