The goblin archers returned with the morning sun. King Sturdy Axe ordered his flag dwarf to signal his crossbow warriors into their positions. He had no doubt that they would drive the enemy back a second day.

A brilliant orange flash erupted on the southern wall Command Tower, startling King Sturdy Axe. The light quickly faded, leaving a frail man in its place. The appearance of the red/blue wizard unnerved the dwarf king. He had a strong dislike for magic users.

“Crazy magician, we are in the middle of a war,” King Sturdy Axe growled.

“All of Hogarth Hills is aflame with war,” Cobborath answered dismissively, and then commanded, “Dwarf king, do not engage those goblin archers. They’re sacrificing themselves to exhaust your crossbow warriors. Once they’re gone, a much fouler foe will attack your walls.”

“What say you wizard?” King Sturdy Axe inquired. “What foe could be fouler than this green gob menace?”

“King Sturdy Axe, I’ve come to aid you with my advice. You must reserve your crossbow dwarves. Order them to cover as you’ll need them against a much greater threat. Winged creatures are lying in wait to lay waste to your mighty walls!” the wizard pleaded urgently.

King Sturdy Axe stared intently at the odd wizard, and then reluctantly ordered his flag bearer to signal his crossbow dwarves to cover.

“You’ve chosen wisely dwarf,” King Cobborath said, and then waved his hand and a large bag of seeds appeared at King Sturdy Axe’s feet.

“What’s afoot meddling wizard?” the dwarf king asked, unaware of his pun.

“Unfortunately, both kingdoms of man on Hogarth Hills shall fall rather quickly. Your walls are thicker, and Gilead was built for war, so there’s a chance that your siege may long outlast your supplies. Once your food and water has dwindled, have your remaining dwarves swallow one seed a day. It’ll sustain them as if they had eaten three full meals. High King Tronin needs you to hold out as long as you can!” Cobborath said, and with a brilliant orange flash, was gone.

The goblin archers took up positions below the mighty stone walls of Gilead and fired several volleys into the kingdom with little to no effect, before falling back to the wood lines.

The enemy archers advanced twice more before noon, trying to get the dwarves to engage them. Still, King Sturdy Axe heeded the wizard’s warning and held his crossbow dwarves in reserve. After having failed, the goblins retreated each time.

The tough old dwarf king watched from high above, while several yorgs met in a distant clearing. He could not hear them, but could tell that they were arguing. Soon, the largest goblin King Sturdy Axe had ever seen walked out of the woods and joined the group of yorgs.

The newcomer wasn’t muscular, just big and fat, and wore a headdress that had many colorful feathers, beads, and bones dangling from it. The giant black circles around his eyes completed him as quite a fearsome spectacle. Sturdy Axe realized that he was getting his first look at Tubby, King of the Black Eye Tribe.

King Tubby spoke some words and slapped every yorg that tried to interrupt him. After a couple of minutes of this, the group walked back into the woods. Within moments, the boo gah drums began a steady beat and every single goblin that was visible to the dwarves of Gilead disappeared into the woods.

About an hour later, several ranks of goblin warriors formed up near the edge of the north woods across from the Main Gate. About twenty of them rushed forward carrying a large wooden battering ram with a steel head in the shape of a fist.

King Sturdy Axe allowed them to reach the Main Gate, where they slammed the large metal fist against the mighty iron door. It resounded with a loud thud, but did little more than make a dent. The Black Eye goblins pounded a few more minor dents into the iron door before the dwarf king reacted.

King Sturdy Axe had his flag bearer signal the warriors on the north wall, who immediately swung one of the nets full of boulders out over the attacking goblins and released the heavy load. The boulders fell with a mighty crash, splintering the ram into several pieces and killing half of the goblins below.

The survivors scattered, fleeing for the woods. King Sturdy Axe couldn’t help but grin, thinking to himself that the gobs would never enter Gilead. Still, the wizard’s warning of winged beasts worried him.

The next couple hours passed with no activity. King Sturdy Axe was enjoying an early dinner on the rooftop of his Command Tower, when a dark shadow passed over his table. The dwarf king dropped his wine goblet, splashing the red liquid all over his long bushy beard, and stared towards the sky in disbelief.

“Dragon!” someone shouted, vanquishing all doubts of what King Sturdy Axe thought he had saw.

The next thing King Sturdy Axe felt was fear. He had never expected to see such a creature, nor had he wanted to. He watched as the huge, winged reptile turned back towards the castle. When it came about, he could see that the beast’s large scale covered body was a dull mirky black.

Dragons were classified by age, either as younglings, who were under a hundred years old, or oldlings who were over a hundred years old. The most ancient and wise leader dragons were called Elders. A dragon had to be at least five hundred years old, before his peers would even consider making him an Elder.

This particular dragon, unbeknownst to the dwarves, was a two hundred and fifty-year oldling named Ephraim the Black. He was well respected amongst dragons, and well feared by all others.

Ephraim the oldling glided towards the castle, almost as if in slow motion, and then dove fast towards the east wall. The dragon opened his giant fanged mouth which began spewing out a black liquid.

The black substance shot forth, covering a large section of the wall, as well as several of the dwarves on it. That included Commander White Fang of the Woodland Water Dwarves.

The Woodland Water Dwarves began screaming when the black substance burned through their armor and into their flesh. It was acid! Within seconds, Commander White Fang and several of his Woodland Water Dwarves were dead.

The dragon acid’s hunger didn’t stop at dwarf flesh, but continued eating down into the stone wall, cutting a path about twenty feet deep towards the ground.

Two ballistae crews, located on the southwest tower, began firing their giant arrow spears at the dragon, which continued to fly low over the castle. The dragon made a wide turn and came back towards the east wall. Ephraim the oldling let out a ferocious roar and dove towards the remaining dwarves on the east wall.

The fifty-foot-long black dragon came in fast, grabbing a dwarven crossbow warrior in his two front claws and bit his head off. The dragon quickly dropped the decapitated dwarf and swung its tail at two nearby dwarf warriors. The large black tail struck them both, sending their crumpled bodies crashing onto the grounds of the castle courtyard below.

Several warriors threw their axes at the dragon when it flew by, causing one to imbed itself in the dragon’s right shoulder. The axe knocked a scale loose, but didn’t really hurt the monster.

The black dragon turned and headed off, followed by several ballista arrows. One scored a hit, striking the black beast in the neck, which caused a trickle of blood to run down its scales.

Ephraim the oldling let out an angry roar and immediately swung around, diving on the two ballistae on the southwest tower. The creature tucked in its wings and dove in fast.

The black dragon landed directly on top of one of the giant crossbows, smashing the wooden war machine to the ground, which sent two dwarf crew members tumbling off the tower. The beast snapped its mighty jaw at the surviving two ballista crew dwarves and chomped them in half.

The second ballista crew fired their weapon point blank into the chest of the black dragon, causing it to hop back on its hind legs, clearly injured from the four-foot arrow that had embedded itself just below its neck.

Ehpraim the oldling let out a very angry snarl and rushed forward while the ballista crew frantically tried to reload another arrow. They were much too slow for such a fast attacker.

The giant black dragon tore into the crew, biting off heads and slashing through the dwarves’ armor with its sharp front claws. The beast then smashed the second ballista to pieces with one swing of its mighty tail.

Ehpraim looked about at the destruction that he had caused, and with a contented snort, launched himself from the southwest tower. After taking flight, the black dragon sprayed the east wall with another blast of acid, killing nearly all of the remaining Woodland Water Dwarves positioned there.

The black liquid struck the wall, from the interior side this time, and began eating its way towards the giant hole in the center caused by the earlier acid blast. The stone smoked and steamed while it disintegrated in the wake of the black dragon, who flew away unhampered this time.

King Sturdy Axe surveyed the damage from his Command Tower, and was surprised to see that the east wall had not been breached. The two damaged areas had met in the middle, but there were still a few feet of stone left on the exterior side. He knew that a direct hit on that spot from the black dragon would breach the wall.

The dragon had killed many of his dwarves, including almost the entire force from the Woodland Water Kingdom. He also knew that the black dragon had been wounded by the ballistae, but how badly?

The giant arrow firing crossbows had been excellent weapons against such ilk as dragons and giants in the past, so initially had been placed every fifty feet along the walls of Gilead.

Since no dragons or giants had been seen in the Glen for centuries, the weapons had not been fixed or repaired when they fell into disrepair. The last two on his walls had just been destroyed.

King Sturdy Axe believed that he had two more ballistae stored in the armory. He ordered one of his commanders to have them brought up and placed on the east and west walls. While he was issuing those orders, a young dwarf ran up and handed him a large black object, which was nearly the size and shape of a shield.

The dwarf king stared at the object for a moment, before realizing that it was a scale from the black dragon. He had never expected to see one of these in his lifetime, let alone be holding one. He ordered that the scale be made into a shield, thinking that it may come in handy.

They had clearly done some damage to the flying menace, but round one had obviously gone to the dragon. Surely it would return tomorrow, bringing more melting death.

                                                      *     *     *

Back at Trader Town, Lord Haven watched Lord Tagtor and his men sneak back across the North Bridge, just as the sun began to rise. In the early morning mist, he could see their blue shields slung across their backs, strapped to their now dirty black armor.

Once they got closer, he could make out the outlines of the shovels that they carried in their hands. They looked very dirty and very tired. Hopefully, they had accomplished what he had asked.

Once the exhausted patrol was safely in the city, the bridge crew immediately and as quietly as feasible, began to retract the North Bridge. It took them a while, but they managed to quietly get the bridge locked back into its retracted position.

Lord Tagtor had volunteered for the risky mission to avenge his dead twin, Lord Torse. The muscular black-haired man looked up towards the palace roof and gave Haven a thumbs up. The new leader of Trader Town returned the gesture.

Lord Haven quickly turned his gaze towards the horizon where he could see some movement. The giants were returning to Commerce Field. Several trumpets sounded from the towers near the bridges, sending warriors and civilians scrambling for cover.

The giants took their time crossing Commerce Field and getting into position around Trader Town. They placed several large carts full of boulders on each side of the city and then many of them began stretching and limbering up, almost as if they were preparing for a sporting event. Lord Haven might have laughed, if he hadn’t been painfully aware of what was coming next.

Chieftain Gorg walked past some of his giants and gave them high fives, until he reached the cart on the southside of the city and picked up a large boulder. All twenty of the giants followed suit, picking up large rocks from various carts.

Chieftain Gorg let out a tremendous yell, and in unison, the giants all hurdled their boulders at Trader Town. The sounds of the big rocks impacting the stone structures were earth shattering.

Two towers, one at the East Bridge and one at the West Bridge, collapsed under the heavy barrage, sending dust clouds several feet into the sky. It was a terrible start for the men in the city.

The assault continued, and soon the screams of the wounded and dying could be heard throughout Trader Town. Archers and crossbowmen fired randomly at the giants with little effect.

The ballista tower was more successful, scoring three or four solid hits by noon, the most damaging one piercing a giant through the wrist and sending him off the field of battle.

The giants took their time with the attack, pounding the city well into the afternoon. Once again, they targeted the towers of Trader Town. By the end of the attack, both of the North Bridge towers had been pounded into rubble, killing all who had defended from within. The barrage ended once the carts were empty, and the giants ran out of ammunition.

Lord Haven was concerned that his night mission had failed, once the giants began pulling their carts towards the far end of Commerce Field. Then one particularly fat, squat monstrosity, let out a loud bellow when he stepped onto a concealed pit.

The giant’s blubbery body crashed through the branches that covered the hole. The fat thirteen-foot giant fell onto several large spears lining the bottom of the pit, impaling his body in several places.

The trap had been set by Lord Tagtor and his reinforced twenty-man patrol. They had snuck out in the early evening and spent most of the night digging the pit, and then lined it with long spears from the armory.

The squad had barely finished covering it with branches and sod when the sun started to climb into the morning sky. They had only needed one unfortunate giant to walk in the right spot. Luckily, their night’s work had paid off!

The speared goliath thrashed about in the bottom of the pit, and then let out a last painful bellow as it died, that reverberated across Commerce Field and bounced off the palace walls in Trader Town. The city’s defenders began banging their weapons on their blue shields and let out a cheer.

King Wilsom heard the mighty death scream and his men’s jubilant response from his private bed chamber. My Blue Lancers are destroying the enemy, his confused mind thought. Afterall, he had ordered them out to Commerce Field.

A bright flash interrupted the old king’s muddled thoughts. When he regained his vision, King Wilsom could see a dark robed figure standing where only seconds before, no one had been.

“Who dares to disturb the king?” the old frail man questioned from his bed.

“I am Daggart the Dark,” a solemn voice came from somewhere deep within the shadowy hood of the dark figure.

“What do you want?” King Wilsom mumbled, his voice cracking when he caught sight of a black mist creeping across the floor towards his bed.

“Just your head, old fool!” Daggart said, gliding quickly across the bed chamber at an abnormal speed.

He grabbed the old man by his throat and picked him up off the bed. King Wilsom flailed about, his feet not touching the floor. The elderly king couldn’t breathe under the black sorcerer’s tight grip.

King Wilsom thrust something into Daggart’s side. It was a small, jeweled dagger, that he had pulled out from under his robe. The black wizard let out a grunt, and grabbed Wilsom’s knife hand with one of his own hands, yet still retained his grip on Wilsom’s throat with the other.

Daggart snapped the old man’s wrist bone, causing the now bloodied magical dagger to fall to the floor. The evil wizard produced a black orb from under his own cloak with his now free hand.

It was dark and shiny like the one that he had used on Gorilla King Gorin, yet it was only half its size, allowing for it to fit in the palm of his hand. He held it up in front of the king’s face.

“I would’ve easily killed you in the old days,” Wilsom sputtered out, his voice faint, because the lack of oxygen was starting to affect him.

“Welcome to the new days old man. The days of Daggart the Dark!” the black sorcerer hissed.

Daggart took the orb and pushed it into Wilsom’s mouth, forcefully cramming it down the old man’s throat. Daggart raised the frail king high over his head and tossed his small body against the wall on the opposite side of the room. The impact caused the orb to explode, separating King Wilsom’s head from his body.

The old man’s dagger must have been magicked, Daggart thought as he pulled a vial of blue liquid from a pocket in his cloak and drank it. The blood trickling from his side stopped. Daggart picked up the old king’s head, and with a flash, was gone.

Word of the king’s death spread quickly across Trader Town. Lord Haven did not know how somebody could have gotten in. He ordered the palace to be searched, to no avail.

The only evidence left behind was a bloody dagger and the headless body of their king. It was a gruesome sight to behold. He felt that there was some foul magic at play.

Later that night, King Wilsom’s advisors met with Lord Haven in the throne room, at least what was left of them. The Bazaar Advisor had been killed during the first bombardment and the Tax Advisor had died today, along with several hundred warriors and citizens. The surviving advisors wished to make him their new king.

That night there were two rituals that took place on the roof of the palace. The first was the solemn funeral of King Wilsom. The traditional oils turned his body and bones to ash, sending him off to the land of darkness.

The Auction Advisor took charge of the second ceremony, and anointed Lord Haven as the new king of Trader Town. These events were usually celebratory, but this one was short and somber.

The evening concluded with the traditional blessings of “Long may you reign.” For obvious reasons, the ominous words seemed highly unlikely to King Haven.