When the cool spring evening came, a long-awaited silence spread along the Eldoturian steppes. Citizens of Eldoras finally got the chance to draw a deep breath of relief. The remained alive defenders and peasants, at last, were given some time to heal their wounds and prepare the city for the next assault: to close loopholes in the walls, help the wounded, sharpen the swords, arrows, pray to Zeus and Hades for the souls of those, who had fallen. The air was full of fear and death. Sounds of horses' clatter echoed throughout the city. Full carriages were moving to the further part of the town, to the harbor, where a large flame was flattering. All citizens of Eldoras desperately wanted to believe that that sparkling fire was meant to be the signal for the ships, which were going to help the capital. But everyone knew clearly what the main purpose of that fire was and what was loaded into those lonely carriages...
In the soft evening tide, the fortress was lit with few lonely torches, fixed on the remained wall crenels. Some areas of the wall, which hadn't been damaged during the severe artillery support, were crowded with little groups of soldiers who were clearing the atmosphere of overwhelming despair with their silent singing: "Somewhere, far from the hostile land, my beloved one is waiting for me..." Lonely watchmen squeezed past them time to time and meticulously observed the horizon in order to warn the garrison if the enemy wanted to attack. Esrael was standing on one of the towers of the watchhouse, sitting on one of the crenels and watching beautiful stars shine on the enormous night sky carpet with pure delight. That night seemed to him some kind of the special one, as if it omened that the next day was going to be much better: light marine breeze, full of freshness and pure oceanic energy, filled every cell of his body with pure life force, healing wounds and burns. Farther from the tortured wall the enemy's camp was flashing: thousands of little sparks, which enlighten multiple tents, happily twinkled on the black horizon. Hardly had Esrael dropped into his own thoughts, the dragon landed near him, having sat on one of the remained stone crenels.
—It's one of the best nights I've ever seen, isn't it?—he, having folded the wings, asked.
—For sure it is,—Esrael agreed dreamingly.—How's Gilroy doing?
—He's alright,—the dragon replied.—As far as I know, he's telling some of his stories to the soldiers in an abandoned house.
—Glad to hear that,—Esrael laughed.—He's one of the best story-tellers I've ever known. I could listen to them for hours,—he heavily sighed and suddenly changed the topic of the conversation, having spotted some scars on the dragon's chest:—By the way, how are your wounds?
—Everything is alright,—dragon calmly replied.—A very charming girl took care of me as if I was her son.
—Oh, my,—Esrael dreamingly lengthened.—You're the lucky one,—his phrase sounded dejected and dooming.—I can't believe that tomorrow everything is going to end. I just can't even...—he sighed with desperation.—I can't believe that my life is going to end on this wall.
—Well, it's not necessarily the wall that will be your death place,—the dragon grinned.—We still can be captured, tortured and executed in the camp in some agonizing way. Or perhaps we'll just face ordinary decapitation. Do you imagine three heads: your's, mine and Gilroy's — hanging on the wall? That won't be so beautiful, but at least we will be to see king's residence...
—Now that's how you clear the air...—Esrael replied, laughing.—I guess, there will be no room left for family, drinking red wine in a private mansion and enjoying myself after all.
—All your dreams may come true as long as you believe in them,—the dragon said.—If you see yourself hugging your children and beloved wife, I can assure you that everything will be just as you think. And no war will be able to intervene.
—Zeus bless your words,—Esrael heavily sighed and looked at the sky.—By the way, I've always wanted to ask you about something. When I was five, my mom used to tell me about a "keeper of the Good". She whispered me fairytales about his marvelous deeds, how he appeared and saved everyone in the most desperate hour. She also said that he sacrificed his life in order to establish our bright new future. Do you think he'll come back?
—Well, it's beyond my powers to know such things, you know,—the dragon replied with a laugh.—I'm not some kind of fortune teller, so my words can't mean anything. As far as I'm concerned, there were five of them throughout the history, but only one was honored to drink from the infinite life source, which had been created by the gods as a gift for peoples' devotion for good. —No way!—Esrael exclaimed with pure interest.—I've never heard of this story. So, what happened next?
—He died in the battle,—the dragon followed.—The battle of Tempestwind, when the united army of Helthorn the I, Grishnak the I, Luminel the V and Roin the III clashed in the severe fight with the forces of evil and exiled demons of Tartarus from our world.
—But wasn't he immortal?—Esrael wondered.
—Unfortunately, not,—the dragon replied with grief.—The source gives infinite life, but not immortality. A long time ago, when Titans were defeated, the gods gifted races of Uniearth with the source of infinite life, in order to avoid chaos, and hid it in Loriel's forest, because they trusted elves. That source was to present the one, who was honored to become the defender of the world and guardian of harmony, with the gift of everlasting life. The Keeper of the Good was his name. Since his death world has fallen into the abyss of wars and hostility. I wasn't lucky to be born on this edge of times: I lost everything I held dear. And now, I'm afraid, only the new Keeper of the Good can restore the balance between good and evil and prevent chaos on the Earth.
—And how can we spot him?—Esrael wondered.—When does he arrive?
—Nobody knows, my friend Esrael. Perhaps only the gods are aware of this glorious event. Anyone who claims to become the Keeper of the Good must sip from the source of infinite life and youth. If he dies after the first gulp, it means that his soul is corrupted. If he survives, the gods will groom him to be their assistant. And only then he can be called the Keeper of the Good. —Amazing!—Esrael exclaimed enthusiastically.—You will be perfect as the next candidate.
—Me?!—the dragon laughed.—Stop saying garbage, please. I will never become the one. I'm pretty sure the gods will find someone more appropriate. See for yourself: I'm a furious, cold-blooded being, which won't be able to love ever. I was born to hunt, kill and do other animal things. It is in my genes. It can't be changed.
—But you are different!—Esrael, having slapped the dragon on the back between the wings, said.—I see you from a different angle, as well as Gilroy does. Moreover, after your speech, every single citizen noticed that. You are not trying to destroy anything that appears in your path, like those ones, who intended to drop cauldrons with Zeus-knows-what. You've stepped on the road of help, remorse and creation. I see the one who will defend the weak and those who have lost their way before me.
—Do you think so?—the dragon, having looked upon his friend with a grin, asked. Esrael silently nodded.
—Well, maybe you're right after all,—the dragon replied and looked at the horizon. The bright red sun disc began mounting over the plains, freeing from the chains of night. The stars could not be observed anymore: huge caravans of fluffy clouds were crowding the sky instead of them, colored in dim purple, and freely sailing on the southern side of the sky.—Oh my! The sun is rising! We need to wake everyone: the catapults will fire soon.
—You're right,—Esrael, having grabbed the helmet and taken out the sword, agreed.—I will sound the horns. Fly. I'll come down soon.
—Deal,—the dragon replied. Having spread his wings and jumped off one of the crenels of the watch-house, he began slightly gliding on the crippled street of Eldoras.
When the first sunrays carefully touched crippled and burnt walls of Eldoras, the loud roar of trumpets awoke all the citizens and the little garrison of the fortress. Sleepy soldiers crawled from destroyed houses and dens, putting on armor and tough leather gloves. Archers put their arrows into quivers, and firemen poured water into buckets from the remained wells. The little area before the wall began to get crowded, and in a couple of minutes, the whole space before watch-house was occupied by the defenders, who were still alive. Esrael ordered them to straighten into battle formation. His heart sank when he realized that the actual size of the home guard was much smaller. The effect of enormity instantly faded. Having waited for Gilroy's appearance from the rows of the defenders, Esrael helped him to climb on the wall's debris and asked:
—Is that all? Are you kidding me? Have you gathered everyone?
—Unfortunately, yes,—Gilroy replied.—I would like to see more of them, but there's nothing I can do with it — this is everyone who can still hold a weapon.
The instant feeling of desperation penetrated Esrael's heart: only one thousand defenders remained out of those three thousand courageous warriors, who had stood on that place the day before. He was overwhelmed by the barrage of sorrow which engulfed his soul: he thought about families of those who hadn't returned from the battlefield. "Two thousands of souls on our conscience,—Esrael felt chills running on his back.—Two thousand souls..."
—What are we going to tell them now?—Gilroy, having addressed to the dragon, wondered.—Do you believe that they will trust us again? Look at their faces — they had lost everything they held dear. There's nothing we can offer them in exchange.
—They will fight to the end,—the dragon said.—I see the flame of struggle in their eyes. They will fight for their home at all costs. The only thing they are looking for is hope and encouragement. And that's exactly we are going to give them now.
With these words, the dragon mounted on the crenels and took a royal standard in his paw. The crowd stood still, hoping the miracle to happen. They were ready to believe anything the dragon would tell them. Having put himself together, our hero began his encouraging speech, which echoed through the walls of the nearly abandoned city:
—Warriors of Eldoras! Defenders of desperate and hopeless! During yesterday's battle, you exhibited your true manliness. You have paid a terrible price, defending your city in these terrible days: each of you has lost brothers, fathers, grandfathers, who will never return in our world. I address you with the last request. I plead you to find the last source of power in your hearts, to assemble all your impeccable will and defend this city, which has become for all of us more than just a home. Each of you is a living example of manliness and dignity! Each of you is a magnificent milestone of character, worthy for all your descendants. I plead you to fight today up to the end! Fight until the last drop of blood colors these walls! If your legs are cut off, crawl and show your enemies no mercy! If you lose your arms, tear your enemies with your teeth, like a bear rankles its prey! And even when your enemy chops your head off or cuts your throat with his blade, let your spirits be with us in this finest hour and cheer us up from the Hade's domain! This day I want you to be true warriors, to exhibit yourselves as those who do not surrender till the last breath flies away. To prove our enemy and coward allies that there is no sword, no arrow, no flame that can break your will and spirit. It is said that hope is last to die,—the dragon held a little pause. At that moment he realizes that each person in the fortress was ready to follow him to any hell existed.— But today we will prove, my friends, that it never does! Will you, defenders of Eldoras?
At that moment the loud affirmative reply shook city's walls, wavering through the whole Eldoturian steppe. And so that cry flew to the west, where the dry winds wandered, to the east, where sun cuddled forests, to the south, where waves brushed the ocean's azure, to the north, where silent rocks sang their lonely sorrowful ballads. That brave cry was heard everywhere: in Loriel's forests, in Ruthram's steppes, in Trigaron's mountains — the cry of rambunctious brave blades, whose courageous hearts eclipsed fire of thousands of volcanoes. Even feisty enemy warbands were petrified by that loud roar of an awakened beast of courage.
—Prepare for battle, warriors,—the dragon exclaimed.—Because today the destiny of all free Uniearth is in your hands! And you have no right to fail it! It is not the matter of our survival, it is our honor that is at stake! We shall never surrender!
After dragon's encouraging speech all the warriors, who could carry any weapon in their hands, began to prepare fortress for the last assault: someone rushed to cover loopholes in the walls, someone made any fortifications they could from the remains of the towers and walls, someone supported the gates with planks or metal scrap brought from the demolished blacksmiths. In a blink of an eye, the capital was ready for the final assault. When slight sunrays of dawn meticulously touched the walls of the unbowed capital, the defenders were already standing on the walls, ready to defend their fatherland once and for all. Alongside with them, there were Esrael and Gilroy, who were covering their faces from dazzling morning sun rays and observing the upcoming threat. A large black mass of the enormous army assembled on the horizon, making rumbled walls of the capital shake from their heavy steps. All of a sudden the dragon landed near them. Watching the black army, overwhelmed with cruelty and bloodlust, march to the walls, he silently, but confidently asked:
—Warriors are ready?
—All units reporting for duty!—Esrael answered.—King couldn't have encouraged warriors as you did. Everyone is talking about you. As I said, you are a perfect candidate for the next Keeper of the Good.
—Not today, mate,—the dragon grinned.—In other life may be. I don't think I will crowd my luck successfully in this one.
—Who knows, my friend,—Esrael shrug his shoulder.—But one thing is certain — all those people believe in you. They have trusted your words, they are ready to follow our steps. They believe in victory. They have believed in themselves. In any event, Gilroy and I did for sure,—at that moment Esarel punched his friend, who decided to have a short nap.—Didn't you, Gilroy? Gilroy was awakened instantly and rapidly jumped, hitting the flagpole. There was no newcomer to the watch-house who didn't burst into laughter.
—Good morning, sleeping beauty!—someone exclaimed.
—What are you laughing at, jabberwockies?—Gilroy, scratching his head, huffily exclaimed.—Damn, it hurts!
—No offence,—the dragon kindly said, clapping his friend on the back.—Just needed to clear the air.
Their conversation was interrupted by a powerful roar of trumpets, which were summoning enemy's warriors to go in for decisive assault of the unbroken city on the river Eldotur. One by one dozens of flamboyant, like hundreds of suns, torches flattered on the horizon, the horses of the heavily armored riders, who were rapidly swinging their maces, loudly neighed, straight rows of infantry, hitting their shields with swords, as if they were summoning cruel god of war on the battlefield, began to move towards the shattered walls. The rearguard illuminated with the fire of catapults' round shots, ready to barrage the human capital with deadly loads.
But the defenders didn't have even the tiniest particle of fear in their bold souls. None of them thought about their death, and no stream of fear dared to run in their hearts. Everyone was overwhelmed by one single desire — to kill as many enemies as they could before their bloodied corpses would fall on the soggy walls. And every single man had no room for doubt that their courageous spirit would proudly stand before the Gods' judgment and would say that it did everything in its power to make sure their world would rise from the ugly remains of that destructive and ravaging war.
At that dooming moment, when the first sunrays lit the impeccable city's walls, the large black hoard on the horizon, representing an indestructible army of darkness, slowly crawled towards Eldoras, ready to rumble the precious city to the ground. The excited exclamations could be heard from the distance, the large caravans, prepared for all captured goods to be taken from the fortress, were seen. The large ceremonial standards were carried in the rearguard to be mounted on the king's dungeon. The dragon gave the king's residence a farewell look from the highest tower of the wall and immediately rushed to the wall. Having landed near Esrael and Gilroy, he made things clear:
—Remember the plan? The one we spoke about before the siege started.
—For sure,—Esrael confirmed.—But who is going to open the hatches?
—We will not sink the city,—Gilroy coldly murmured.
—What?!—Esrael exclaimed startlingly.—Are you mad? What about the plan?
—There are still innocent people in the city. Women, children, wounded... If we let the water out, they will all die. If we do so, then our defense has been useless,—Gilroy explained.
—He's right,—the dragon agreed.—There is no place where they can go.
There is no safe exit from the fortress.
—What are we gonna' do now?—Esrael asked with anxiety.
—If we're doomed to die here, we'll do it with honor,—the dragon replied. Having risen his eyes to the dark enormous abyss of enemy's platoons, he turned his snout to the archers on the left flank and ordered:—Archers! Inflame the arrows!
—No oil is left!—the captain of the archers replied.—We used everything in the previous battle.
—Then fire at will,—Esrael ordered.—Aim for the heads of horsemen and their horses. That will make them slow down.
—Understood,—the captain nodded. Having turned from Esrael, he started to explain the order to his squad.
Meantime, the huge battle formations drew closer and closer, ready to wipe Eldorase's mark from every map of Uniearth. As the army was marching, catapults in the rearguard were getting ready to provide them with heavy artillery support: it could be observed on the horizon, how their crew rolled huge stones and put them inside the huge metal "bowls"; other warriors poured oil on the stones; others set the fire to the inflammable substance. Cavalry stood behind the siege weapons in order to rush towards the gap in the wall, which had been poorly barricaded by the defenders. Finally, the torturing awaiting spread on mangled plains: catapults were ready to fire, infantry rose its spears, riders started to wield their swords, overwhelmed by the immediate desire to break in crippled Eldoras and fill their pockets with royal treasures. Observing the enormous hostile army, Gilroy uttered:
—I'm pretty sure they will rush into that gap,—he pointed at poorly-fortified wall segment.—It is the weakest part of the wall, so it won't be hard for them to rumble it.
—You're absolutely right, Gilroy,—the dragon agreed.—We need some soldiers with spears and spikes in this area.
—Defenders of Eldoras!—Esrael addressed to the crowd.—Is there anyone strong enough to wield a spear?
Instantly Esrael was surrounded by strong and powerful soldiers, whose arms were filled with tremendous power and strength of Ares. One of them, having put the helmet on his head, respectfully addressed to our hero:
—Commander! We are ready to fight until the last drop of blood streams in our veins! We will not let the enemy into the city.
—So be it,—Esrael nodded.—Grab the remained spears and take your position in the breach. The cavalry will definitely charge in there. Don't let it cross the border.
—Aye-aye, sir!—the leader of the newly-formed squad reported and led his platoon to get arms.
—Archers!—Esrael addressed to the shooters, standing on the wall.—Fire at will at all costs! Let your arrows nail those bastards to the ground as Loriel's do.
—Even better!—the archers confirmed in chorus. At that very moment, the deafening sound of dozens of horns shook the nearly-rumbled human capital's walls; the battle cry of the huge enemy's army followed. The dragon saw, how the avalanche of cavalry with riders, dressed in black metal armor, streamed through the "channels", formed by the infantry, and rapidly dashed towards the city's fortifications. Having lifted their enormous double-edged swords and put the shields with the pattern of a red staff up, warriors rushed to the unbreakable squirts. Their eyes, dazzled with the expectancy of imminent victory, showed an overwhelming desire to rob the king's golden warehouses and treasure rooms. Black riders wanted to blooden their razorlike swords and capture the precious royal treasures. Whirling their clubs and maces, they were full of desperate thirst to fill their deep pockets with gold. The infantry, having formed accurate columns, marched right behind them, hitting their shields with swords and observing an enormous hoard of gargoyles flying above them. When the avalanche of riders drew close enough to defenders' positions, Gilroy ordered:
—Archers! Fire at will!
Instantly the singing of dozens of bowstrings broke the morning silence, and the swarm of thin creations of accurate forgers flew towards offenders of Eldorase's honor and freedom. The arrows stung riders into their hearts like eagles, killing defenseless rabbit cubs: they bit into the flesh of greedy cavalrymen, tearing their sinful flesh, they remorselessly wiped out the finest horses, which fell on the burnt ground, smashing their owners. And this deadly rain didn't dare to stop, pouring fresh treatment into the feast of Ares and Hades. But arrows didn't manage to stop those warriors: archers' attempts to stop cavalry attack seemed useless. Meantime, the avalanche drew closer and closer, threatening the phalanx — the last defense line of the defenders. The horrible mortal clash was unavoidable.
—Hold the lines!—Esrael exclaimed. He observed, how the cavalry chieftain, a huge warrior with the enormous mace, was rushing towards him with a furious battle cry, spurring the heavy-breathing horse. The fearless leader of resistance instantly got white with terror. It seemed to him that time had stopped, that everything around him — every leaf, every grass in the bloodpoured field — had frozen in quiet awaiting. Nothing around had any sense to him. Each sound of the bloody fight, each scream, each battle cry had silenced in his head. Only the black rider, he and death, heavy breathing of which made chills run on the back, remained conscious in that terrific moment. The sharp sword flew over rider's head, the blade sparkled on the dim rays of the dawn. Slight whirlwind burnt Esrael's face with freeze. Exhale... Inhale... Exhale... Inhale... Seconds seemed an eternity. Esrael felt the heavy breathing of Hades, ready to take his sinful soul to Tartarus, on his back. But excite of Hades instantly changed to his wrath: in that very moment the salvation came from above; it was the dragon, Esrael's devoted friend, who glided on the startled rider and pierced the startled horsemen with his sharp claws.
The desperate neighing radiated through the air, and the slain warrior, having drawn his last breath, fell on the wall remains, showering them with pure red blood, streaming from the crippled chest. But the short triumph didn't last for long: in a second a huge sharp ballista's arrow stabbed the dragon's tough chest. Blood dripping... Little bloodstreams of red arterial moisture ran on dim-white dragon's belly. Having kneeled above the crippled body of the enemy, he tried to pull the damned death's servant out of his broad chest, but powers left him in that doomed moment. He drew heavy, husky sigh out of his crippled chest... Having risen his deep ultramarine eyes upon Esrael, he smiled. His sharp teeth were covered in blood. The weak, still look of pure blue reptile eyes awoke feelings of desperation and sorrow in Esrael's heart. He couldn't stand the view of dying of the pure incarnation of hope, the incarnation, which had encouraged the citizens of that enormous patch of soil by the tremendous ocean. Unfortunately, the dragon didn't hold for long — Esrael observed with terror, how mighty paws shook, and the crippled scaly body of the inspirer of human souls lifelessly fell on the ugly remains of the walls of the nearly destroyed city.
Chills ran upon Esrael's back. At that moment his black hands, covered with ash, trembled with the boiling feelings of wrath and desperation. Having frowned his scarred face and grabbed the sword from the dead soldier, he rose the blade up towards the sky and got ready to give that horse-mounted bastard a good swording. His last and most courageous one...
He observed how the rider — a captain of one of Thanoruse's platoons — drew closer and closer. He didn't pick up a shield in his hand, demonstrating his true courage and boldness and exhibiting his true desire to nail that bloodlusting bastard to the ground. No force could vanish Esrael's desire to fight for the lost. He did not hasten to flee. Did not hasten to throw his sword away and cowardly crawl into the shadows, like a rat crawls in its den. No way he would do such a coward deed, no way he would let cowardice and shame poison his soul. No filthy horseman, no matter how strong he was, could spoil, could eclipse his honor and bold! And so Esrael upped his shining damask sword over the head. He felt the presence of awaking of the courage of all his glorious ancestors, how the blood of the bold started to boil in his veins. Only the inch is left between him and the captainrider. No time left for salvation — the mace would be reded in blood. The soul would fly to the darkest corners of the Hade's domain. Inch... The only inch is left between life and death.
But instantly, everything changed. The roar of thousands of trumpets and horns radiated through the nearly demolished city, making the survived defenders gather heart and look towards the horizon. And how surprised they were, when the shade of an enormous war-carriage, which was fuming with the thick black clouds of smoke, appeared on the hill. The huge and muscular riders, mounted on something big and hairy, followed them, waving their huge double-edged axes. On the left, holding their horses, gracile warriors, dressed in shining mithril armor, graciously waived their light sharp blades and determinedly looked upon crippled city walls. When the precious standards wavered over the steppe, shielding the bright dazzling dawn, and the sun, having squeezed through the thick black smog, brightened Eldoturian steppes, the alerted silence in the fortress fell and startled people began to whisper: "Look! Over there — in the horizon! Zeus has heard our worship at last!"
And they were right indeed: the reinforcements of elves, orcs and dwarves had finally arrived to help. A few moments had passed, and the crippled streets of the heroic city began to get crowded with little groups of desperate citizens, who were lucky to survive that catastrophic siege. Suddenly, a boy, having freed from the mother's loving grip, began to joyfully jump on the street and loudly and excitedly exclaim: —Mother! Mother! Look! He knew! He knew! We're saved!
But she couldn't believe his words. Her smooth cheeks started getting wet with precious tears of mother's joy. Having hugged her sacredly beloved son, for whom she had been keeping the last pieces of the remained bread, the mother couldn't hold any more — she smiled and burst into tears of pure happiness.
Meantime, the enormous allied army, having sounded its trumpets, thundered the broad Eldoturian steppes with a united battle cry, forcing each soldier of the hostile army to tremble with fear and instinctively mount black shields over their heads. A couple of moments had passed, and straight battle formations stepped aside, letting three powerful monarchs of Uniearth examine the battlefield. First, looking from the hatch of his steam battle tank, king Ulter the IV appeared; after him, freely spurring his brown bison, chieftain Grishnak the III followed; prince Luminel, sitting on a snow-white horse, was the last to join the mighty trinity. Having examined the petrified enemy's army, Grishnak addressed to his comr