Chapter 18

In the past few months, the walls of The City Of a Rising Star had proven impenetrable; elves fought valiantly, launching nighttime attacks on the dragon's camps. Adding to the challenge, dragons were falling ill with a mysterious new disease or even multiple diseases.

Some dragons experienced fevers, while others suffered from both fever and a peculiar rash covering their bodies. Itchy, red spots plagued some dragons to the point of scratching their skin raw, leading to numerous infections. Within a month, one of the illnesses brought unbearable pain to the limbs, eventually leading to death.

Blame for the disease was varied; some pointed fingers at bugs within the city walls, advocating for better hygiene. Others speculated about witchcraft and peddled homemade remedies crafted from a variety of herbs, pine needles, and horse excrement, all bundled together in pine tar.

The unit tasked with tunnelling under the city faced its own challenges. The elves had meticulously planned the city centuries ago, and the roots of the wall proved thick and sturdy, intertwined with sharp stones. The soldiers' morale inevitably waned.

Nothing seemed to be working, and Boren pondered whether he should approach the king once more to plead for reinforcements. Despite the king's recent indifference, there appeared to be no other recourse. Another night attack from the elves and the dragons would likely face defeat.

"We broke through!" a breathless soldier galloped into camp. "The wall has fallen!"

"Finally!" Boren seized his sword and hurriedly left the tent. "Borden!" he called to his friend, recently returned from the battlefield. Though tired and slightly injured, there was no time for rest. "Gather the unit from anyone who can still fight; we're going in," Boren ordered, making his way to prepare his horse.

Entering the city provided the dragons with crucial advantages, as elves were considered relatively weak in combat. There was still a chance for the dragons to win. This is it, he thought. We either win today or die.

Within the hour, a new unit was assembled, and they headed toward the city, leaving behind only the injured and sick.

The hole in the city's wall yawned before them, blackened and charred, emitting a caustic scent of burnt wood and resin. A handful of soldiers still laboured to widen it, hacking at the wood with axes and swords, while elves tirelessly rained hot oil and arrows upon the dragons.

As Boren surveyed their surroundings, he realized their situation was far worse than he'd been informed. Dismounting, he led the new unit toward the wall; there was no time to hesitate. Elves fought ferociously, with soldiers and citizens united against the dragons attempting to breach the city—some wielding swords and arrows, others armed with stones and sticks.

"We don't have enough dragons," Borden concluded as they reached the breach in the wall.

"I know. —Send for the digging unit to join the fight," Boren shouted over the din of battle, scanning the area once more to assess the situation. "You should reinforce the south direction. More elves will be occupied with us, potentially weakening the defence elsewhere. —One of us will breach the wall today."

"Or both of us will perish," Borden chuckled bitterly. "Can you imagine being defeated by elves?" The ironic laughter escaped his lips.

"What a relief that would be!" Boren responded with a chuckle.

For a fleeting moment, as Boren entered the city, he was awed by its beauty even amidst the chaos of war. The city resembled a forest, with winding paths paved with stones, ancient trees adorned with elfin huts, blooming flowers, and woven wickerwork. But his reverie was short-lived—the battle raged on. He dispatched a few elves effortlessly, guided solely by instinct, and soon found himself scaling the wall alongside other soldiers to clear the path for those climbing from the other side.

In the ensuing hours, the fight grew fiercer. More dragons breached the city walls, and Boren personally assisted Borden's unit in scaling the walls. Finally, the dragons gained the upper hand. Then, a searing pain tore through Boren.

It was a young elf with bright blue eyes who thrust a sword into his ribs. Boren stared at him in disbelief—how had he failed to notice someone sneaking up on him? How could someone with such beautiful eyes wield a sword? In one fluid motion, the elf withdrew his sword from Boren's ribs and callously shoved him off the wall.

"Here," Boren felt the cool touch of metal at his lips. "Drink some water." It was Borden's voice that pulled Boren back to consciousness.

He awoke in his tent, removed from the city's turmoil, surrounded by the gentle glow of candlelight. "How long have I been out?" Boren inquired, attempting to sit up, only to be seized by pain that radiated throughout his body, chaining him to the bed.

"A few days. —You took a hard fall, my friend. Honestly, I wasn't sure if you'd ever wake up," Borden replied.

"Perhaps another time," Boren chuckled weakly through the pain. "Did we capture the city?"

"No," Borden's voice was sombre. "We suffered a defeat. —Only two hundred and three soldiers remain, and most of them are sick or injured. The rest are either dead or taken prisoner." He paused. "I've ordered a retreat to Florishside and sent another plea to the king for reinforcements."

"I see," Boren breathed deeply. Despite his physical agony, he felt a surge of anticipation at the thought of reuniting with Arlena. Yet, beneath the surface, a searing sense of shame gnawed at his soul, far more painful than his physical wounds from the scorching sting of defeat.

Florishdide appeared much as they had left it, though this time, the elves seemed less curious about the dragon army and more sombre, even mournful. Nevertheless, the entire village rallied together to assist their healer in caring for the injured dragons. They gathered most of the dragons in the main tree's hall, laying down hay mattresses and preparing medicines and bandages. Many elves volunteered to take turns watching over the dragons throughout the first night.

Despite the high priestess's meticulous organization, the day the dragons returned was still chaotic. Elves hurried back and forth with water and herbs, while dragons moaned and screamed in pain from being relocated or treated. Amidst this turmoil, Boren's eyes, blurred with pain and fatigue, searched only for one specific figure.

Unable to walk due to the poisoned blade that had pierced him earlier, Boren was in and out of consciousness, drifting through dreams where he fought endless wars and faced the disappointment of his father and the excitement of his king. Sometimes, he dreamt of Florishside, of waking up next to Arlena in a world devoid of wars and politics, where they could live in peace.

"The sun is high, the birds are up, we sing along with cherished lives..." A soft melody roused Boren from his dream.

"Arlena?" he mumbled, still dazed.

"Boren!" Arlena exclaimed, rising from the small stone that served as a chair beside their bed. "You're awake." She placed another pillow under his head and helped him drink some tea that Arola had prepared.

"How long?" he managed to ask.

"A few weeks," Arlena replied gently. "You were poisoned and lost a lot of blood, but Arola treated you well. She said you should be fine within a few months."

"Months..." Boren's voice tinged with disappointment.

Arlena was relieved to see him improving, but his disappointment stirred tension within her. "You almost died," she reminded him calmly.

"Right. —Remind me to thank Arola later." Despite the pain and stiffness, Boren sat up on the bed and gazed at Arlena. "I'm glad to see you again."

Her face softened into a subtle smile. "Me too."