Draft of Dragons Read online

  Draft of Dragons

  Book 9 of the Federal Witch Series

  T S Paul

  Copyright © 2019 by T S Paul

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Heather Hamilton-Senter

  Edited by Laurie Holding

  Formatted by Nina Morse

  Special thanks to my wife Heather who keeps me grounded and to Merlin the Cat. We are his minions.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Author Notes

  Also by T S Paul

  Chapter 1

  “Sir, the enemy is moving toward the gates.” The scout was one of the youngest members of the Legion of the Damned, having been recruited in 1960 Earth time.

  Raising his great helm, Legion Legatus William Payne stared down at the scout. “Numbers?”

  “Greater than I’ve ever seen, ten thousand at least,” the scout replied.

  “Notify the sub-commanders. Have them send centuries three through five forward to the ramparts,” the Commander ordered. “We must hold them or all is lost.”

  Too many battles and deaths. Before he was the Legion’s Legatus, William was a commander in the most holiest of holies, the Knights Templar. Raised in the Principality of Antioch, he was distantly related to Hugh de’ Payne, one of the founders of the order. Technically, he was a Norman knight, but never having been to the area, he was considered a rogue by many of the Gentry.

  Ayyubid sultan Salah ad-din, also known as Saladin, the first Sultan of Egypt, made oaths and swore to push the invading crusaders into the sea. His army marched across the Levant, taking Damascus and Tripoli. Ever so slowly, he pushed the Crusader Knights closer and closer inward.

  William was there when Saladin’s thirty thousand man army stormed the ramparts at Hattin. Twenty thousand knights along with paid mercenaries and cavalry were no match for the Sultan’s troops. Trapped between a three prong attack, the men were low on supplies and much needed water. Several attempts were made by the crusader commanders to break free toward Lake Tiberius with no avail.

  William remembered. Guy of Lusignan, the titular leader of the Christian army fought dismounted, surrounded by his sergeants and knights atop the hill of Hattin, overlooking the lake they couldn’t reach. Simple knights, covered in the blood of their enemies raised tents to block the flow of enemy cavalry, sometimes at the risk of their own lives. The army broke into a mass retreat. So much so, that even the accompanying clergy couldn’t stop them. The blood ran freely across the hill, soaking into the ground. In the end, the defenders begged for death from their foes.

  “Slavery is where we are bound, William. They cannot kill us all,” Roberto de Burgio whispered. “We are too valuable to them.”

  William pulled on his tied hands, trying to relieve some of the pressure and pain. “To what end? They have already finished us. Where you not paying attention upon the hill? Guy and the others have abandoned us to our fate. It is a lost cause. I should have stayed in Antioch.”

  Roberto shook his head. “You are a Knight of God. You swore oaths. If we survive this, I will repudiate you for even thinking such a thing. My order would put you to death!”

  “Forgive my sins. It’s this place and these people. I lost a lot of friends and companions on the field yesterday. There is nothing standing in the way of Saladin now. He can take Jerusalem at the snap of his fingers and take away all the work we’ve spent years doing. Do you realize that?” William bowed his head and muttered a prayer.

  The Hospitaller knight grunted, “Blasphemy is a sin. We do this for our lord and savior. Do not forget that. God will provide. You must continue to believe that. Our leaders will pay off the heathen and free us. It has happened before and will happen again. Training new commanders is costly. You will see. Freedom is only a shekel a way.”

  William leaned forward as far as his bonds would allow him, looking both left and right. Hundreds if not thousands of fellow knights and attendants lay bleeding into the sands. Moans and cries of pain filled the air. Many men begged for death. If they were to be ransomed, surely their wounds would be taken care of first?

  Sometime in the night, heathen soldiers walked the lines of prisoners. Those who begged for death received it. They were beheaded even as they sat tied to their companions. Hundreds died in the night. Morning brought cries of horror as mangled corpses were left among the living.

  In the tent of the Sultan, Saladin met with the leaders of the crusader army. Guy of Lusignan sat before him, along with Raynald, the former Prince of Antioch. Both men still wore the clothes they were captured in. Dried blood and other viscera coated their leather tunics.

  The Sultan looked upon his recent foes with distaste. In Arabic he spoke to his lieutenants. “Were they not given water and clothing? Why are they so dirty?”

  Prostrating before his lord, the first lieutenant replied, “They drank the water. They are barbarians. Why treat them so?”

  Saladin glared at his man, forcing him back into a prostrate position with just his eyes. “You forget yourself.”

  The man stood and bowed his head, “forgive me.”

  Saladin waved him away and motioned to a servant. The shivering slave brought forth a platter with small cups upon it. Carefully, the sultan poured water into a cup and held it out. “Give this to the commander.”

  The servant handed the cup to Guy, but he handed it instead to Raynald, not understanding the gesture. In the culture of the time, if a prisoner was handed water he was to be spared.

  Saladin jumped up from his divan and slapped the cup from Raynald’s hand. In Arabic he screamed, “If I wished this man to live I would have given it to him myself!” Pulling out his sword, he decapitated the Antioch lord, spraying Guy with blood.

  Guy held up his hands in surrender and shrank down to the ground. Saladin looked on him with disgust and spoke. “Kings do not kill kings.”

  Ordering Guy and the rest of the captured royalty to be held for ransom, he then decreed that all of the Templars and their companions be put to the sword. Decapitation was the preferred manner of death. Even those paid to fight, the mercenaries and pressed soldiers, were to be killed. To the Sultan, they were betrayers of Islam and now heretics.

  William and Roberto watched with bated breath while a few of their companions were pulled from the lines of prisoners. A scribe and captured priest pointed each man out to the trio of soldiers doing the work.

  “Father, what happens here?” Roberto asked the priest as he passed by.

  One of the Sultan’s men glared at the Hospitaller knight and beat him with his cudgel.

  “You must remain silent,” the priest replied. Without expression, the monk pointed out one of the captured lords to the men.

  William waited until they passed to check on his companion. “Are you well my friend?”

  Roberto failed to answer. Blood flowed freely down his chest from a massive head wound. The knight still breathed but William suspected it might not be for l
ong. Muttering almost to himself, William cried out, “Another warrior and friend gone. Will it never end? Why has God brought me to this place to die?”

  “Life is a lesson. Sometimes you choose to listen and other times you ignore it. The Gods are wicked and cruel. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that before? A lesson approaches. Will you take it or will you die with the rest of these lost souls?” William looked up as a voice seemed to speak from all around him.

  “Who said that?” William cried out. Several of his wounded companions, weak from blood loss or lack of food and water, moaned in response, rolling their heads his direction.

  “What I offer is both life and death. Life serving a purpose older than your country and death for the greater good. We fight to preserve who and what we are. Do you wish to join us or do you wish to die?” the voice continued.

  William shook his head, “I want out of here, but I swore an oath to God and country. Fighting to save the holy land is my purpose here.”

  There was a gentle flapping sound and a large bird landed in front of him. “A man with convictions. Interesting. Your leaders don’t have what you have. Did you know that? Guy of Lusignan is begging for his life and Raynald is dead. The men you saw earlier being taken are now bathing and enjoying the fruits of the Sultan. Money will change hands and they will journey across the seas to their homes. Leaving all of these men to their fates. Is that the sort of oath you took, William? One that leaves your fellows in the dust to die?”

  “You are a Demon sent to plague me!” William half shouted. His throat was dry and dusty, and the words came out as a croak.

  “Execution is coming at first light. All the knights of the order will die, including you. You are of Antioch. To these people you are a betrayer of the faith and deserve what you get. Do you truly wish to die?” the owl asked him.

  “No. But my oath requires I serve God, not some evil like you,” William replied.

  “Good. Evil. They are but concepts of reality. Come with me, I have so much to teach you and there are men worthy of leading waiting upon you,” the owl explained.

  One moment his bonds held him tight to the others and the next he was free, but only for a moment. A flash of light and he was other where.

  What happened then was almost a thousand Earth years ago. To William it seemed like just yesterday. The owl had been right, though. Protecting the future and knowledge of mankind was more important than dying for no reason. Battles impossible to describe were his bread and butter now. The Legion of the Damned were his companions.

  The universe of Otherwhere has three main gates leading in and out of it. Only two lead to Earth, and of them only one is accessible to humans. The final gate leads outward to the what some call the Hall of Doors or the multiverse. Traders use the doors to communicate across worlds and other universes. But for the past half millennium, contact has been less and less. The Draconic, or Dragon, Empire was expelled from the realm of Earth in time immemorial but now they want to return home. It is the Legion’s job to dissuade them. They are the enemy William was brought to fight.

  “Legatus, all centuries are in place and awaiting orders,” Centurion Cassidy reported.

  William looked at the former gunfighter and smiled. His outfit would have shocked his former knights commander back in the holy land. “Send our scouts out along the edges. I need to know numbers and density of their attack. Tell Centurion Custer he is NOT, and I do mean not, to engage the enemy. If the first reports are true, they will eat his men alive.”

  “Sir!” Centurion Butch Cassidy saluted.

  Good men were hard to find, but the owl had a certain knack for it. Too bad he usually picked the unruly ones. The Goddess Athena created this pocket universe, according to Owl. She supposedly had help from other of the Gods as well. Wrapping his head around the concept of Gods and Goddesses was a challenge for a Knight of God, but not an impossible one. William had been brought here by a giant talking bird.

  The Gate of Doors lay at the end of a curved valley. It was similar to the lair of a trapdoor spider from back on Earth, except that the top was where the defenders lay and the gate was at the bottom. Over the centuries, stone ramparts were constructed in concentric layers, guarding the entrance to town and the remaining gates. Only a heavily fortified portcullis and iron door allowed access. It was from here that the Legion sallied forth to meet their foes. The space between the doors was affectionately known by the legionnaires as the Plain of Megiddo.

  William stood watching the Plain through enhanced binoculars atop one of the observation towers. “Are there Dracaenae as well?”

  “Yes, sir.” Centurion Custer pointed to a location on the map. The Plain wasn’t empty. It contained rocks, trees, and even a few small fortifications. The Legion had had centuries to map it out completely, though. “It looks to my men as though they have a small group of those critters here at Point Alpha. Gladiators and regular line troops are pouring in though. There are Wizards among them as well.”

  “Damn,” William replied. “They haven’t attacked like this in centuries. What’s changed?”

  “Sir?” The centurion asked.

  “Nothing, just talking to myself. You can return to your men. Stay ready, though. I may send you out in probing attacks,” the Legatus ordered.

  “I would be willing to see battle every day, sir,” Custer replied as he saluted and left the room.

  “Sergeant, keep an eye on him for me please. We need every man we have. Can’t have a hot head throwing the men away uselessly,” William ordered.

  The sergeant, dressed in classic Roman gear grinned. “Why promote him, then?”

  William waggled his hand and said, “Everyone needs a second chance. Even crazy cavalry boys. Remember when your commander took a chance on me? It’s the same thing. Just keep an eye on him.”

  “As you command,” the sergeant replied as he climbed down the ladder.

  Turning back to his glasses, Legatus Payne watched the troops build up near the gate. This next battle was going to be a bad one.

  “What are our chances here?” The voice of Owl came from behind him.

  Used to the owl’s sudden appearances, William didn’t flinch at the voice. Without looking backward, he answered, “Fair to middle. We’re going to go all out for this battle. I’ve ordered the guns mounted and manned. Do we have sufficient ammo for them? This may take days.”

  “The arms storage under the barracks is full, but I will send both Mack and Emesh to Earth for more if need be. Prepare a list and we will get whatever you need,” Owl replied.

  “Divine help?” William asked.

  “Keep dreaming. When you were bleeding your life away in Saladin’s camp, I told you that the Gods are cruel. The Goddess only speaks to me in dreams and it has been years since her last visitation. We are truly on our own here,” Owl replied.

  “What about those Witches we hosted and trained a while back? Can we call them in?” William asked.

  Owl snapped his beak and flapped his wings in thought. “Zee and Dee are elsewhere and beyond even my reach. Put them from your mind. I doubt we will ever see them in this reality again. Agatha, however, is available. But she is needed upon Earth. If things get that dire, I will request Magical help from either the Council there or her family itself. Send the list to me soon.”

  There was a flap of wings and the Owl of Athena was gone.

  “This is going to make the siege of Antwerp look like a picnic. If we don’t hold, it could spell the end of freedom and doom mankind to slavery,” William muttered to himself.

  Chapter 2

  Peace of mind.

  That was what Grams told me I needed. All the books on Dreamwalking that I was given said that the secret was in clearing your mind of all thought and concentrating on...nothing. Obviously, none of those ancient writers had ever been in a house filled with Witches, complete with a Unicorn. A small one.

  Running my fingers through my hair, I breathed in and out for a moment. My room lo
oked as it always had, fine Victorian furniture, Wizard Wars movie posters, and a dollhouse. The very detailed house was a duplicate of the one I stood in, and according to my grandmother, was a creation of Verity, her great grandmother. Magical artifacts were somewhat rare on Earth. The dollhouse was unique in that aspect. Move a piece of furniture in the real world and the miniature one would move as well. Add a tree to the living room and one would appear here as well. That was how I discovered that Fergus’s ramblings about moving furniture were real. When asked, grandmother denied knowing about it, but I suspected she lied. Some secrets were too very dear to her.

  Concentrate and everything will sort itself out in time. I closed my eyes and assumed a half lotus position on a pillow I borrowed from downstairs. Full lotus was nearly impossible, even for me. I felt my body shudder at the thought of trying to do one again. Cat had to pry me apart to get my legs free last time.

  “Girl, what the hell are you doing?” Cat remarked.

  I grimaced and tried to move my body. “Meditation. It’s supposed to be good for you.”

  Cat laughed. “For pretzels, maybe. Whatever convinced you to do this to yourself in the first place?”

  “Stupid Council teacher. He went on for an entire hour about how meditation was the secret to the universe. I did a quick internet search and found the basics. It’s called a full lotus position.” I tried to move my legs but couldn’t.

  Squatting down next to me Cat pulled on my left leg and said, “Sweetie, how long have you been like this?”