The report came in. The den was found. Several of the Dragons had returned, one after another, over the course of a few hours… seemingly tired and not even bothering to hide their entrance. It was time to put the plan into action.
Shadow and I had been in the assembly area when the report came in. More and more of us filled the room, covering the walls, ceiling, and floor; males, females, and young, sometimes stacked three or four deep, as we do. Blasted Stump, who had been Sean stood on a table at the front of the room and waited.
"Our day has finally come," he said when we were all there. "You all know your jobs. You each have your leaders. I will coordinate with the Spearmen and the Dwarves."
Shadow and I went down to the warehouse. Our job was to move firewood. We Ghosts were not the best of carriers, but it wasn't safe to have Dwarves do this job.
We each grabbed a carrying pouch. It was designed so we could easily let go of it. That way if we needed to, we could still hide.
The room was full of older children who took the wood and loaded it in our pouches. Then we began climbing the stairs that led outside. Not, as we usually would have done, by climbing the ceiling or wall, but laboriously up the stairs themselves; nasty things that they are.
Outside, we saw the line of Spearman beginning to form. They were placing themselves at intervals of every half mile or so along the route we would have to take. Armed with their spears and their new bows, we knew that the Dragons would be reluctant to face them. They also placed small shelters along the way, for Dwarves to hide under.
But as we went we didn't see any Dragons. Something must have happened. Shadow and I made two trips before we finally saw the first Dragon, and it was far away. When we came out for our third trip, we saw that it was much closer. And we saw that the Dwarves and their Spearman guards had begun their first trip with the stones.
The Dragon flew overhead but seemed frustrated with our arrangements. Several times individual Ghosts or Dwarves would drop their burdens and flee to the nearest Spearman, but the Dragon never attacked.
We had made four more trips when we saw that the Dwarves had arrived at the entrance to the den. This was the most dangerous time. The Spearmen had formed a line in front of the entrance. The Dwarves were rapidly creating a wall just behind them. And young male Ghosts, most of them unmated, covered the outside of the entrance. I knew that my own Brother, Snow Rabbit, was there.
We heard later that one Dragon had indeed come near the mouth of the den. But he had done nothing except turn hastily around.
Our next three trips were without incident. The Dwarves had used all of their stones and had gone back for more. Their first group had only been sufficient for a low wall.
By our next trip they were back. And the wall grew bigger. We had finished all of our wood by the time the wall had grown and deepened to where it blocked all of the entrance except for a small hole at the top. Still we had seen nothing of the Dragons. The scouts who had been watching the entire time said that there were at least six Dragons inside the den.
Another group of Ghosts arrived with the Spearmen that had guarded the line. These were accompanied by their wives, and together the group was carrying pots of oil and a large sheet of boiled beast hide. We drug the hide down and attached it, until it formed a shoot from where we had piled our wood into the hole.
We were truly amazed that all had gone so well. We had expected by this time to have lost half of our number. The pots were arranged, a fire was started, an assembly line was set up, and we began our assault.
From the pile of wood a group of males hauled wood piece by piece, passing it down from the far side, moving to the near. Each piece of wood was passed to a Ghostwife, who dunked it in oil. Then another wife threw it down the chute.
Along the chute stood other Ghost males, keeping it open and helping along any wood that seemed stuck. Spearwives stood at the entrance with long poles, and chivied any wood that stuck near the entrance. They had the fire near them.
We had cast perhaps a hundred pieces of wood when a shout arose from the bottom, and several of the Spearwives, who had been holding lighted torches, thrust them in. This meant that the first Dragon had appeared, attracted and annoyed by the wood perhaps, or perhaps just wandering out to see what was going on.
Our lines on the wood changed. Some wood was still given to the wives to be covered with oil, but most was just thrown quickly in. Our pace increased tremendously. I could see Spearmen guarding the opening shooting with their bows. Others held their spears ready. Smoke began billowing out. Faster and faster we pitched until--
Blasted Stump whistled the high pitched signal we had agreed to. The wives moved away, the men holding the chute pushed it down toward the opening. We had done all we could with the wood. It was now time to fight.
We had given ourselves every advantage, but we still lost men. Three Spearmen and a Ghost boy Spearmen were killed. But we are both warrior races.
The Dragons managed, after a few frantic minutes, to pull down some of the wall. But the Dragon that accomplished that was killed, and his colleagues spent a precious few minutes pulling him out of their way-- minutes in which our fire had a chance to fully take hold.
Indeed when they finally removed the body, the flames had redoubled. The fire had been starved of oxygen. Their cries were terrible, and you could hear them fighting to gain the entrance. In the end only one Dragon made it through the wall. He killed two Spearmen immediately and plucked a Ghost boy off his back.
Lion, a Spearman turned Ghost, killed this last Dragon. He leapt onto the Dragon right after the Ghost boy but got a better hold than the boy had done and moved faster. He reached the neck and severed it with four quick blows. The Dragon, or his body, continued to fight, but without any direction.
We heard screams from the other Dragons, but they came from further and further back down the cave. We quickly re-established our assembly line and put in the rest of the wood. Then the hole was covered with the tarp we had brought and the Dwarves immediately carved out stones to weigh it down. By the time they finished, there was an enormous mound of rock with some smoke gently pouring out of it.
The Spearmen accompanied most of the others back, but some of the Ghost males stayed. We hid ourselves and waited. After a while, the sounds from the inside completely ceased.
A week later the Spearmen, Dwarves, and the rest of the Ghost males returned. While the Spearmen stood by, the Dwarves removed the stones, piling them carefully so that if they were needed we could replace them quickly. After they had the stones off, we Ghosts pulled the tarp off.
All was quiet. Some of the wood was still not burnt.
We Ghost males began creeping down the hallway. Per our custom, some of us crept forward, then stopped, and others of us crept to them, over them, and past them. Still we heard nothing. We passed three charred bodies of Dragons in the hallway. Then we reached the large cave. One Dragon was there lying in the middle of the den, curled up as if asleep. But we could all tell that it was dead.
This was just the beginning of the fight we had against the Dragons. And, though I am old (for my people) we have just begun the war we must fight. Someday my Sons' Son’s Sons may live to see a sky clear of Dragons; to be able to go out on the rock without worrying, without his eyes constantly scanning the horizon.
And on that day, perhaps our new Ghost race will cease to be, and my great, great grandchildren will go back to being Dwarves, or they will become Farmers, Trolls, or even Horsemen as their Cousins. Some day. But until then, we fight in the name and for the glory of He Who Is.
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Thanks again, God Bless, Soli Deo gloria,
Von