Battledragon (15 page)

It was fortunate that the sea was so gentle, for easing the huge dragons down the side into fragile boats that were barely big enough to accept them without swamping proved to be a most arduous task.

Eventually it was completed, without major mishap, although Vlok fell the last few feet and broke davits and lockers in the pinnacle from
Oat
. Fortunately the hull held. The Purple Green was carried in the largest pinnacle of all, from
Barley
, and even that was driven deep into the water.

With muffled oars they were rowed through the darkness to the glittering strand where small waves broke upon a wide sandy beach.

The moon was just beginning to rise when the dragons crossed the sand and hid beneath the jungle growth that fringed the beach. With the dragons were their dragonboys, Dragon Leader Wiliger, and Dragoneer Feens of the 66th Marneri, who was acting second in command. In addition, there were six bowmen from the Alpha Flight of the Kadein First Legion. They carried heavy compound bows of horn, wood, and steel, and wide quivers loaded with dozens of points. They were risking much, since unlike the dragons they were susceptible to sorcery, but there were strong advantages in having archers, in addition to the dragonboys who had to come anyway.

They waited at the edge of the jungle for a moment while Wiliger and Corporal Fermin of the Kadein bowmen scouted for a path. Dragoneer Feens moved up and down the line checking with each dragonboy for problems.

Behind them the boats were rowing out toward the distant ships, visible now in the moonlight as ghostly pyramids of sails about a mile distant. The small party under the eaves of the jungle were on their own.

Dragoneer Feens was a tall young man of twenty-five who had been a dragonboy for ten years and lost his dragon to the disease called Blue Liver. He had been given the command of the 66th Marneri after the unit was rebuilt in the aftermath of the campaign for Arneis. His own dragons had been disappointed at not being chosen themselves for this mission. Though there were hardly any survivors of the old unit that had fought beside the 109th in Arneis, the 66th still prided themselves on belonging to a crack unit that had fought in Ourdh, in Kohon, and in Arneis. If the 109th were to be sent, then the 66th felt that they should be sent as well.

However, there were only twelve boats, and it was decided to send only twelve dragons. They would be a formidable force, and if they were lost to some unguessable sorcery, then the loss would be limited to only twelve precious dragons. Thus the 66th had to be content with sending only their dragoneer and one dragon chosen by lot. This was the already famous Der Stanker, a young green from Aubinas.

Corporal Fermin came back and signaled to them to follow. Now they hiked inland, moving through the moonlit scrub vegetation toward the volcanic cone. After a couple of miles the scrub thinned out, and they stepped out onto a weird blasted landscape of tufs and lavas. The cone of the volcano started up a quarter mile ahead, forming an enormous mass that loomed above.

Here and there about its circumference the cone bore outlier juts and pinnacles. On one of these, to the south and east of their position, stood the eldritch castle of the sorcerer, a fantastic collection of towers and struts, from which a few amber lights could be seen even at this great distance.

<>There was no cover, but there was a kind of zigzag trail broken into the flaked tuf that formed the slope. To either side of the crumbly tuf were flows of a black, harsh lava with horrendously rough surfaces. The tuf at the bottom was deep and hard to get good footing on for beasts of two tons or more. Dragonboys hopped around their dragons with considerable anxiety as the monsters struggled up the slope, for dragon feet were tender and no boy wanted his charge to suffer damage.

The trail began to bend to either side, zigzagging up the steepening slope. They rose higher so they could see the castle of the sorcerer more clearly, just a few miles away, with lights burning in some of the towers.

They were all well aware that just as the castle was visible to them, they must be visible to the castle. Dragons were not inconspicuous beasts, except when moving through forest cover when their natural predatory natures made them amazingly quiet. Here, they were set out under the bright moonlight with no cover at all. And still there was no reaction from the castle. The sorcerer appeared unaware of their presence.

After an ascent of more than a hundred feet the zigzag path brought them to a broad road that had been cut into the side of the mountain and paved with massive stone blocks.

This road had been broken up by the most recent flow of lava, and a new road was in the process of being hacked through. There were tools and timbers stacked inside a cut made into the lava.

In the other direction, the road ran straight along the side of the cone to the castle.

They rested briefly. The dragons were hot and thirsty after that climb, but there was only enough water in the dragonboys' flasks to wet everyone's throat once.

Wiliger studied the castle and the way ahead with his spyglass. He conferred with Dragoneer Feens and Corporal Fermin. It seemed that the sorcerer had not seen them yet. They would go on, straight for the castle, and hope to reach it before being detected. The plan remained the same.

Dragonboys checked their charges' feet, which were simultaneously massive and tender and liable to blister. Relkin found that Bazil had come through fairly well. There was a nick on the left ankle from a sharp piece of lava but the soles of the leatherback's feet had held up. Relkin thanked all those hours he'd spent in the last year bathing the dragon's feet in Old Sugustus Skin Toughener. Other dragonboys worked feverishly with blister sherbet and disinfectant.

"I wonder what's up," muttered Swane to Relkin. "Why do you think there's been no defense?"

"Maybe it's a trap," said Manuel, who was passing close by.

"Or maybe the wizard's too busy gloating over the fleet to notice us," said Relkin quietly.

"It could be anything," said Mono, passing the other way, "but keep it down 'cause Wiliger's coming back."

They hunched over their work. The dragons were silent, intent on getting their breath back and cooling down.

Wiliger spoke quietly with Feens for a moment, then they separated.

"All right, everyone, we go on," said Wiliger. "There's no sign of opposition, no sign that they've even seen us. Old Caymo must be rolling his dice for us."

Relkin's eyebrows rose. Wiliger was a follower of Old Caymo, too? One didn't hear his name thrown out like that very often; it was regarded as disrespectful to the Great Mother.

With a few grunts of displeasure here and there, they succeeded in getting the dragons on their feet and then they moved on down the well-paved road toward the castle.

To their right, over the low retaining wall, they could see the lower part of the island and out in the bay the fleet, marooned in a tight flotilla, white sides gleaming in the moonlight.

Maybe Relkin had it right, the damned sorcerer was too busy savoring his triumph to imagine that the fleet might strike back at him like this.

The castle grew close enough for individual windows to be discerned. There were lights in many of the towers. More lights, presumably torches, moved on the battlements.

A shadow fell across them.

"What?" said Wiliger looking up.

"Up there," said Swane in a harsh whisper.

"Batrukh," said several voices apprehensively.

Over the cone of the volcano came the great flying beast, it swooped low over them and rose again with a monstrous shriek of hate that chilled the blood in men's veins.

"That's done it," said Swane.

The batrukh flew to the castle and vanished into the dark open maw of a gate that hung over a precipice.

Not long afterward more lights could be seen on the castle battlements. Then a very bright light was lit within some interior courtyard so that it shone up among the sides of the towers around it. At the same time they heard a dreadful howling begin.

"Sounds like they're readying a reception for us," said Endi.

The howls were increasing in volume. Some of the boys looked worried.

"Anything that howls must breathe," said Relkin with a grim smile. "And if it breathes then it lives, and if it lives then it can be killed." He glanced meaningfully at the dragons, each with his great sword riding in the scabbard on his shoulders.

"Look!" shrieked little Jak. "The batrukhs are coming." It was true. One by one the batrukhs of the sorcerer were appearing from the mouth of the cliff gate. In a matter of moments they were stooping at the dragons from the dark sky.

The bows of the Kadein archers snapped loudly and drove their shafts home. Two, then three, batrukhs broke away from the attack; one fell heavily on the lower slopes of the volcano and tumbled in ruin to the jungle.

The others attempted to grapple with the dragons.

They met twelve shining blades of sharp steel, huge blades that whirred in the soft tropic air and slaughtered batrukhs as if they were no more than turkeys.

Such conflict could not last for more than seconds. The batrukhs dove among the dragons. The swords flashed and batrukhs fell dead in the roadway. Only one escaped, the Purple Green having missed with a stroke that would have cut it in half, and it flew back to the castle with a sobbing, mournful cry.

The dragonboys yelled insults in its wake.

"Silence," snapped Wiliger.

They quietened and then they heard the howling again. It was much closer now and possessed an insane high tonic that set their teeth on edge.

"What the hell kind of hounds are those?" said Swane.

"They aren't hounds," said Manuel. "No hound can wail like that."

"Then what in the name of hell are they?"

"Look, they are men," said Endi.

And around the comer came a mass of men, howling as they came, under the light of great torches that blazed above. They carried round shields and waved swords and battle axes and in their eyes was a deadness that betrayed their loss of will.

Among them were some of the men taken from the fleet.

"Prepare to receive the enemy!" said Dragon Leader Wiliger in a tight voice.

"But they're men from the fleet," said Roos.

'That won't help us any if they get to grips. The sorcerer's done something to their minds."

The dragons pulled free their swords. There wasn't room for more than two dragons to stand and fight in the road, so Alsebra and Der Stanker took up position at the front. Behind were the rest, with Bazil and the Purple Green slotted in second place.

Bowmen deployed in front and kept up a good fire until the advancing horde was within a hundred feet. Then the bowmen withdrew. The howling men came on and threw themselves at the dragons.

Great dragonswords glittered as they rose and fell and brought death's merciful release to men trapped like moths by the sorcerer's flame. Their faces never changed expression even at the moment of death. It was awful work, and both dragons and dragonboys hated it.

Despite the slaughter of their fellows, the mob never stopped their march toward the dragonswords. One or two eventually got past Alsebra and Der Stanker; dragonboys took them down with their little bows. The rest died in front of the two green dragons, whose swords swung back and forth almost mechanically, sundering shields and bodies alike.

The dragons were most unhappy with this work, and Alsebra's dragon speech curses were loud and frequent. The dragonboys were not pleased, either. Slaughtering men who had no control over themselves was unseemly, but there was no choice.

Relkin had seen it before, and it still disgusted him. Men and imps simply could not attack battledragons unless they could rush them from all sides, or they had the support of trolls and other larger scale creatures.

Half the men were dead. Abruptly the howling ceased, cut off in mid-scream as if by a giant knife. The men stumbled backward until they were out of bow shot. Their faces were slack, eyes staring, their minds destroyed by the evil power of the sorcerer. There was no recognition of either the dragons or their comrades from the fleet in their eyes. They were lost souls.

A mound of corpses lay in the road.

"Forward," said Wiliger, who alone in the group seemed satisfied. Alsebra and Der Stanker were ordered to the rear and the dragons marched, Bazil and the Purple Green at the front, shields lowered and great swords at the ready.

Without even bows and arrows the sorcerer's pack of demented men could do nothing. They gave ground. The dragons pressed on and soon had the men trotting ahead of them back toward the great castle gate on the edge of the pinnacle.

Here a causeway traveled out over a sheer drop of a hundred feet or more and reached the castle wall beneath frowning turrets forty feet above.

As they approached, they saw the gates pulled closed by teams of dwarves that were chained to the insides of the gates. The doors slammed shut in the faces of the demented men, leaving them on the causeway, facing the dragons.

Bazil paused, not liking this situation.

Relkin, too, felt suddenly very cautious.

Wiliger ordered the dragons to thrust forward to the gate and to push the sorcerer's men aside. If they did not fight, they would simply be passed back across the causeway and left behind the dragons.

Relkin shook his head, this was not the time to step out on that causeway.

"Sir," he said, "this is a trap of some kind."

Wiliger shot him a furious look.

Bazil stepped forward to the edge of the causeway and poked the men aside with Ecator. They did not hesitate but moved meekly to the sides of the causeway and began to filter back across, outside the two rows of dragons.

"Sir," said Relkin, deadly afraid now.

"What is it, boy?" snapped Wiliger.

"I don't know, sir, I just know that it's a trap."

Wiliger looked at the stones.

"It seems solid enough to me," he said. He looked up at the battlements; there was a gleam of metal up there. Men were at work with some large device. Quickly he called to Bazil to step back.