Battledragon (17 page)

From here on he would guide them to victory. He turned back to look at the approaching iron man. The din of its approach was terrifying enough. It wielded a great sword, broader than a dragons word but not quite as long.

Then Wiliger's view was obscured as Alsebra swung in front of the monster. It halted in mid-screeching stride to engage. Great swords swung together, and Alsebra put her two tons fully behind the blow.

There was a great clangor of steel, as loud as any heard on any battlefield, and Alsebra was forced back a step. The metal giant turned on massive, slow-flexing knees and swung the backhand. It was slow to set up the blow, but it delivered it smartly enough and Alsebra stepped back just in time, her counterstroke already in motion. Undaunt came around and struck the giant's arm above the elbow. Sparks blazed from the site but the blade was repulsed and left no visible mark.

Then the giant's forehand stroke broke upon Alsebra's shield like thunder, and the shield was riven on one side. Alsebra staggered backward. The green freemartin was too lightly built to stand against this thing, and her sword could not cut the outer layer of the cataphragm.

Bazil Broketail swung in to engage, his sword swinging on a forehand cut. The giant surprised him by raising a huge foot and lashing out with it. Bazil deflected the giant's sword, but the huge foot struck his shield and bowled him over. He went down in a tangle of limbs, sprained his tail, and rolled down the hillside for a hundred feet.

There was a roar of anger from the rest of the dragons.

"Let me take him," cried young Aulay, who hurled himself at the metal monster with his sword flailing. Unfortunately, Aulay's charge sent his tail lashing sideways and caught Dragon Leader Wiliger on the back of the head and knocked him cold.

Swords rang off each other once, twice, and then Aulay was driven back on his heels by the third and fell over, quite overmatched. The thing stood over him and raised its sword for the deathblow. Before it could fall, however, the Purple

Green engaged, bringing his sword down in a terrific overhead chop that rang off the giant's helmet in a shower of sparks.

At last the cataphract showed some reaction to a blow. It staggered and took two steps backward, reaching back for balance with its shield.

Roos helped Aulay to his feet and pulled him away, his sword arm completely numb and shivering. Dragoneer Feens had dragged Wiliger to safety.

The Purple Green engaged it again, and there was an exchange of sword blows. The thing was slow to shift position, but its sword arm moved very rapidly to compensate. The combination made the iron man hard to read and difficult to compensate for.

Still, the Purple Green exchanged five great ringing strokes with the cataphract and then his legion-issued dragonsword broke asunder and left him with only a shield. He scrambled backward, almost trampling Manuel in the rush.

The metal-clad giant came after him with a shriek of dry steel in tension.

Chektor moved in to block its path with a swinging two-handed stroke that bounced off the thing's shield and left old Chek off balance. The cataphract's return stroke knocked Chektor right off his feet, and he sprawled there helpless. It would have gone badly for Chektor then, but Bazil Broketail had regained his feet and clambered up the slope to come at the Cataphract from behind. Seeing Chektor's peril, Bazil brought Ecator down on the back of the cataphract's head.

Ecator was a fell blade, made by elvish smiths working under the direction of a Great Witch. Now it cut through the otherwise impervious armor of the cataphragm and sank into the monster's helmet with a great flash of white sparks and a sound like the rending of a giant bell.

The Cataphract stumbled forward a step. Bazil heaved his sword free and waited for the monster to topple. Nothing could live through a stroke like that. And yet the giant warrior did not topple; instead it recovered and slashed back at Baz with a backhand stroke that he barely deflected, so strong was it.

The leatherback stepped backward, downslope. Old Chektor had rolled clear and was getting back to his feet. The

Purple Green was upslope, looking for a weapon. Now Oxard and Stengo had come to the front to engage the thing.

Clearly visible though was die bite in the cataphract's helmet from Ecator. Bazil saw it and felt a chill go through him. This foe was not alive; it had no blood. This was like fighting a ghost, except that this ghost was built of steel.

With a terrific crunch, it broke Stengo's shield and knocked the leatherback dragon sideways. Then it battered Oxard to his knees with two tremendous overhead blows that came so quickly the big brasshide could not move out of the way in time. Its gears shrieked horribly as it moved on the fallen Oxard.

Bazil circled to come at it again from behind and ran up and brought Ecator down with all his strength right into the angle between the head and neck.

Ecator sang its unholy verse of death and bit deep in another shower of white-hot sparks. There was a moment's stillness, then the monster turned, slowly but unstoppably on squealing steel gimbles, and Bazil was pulled off his feet as he struggled to pull the sword free again.

How could it do this? It seemed impossible after a blow like that. Then the cataphract slammed him across the body with its shield, and he almost lost his grip on the sword. His feet came back on the ground, and he stumbled and fell against the thing and almost knocked himself cold. He felt the sword move a little. Then the iron man shoved him away, and he reeled backward as Ecator came free at last.

The cataphract's sword whistled over his head as he tripped and fell. He landed with a stunning crash and slid down the ash, ripping his joboquin from its fasteners.

Steel crunched down on the cataphract again as Vlok attacked with a wild overhand. Vlok's sword "Katzbalger" rang on the cataphragm in a coruscation of sparks, but did no apparent damage.

Their predicament now dawned on all the dragons. Their foe was almost invulnerable to their weapons, and even when cut deeply it took no notice.

Bazil hauled himself back to his feet with a groan. What could they do? His jaws ached.

A voice shrilled behind him, and he stood still for a moment. Relkin had worked his way downslope, and now he vaulted from the dragon's knee to his shoulder.

"Are you hurt?" he shouted.

A tooth fell from Bazil's jaw. He spat blood and reached up to his mouth. There was a large tender area.

"Jaw not broken," he said a moment later.

"Thanks to the old gods for that."

Pieces of equipment fell from the tattered joboquin.

"That whole damned thing is made of metal."

"But hollow, Baz. When you struck him, it rang like a drum. That armor is just a kind of hull."

"It is strong, I have never felt a stronger arm."

There was a shriek of metal, the sound of a heavy blow, and Oxard was sent sprawling. The Purple Green picked up Oxard's sword and resumed the battle.

Endi came over and crouched beside Relkin. "There's nothing inside that thing; it's not alive."

Relkin shivered. The arms could move so quickly through certain prescribed motions.

"How can we kill something that is not even alive?" said Bazil in an appalled voice.

"We're doomed," said Endi.

A sudden realization struck Relkin with an almost physical force.

"The sorcerer must give it its strength. He must drive the thing with his magic."

They squinted carefully down the slope to where the sorcerer sat his horse, a hunched figure of dreadful power. He had retreated well out of bow shot when the cataphract first appeared on the scene. His equerry was beside him.

"If you going to do anything, you better hurry," said Bazil as another young dragon was bounced aside by the giant. The 109th was getting something of a beating by this point. Oxard had been wounded, deep cuts on the forearms, a slash on one side of the rib cage, some broken bones. Roquil also was nursing a wounded side. Everyone else had abrasions and cuts, and their armor and gear were a terrible mess. "If this goes on, it will kill all of us."

Wiliger was out cold. Dragoneer Feens was on the far side of the cataphract. Relkin decided to act. He moved, sliding to his right, low along the ground in a crouch, then dropping into a gully that snaked downslope toward where the sorcerer sat on his horse.

Relkin checked his bow, and pulled an arrow from his quiver. He darted around a corner, avoiding small boulders, and then a heavy body dropped on his from above. He was driven into the gully wall.

"What the hell?"

It was Swane.

"I should've known," groaned Relkin.

"Listen, Quoshite, I know you, you'll be trying to hog all the glory again. This time Swane's gonna be in on the action."

There was nothing to be done about it. Once Swane got a notion…

"Well, just don't let him see you, all right?"

They went on down the gully, which deepened quickly and allowed them better cover the closer they got. The only problem was that they were also getting farther below the sorcerer's position. To get in a good shot, they would have to climb the far side of the gully, within perhaps thirty yards of the sorcerer, which was a killing range for Relkin and his Cunfshon bow but which would be in plain view of those deadly eyes.

There was nothing else to do, however, so they slipped across a broken mass of lava that had slid down into the gully and went on through the boulder-strewn ash until they reached a point where the gully curved to the right sharply. To get in a shot they had to climb here, up onto the right-hand side slope until they could see the sorcerer up above the left-hand slope.

There were a few large pieces of lava perched on the slope, which could give a minimal cover.

"Up there, then," said Relkin.

"Right," said Swane, who immediately set off up the steep, irregular slope. He got ten feet up, and his boot slipped on crumbly ash and he lost his balance completely and tumbled back into the gully with a wail.

"Shut up!" Relkin threw himself flat on the ash slope and took aim at the edge of the gully.

Swane's cry had been heard. The sorcerer had nudged his horse closer to the gully and now peered over the edge into the depths. At first he saw nothing, the dragonboys were hidden in deep shadow, but then he noticed Swane and instantly reached out with his terrible strength.

Swane gave a gasp as he lost consciousness. Relkin released and saw his arrow suddenly sprout from the sorcerer's right shoulder. The figure in black gave a shriek and fell off his horse out of sight. More cries followed. Great Gadjung, high sorcerer of Batooj, was not accustomed to such discomforts. His servant dismounted and ran to his aid.

Relkin climbed down and then up on the left side of the gully. He knew his shot had not been a kill. But if the sorcerer was down, then maybe Relkin could finish him off.

Panting, heaving for breath, he reached the top and crouched among pieces of raw lava. Not twenty paces away, the sorcerer was being helped into his saddle by his slave.

The sound of the battle had stopped for a moment. Relkin glanced back and saw that the cataphract had slowed; in fact, it was barely moving. Encouraged, the dragons threw themselves at it and their swords now raised a hellish din.

Relkin felt a glow for having guessed correctly how the iron man was powered. He took aim and released. His bowstring snapped, and his arrow bounced off a nearby rock and went straight up in the air for ten feet and fell to the side.

He felt the breath freeze in his throat, and then he was pulling loose the broken string and fishing in his pouch for a new one.

The sorcerer, fortunately, too preoccupied to notice Relkin, struggled to get a leg into his stirrup and failed and slid to the ground with another shriek of pain from the agony in his shoulder.

Relkin's fingers slid the bowstring through the notches, tightened knots, and pulled it taut.

Once again the sorcerer got a foot in the stirrup. There was a terrific clangor from up the slope where the dragons had pitched the cataphract over onto its back.

The sorcerer rose in the saddle, with another cry of pain. He steadied himself, took a deep breath, and then happened to look directly in Relkin's direction, where he crouched among rocks at the edge of the gully.

Relkin took aim, but then the numbness struck his brain as the sorcerer pounced. His nerveless fingers released as the black cloud came down on his mind and he toppled backward.

When he came to, a few minutes later, he found himself in the bottom of the gully. Swane was pinching his cheeks and slapping him lightly on the face.

"Enough." Relkin put a hand up to the side of his head and felt blood. His head rang from the blow it had taken. He remembered releasing that arrow. Had he hit his target?

"Damned Quoshite, what are you doing?"

"I don't know, trying to get up, I guess. Everything blanked out there for a moment."

"Everything's gonna blank out for good if that sorcerer gets another look at us."

Swane pulled him to his feet.

"How long was I out?"

"Seemed like forever. Better hurry now."

"Then I must have hit him; he must be wounded badly or he would have finished us off already."

"Come on, let's get back to the others."

They scrambled back up the gully toward the sounds of dragonswords ringing off the cataphragm.

The dragons had laid the thing over and were pounding it with their great blades. But only Ecator could cut the magical integument of the cataphragm, and not even Ecator could slice off whole limbs.

Relkin looked downslope and saw the sorcerer was back in the saddle, but hunched over and obviously worse for wear. But now the sorcerer straightened himself by sheer willpower. His head came up, and once more the cataphract was instilled with his power. It rolled over and started to get back onto its feet.

Relkin staggered up to Dragoneer Feens.

"Drop that pile of rocks on it, that'll stop it." The Purple Green looked up and noticed the pinnacle again.

"You are right." He started for the pinnacle. Several other dragons joined him, leaving Baz and Alsebra to hew at the cataphract as it struggled back to its feet.