Battledragon (31 page)

"Ourdh, Your Majesty? It is indeed a huge city. I've never seen anything like it, not even Kadein comes close. The ancient land is truly a crowded land."

The banquet continued with sweet courses. Relkin tried half a dozen things and recommended Bazil try three of them. A honeyed nutloaf was very much to the dragon's liking, and he ate several.

Relkin could imagine a certain wyvern groaning the night away as it struggled to digest this vast meal of heroic foods. Relkin was beginning to feel stuffed himself, even though he'd done his best to be moderate. He willed himself to say no to any more beer. A good thing, since he had the feeling that Wiliger would have interfered if he tried to have another, which would have been mortally humiliating with the king here and everything.

A course of an incredibly rich custard followed the sweet cakes. Relkin struggled manfully with it. Endi was looking a little green in the face, too.

Then came a course of jellied fruits. Relkin felt he was drowning in food. The things had no flavor, they had a rubbery feel, it was torture getting them down.

And then, at last, the banquet was done with. Some formal music was played by a group of musicians with horns and viols. The Bogoni nobles stood to applaud the dragon as a girl ran out and placed a wreath of jungle flowers around his big neck. The girl managed to place the wreath, then stepped back to bow and give her little speech. This was spoiled, however, when she looked up into Bazil's smiling face. She froze, and the breath caught in her throat until Relkin ran out, feeling his stomach bouncing inside him, and pinched her and whistled in her ear to snap her out of it.

She awoke, mind blank, and ran from the hall sobbing. Oblivious to this small disaster, Bazil waved fondly at the king and the gathered nobles.

Led by the king, with his courtiers bobbing around them, they left the banqueting hall and strode through the palace gardens, redolent of moonflowers and purple urtyx. Ahead lay a sheet of water, in fact, a small lake, with willows weeping along its edge and a dock and a pair of boats tied up at it.

With a huge belch of contentment, Bazil made his way down to the dock and then stepped off and sank into five feet of water. He gave a great sigh of pleasure. In two strides he kicked free and pushed out into the lake with a sweep of his tail.

The king smiled at this sight.

"Some people have goldfish in their ponds, eh, Stupagaz?" He said to his cousin, the Borko of Uba Bogon. "But I, Choulaput, have a dragon in mine."

Stupagaz laughed heartily.

"Sire, you will have to spend the treasury of the kingdom to keep your lake stocked with goldfish if you let this beast live there. I have never seen such eating!"

"Nor I, Stupa, nor I. An amazing thing. No wonder the lands of the west are barren of life if this is what roams there. And they fight like men, with swords! If you had seen this one wield that tent pole like a man might swing a billiards cue, you would have felt your heart jump. The Kraheen have miscalculated, I think."

They watched as the dragon turned over lazily in the center of the lake, a huge splash followed as it slapped the water with its tail.

"The gods must have heard our plea," said Stupagaz.

"If they did, then they must have spoken to the goddess of these heathens from the eastern isles. They worship a goddess and place women on an equal plane with men."

"Horrifying thought, sire."

"And yet their armies are the most feared in the world, and the most capable."

"'Tis true, and yet they are men like any others."

"They are better trained than any others, that is their secret. And they have these battledragons, that is their great weapon."

"Come, Stupa, we must go over the list of names for the ministry. I have them on a scroll in my office."

The king left them there, standing by the pool watching Bazil float lazily into the deeper water.

At the same time, far to the west of them, Kreegsbrok was brought the dreadful news. No one knew how it had happened, but a disaster of sorts had occurred.

The guard Lerodo had nodded off. The Prophet had awoken of its own, taken Lerodo's sword, and escaped.

It had gone directly into the chapel of "He Who Must," where a service was being held to initiate a dozen daughters of the new hierarchy of the Kraheen state. With Lerodo's spear and sword, the Prophet set about killing. He even slew several of the mothers, wives of the most important men of his own armies.

Kreegsbrok received the word and ran for the chapel. He arrived to find Udul and Shukk holding down the Prophet while Birond barred the door.

The young women had been slain by the door, speared and cut down from behind. The mothers had been cut open for their hearts. The priestess lay splayed across the altar. Kreegsbrok sighed inwardly at the sight. The place was a charnel house. He glared down at the Prophet.

From "He Who Must" there was no response, however, just the glazed look in the eyes and the harsh, rasping gasps of pleasure.

Now Kreegsbrok faced the task of calming parents and husbands. How could he explain that the Prophet had needed their blood for his flame? How to explain the savage lust for killing that moved in the heart of "He Who Must"?

They stood there a moment, still basking in the good feelings of a monumental dinner, watching the king and his advisers walk away.

Endi burped. "I would say that that was a very fine dinner."

"I'm stuffed," said Relkin with a slight groan.

"I'm surprised your dragon can still float."

"He enjoyed himself, he really did."

"What were you talking about with the king?"

"The king is a wise man, Endi. He has a great strength in him. I wonder if that's the way it is with all kings."

Wiliger sniffed loudly.

"Dragoneer Relkin, make sure you're back in quarters by the next horn. There will be a full inspection before the evening meal. However, I do not think either your dragon, or yourself, will need anything further from the legion cooks today!"

"Yes, sir." The only thing to do was to try and humor the man.

"And Dragoneer Relkin, just because we were talking to the king today does not mean that we should get above our station. You are a dragonboy; you have a job to do. I am your dragon leader, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Wiliger stalked away.

Relkin set his eyes on the far side of the lake. There were some early evening lanterns lit, and slender figures moving among the bushes of a garden. Faintly he heard music and the voices of a women's choral group singing a sad song.

"What is that man's problem?" said Endi quietly.

"I think he's split inside. He wants to be a good leader, but at the same time he's a bit of a fool; does things impulsively without thinking them through. Remember that horrible cap badge he was flourishing around?"

"Who could forget? It made me cringe every time I saw it."

"Well he would have known about that if he'd taken the trouble to check. He assumed it was just the same as it had been in the legion where they wear all kinds of cap badges. He'd never really looked at the dragon units or he'd have noticed that all dragoneers wear exactly the same size cap badges."

"By the Hand, what will he be like when we're in a real fight?"

Relkin shrugged. "In a real fight his problem is going to be staying out of the way. He don't have the training for being around active dragons."

"He'll get flattened sooner or later. That'll solve our problem."

Relkin laughed, trying not to sound too bitter.

Endi tossed a pebble out into the lake.

"What do you think we're going to get into here, Relkin? I mean everyone else talks a lot about it, but you don't say much."

"Why do you ask?"

"The Bogoni on my right was telling me how the Kraheen are unbeatable. They're whipped up into a frenzy by their Prophet and then they don't care about death."

Relkin shook his head at grim memories.

"Fanatics who don't fear death make poor adversaries for the dragons. If they don't have discipline, then they can't beat the legions. I've seen that myself."

"You were at Salpalangum, right?"

Relkin nodded.

"We heard about that in our village, about the time Roq grew into his final skin."

"It was a horrible slaughter, that's all I remember. Fanatics make poor soldiers."

"And after we fight them, then what?"

Relkin smiled. "I don't know, Endi, I think we're going to go inland. If the Grey Lady is involved, then we're probably going to go to the ends of the world. That happened to us once, too."

"So." Endi shook his head. "The Lands of Terror, just like everyone's been saying."

Relkin laughed again. "You know, I'd be worried sick if it wasn't for one thing."

"What's that?"

"If I'm going to this terrible place, I'm going with the best dragon squadron there is. I've yet to meet the enemy that can beat 'em."

They sat there listening to the women singing on the far side of the lake among the lanterns as the dusk settled. Eventually Bazil emerged from the lake, dripping and blissful.

"I think we should stay in this place for a while," he said, even as Relkin urged him to hurry back to their quarters.

"And Wiliger will have me up on charges if we do."

"Might do you good."

"Certainly won't leave me much time to look after a dragon." '

"Mmm, you have a point there."

Still feeling full and very benevolent, they reached the stables. Relkin took down all the equipment, piece by piece and checked it for the slightest harm, the tiniest blemish in the shine. Everything was in perfect condition, even the dragon's joboquin was fully repaired, and Relkin's precious store of ramgut thong had proven itself there.

Wiliger appeared, inspection was called, and the dragon leader cast his eye over everything seeking some fault, some imperfection for which he could take the boys to task. After several minutes of prodding and picking at Relkin and Bazil's equipment, however, he could find nothing to complain about and at length went on, displeased and hissing softly between his teeth.

The horn called for the evening meal, but the scent of fresh bread, hot akh, and noodles did not arouse the broketail dragon, who had already composed himself for sleep.

Relkin heard the familiar commotion all around him as boys pushed barrows and trolleys, laden with titanic portions of food for wyvern consumption. Farther away came the general uproar surrounding the cookshacks. Shouts and laughter, a distant clang as a cauldron was dropped, all the normal sounds of dinnertime in the legions.

Fully contented, Relkin laid himself back in his cot and composed himself for sleep, which came over him in moments.

He dreamed of Eilsa, with her blond hair streaming behind her, wearing a green cloak and riding a little white horse, one of the Wattel mountain ponies. Then he dreamed of himself and Eilsa, together, walking in the high vales, with the Malgun Mountains as backdrop under a clear blue sky. It was a perfectly wonderful dream.

He awoke to a blaring alarm, the rattle of drums, and hoarse voices shouting in every direction. The cornets shrilled the call to arms.

Dragon Leader Wiliger came racing through the section, calling them out by name. On all sides he heard other voices bawling orders. The horns kept calling them to battle, over and over.

He moved sluggishly at first. The aftereffects of all that food and beer, indeed he felt oddly subdued, perhaps due to the effort required to simply digest that enormous feast. He hauled on his clothes nonetheless and buckled his sword belt. The dragon was on his feet, too.

Jak stuck his head in.

"Hurry up, Relkin, come on, Bazil! There's a war on. The enemy are coming."

"But—" Words failed Relkin. It was completely unfair.

"Boy, where is tail sword?"

Relkin shook himself violently.

"I set it by the door, to take down for a better edge in the morning."

"I see it. I have it. Helmet?"

Relkin thrust himself into action.

In minutes they were parading outside the stables, then forming up and marching down to the main gate of the city.

There was a tremendous volume of noise coming from beyond the gate. It sounded like waves pounding on the shore in a winter storm, regular and powerful.

As they passed cavalry pickets, they asked for information. And now they heard for the first time that the enemy had turned about and thrust toward Koubha just a few hours before. The great horde had marched at double-quick time behind a cloud of ebon-skinned cavalry that had outfought the legion cavalry and forced it back to the edge of the city.

What at first had seemed a cavalry skirmish at dusk became something else over the next two hours, as Baxander realized, a little tardily, that the entire Kraheen army was pouring back down the roads to Koubha. By then the hordes were coming at a trot, singing their bloodthirsty hymns and building up an ecstasy of war hysteria. Long lines of torchlights could be seen in the west and north. Meanwhile the enemy cavalry pressed hard against the battered legion troopers.

Baxander set the cornets shrieking and sent urgent messages to Count Felk-Habren and the Prince of Kassim. The city of Koubha came astir.

Alas, the riders of the Prophet were swirling into the outskirts of the city by then, having driven the legion cavalry from the field by force of numbers and the fury of their attack.

Baxander was stunned. The Talion cavalry were the best in the world. What was happening here?

The king was awake, and the drummers were thundering the call to arms to all Koubhans. Baxander urged the utmost haste upon everyone. Meanwhile the terrible thin black men from the desert scapes of the west were trying to seize the main gate. The guards were quickly reinforced with twenty bowmen, and then fifty more, but it was nip and tuck for a few minutes at the beginning when the riders, seemingly unconcerned for their own lives, set out storming ladders and swarmed up them onto the gate itself. The guards struck down dozens, but were almost overwhelmed by the hundreds coming up the ladders. Then the extra bowmen arrived, along with a hundred men roused from sleep in the nearest billets. The riders were stopped, and after a stern little battle finally thrust back over the parapet. The survivors withdrew into the gathering darkness. Behind them swarmed the torchlights as the main army gathered. The chanting hordes of the Prophet now came forth, and went up against the city of Koubha once more.